02 Elminster in Myth Drannor by Forgotten Realms

Author:Forgotten Realms [Realms, Forgotten]
Format: epub
Published: 2010-04-10T12:10:10.936000+00:00

Shalheira Talandren, High Elven Bard of Summerstar from Silver Blades And Summer Nights: An Informal But True History of Cormanthor published in The Year of the Harp

The mists rolled away and Elminster was in a garden he'd never seen before, a place of many tall, straight shadowtops soaring straight up like huge black pillars from a manicured lawn of mosses adorned with small mushroom plantings. High overhead, the leaves of the trees blotted out the sun completely, though El could see shafts of sunlight in the distance where there must be clearings. Here the only light came from spheres of luminous air--globes that glowed faint blue, green, ruby-red, or gold as they drifted softly and aimlessly through the trees. Elves in ornate silken robes were strolling among the shadowtops, laughing and chatting, and beneath each luminous globe floated a tray that held an array of tall, thin bottles, and layered platters of delicacies; at a glance, El recognized oysters, mushrooms, and what looked to be forest grubs in a plum or apricot sauce. There was also an elf standing very near, and looking very startled. An elf Elminster had seen before-one of the High Court Mages who'd been with the Coronal when Naeryndam had taken him to the palace. "Well met," Elminster said to him, bowing politely. "Lord Earynspieir, is it not?" The elven mage looked, if anything, more confused and alarmed than before. He nodded, "Earynspieir I am, human sir. Forgive me if I recall not your name, for I am in some anxiousness: where is the Coronal?" Elminster spread his hands. "I know not. Was he standing a moment or so ago where I am now?" The elf nodded, eyes narrowing. "He was." El nodded. "Then that is as it's supposed to be. I am to attend this revel in his place." Earynspieir scowled. "You are? And did you decide this yourself, young sir?" "No," Elminster replied gently. "It was decided for me--for the security of the realm. I agreed to it, aye. By the way, the name's Elminster. Elminster Aumar, Prince of Athalantar . . . and, as ye know, Chosen of Mystra." The elf mage's mouth tightened. His gaze descended to the scepter thrust through Elminster's belt and tightened still further, but he said nothing. "Perhaps, Lord Mage, we could set aside thy feelings toward me for a moment or three," Elminster murmured, "while ye tell me where we're standing, and what is customary at an elven revel. I have no wish to give offense." Earynspieir's eyes slid sideways to meet those of Elminster, and his lips curled in distaste. Then he seemed to come to a decision. "Very well," he said, as softly. "Perhaps my natural reactions toward your kind have governed me overmuch. The Coronal did tell me that 'twould be easier for us all if I regarded you as one of us--one of the People--visiting from a far realm, and wearing a human disguise. I shall assay this, young Elminster. Pray bear with me; I am unsettled just now for other reasons.

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