Ed Greenwood - Shadows of Doom

Sharantyr kissed him and said softly, "Of course. I can't guard you if I don't, now can I?"

Belkram tapped her shoulder. "Ah, if you're in a kissing mood…"

Sharantyr wrinkled her nose and thrust a strong arm around Elminster, straight into the Harper's midriff.

He doubled over with a comical roll of his still-glowing blue eyes and staggered back, colliding with the low battlement. He overbalanced with a startled cry and fell backward off the tower.

Sharantyr screamed.

Elminster turned in her grasp and made a lazy gesture.

In the air below them, a huge phantom hand appeared beneath the falling Harper.

He fell into it as softly as a feather kisses the ground it falls onto and was borne gently upward, cradled in the giant hand, to rejoin them. Belkram stood up on the palm of the hand as it came, tottering about uncertainly like a man on stilts hopping about in a cesspool and likely at any moment to come to a far closer acquaintance with it. His efforts and expression made Itharr bellow with laughter.

Sharantyr turned to embrace Elminster again. She was ecstatic. "Your Art-it's back! You can work magic again!"

"Aye," the Old Mage said with a sigh that could not quite conceal his grin. "That, d'ye see, is old Elminster's doom."