"N-no," Narnra managed to hiss. "Take it away!"
The dragon-head dwindled and backed away from her at the same time, shrinking until it was barely larger than her own head-whereupon it became frightening all over again, seeming like the head of a great serpent watching her out of the mist, a snake that could slay her at will while she hung mage-bound.
"Have ye ever seen a living beast like this before?" the old wizard asked again, sharply. The smaller dragon-head turned this way and that, displaying itself to her as a gown-merchant's model might have done . . . then sighed back down into the mists and was gone.
"N-no," Narnra managed to say, suspicion suddenly welling up dark, hot, and choking. Was this old brute . . . ?
The mage pounced. "But?"
"But nothing," she flared, eyes blazing down at him.
"Truth, lass! Ye lie as badly as a wrinkled rug! Tell me truth!"
"I… Mother's apprentices used to tell me about dragons. That was a dragon, wasn't it?"
"How many apprentices?" the old wizard snapped. "Their names?"
"Uh, five, most of the time. Goraun, Rivrel, Jonczer, and the two younger ones, Tantheld and Silen-Rorgel, who was called 'Silent' because he almost never spoke. They . . . Rivrel's dead; knifed by someone taking things from the shop after Mother died. I think Jonczer was killed too, but I saw only a lot of blood, not his body. The others . . . disappeared. They may be dead, they may've stolen things and fled; I know not."
"Did ye ever see any of them work magic?"
"No."
"What exactly did they tell ye about dragons?"
Narnra glared at the old wizard, her suspicions even stronger now. "When they'd been drinking," she said heavily, "they'd grumble about the dirtier tasks, then wish they were rich bold adventurers and start telling tales of adventurers. Some of them had dragons in them . . . that ate folk, tore apart castles, and smashed villages flat-I'm sure you've heard better. Later, they'd always warn me I shouldn't mention anything they said to Mother."
"And did ye?"
"Did I what?"
"Ever talk about dragons, with her?"
"No. Look, sir wizard, she's dead. Now I've told you my name, I've told you hers, I've even babbled the names of five apprentice gemcutters-and your name remains a mystery to me. So what is it?"
"Elminster Aumar, though most folk know me better as 'Elmin-ster of Shadowdale.' I'm also called the Old Mage, the Old Sage, and a lot of less polite names and titles, besides. Wiser now?"
"I've heard of Elminster the Great, the Meddler of Mystra, who did things in Waterdeep centuries ago. I guess you're named after him."
"Ye could say that, yes." The old wizard smiled thinly. "Now that we know each other somewhat better, lass, suppose ye set aside thy fury and tell me true: are ye beholden to anyone? Working with anyone? Spying for anyone? Hired out to do any task?"
"No," Narnra replied, anger flaring again. "No, no, and no again!" So he believed nothing of what she'd said, did he?
"Can't you tell truth when you hear it? Or d'ye not want to hear words that don't fit with how you've already judged me? You didn't show yon Red Wizard much kindness!"
"He deserves none, believe me."
"Hah!" Narnra snarled down from where the mists held her. "What if I don't believe you? Why should I? You slyly hint that I lie, and that you know a lot more about my mother than I do, and that wizards must do what wizards must do. Well, as to that, all I see and hear is that wizards do just as they please and cloak self-interest in a lot of grand words and hints that they're doing things important that protect all Faerun and all of us with it! Yet do they show any proof of this?"
The smile stealing onto the Old Mage's face seemed a little sad around the edges. "What proof would ye believe, Narnra?"
"I … I …"
Elminster spread his hands. "Ye see? Rage ye have to spare, and no wonder, for I've endangered ye and scared ye, and my power lies as sharp as any blade between us. Furious ye are that I trust thee not-yet do ye trust me?"
Narnra stared down at him. "No," she whispered. "Not yet."
"Ah. Ye want to. So do I, thee. So how can we build trust between us?"
The thief floating in the mists frowned then said, "Why don't you tell me some answers to things I ask?"
The white-bearded wizard grinned. "As ye said to me: so ask your questions, and I'll try to keep to the truth."
Narnra managed a smile. "When did you first meet my mother, and why?"
"If Maerjanthra Shalace the sorceress is also Maerjanthra Shal-ace the jeweler of Waterdeep," Elminster replied, "I first met her in the ruins of a elven palace in the Sword Coast North some seventy summers ago, when she looked to be about the same age as ye are now. She was with a band of adventurers, seeking tomb-riches to plunder-something I was there to foil."
"Seventy winters? But that's impossible! Mother . . ."
"Told ye exactly how old she was, ever?"
"No, but. . ."
"But by her looks ye assumed she was at most twenty or thirty seasons older than ye?"
Narnra nodded and burst out, "And-and if she was a sorceress, could she have . . . done something to me? With magic?"
"Ah," the Old Mage said slowly, "ye begin to see the roots of my interest. Have ye ever had . . . strange dreams? Feelings of power rising in ye or running through ye? When my magic touched ye, did ye have any . . . visions? Feelings of power?"
The Silken Shadow looked down at him and shook her head. "No." Her voice was little more than a whisper. From somewhere beyond the mists came an angry crackle of fire that could only be Caladnei striving to win free or to work magic.
"Then," Elminster told her gently, "my answer must be: I know not."
Narnra drew a deep breath and asked, "So if you knew my mother so well, who was my father?"
The wizard shrugged.
The thief floated in silence for a few breaths, frowning at him, then asked, "You said 'first met' my mother. How many other times did you meet her?"
"Dozens. Scores." The Old Mage shrugged. "We dwelt together in Waterdeep, one spring, when I had some business among the nobility of thy city: the house was mine, and a dozen lady adventurers took rooms there."
"A dozen, with one man-a wizard? Didn't folk talk?"
Elminster cocked one eyebrow. "Talk? Waterdeep must have changed more than I'd thought."
The white-bearded man below her seemed to shimmer, and suddenly Narnra was staring at a tall, willowy, high-bosomed woman with a steely gaze and an imperious grace that transcended the ill-fitting, none-too-clean old wizard's robes that hung upon her body. "Besides, we were a house of women," a softer, huskier version of Elminster's voice replied. The mists whirled about the woman, sparks flared, Narnra blinked-and the old wizard was standing below her once more.
Narnra drew in a deep breath. "And were you a woman all the time? Did you live with your renters, or did everyone keep to their own rooms and trust in locks?"
Elminster chuckled. "Ye sound like a disapproving priest, lass. Beyond the outside doors, there were no locks; the rooms were shared. Men-and women-were in and out, as is the normal way of things, and there were fights, and loving . . . and though I spent much of my time in other, grander houses, wearing other-and grander, if it comes to that-shapes, I lived with those ladies, yes."
"Slept with them?" Narnra asked sharply. "One Maerjanthra Shalace in particular?"
The Old Mage smiled. "Aye, and aye. This would have been forty-and-some summers back."
"You never saw her after that?"
"Nay, our paths crossed every few years, when I came to Water-deep for some purpose or other."
"My mother was your mistress?"
"No, I'd not put it that way-nor would she have done. She had her lovers, and I mine. We liked to talk and catch up on things for an evening, when the gods granted us time and chance."