So Adon kept careful watch on the proximity of the guards and played the fool as they marched along. Though Tenwealth became annoyed at Adon's idiotic patter, Adon noted that the two guards relaxed considerably.
Adon was about to make his move against the nearer of the guards when, at the end of the corridor, he saw a white-bearded old man carrying a harp. Suddenly the cleric grabbed a torch from the wall, broke away from Tenwealth and the guards, and ran toward the old man. The platinum-haired priest cried out an order, and the guards raced after the scarred cleric.
'Elminster!' Adon cried as he raced down the hall. 'You're alive!'
The old man looked up in alarm. He had been arguing with another priest of Torm, and a momentary flicker of surprise passed across his face when he saw Adon racing toward him. Then he frowned and stood perfectly still.
The young cleric stopped directly before the old man. The blazing torch bathed the minstrel's face in warmth and light, and the heat from the flames made the white-bearded man draw back. And though Adon was certain that he had recognized the man from farther down the hall, closer examination revealed the old man to be someone other than Elminster. The scarred young man was about to turn away from the minstrel when he saw the tip of the old man's nose begin to melt.
'Elminster!' Adon said, his voice cracking, just as Tenwealth's guards reached out for him.
The minstrel looked around, gauged the confusion of the Tormites, and cast a spell before anyone was aware of his true intention. The air crackled, and a shimmering mist of blue-white energies filled the corridor.
'All of ye will accompany Adon and me out of the temple and beyond the citadel. Then ye will return and act as if nothing has happened,' Elminster ordered. Tenwealth, the two guards, and the priest nodded stiffly.
The sage smiled. The mass suggestion spell had actually worked! It was the first incantation that had gone right in some time, too. The old mage decided that it must be the close proximity of Torm's avatar that was stabilizing magic a bit, then thanked the Goddess of Luck for good measure and gestured for the Tormites to lead the way out of the corridor.
Adon stood frozen, staring in a mixture of shock and relief at the sage. 'Elminster, what are you doing here?'
'My intention was not to save thy worthless hide, I assure ye,' the mage growled, wiping a bit of wax from his nose, 'Unfortunately, ye left me no choice.' Elminster started after the Tormites. When Adon didn't move, he turned back and said, 'Ye were hit with that spell, too. If ye dally long enough to make me suggest a course for ye to follow, ye'll not like where it takes ye.'
Adon gladly followed the sage. Memories and thoughts whirled in the cleric's mind. Adon knew only that he was relieved to see Elminster alive. Tears of joy streamed down his face.
'Wipe that silly grin from your face and those tears from your eyes,' Elminster grumbled as they left the corridors and entered the temple's courtyard. 'We don't want to arouse any suspicion.'
'But I have so many questions — ,' Adon began breathlessly.
'They can wait,' Elminster snapped.
Adon followed the sage's commands, and within a short time they were several blocks away from the Temple of Torm. They tried to lose themselves in the crowd as soon as Tenwealth and his men headed back to their home.
After a few minutes of pushing their way through milling crowds, Adon turned to Elminster and asked, 'Now can you give me some answers?'
'Not until we're safe,' Elminster grumbled.
Adon's relief was quickly giving way to anger. Grabbing the sage's arm, the cleric forced the old man to stop. They were on a crowded main street that led to the highest of the citadel's towers, and that building's golden spires were in full view from where they stood. Shops lined the avenue around them.
'Listen to me, old man,' the scarred cleric growled. 'We'll never be safe as long as we remain in Tantras. The Council of Torm will send its agents after us no matter where we hide. Where we stand at this instant is as good a place as any for you to explain yourself. Now tell me what I want to know.'
'Unhand me,' Elminster said calmly, his eyes as narrow as a cat's before it springs. 'Then I'll tell ye what ye wish to know.'
Adon let go of the sage's arm. 'Tell me what happened to you in Shadowdale at the Temple of Lathander. I thought you'd died… and that it was my fault,' Adon said. He felt anger bubble over inside of him and he added, 'You can't imagine the hell I've been through because of you!'
'I can readily imagine,' Elminster sighed and turned away from the cleric. 'Considering where that rift took me.' A voice rang out. 'Adon!'
The cleric recognized the voice as Midnight's, and he turned around to look for the mage. A horrible realization dawned upon the cleric then, and he immediately whirled around and grabbed the old sage's arm. Adon looked at Elminster. The mage was ready to walk into the crowd that surrounded them.
'You're not leaving my sight,' Adon said. Elminster simply scowled and crossed his arms.
Midnight arrived, with Kelemvor directly behind her. When she saw Elminster, she wrapped her arms around the sage, nearly crushing him in her embrace. The old mage grumbled in protest and pushed her away.
'I'd never have believed it!' Midnight cried as she stepped back from the sage. 'I thought I saw you once, yesterday, but I convinced myself that I was only hoping too hard that you'd survived.' Tears were streaming down the raven-haired mage's face.
'Never do that again!' Elminster shouted, gesturing with the harp he'd forgotten that he held.
Kelemvor had been surprised to see Elminster, too, but he was now feeling angry, not overjoyed, that the old sage was alive. 'Quite a singing voice you have there,' the fighter commented sarcastically. 'It's too bad you use it to cause so much trouble.'
Adon stood a few feet away, staring at the old sage, a barely subdued fury roiling across his features. 'You weren't even going to tell us that you were alive. You cruel old buzzard. We're here, risking our lives on your damn quest — '
'Lady Mystra set ye on thy quest,' Elminster reminded the cleric. 'I simply helped ye along the way.'
'We're wanted criminals,' Midnight told the mage softly. 'Adon and I were nearly executed in Shadowdale for your death.'
'That charge has been dropped,' Elminster mumbled as he rubbed his neck and motioned for the heroes to follow him. Passersby were beginning to stare, and the heroes agreed that it was probably best to move along.
'I've been to Shadowdale,' the sage added. 'Ye are no longer suspects in my killing. But there is still the matter of six guards that were murdered during your escape. That ye will still have to answer for.'
'You were spying on us,' Kelemvor noted flatly. 'That's what you were doing here. Checking up on us.'
'What else could I do?' Elminster grumbled. 'If the charges against ye are true, then ye're hardly fit to serve as champions of Mystra and all of Faerun.'
Kelemvor explained that it had been Cyric who'd committed the murders, without Midnight or Adon's knowledge or assistance. The fighter noted, too, that Cyric was now in the employ of the Black Lord.
'You don't know that for sure!' Midnight snapped, shooting the fighter an angry glance. 'When you arrived at the safe house in Scardale, you were pretending to work for Bane just to get free of him. Cyric might have been forced into a similar position.' The mage turned to Elminster. 'I never saw him commit any of the murders of which he's been accused, and Shadowdale has a history of convicting innocent people, as far as I'm concerned.'
Adon folded his arms over his chest, and his eyes grew wide with surprise, but the surprise was tinged with fear, 'Cyric's alive! He'll come after us next, Midnight.'
The raven-haired mage shook her head. 'Adon, we have no proof — '
The cleric stopped in the middle of the street. 'Cyric is dangerous, Midnight. And not just to us. After the trip down the Ashaba, you should understand that!'
'Let's keep moving,' Elminster whispered, scanning the crowd for guards or priests of Torm. 'I have a sanctuary nearby where the two of ye can continue thy discussion.'
Adon walked to Kelemvor's side, but Midnight put her hand on Elminster's arm. 'We'll go, but first, tell us what happened in the Temple of Lathander,' the mage ordered. 'Adon and I were convinced you'd died. How did you survive the rift?'
Elminster glared at the heroes. 'Must we do this now?'
