Elminster in Hell

Elminster smiled slowly and spread his hands. 'In this, ye must be your own guide. Ye have already shown that ye can take the proper course, alone.'

Tarth stared at him. Then his eyes narrowed suddenly. 'You did agree to teach me until the passing of the next moon. Tell me, then, what I want to know!'

Elminster nodded. 'I agreed, aye. Yet I fear I can help thee little, Tarth. I know not the answers to any of thy questions.'

'You are said to be the wisest of living sages, in most fields!' Tarth protested. 'One who knows all the answers!'

They heard a light step upon the stair. Tarth turned and stared at the Lady Nimra, who smiled at him. Tarth looked deep into her clear blue eyes and was lost.

'Only fools know all the answers,' Elminster told him quietly. He silently vanished, the dust swirling up around him.

'And so, Master Tarth,' Nimra said softly, as she sat where the Old Mage had been, 'your questions are your own to answer, and your choices your own to make, and you must live out the results. That is what being a mage is, after all.'

Tarth nodded, and cleared his throat. 'Ah, uh-well met!' he began brightly.

She started to laugh….

That's your 'powerful magic'? You claw mo hard at my patience, little wizard!

How does it feel when i do the same to your chain? And make it take fire at the same time! Hey? Eh?

[screaming, raw and wild and in vain, dying away]

Oh, no! Nor that easily! A uttle healing and a jolt awake, and you're ready to taste torment again.'

[roaring diabolic laughter, screams rising]

Chapter Sixteen

FOR THE LOVE OF AN OLD MAGE

Tentacles reached angrily toward the dirty, naked chained heap that was a man… then, reluctantly, drew back again.

I remain somewhat bewildered as to why some of the memories you've shown me are of lasting interest to mystra-or to you. Why is this in your mind, elminster? Does mystra place there only what she wants you to see, or also some things you desire to see?

Out of love and grace, the Lady I serve gives to me memories of things I could not witness but desire to. The doings of Mirt, for example-I felt the need to understand the character of this man, as a fellow Harper.

Ah. Just as i watched you from afar, you watch others. [Growl] I'll not try to hide from you, manung, that rage rises in me as I scour your mind and search out memory after memory, as if I'm seeking one stone in all the rock that is avernus, and find nothing of the memories of magic I seek. Memories I need.

Yet you must have them, or you could not be what you are.. Perhaps mystra is the key. I do not think she reached out to change you, in her brief visitation here….i would have felt that. So your memories must survive-and finding the ones she gave to you must he where the treasure lies.

Show me a memory from mystra. It doesn't mattek which one; i can taste the difference now and follow the trail you leave me make it too long, and i'll give you much pain. Lead me to what i see, and you'll live longer. A simple bargain, eh?

Clear enough.

I heard your tone. Remeatber this: I hold you in my hand. I decide the terms… And the punishments. Forget that not.

Oh, I'm unlikely to. Believe me. human, do you dare to threaten me? I never threaten, devil. I promise.

[growl] I have a promise for you. When I have what I desire, your suffering will be long.

Do you dare to have any promises for me?

Not yet.

[smoldering diabolic glare, whirl about, plunge into vaulted darkness once more, scattering images like forlorn stars…]

***

The sky was gray over Aglarond-slate-gray and cloudless, like a vast sheet of armor plate.The Simbul scowled up at it from her favorite balcony. She set down a goblet of something she'd cast spell after spell on in a vain attempt to make it taste like a certain ancient vintage El had spell-stored from fallen Myth Drannor. The bracer that was all she wore had begun to glow, telling her the seneschal had lost patience in stalling envoys and courtiers and wanted the afternoon throne session to begin.

The Simbul strode back through her chambers. Snatching a robe from the nearest hook as she passed-a rich purple and clothof-gold affair of many entwined dragons that would have been better given to someone who'd admire beautiful garments a trifle more-the Witch-Queen of Aglarond shrugged herself into it. She strode along a back passage, vaulted over a railing in front of a carefully impassive guard, landed on a harlounge, bare inches from a sleeping cat, marched away heedless of its spitting wake-fulness, and found herself crossing the last few paces of carpet to the side doors of the throne chamber. Without a sash, her grand robe billowed open around her.

The guard by the doors had served her for a very long time. He looked at the Simbul's face and down at her bared body for just an instant. He set aside his glaive and unbuckled his sword belt with frantic haste, stepping forward to hold it out to her in one gauntleted hand in time to receive a dazzling smile from his queen. Her whirling embrace spun him around in the passage.

She murmured,'Buckle me.' During another turn in her arms he did. She saluted as they parted, thrust the door wide, and was gone.

Only then did he stoop to retrieve his breeches from the floor, recall that he'd worn his second-best sword belt, and cringe at the thought that the Witch-Queen of all Aglarond was even now striding to the throne with not only a sword and a dagger bouncing at her hips, but a bag of dice, a bit of string knotted around some cheese with which to entice a pet mouse out of its hole to visit him, and an undone pouch with his best deck of air solitaire cards in it-the ones with the unclad beauties of Thay on the backs, guaranteed to float in the air for at least three breaths after being released.

With a grin, Thaergar of the Doors decided that if his queen noticed, she'd probably be greatly amused. Thank the gods.

Or at least, so he hoped.

***

So I have called, and my friends come not-or cannot reach me, through the legions of Hell. I am lost. It is cruelty on my part, sheer vanity, to drag down with me others who can live on in Toril and serve it as I have. I must fight this battle alone.

And fight it will be, for I shall not go down in gentle surrender. I will fight. Mind to mind, I cannot hope to stand against Nergal-for he can diminish my will in an instant by visiting physical pain on me. He is a swift, reckless, overconfident intellect-a willful child, in some ways-and cannot hope to match my store of memories or experience…for all his long years, he has done the same things over and over and seen far less than certain old