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 replied dryly. “Yet I’ve not been sane for these
last thousand-some years, so thy point strays wide and leaves me unskewered. Manshoon
yonder has been threatening me for more than a century—or rather, various of him have—yet
here I still stand. That should tell thee something.”
“I,” Maraunth Torr said a trifle coldly, “am not Manshoon.”
“Aye,” El replied, almost purring out the words. “I’d noticed.”
Maraunth Torr reddened around the temples, a blush that spread down the line of his
jaw as it tightened.
Ah, yes
, that smarts.
Ye very want to achieve as much as Manshoon, or at least assume half the mantle of
his infamy
. Smiling serenely at the glowering wizard, Elminster strolled on.
To find Yusendre suddenly in front of him, gliding to a stop with a little smile and
nod of greeting.
“Bad form,” she commented, holding up her empty glass.
“What’s bad form?” he asked politely, selecting a decanter, proffering it, and when
she nodded acceptance, refilling her glass.
“I know not what the scaled woman and Saer Torr said to you at first,” she replied,
“but I know they both ended by uttering threats. They’re not accustomed to hiding
their true feelings, so I or anyone who cares to can easily read their tone of voice,
or facial expressions … proper little tyrants, the pair of them.”
“Whereas you are a proper little—what?” El asked her lightly.
“Would-be friend. Kindness and friendship achieve much more than fear, outright threat,
and glowering menace.”
“So, Yusendre, is this the ‘sleep with me, Elminster; my
“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 replied dryly. “Yet I’ve not been sane for these
last thousand-some years, so thy point strays wide and leaves me unskewered. Manshoon
yonder has been threatening me for more than a century—or rather, various of him have—yet
here I still stand. That should tell thee something.”
“I,” Maraunth Torr said a trifle coldly, “am not Manshoon.”
“Aye,” El replied, almost purring out the words. “I’d noticed.”
Maraunth Torr reddened around the temples, a blush that spread down the line of his
jaw as it tightened.
Ah, yes
, that smarts.
Ye very want to achieve as much as Manshoon, or at least assume half the mantle of
his infamy
. Smiling serenely at the glowering wizard, Elminster strolled on.
To find Yusendre suddenly in front of him, gliding to a stop with a little smile and
nod of greeting.
“Bad form,” she commented, holding up her empty glass.
“What’s bad form?” he asked politely, selecting a decanter, proffering it, and when
she nodded acceptance, refilling her glass.
“I know not what the scaled woman and Saer Torr said to you at first,” she replied,
“but I know they both ended by uttering threats. They’re not accustomed to hiding
their true feelings, so I or anyone who cares to can easily read their tone of voice,
or facial expressions … proper little tyrants, the pair of them.”
“Whereas you are a proper little—what?” El asked her lightly.
“Would-be friend. Kindness and friendship achieve much more than fear, outright threat,
and glowering menace.”
“So, Yusendre, is this the ‘sleep with me, Elminster; my
Similar Books
