His blood boiled. Love her, of course, but don't lose yourself in her. This one will betray you.
The Srinshee spoke to him seldom these days, and there was so much he wanted to say, to talk over, but-
Elminster's hands tightened on his staff. "She will?" he muttered. "Then why not-?"
No. No, El. You must give her the chance. Mystra lays it upon you, and I think it best. Love her, teach her, but don't lose your heart to her. Make her admire you, and it may give you some guidance over her when she casts you aside to make her own way in the world.
"But how do ye know this?" Elminster burst out. He brought his fist down hard on the edge of the polished table. The horned skull on it clattered and the floating shards that had once been a crown jangled eerily.
Later, El. Your lady has arrived.
"I-by the Nine Hells Nergal Desires-"
Hah! You did read those books of yours, didn't you?
"-blast and damn all swift-striding would-be apprentices! I-"
The raven-haired woman calmly pushed open the door before he could wipe her image from the floating crystal sphere. She gave it a sidelong glance and a little smile as she strode up to him. Crossing her arms across a magnificent bosom, she stared into his eyes with a look of dark promise. "I understand you're looking for an apprentice." Her voice was a musical purr.
Elminster stroked his beard and tried to look puzzled. "Oh? And how did such a wild understanding come to thee?"•"..;
"Mystra told me," the beauty said simply. "Out of the : altar I knelt at, last night."
Elminster allowed himself a slow smile. "Well then, of course, I must be. I was thinking more of a small, gruff, very male dwarf this time, instead of -" He sighed. "- another young and beautiful human female, but... I suppose... what's thy name, lass?"
"Symgharyl Maruel." She hesitated a moment, coloring; a little, and then threw back her head and announcedj proudly, "At mage fairs I call myself the Shadowsil. I saw your crown of fireballs at the last one, Lord Elminster; very impressive."
" 'Lord Elminster? I hope not. 'Old Mage' sits better onl the tongue, or 'El' or even, 'Ho, Longbeard!' So, Lansharra, I how would ye like me to address thee-if, say, we were to dwell together, as master and apprentice, for some ten or twelve summers at least?"
All the color drained out of her face. She swallowed, clucked her head, and asked very carefully, "How is it that you know my true, secret name?"
Elminster gave her a smile that held only kindness, shrugged, and spread his hands in a gesture of innocence. "Mystra speaks to me, too."
Do you never stop? Women, women, women-if you hadn't been one for a bit, i'd think you were utterly addled over them.
I'm not seeing magic, wizard! You're not deluding yourself into thinking my patience is growing, are you?
On Toril, Mystra is magic.
Yes, ye-meaning? Oh. Oho. Show me, wizard!
Of course.
Chapter Twenty-Two
THE EMPTYING OF ELMINSTER
The voice he loved so well seemed to come curling huskily up out of the fire. "Why Aglarond? Are you growing tired of scouring the same old places, O Sword of Mystra?"
The bearded man in black abruptly stopped his pacing to peer into the crackling flames. "Auluua?" he cried. Teacher?"
"The same." Flame crackled up in leaping tongues. "I am a little lonely, Prince of Athalantar. The years pass, and I sit waiting of nights... and you never call."
Elminster almost ran into the fire, arms outstretched to embrace-nothing. Firelight danced across his face as he swayed above the hearth, sudden tears hissing down into the blaze at his feet.
"Your boots will scorch, El," the Srinshee said, her voice softer now, and less playful. "Stand you back, and leave off weeping, or you'll have me sobbing too."
Almost reluctantly Elminster did as he was bid, staring into the flames. "How is it that ye come to me?" he asked in wonder.
"You called on me-just now, in your muttering. When you said 'This mage murderess must be the Srinshee's peer at hurling deadly spells.' My peer, indeed!"
El grinned and strode across the chamber, waving his hands. "Well, she must be. Look ye: emissaries battle with spells in the palace of Aglarond, and this seneschal-'prentice, the Simbul, who's not been heard from before, hurls them all down with her spells-thrice!"
He ran out of room to pace across, and whirled around to stride back. " 'Tis not easy work, impressing Red Wizards, but this mysterious wench has done so mightily. Instead of signing her realm's surrender, Great Queen Ilione signs a treaty with Thay that makes them nearly allies! Everywhere among mages I hear talk of this wild-tempered woman and her slaying spells, and they tell of Ilbrul the Ramshorn, who claimed to hail from Netheril, and Englezaer the Enchanter, and the spell hunters Ammarask and Brastimeir the Bold all going down in battle against her! Aglarond grows too strong, I say-and this Simbul must be stopped!"
"That roster of the fallen is true, every one... and yet, bold lion, there was a time when you admired strong she-wizards! Or does your memory of fair Cormanthor and the glorious time of Myth Drannor fade?"
"Nay, but Mystra bids me nurture magic, not stand idly by whilst one ambitious mage, man or maid, cuts down wizard after wizard, snuffing out so much learning in moments!"
"So why have you not long since cloaked yourself in wrath and mighty weavings and lain waste to Aglarond, trampling down this Simbul at its heart? Are you afraid?"
Elminster snorted. "Foolish I may be, but afraid? Only of doing the wrong thing, if I may flatter myself thus far. Nay, whenever I resolve to challenge this Simbul, I hear Mystra whispering, 'Look well, first.' "
"And so?"
"I've been too busy with other matters of magical import and service to Mystra. Yet too much time has passed, and 'tis more than fitting that I now cast down this Simbul... after looking at her deeds and manner as Mystra bids, of course."
"You seem to have already made up your mind she must die, Sword of Mystra. Yet it might not prove so simple as all that; do you not fear defeat and death at the hands of this obviously mighty mageslayer? She is dangerous... she could kill you."
Elminster spread his hands. "I could be overwhelmed and slain at any time, and what will the measure of my life be then? I am nothing but some small part of the service I have done to others."
The flames seemed to shape a smile for him; a smile he knew so well that tears welled up again almost to choke him.
"I fade, El, so heed me now: If you go to Aglarond, go armed for the worst spell battle of your life. Go also with an open mind and prepare to be surprised."
There was a great puff of spark and ash, and the fire went out, plunging the room into darkness.
Ahhh, and you were surprised. You certainly did your part to make fair faerun an exciting place for mages-out i'm still not seeing the secret magic I seek, am I?