Elminster Enraged

Storm gave her a wry smile. “Rather like courtiers, or wizards of war, or nobles, aren’t we?”

“There! That’s just what I was speaking of! You turn me aside with a snide-”

“Lady Glathra,” the king of Cormyr said firmly, “enough.” He gave her both a quelling look and a raised reproving finger to still any protest, then he turned back to Storm.

Who said gently, “I should remind everyone I’ve known Elminster for a very long time, and serve the same Divine One he does. Forgive me, Glathra. Hear me, look into my eyes, and judge my honesty as I tell you: Elminster serves the goddess Mystra, as I do, before all other loyalties, even over his love of Cormyr-but he has been watching over Cormyr, in one way and another, for centuries. Longer than every king or queen, each Royal Magician and battle commander, every last highknight and gallant Purple Dragon veteran, Elminster has worked against Cormyr’s foes, so this land could survive to settle its own scores, find its own way, and forge its own destiny.”

“Forgive me, Lady Immerdusk,” Glathra replied. “I think you sincere, and don’t wish to give offense, but I must point out that pretty speeches are just that. You attest to Elminster’s nobility of purpose, but we have most lately seen him as a thief, who repeatedly and very rudely defies rightful authority-and just now, we see him not at all. You tell us of his long service to the realm, but right now he could be anywhere, doing anything!”

“And courtiers deem we nobles ‘rude,’ ” Arclath told the ceiling.

Storm put a quelling hand on his arm, and told Glathra, “Indeed he could be. Yet I’ve spoken with him on many recent occasions, spending more time with him than any other person alive, and can tell you that Elminster very much wants to work with the wizards of war-behind the scenes, that is, neither threatening the independence of the Dragon Throne nor awakening fears among your nobility that yet another sinister wizard seeks to make them dance to his desires. He’ll contact you when he can. Service to Mystra governs him now, and has hold of him.”

“I accept that,” King Foril announced. “Let us have no more dispute as to the truth of what Lady Storm has told us. We can trust that Elminster is done with taking Cormyr’s enchanted items, and would be our ally. Good.” He nodded to Ganrahast and Glathra as if giving them a silent command, started to turn away … and then turned around again to give Storm a level look. “And you? Can we count on your loyalty?”

Storm regarded him calmly. “I am Mystra’s servant first, and a Harper second, but serving and defending Cormyr has been one of my dearest strivings for some centuries now. Ask Alusair or Vangey, and you’ll hear those words affirmed. I’ll help Cormyr in any way I can, that Mystra forbids not.”

“You speak of the Lost Goddess as though she yet lives,” Ganrahast observed thoughtfully.

“Yes,” Storm replied challengingly, “I do. Doubt not my sincerity nor sanity, Royal Magician. To do so would be a mistake.”

Glathra shook her head. “Does anyone here suppose, just suppose, that you can be induced to tell us a little of what’s been going on, this last tenday or so? Your running around the palace day and night, to the haunted wing and the royal crypt and seemingly every last broom closet we possess; the Sage of Shadowdale jauntily stealing all of our royal treasures that bear the slightest enchantments; that parade of you and the rest striding into the palace to use the Dalestride Portal … all of that?”

Storm smiled. “How much time can you spare? There’s a lot to tell …”

CHAPTER FIVE

DEADLY GOOD BREEDING

Dear tart,” Mirt growled wittily, in his best imitation of an alluring purr, “have a tart.”

The longer-limbed of the two beautiful and uninhibited ladies he’d hired for the evening gave him an impish smile and opened her mouth to receive the honey tart Mirt was offering her. The Lord of Waterdeep obligingly stuffed it in.

Then he sank back, a little light-headed. The scent of the mulled wine that filled their shared tub was getting up his nose, and beginning to slosh around in his head. Stars and sea storms, but he could get used to this!

“None for me, lord?” his other companion-aye, Lhareene, that was her name- pouted in his ear, the laughter lacing her voice reassuring him that she was jesting.

“Plenty for you, m’dear,” Mirt replied, turning to kiss her. There was already a tart in Lhareene’s mouth, and a strong thrust of her tongue shared it with him.

The Lord of Waterdeep found himself grinning through the inevitable shower of crumbs. Lhareene deftly glided up his chest, gently submerging him in wine until it started to soften the tart and sail it down his throat.

The taller pleasure lass-Arelle, aye, he must get back into the habit of remembering names, truly-reached past him to pluck some of the spiced and nut-studded sugared fruits from among the tarts on the floating platter. Mirt watched her consume them with as much hungry wanton abandon as if they’d been her lovers, and chuckled as he sank down under the wine and then surged up again, in a location and manner that evoked an explosion of mirth and a flurry of smooth limbs brushing against him.

He was really enjoying it in Suzail.

Free of the role of well-known target he’d grown all too used to in the City of Splendors, for one thing. Suzail wasn’t half as large or wealthy or raw as his beloved Deep, but it offered plenty of excitement and danger, ready pleasures-for-hire such as those he was enjoying right now, and … well, he’d been thrust right into the heart of important doings, in a realm where things were happening. All in all, he was more alive, and having more fun, than he’d been for many a year.

“Lord,” Arelle murmured, sliding over his wine-slick chest, “will you take … more?” She scooped up a handful of sugared, cinnamon-tinged icing and held it out to him.

“After I take care of this icing?” he jested, and her eyes danced.

“Of course.”

Not wanting to be left out of things, Lhareene wormed her way up his other arm … “Aye,” Mirt decided contentedly, aloud but telling himself more than either of his tubmates, “I’ll stay here a while longer, I will.”

Stay, rather than making the long, bone-jolting wagon or saddle trek to Waterdeep. Seeing as magic seemed to have become far less reliable, with fewer mages abroad who could casually teleport an aging Lord of Waterdeep across half Faerun for any sort of affordable fee with much of a chance at all he’d arrive at his intended destination alive and … unaltered.

Elminster preened.

The tall, slender mirror was undamaged, the bedchamber around it untouched by the ravages of the glaragh. It was an odd, curlicued and dagged crescentiform shape, its “glass” a sheen-smooth sheet of polished mica that had been enspelled into a single gleaming sheet of black that reflected what stood before it.

Right now, that was Elminster in his newfound body. He turned it this way and that, setting his long, lithe legs to strike pose after hip-foremost pose.

This young body looked as good as it felt. Strong, supple, shapely-if a bit sharp-featured, both about the face and below-and attractive, oh yes, by Mystra and Sharess both …

He turned and watched himself-heh, herself, now-move, in the mirror.

“Hungry goddesses, aye,” he murmured, turning again to thrust his behind at his reflection, augmenting it with an impudent flash of his tongue. “I might even fancy myself. Not that many men would dare pursue such a fancy far, given the reputation drow ah, enjoy …”

Oh, have done, old goat. I was never this bad, even at my youngest and most ardent! We’re in a hurry, remember? Portals? Spider-kissing priestesses? Perhaps a bored glaragh coming back?

“Lady,” El protested, “spare me a moment, at least. D’ye know how long I’ve been in pain, dragging around an aging carcass that failed me a mite more and a mite more with each passing day?”

Elminster, I do. Yet think on this: you’ll have that aging to do all over again, dragging yourself around the Realms for another thousand years, or if not that, still long after I’m no more than a memory. A fading memory …

“Ye’ll not be forgotten, lady,” El said swiftly. “This I