R. Salvatore: Realms of Magic

"Of course," the gazetteer replied, glad his publisher was taking the time to butter him up.

"But enough of this chitchat," Justin said. "What wonderful new volume do you have for us today? I want a good strong title to follow up on our expected success with Volo's Guide to the Dalelands… like, maybe, Volo's Guide to the Moonsea. Ever since that big blowup at Zhentil Keep, the market has just been clamoring for information."

"Moonsea is already in the works," Volo replied confidently, "in fact, I'm on my way to Mulmaster after I finish my business here in Waterdeep. I figure a few more months of research, tops, and it will be done."

Justin furrowed his brow. "That's fine, I guess," he replied hesitantly, "but I was sort of hoping for something we could publish a little sooner."

"But, of course," Volo replied, adding seductively, "that's why I've brought along another project."

"Good," the publisher agreed, " a little something to tide us over between guide books."

"No," the author contradicted adamantly. "Something that will outsell all the guides, combined. Volo's Guide to All Things Magical, the Revised, Authorized, amp; Expanded Edition."

Before the author had even gotten out the word "magical", Justin was already shaking his head no.

"Sorry, old boy," the publisher insisted. "There's just no way. The Guide to All Things Magical almost put this company six feet under, for good. When Khelben and company ban a book, they ban a book. Every copy-poof! — disappeared without ever a mention of refund for production costs or lost sales revenues. I have no desire to play that game again."

"Neither do I," the author replied confidently. "That's why it's revised."

"How?"

"This time it is all based on interviews, stories, and legends that I have gathered from the far corners of Faerun. Nothing pilfered or stolen, which is not to say that there was anything improperly obtained the last time."

"But, of course," the publisher conceded absently, while trying to concentrate on coming up with a diplomatic reason why refusing this volume would not constitute the breaking of an option, thus allowing his star author to go elsewhere. He concluded that there wasn't a diplomatic alternative.

"Volo," the publisher said firmly, "I can't do it. Even a revised tome of secret spells and such would get us in trouble. The text would once again be suppressed, and who knows what Khelben would do to a repeat offender."

"I'm not scared of old Blackstaff," the cocky gazetteer replied. "He owes me one for saving his butt and all of Faerun during that doppleganger conspiracy1."

"I wasn't thinking of you," Justin replied. "I was referring to me."

"Afraid he still remembers that hatchet-job unauthorized biography by Kaeti Blye you published?"

"It was supposed to be a solid piece of investigative journalism," he justified. "How was I to know that that dwarf was more adept at turning out fiction than turning up facts?"

A wide smile crossed Volo's face.

"Well you don't have any such worries this time, I assure you," he stated in his still-cocky tone. This time, Volo's Guide to All Things Magical, the Revised, Authorized, etc., is no notorious expose of the arcane and dangerous, but a we 11-researched compilation of documented second-hand accounts of various magic subjects in all the Realms. After all if people told me these tales, they would have told anyone. Ergo, they're all accessible to the public, depending on one's travels, and contacts… and as you well know, no one travels better or has better contacts than Volothamp Geddann."

Justin leaned back in his chair and scratched his ear as if it had been tickled by the almost nonexistent fringe that remained of his once-full head of hair.

"Go on," the publisher pressed. "What type of accounts would be in it?"

"Basically anything magical from AioZ. Magic items, places, and spells, both the famous and the obscure. Enchanted artifacts from the past, spectral creatures, and famous feats. Personalities like Elminster and Khelben… nothing to offend, mind you… notorious mages and lowly apprentices… you know, stories about student wizards…"

"I see, " interrupted the publisher, "but…"

"I even have a few stories about 'smoke powder', the latest

1 See Once Around the Realms forbidden substance, which everyone is talking about."

The publisher was perplexed. Obviously a collection of stories on "all things magical" was a poor substitute for the wonderfully desirable toine that had been suppressed… but since no one had ever gotten to read the original, no one would have a basis for comparison. Who's to say it wasn't just another collection of stories?

"You'd be willing to call it Void's Guide to All Things Magical, etc., etc.," the publisher pressed.

"Of course," Volo replied, glad to see that he had hooked his publisher and would be dining high that evening on the advance that was sure to be handed over. "So we have a deal?"

"Not so fast," Justin replied shrewdly. "You don't expect me to buy a pegasus in the clouds do you?"

"Of course not," Volo replied, feigning indignation at the inference that he might try something less than above-board. "Would you like to see the manuscript?" he added, removing a sheaf of pages from his pack.

"Hand it over," the publisher replied, leaning forward, his arm reaching across the desk to accept the pile of pages.

"Careful," Volo instructed, handing over the manuscript. "It's my only copy."

Justin began to rifle through the pages.

"What are you doing?" asked the impatient author.

"Looking for the good parts,™ the publisher replied.

Volo fingered his beard in contemplation. He didn't want to be here all day waiting for Justin to peruse until he was satisfied. Suddenly a solution occurred to him.

"Justin," Volo offered, "I know you are a busy man. Why don't I just tell you some of the good parts."

Justin set the manuscript in front of him on the desk and leaned back in his chair. "You always were a good storyteller, Geddarm," he replied, "so do tell."

Volo rubbed his hands together, took a deep breath, and began to tell the tales.

Josidiah Starym skipped wistfully down the streets of Cormanthor, the usually stern and somber elf a bit giddy this day, both for the beautiful weather and the recent developments in his most precious and enchanted city. Josidiah was a bladesinger, a joining of sword and magic, protector of the elvish ways and the elvish folk. And in Cormanthor, in this year 253, many elves were in need of protecting. Goblinkin were abundant, and even worse, the emotional turmoil within the city, the strife among the noble families-the Starym included-threatened to tear apart all that Coronal Eltargrim had put together, all that the elves had built in Cormanthor, greatest city in all the world.

Those were not troubles for this day, though, not in the spring sunshine, with a light north breeze blowing. Even Josidiah's kin were in good spirits this day; Taleisin, his uncle, had promised the bladesinger that he would venture to Eltargrim's court to see if some of their disputes might perhaps be worked out.

Josidiah prayed that the elven court would come back together, for he, perhaps above all others in the city, had the most to lose. He was a bladesinger, the epitome of what it meant to be elven, and yet, in this curious age, those definitions seemed not so clear. This was an age of change, of great magics, of monumental decisions. This was an age when the humans, the gnomes, the halflings, even the bearded dwarves, ventured down the winding ways of Cormanthor, past the needle-pointed spires of the free-flowing elvish structures. For all of Josidiah's previous one hundred and fifty years, the precepts of elvenkind seemed fairly defined and rigid; but now, because of their Coronal, wise and gentle Eltargrim, there was much dispute about what it meant to be elvish, and, more importantly, what relationships elves should foster with the other goodly races.