Ed Greenwood - Elminster Enraged

The Royal Magician sighed. “Tell them,” he murmured, waving to her like a grand orator presenting a learned speaker.

Glathra sighed in clear exasperation and misgiving, then said to those seated around the table, “The name Vangerdahast will not be unknown to you. His continued existence to the present day should also come as no surprise to present company. Well, when Lord Delcastle here was recently assisting the mage Elminster to make use of the body of Wizard of War Appledown, Vangerdahast cast … a little something on Arclath. He didn’t tell us this until now, whereupon we made immediate use of it.”

“To find your way here. Does this trace persist?”

“You’ll have to ask Vangerdahast, but he gave us to understand that our use of it ended it,” Glathra replied reluctantly.

The snort Lady Marantine Delcastle emitted then was loud and impressive. “As if anyone can trust anything that old terror says,” she told the ceiling. “I recall a night when he told me he’d respect me deeply in the morn-”

“Not now , Lady Delcastle,” Glathra said hastily. “Please, not now.”

King Foril’s widening smile was a little sad. “We hastened here to confer with you, Lord Delcastle, hoping to find Lady Storm and Lord Elminster, too. We do not want strife between the Dragon Throne and Elminster, whom we judge could slay or harm many war wizards, given that the Crown and court are at present so beset by rebellious nobles and lurking enemies of the realm in Sembia and elsewhere-but his thefts of magic items in Cormyr must end.”

“Foril,” Lady Delcastle asked with a faint smile, “have you learned the habit of stern royal decrees at last? ’Tis a bit late, mind, but-”

“I have, Marantine,” the Dragon of Cormyr said gently, his quiet voice again bringing silence. “Yet pray distract the converse not. I have tarried too long, and in so doing plunged us into urgency. Lady Storm-I address the Marchioness Immerdusk now, as her monarch-where can we find Elminster?”

Storm met the king’s gaze directly. “I know not. Both his fate and current whereabouts are unknown to me. He thrust all three of us back here to Cormyr in some haste. Yet rest assured he has no more need to take any magic from anyone, save for a few, very particular things. None of which, so far as I know, are to be found any longer within the Forest Kingdom, let alone the grasp of the Dragon Throne.”

“Blueflame items?” Glathra snapped, as if interrogating a less than cooperative prisoner.

“Blueflame items,” Storm confirmed.

“How can we trust you?” Glathra asked bluntly. “Forgive me, Lady Immerdusk, but you Chosen-you Harpers, for that matter-are known to say anything to get your own way, and we have no way of proving your words true.”

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 …”

"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.