a pious priest and nodded slowly, contriving to look a trifle on the sad side of thoughtful.
One of the women—he dared not look to see who—snorted in clear derision. Well, aye, his act was barely believable, he had to give her that.
However, Lord Halaunt’s words had worked. Attention had left the old noble; every last guest was now focused on Elminster, and they were all sidling toward him.
He had to firmly squash another urge to laugh. This was as good as a play.
He just hoped it wouldn’t turn out to be the sort of production where bodies piled up on the stage …
“Sage of Shadowdale,” Shaaan murmured, as she reached Elminster and halted shoulder to shoulder, so she was looking past him but able to speak sidelong into his ear, “I’m sure a man who’s lived the sort of long and interesting life you have must have made many enemies, and accumulated many debts. I’m not called a queen for nothing; the wealth I could share with you could smooth away your every material want …”
She broke off as Maraunth Torr got close enough to obviously listen in, and added only, “Don’t forget this offer,” as she glided away.
Elminster turned and followed her, ignoring Maraunth Torr as if he’d been a pillar or a piece of furniture, and when she noticed this and whirled, he gave her a chuckle and the words, “Deftly done, lass. Not a hint of the salacious, just the coins proffered. Not that such blandishments have worked on me for the last twelve centuries or so. But I thank ye for the entertainment.”
Shaaan hissed, then asked, “And how are you at receiving threats ?”
El shrugged. “Depends. How menacing are they?”
“Oh, I can be very menacing. Starting with your anointed successor, Amarune Whitewave.”
Elminster shook his head. “No. Too crude and obvious. There’s an art to it, Snakeshanks. Lead with the suggestive but minor, and build to thy stronger threats.”
And with that, he spun away, feeling the sharp prick of the envenomed needle she’d spat into the back of his hand before he’d taken his second stride.
It tingled rather than burned, so he knew he had to do nothing at all. Bone asp venom, by the rough edge of that tingling, and bone asp venom hadn’t been able to harm him for three centuries now. My, but it was nice to be wanted—gone.
Maraunth Torr was waiting patiently for him as El strode up. “I presume the Serpent Queen offered you riches, and threatened you as an incentive to accept them,” he said with preamble. “It’s her usual way.”
Elminster nodded. “And what’s thy usual way, Maraunth Torr?” The chatter and mingling around them were now loud and brisk enough that only those standing nearest could eavesdrop—and he didn’t really care if anyone did listen in. Yusendre of Nimbral, for one, was keeping close, but trying to stay behind him and out of his field of vision.
“I will be so bold as to offer you my service,” the urbane and handsome wizard replied smoothly. “I’ve assembled a collection of spells most individuals would find very impressive, but I can hardly hope to impress a Chosen of Mystra. Yet I’m sure you can always use an extra pair of eyes and hands—and mine can wield magic most can never hope to master.”
“If I yield the Lost Spell to ye,” Elminster said dryly. “Binding thyself in servitude, making thyself many new foes—for we who serve Mystra are not widely loved—to gain one spell? Forgive me if I doubt thy veracity. Or that thy service, if rendered, would be selfless. I smell the proverbial rat. Or perhaps an incontinent dragon.”
“It’s hardly prudent to spurn my offer out of hand with such gratuitous and unfounded insults,” Maraunth Torr replied with a smile. “Being as I wield power enough to be able to harm those near and dear to you, and hamper your causes. To prefer to face threats rather than to accept bribes is hardly the act of a sane man, I must say.”
“Aye, obviously ye must,” Elminster
One of the women—he dared not look to see who—snorted in clear derision. Well, aye, his act was barely believable, he had to give her that.
However, Lord Halaunt’s words had worked. Attention had left the old noble; every last guest was now focused on Elminster, and they were all sidling toward him.
He had to firmly squash another urge to laugh. This was as good as a play.
He just hoped it wouldn’t turn out to be the sort of production where bodies piled up on the stage …
“Sage of Shadowdale,” Shaaan murmured, as she reached Elminster and halted shoulder to shoulder, so she was looking past him but able to speak sidelong into his ear, “I’m sure a man who’s lived the sort of long and interesting life you have must have made many enemies, and accumulated many debts. I’m not called a queen for nothing; the wealth I could share with you could smooth away your every material want …”
She broke off as Maraunth Torr got close enough to obviously listen in, and added only, “Don’t forget this offer,” as she glided away.
Elminster turned and followed her, ignoring Maraunth Torr as if he’d been a pillar or a piece of furniture, and when she noticed this and whirled, he gave her a chuckle and the words, “Deftly done, lass. Not a hint of the salacious, just the coins proffered. Not that such blandishments have worked on me for the last twelve centuries or so. But I thank ye for the entertainment.”
Shaaan hissed, then asked, “And how are you at receiving threats ?”
El shrugged. “Depends. How menacing are they?”
“Oh, I can be very menacing. Starting with your anointed successor, Amarune Whitewave.”
Elminster shook his head. “No. Too crude and obvious. There’s an art to it, Snakeshanks. Lead with the suggestive but minor, and build to thy stronger threats.”
And with that, he spun away, feeling the sharp prick of the envenomed needle she’d spat into the back of his hand before he’d taken his second stride.
It tingled rather than burned, so he knew he had to do nothing at all. Bone asp venom, by the rough edge of that tingling, and bone asp venom hadn’t been able to harm him for three centuries now. My, but it was nice to be wanted—gone.
Maraunth Torr was waiting patiently for him as El strode up. “I presume the Serpent Queen offered you riches, and threatened you as an incentive to accept them,” he said with preamble. “It’s her usual way.”
Elminster nodded. “And what’s thy usual way, Maraunth Torr?” The chatter and mingling around them were now loud and brisk enough that only those standing nearest could eavesdrop—and he didn’t really care if anyone did listen in. Yusendre of Nimbral, for one, was keeping close, but trying to stay behind him and out of his field of vision.
“I will be so bold as to offer you my service,” the urbane and handsome wizard replied smoothly. “I’ve assembled a collection of spells most individuals would find very impressive, but I can hardly hope to impress a Chosen of Mystra. Yet I’m sure you can always use an extra pair of eyes and hands—and mine can wield magic most can never hope to master.”
“If I yield the Lost Spell to ye,” Elminster said dryly. “Binding thyself in servitude, making thyself many new foes—for we who serve Mystra are not widely loved—to gain one spell? Forgive me if I doubt thy veracity. Or that thy service, if rendered, would be selfless. I smell the proverbial rat. Or perhaps an incontinent dragon.”
“It’s hardly prudent to spurn my offer out of hand with such gratuitous and unfounded insults,” Maraunth Torr replied with a smile. “Being as I wield power enough to be able to harm those near and dear to you, and hamper your causes. To prefer to face threats rather than to accept bribes is hardly the act of a sane man, I must say.”
“Aye, obviously ye must,” Elminster
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