"Umm … nice, isn't it?" Elminster saidrather vaguely. "I'd forgotten how much fun hurling fire is! How does thespell go again?"
The Old Mage merely waved a finger.
His young opponent, clinging to a red metal staff thathad been bent in six places, was just getting to his knees when another ball offlame as big as the first roared over the meadow. That was enough to send himtumbling again, and the young mage soon found himself atop a dazed and rotundCalishite sorcerer. When he could see clearly again, the mage saw a secondcrater smoking in the distance. Awed murmuring could be heard from the watchingwizards all around.
"Now," Elminster said mildly, drawing thestunned young mage to his feet with a firm hand, "was there aught else yewanted to speak of? Sendings and such, or prismatic spheres-pretty, aren'tthey? I've always enjoyed them. Or crafting artifacts, say? No? Ah, wellthen… fare thee well in thy Art, Young Master of the Cutting Tongue, andlearn a trifle more wisdom, too, if ye've the wits to do so. Until next wemeet."
Elminster patted the young mage's arm cheerily,snapped his fingers, and vanished. A moment later he reappeared beside ananxious Storm.
"Mount up," he said cheerily. "We'verealms to cross tonight."
"Realms?" asked Storm. As they rode up theridge and left the magefair behind, she did not look back. "I thought youhad to get a key-or was it the twig? Did that mage take the key from you?"
"Oh, no," replied Elminster merrily.
He rode close and touched her forearm. Abruptly thelandscape was gone, replaced momentarily by shifting, shadowy grayness. Thetravelers seemed to be standing on nothing, but the horses trotted as if it wassolid ground. Even before Storm could gasp a breath, there was another jolt,and they were somewhere else again-a place of darkness where rocks of all sizescrashed together endlessly, tumbling and rebounding as they hurtled throughthe emptiness. There was a constant thunderof stone smashing into stone, the scenelit by flashes of phosphorescence from each violent impact.
Storm took one look at the scene and tore her weathercloakfrom behind her saddle, flinging it over the head of her mount to prevent itsrearing and plunging forward off the rather small area of rock they'd appearedon. The Old Mage's mount stood calm, controlled by his magic, no doubt.
Storm stared around at the endless destruction andfound herself ducking low as a large, jagged boulder thundered toward them. Itwas easily as large as four horses and tumbled end over end as it came at them.
Elminster gestured, unconcerned, and the boulderveered off to strike another, larger rock nearby. A deafening crash filled theair, and a shower of stone chips rained down upon the bard. Storm shook herhead. Whatever the place was, they were no longer in Faerûn.
"The green-clad dolt thought he had taken ourprize," the Old Mage continued casually. "He suspected Duara mightpass me the key, but he's found by now that his mighty staff is indeed just atwig. Now he'll have to go on watching her for the rest of the magefair, tryingto see if she passes the key on to someone else. And for all he knows, anyonemight be me, just wearing another shape. Duara'll lead him a merry dance. Shelikes hugging young men, and all that." He chuckled. "Shining schemesoft come to naught, ye know."
Boulders rolled and crashed right in front of them.Storm bit her lip to quell an involuntary shriek, shielded her eyes againstflying stone shards, and asked, "Duara? You got the key from her, didn'tyou? I saw her hands at your belt."
Elminster nodded and replied, "Aye, she gave itto me. All three of our foes at the fair saw it, too: the two who challengedme, and one who did not dare come forward."
He fended off six small stones hurtling toward themand continued, "The third mage was there only to watch what transpired, nodoubt, and report where we went. I used magic to blind him-and the young masterof fire-hurling, too-under cover of my firesphere blast. They're bothfortunate magefair rules prohibit spells that enfeeble the wits, or they'd bestaring at nothing for a long time, indeed. The blindness will wear off soonenough, but they'll find us safely gone, and the key with us."
"What-and where-is this key?" Storm askedpatiently, reaching into a saddlebag for some cheese. "Why did they notknow where you'd hidden it?"
"They saw, but they did not see," the OldMage replied, using magic to float the cheese she held out deftly to his mouth."They knew not that Duara and I were old friends-or how quick her witsare."
He reached into his mouth and drew out a small spindleof metal set with a large emerald.
"The key," he said grandly, his voicesuddenly its usual clear-edged, fussy self again. "It's been in theresince Duara first kissed me." He licked his lips and added, "Shestill likes almonds."
The waiting cheese slid into his mouth. He chewed,made an approving face, and took Storm's hand. Around them, at his will, theworld shifted again.
In the blink of an eye, the darkness and crashingrocks were gone. Their horses stood on a crumbling stone bridge in the midst ofa fetid swamp, ringed by vine-hung trees. Slimy stone statues protruded fromthe still, black waters on all sides. Storm could see they perched on a raisedavenue, part of an ancient city that lay drowned in the mire around them.
As Storm glanced behind her, several glistening blacktentacles rose lazily from the inky waters and rolled in languid curls acrossthe stone span. After the questing limbs bobbed and swayed-almost as if theysniffed the air-they slid slowly into the water again.
The bard pointed to a trail of ripples, which seemedto mark the path of something large moving toward them just under the water'ssurface. Elminster nodded, smiled, and waved a hand casually-and they weresomewhere else again. The horses were on an old, sunken road in the heart of adark forest.
Storm sighed.
"The Harpers wanted me to protect you?" she began to ask.
But when she spied the dull glint of many eyes watchingthem from dim, shadowed places under the trees, Storm reached for her sword.
Elminster grunted and pitched himself heavily from hissaddle. Then he reached up and laid gentle fingers on the wrist of her swordarm.
"Nay," he said softly," 'Tis morelikely, far, they wanted ye to protect others from me."
Storm rolled her eyes. Smoothly she swung herself downfrom her saddle.
"I shouldn't be here," she said. "Keyor no key. This hopping from place to place, world to world, is neither safenor wise."
Elminster grinned and said, "And coming to themagefair with me was? I've taken us this way home, jumping so often, to givethe slip to any mages who might have followed us. Few have the breadth of mindto shift from one world to another as often as we have." The Old Magepatted her arm. "Thanks for thy patience, lass. 'Tis not long now beforewe'll be at ease, and ye can chat with a good friend."
As Elminster led the way on foot down an uneven paththrough the trees, bright morning dawned upon the old, unfamiliar forest. Therosy light seemed to make the Old Mage recall something. He turned and gesturedbehind them. Storm looked back in time to see their horses vanish. She lookedat Elminster. He answered her wordless question only with a merry grin andheaded back down the path again.
Holding her tongue, Storm followed. And she drew hersword, despite the Old Mage's words; knowing Elminster, his 'friend' could be ablue dragon-or worse.
The path led between two old, moss-covered stones. Asthey drew near, Elminster reached back and took Storm's hand. They steppedbetween the stones together, and the bard felt an odd, tingling chill.
They were somewhere else again. Somewhere familiar.Storm knew almost at once that she was in Shadowdale.