"Now that I can believe," Belkram said with a shake of his head and a smile, "because it sounds so unbelievable that it must be what Mystra did."
Itharr nodded, a rueful smile on his face, and said, "I'm forced to agree." He sighed. "They didn't tell me there'd be nights like this, back in Twilight Hall."
They didn't tell me there'd be nights like this," Sylune told him, "back in Elminster's kitchen."
"Elminster's kitchen? Didn't the man have enough class even to show you his bedchamber?" Belkram demanded.
"Harper boy," Sylune told him severely, "I was referring to when I was a babe, and a different kitchen than the one you've seen. And spare me your jokes about Elminster and young babes, too."
"I'm beginning to realize," Sharantyr said carefully, "just why so few Harpers live long. They get angry swords right through their clever tongues."
Belkram and Itharr both looked hurt. "Critics," Itharr said, "everywhere we go in Faerun, we find ourselves surrounded by critics…"
"Get some sleep," Sylune told him kindly. "We've a castle to conquer in the morning."
Another forgotten ruin in the Savage Frontier, with a side trip to the Flame Void, then the sky somewhere over Thay, Kythorn 18
"Nothing is worse than promises that are not meant and deeds that are not accomplished," Midnight said quietly. "I need folk who stand behind what they say and do. Such as Azuth-if he survives-and you."
They clasped hands then, the man and the goddess. Both were white, drenched with sweat, and shaking. Long they had lain side by side, hands clasped, while Elminster's memories-his long road with Mystra, and what of her secrets and power he held-poured into Midnight, and she grew old and wise in a day and most of a night.
They walked out of the tomb together, an old, long-plundered tomb of Netheril whose stone biers had served the living as couches. If anyone saw them emerge, they did not tarry to offer a challenge.
Midnight wiped her mouth as if she'd eaten something foul. "I… I've swallowed overmuch," she murmured. "I must go apart and think."
"Seek Evereska, here," Elminster suggested, "or Ever-meet, over the water. The elves will let ye alone. When ye've thought, return and tell me your will. Until then, I'll spend my days as I've always done, darting here and there about Faerun, saying this and meddling with that, slaying here and building there… less grand than some godly servants, perhaps, but the tasks get done." He faced her, eye to eye, and said gently, "It may be, when ye return, that yell want me to lay down life and service together, and make room for your own style, and your own messengers."
"No," Midnight said softly, and then again, more firmly, "No. I shall need your counsel in the ways of Faerun- and in plain common sense-to guide me for ages to come, or I shall be a worse wildheart than Talos, Lolth, Loviatar, and Malar have ever been, ruling by whim and wrecking all I touch, ending twisted and bitter, no doubt, or sinking down into madness and despair."
Elminster bent his head. "Then I shall be here, Lady, for as long as ye need and want me. I and all the Chosen, some of them gentler and grander and better than I."
Midnight smiled and laid a hand on his arm. Blue fire swirled briefly around them both. "Truly, I doubt that. You have walked the hard road, been the old gnarly rock, faced the worst moments. You did the work Mystra set you, and did it well. And in all Faerun, there's none of us, god or mortal, can do grander deeds than our duty."
Elminster coughed. "Ye'll be turning my head, next, las-er, Mystra. Go, and do thy thinking, and I'll try to set thy temples in order so ye'll find a good gaggle of priests to chant ritual profanit-er, litanies yer way."
Midnight giggled at him and then growled in mock severity, "By me ever-thunderin' vitals! Away with you, mortal! How canst I maintain my godly dignity when you mock me so?"
Elminster grinned and scratched his head. "I've always wondered that, myself, lass, and-"
He stopped, looked thoughtful, and said, "I'd not thought of this before, but ye could go to my Safehold. It's well away from the reach of any of these avatars and such, and has all the spells and potions and items ye're likely to want to play with. Two of its doors: the one into the wood with leaves tinged blue-that's Evermeet-and the one into the stone passage that leads into a cellar of my tower in Shadowdale, steps away from a flowshaft that'll take ye up to… ah, my bedchamber…"
Midnight giggled again. "None of that. I'm Mystra now, remember?"
Elminster rolled his eyes. "My reputation, I fear, has been somewhat enhanced by wagging tongues down the passing years."
"Not from what I saw in your memories, it hasn't," the goddess told him tartly. "Take me to this Safehold, then. It sounds ideal."
Elminster nodded, stroked his white beard for a moment, and then extended his hand. "I have but to cast this spell, and-"
Abruptly they were somewhere else, but not the cozy room Elminster had been seeking. They were tumbling together in a void, a darkness lit by drifting stars. Midnight was curled up as a small child sleeps, eyes closed and mouth gaping open, face blank and hair streaming like night shadows around her. Elminster laid a comforting hand on her, but she did not stir. Magic that he could not break held her in thrall. The same titanic Art, presumably, that had twisted or broken his evasion spell to bring them here. "To the Flame Void," the Old Mage mused, "but how-?"
"By my will, mortal mage," said a voice from close by. Elminster turned and saw a man whose hair and beard were whiter than his own, whose face was unremarkable, but whose eyes and robes were both a dark swirl of stars, so that he seemed to be the heart of the Flame Void.
Elminster sighed. "And who, sir, are ye?" he asked mildly.
"Some men call me the Overgod… others, the Hidden One." "Ao," Elminster named him, leaning forward with interest. "I've much to ask ye-"
The Overgod frowned. "I am not here to give ye answers, presumptuous mortal. Ye have tried to hasten the elevation to full powers of my choice for Mystra's replacement, and take her from Faerun!"
"Magic goes wild across the lands," Elminster said sternly, "and I would restore as much peace and order as I can. 'Tis bad enough for the common folk, what ye've wrought, with hordes and brigands and avatars on the loose, earthquakes and eruptions and typhoons and all. For magic to be stable again, we must needs have a Goddess of Magic. Must I point such an obvious thing out to ye? I sought to take her to my Safehold, to sit and think… and learn. Rare for a god, I know, but long overdu-"
"Such temerity!" Ao thundered.
"Is the way of mankind," Elminster replied gently, spreading his hands. "Have ye not seen this?"
Ao sighed, and then chuckled. "Enough. So you meant well. So have many tyrants-and gods-before working their worst."
He raised a hand to point at Elminster and said in a voice of doom, "Midnight I am returning to Faerun. She will forget what you gave to her, for a time. You I charge never to speak of this, or what she will become, until the Testing is done. And to keep you busy, oh most energetic of mages, I send you to deal with-this!"
And the world changed again. Ao, Midnight, and the Flame Void were gone, and Elminster found himself falling through the night sky of Faerun, somewhere east of the Sea of Fallen Stars, where a wall of mountains rose around vast plateaus, and… Thay!
"Thay?" Elminster said in disgust. "The Land of Mad Mages? If Ao's sent me here, it must be to deal with some idiot mage who's trying to make himself a god, or set up some particularly nasty doom for all of us under cover of all these Troubles. Ah, blast all gods and their Overgods, too!"