Elminster in Hell

beside his chair. All four of them had acquired such sentinels, he noted, and they did not look entirely friendly,

'How fares the Lady Laeral?''

'That's not for me to say, merch-' the young wizard began, his voice as cold as the edge of a drawn blade. He fell silent in astonishment as a long, slender hand took hold of his arm from behind, and its owner followed, giving him a quelling look.

'I, too, perhaps will live a bit longer,' Laeral told them, a wry smile on her lips. 'A clever trap beneath the Harper enchantments-or at least, what I thought were Harper spells.' She gave Piergeiron a friendly nod and turned her head to regard Mirt. 'You were about to say something important, I believe?'

Mirt nodded and looked in turn to Piergeiron. 'Tell us what you last remember-of what befell before you' ended up here.'

The paladin drew in a deep, quavering breath, lifted his head to stare thoughtfully at the spell-scorched ceiling, and said, 'I was… charmed by a spell, cast by one who came on me unawares, in private. A man, by the mind-touch, young and full of rage and excitement. He forced from my mind the names, faces, and abodes of all the lords of Waterdeep.'

Around the circle of chairs and apprentices, there was a silent bristling, a sudden tension that was almost n gasp.

'He thanked me… mockingly,' Piergeiron said slowly, remembering, 'and then came around from behind me to bow-all sweeping arms and snooty flourishes, a parody of a courtier-and swept a sword from behind his back and ran me through. He wore a mask, and I don't think, if he'd removed it, I would have known him. His blade went through me-'

AJeena hissed in disgust and fear, and her father tlirew her a smile as he continued,'-and struck the back of my chair. That broke the charm, and I roared at him and rose. He tried to slash open my throat, but I managed to draw my own blade-'

Aleena was already holding it out to him, hilt first, in its scabbard. Piergeiron gave her another smile, took it, and laid it across his knees.

'.-and he seemed disinclined to cross swords. He threw a spell into my face-force bolts that burned, like daggers stabbing. It threw me to my knees. He (led into the next room. I got there crawling-just in time to see his back foot vanishing through a gate.'

'An oval of flickering fire?' Asper asked. 'Cold flames? Shrank away after that?¹'

Piergeiron gave her a thin smile. 'Indeed. Is he a friend of yours?'

Asper gave him a withering look, and his smile broadened. 'Forgive me, Lady,' he said, 'that was unworthy of me-and an insult to you. I fear my jests are apt to be awkward.'

'Yet, look you here, Paladinson,' Mirt growled, beckoning one of the Tower apprentices over. The wizard blinked back at him until Laeral gestured that he should heed the summons; Mirt gave him a false, sweet smile and plucked the silver harp pin from the man's hand, holding it out to Piergeiron with a flourish. 'This matter does question friendships, as it happens.'

The First Lord of Waterdeep peered at it. 'Yes, the Harpers have always been friends,' he said slowly, frowning. 'Or perhaps had been until now.'

'This has gone on long enough,' Mirt growled, and lifted his gaze to Laeral. 'Get Elminster to the palace, away from all your wards-and take all of us there, too, to meet him. Now.'

As quickly as if she'cl been his youngest maidservant, the Lady Mage of Waterdeep nodded and trotted from the chamber, leaving her apprentices staring from her dwindling figure to Mirt, then back again. 'Elminster,' someone muttered, in tones of awe.

Well, quite the mighty savior wizard you were. A pity i'm not seeking much of the magic you promised.

[mind lash]

[pain] [mind lash] [writhing pain] [mind lash]

stupid human! Think i'll sit patiently to be duped forever?

[mind lash]

Half a world away, in a tomb deep under Myth Drannor, a glowing ring of wraithlike figures flickered like so many man-high candles, cold and white in the gloom.

Two darker figures stood unafraid in their midst, a man and a woman. 'Enough talk for now, I fear,' Elminster was saying reluctantly, raising his staff. 'You've quite filled my brains with old spells and lost lore-and I'm sure you must be more than weary of my gossip.'

'Nay, man,' the closest baelnorn said in swift reply. 'You two are the only visitors who bring us news of the passing world-the only ones to remember us. Even we grow lonely.' He turned to face Storm Silverhand and added fiercely, 'Lady-oh, 'twas good to hear songs again! Your voice is lovely.'

'Aye,' several other ghostly figures sighed in eerie unison.

The Bard of Shadowdale turned to give them all a smile, and replied, 'My thanks. I cannot hope to match even a fair singer of Cormanth-'

'Ah, Lady,' another of the tomb guardian spirits said, waving a dismissive hand, 'our spells can bring back at any time the sounds of past songs sung to us. What we lack is new songs, and the singer alive and here, performing for us. Your kindness will give us much joy ahead, much to talk over-'

A sudden radiance of sparks kindled about Elminster's forehead. The wizard stiffened and swayed, pain flashing across his face.

— What befalls?' a baelnorn snapped, raising hands that glowed suddenly bright and dangerous. 'Can we aid?'

Elminster's gaze rolled down, and he shivered. 'N-nay, friends. A new peril has come to light. We shall return in time to coine, if we can. For now, we must go. Farewell.'

Blue sparks swam before Storm Silverhand. She barely had time to be startled before they washed over her. The world became a place of endless falling through a blue glow.

Her boots were suddenly on uneven ground. Blue sparks were fading, and the smells around her were now clung and the sea, rotting fruit and cooking smoke.

'An alley near Piergeiron's Palace, in Waterdeep,' Elminster explained as her hand went to the blades at her belt. 'Laeral farspoke me.'

'And?' she asked simply, putting hands on her hips and pivoting to look around.

'Time to use thy tracing spell, lass-take thyself to any Harper pin in this city that's been tampered with or had other spells laid atop it. There'll probably be a man there who's good with blades. Keep thyself alive until I teleport to thee.' He kissed Storm while she was still blinking and frowning at him, then whirled away, striding along the uneven cobbles toward the palace.

Its grand and lofty entrances seemed strangely- deserted. The doors to the private wing, however, were closed and guarded by two huge men who stood like expressionless titans in their closed helms and mirror-bright armor.

The Old Mage strode up to them without hesitation and reached between them to lift the ring-bar from the doors-and almost lost a hand to the halberds sweeping down.

The point topping one followed him as he scuttled back. Its wielder's voice was less than kind as he said, 'None may enter without leave.'

Elminster sighed. 'Leave I have, goodsirs. Pray stand aside for Elminster of Shadowdale. I am in great haste, and for good reason.'

'Elminster?' The guard's voice dripped with the skeptical sneer hidden behind his helm. 'Aye, and I'm the Grand Pasha and Vizier Most Mighty of all Calimshan!'

'Who are you, really,' the other guard snapped, his own halberd leveled menacingly, 'and who gave you leave to pass? Of those not known to us by sight, our pass-list is very short, and I very much doubt you're anyone on it!' He backed to where he could easily and swiftly slap an alarm-gong with one swing of his gauntlet. 'Well?'

'I am Elminster in truth,' the straggle-bearded man replied quietly, 'and I have leave to pass anywhere in the city-leave given to me by Lord Ahghairon of Waterdeep, long ago.'