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Why did they always toy with him, as if he were a child, or a beast to be slain or trans-formed with but a
passing thought? "I would say against it, Lady. No one should use such a thing without knowing first how to
use it
 and knowing its work well enough to realize what changes it will work in Faerun."
"Sober words for one so young. Most youths, and most mages, are so full of whim and pride that they'll
dare anything."
Her words calmed him a little. At least she listened and did not dismiss him out of hand. Who was she?
Did Mystra bind wizards to guard every one of her temples?
Elminster shook his head again. "I am a thief, Lady, in a city ruled by cruel wizards. Whim and pride are
luxuries only rich fools can afford. If I want to indulge in them, I must needs do it by night, in bedchambers or
on rooftops." He smiled thinly. "Thieves
 and indeed farmers, beggars, and folk who own only a small shop or
hand-trade, methinks must keep themselves under rather more control by day, or soon perish."
"What would you do," the sorceress asked curiously, eyes very bright, "if you could work magic and
became a wizard as strong as those who dwell here?"
"I'd use my spells to drive all the wizards out of Athalantar so folk could be free. I'd set a few other things
right, too, and then renounce magic forever."
"For you hate magic," the lady said softly. "What if you did not and someone gave you the power, and told
you that it must be used, that you must be a wizard? What then?"
"I'd try to be a good one," Elminster replied, shrugging again. Did temple wizards just talk to every intruder
all the night through? Still, it felt good to speak openly at last to someone who listened and seemed to
understand but not judge.
"Would you make yourself king?"
Elminster shook his head. "I'd not be a good one," he said. "I have not the patience." He smiled suddenly
and added, "Yet if I found a man or a maid who'd wear the crown well, I'd stand be-hind him or her. That, I
think, is the true work of a wizard
 to make life in the lands he dwells in good for all who dwell there."
Her smile, then, was dazzling. Elminster felt sudden power in the air around him. His hair crackled, and
his skin tingled. "Will you kneel to me?" the sorceress asked, striding nearer.
Elminster swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. She was very beautiful, and yet somehow terrifying, her eyes
and hair alight with power like flame waiting to burst forth. Trembling, Elmin-ster held his ground and asked,
"L-Lady, what is thy name? Who are ye?"
"I am Mystra," came a voice that crashed around him like a mighty wave smashing on rocks. Its echoes
rolled around the chamber. "I am the Lady of Might and the Mistress of Magic! I am Power Incarnate!
Wherever magic is worked, there am I
 from the cold poles of Toril to its hottest jungles, whatever the hand or
claw or will that works the sorcery! Behold me and fear me! Yet behold me and love me as all who deal with me in
hon-esty do. This world is my domain. I am magic, mightiest among all those men worship. I am the One True Spell at
the heart of all spells. There is no other."
Echoes rolled away. Elminster felt the very pillars of the temple shaking around him. He wavered in awe,
like a man struggling in a high wind, but kept his feet. Silence fell, and their eyes met.
Golden flames burned in her gaze. Elminster felt as if he were burning inside; hot fire raced along his
veins, pain rising in him like an angry red wave.
"Man," the goddess said, in an awful whisper, "do you defy me?"
Elminster shook his head. "I came here to curse thee or dese-crate thy holy place or demand aid from
thee, but now
 no. I wish ye hadn't let the magelords slay my parents and ruin my realm, and I would ... know why.
But I have no wish to defy ye."
"What do you feel, instead?"
Elminster sighed. Somehow he'd felt he had to speak the truth since her first words to him, and it was still
so. "I fear ye, and ..." He was silent for a time, and then what might have been a smile touched his lips, and
he went on. "... I think I could learn to love ye."
Mystra was very close to him now, and her eyes were dark pools of mystery. She smiled, and suddenly
Elminster felt cool and refreshed, at ease.
"I let mages use spells freely so that all beings who use magic may escape tyranny. But from that
freedom come such as the magelords in this land," she said. "If you would overthrow them, why not become
a mage yourself? It is but a tool in your hand... and it seems to fit your hand better than many I have seen
grasping at it."
Elminster took a pace back, lifting his hands in an uncon-scious warding gesture.
Mystra halted, eyes suddenly stern. "I ask again: will you kneel to me?"
Eyes locked on hers, he knelt slowly. "Lady, I confess I am awed," he said slowly, "but if I serve thee ...
I'd rather do it with my eyes open."
Mystra laughed, eyes sparkling. "Ah, but it is long since I've met such a one as you!"
Then her face was again solemn, and her voice low. "Extend your hand, freely and in trust, or go
unharmed; choose."
Elminster extended his hand without hesitation. Mystra smiled and touched it. Fire consumed him, spun
him down help-lessly into nothing and beyond, and whirled him away into golden depths ... as a thousand
lightning bolts struck through his heart and roared back out of him as consuming flame....
Elminster screamed, or tried to, as he was flung away into many-hued madness, a place of blinding light
and blazing pain.
He roared, and when darkness rushed up to meet him, he plunged headlong into it, striking it as if it were
a stone wall. Dashed against it, he was ... gone....
* * * * *
It was the cold, again, that awakened him. Elminster sat up, half expecting to see the burial-ground
slumbering around him, and found instead the temple, still and dark. Power yet flowed in it, though, in a
silent, invisible web of stirrings all around him, from the bare altar to the armsmen and the magelord who
stood motionless all around the circular chancel.
Now he could feel magic as well as see it!
Awed, Elminster looked all around. He was naked; every-thing had been burned away to lie in ashes
around him except for the Lion Sword, which lay beside him, unchanged from its ru-ined state. Taking it up
with a smile
 the Mistress of Magic knew his duty, too, it seemed he got to his feet. The blue glow of magic was
everywhere in this vast chamber, but brightest of all behind him. He turned and beheld the altar.
Mystra was gone, and her scepter with her, but as he looked, words flamed out brightly on the altar. He
hurried forward to read them. "Teach thyself magic, and see the Realms. You will know when to come back
to Athalantar. Worship me always with that keen mind and that lack of pride, and you will please me well.
Serve me first by touching my altar."
As he finished reading, the words faded. When the altar was bare and dark again, he reached forward
tentatively
 paused in sudden, trembling fear and then laid a hand firmly on the cold stone.
He thought he heard a faint chuckle, somewhere nearby .. . and then darkness claimed him again.
Eight
TO SERVE MYSTRA
Did I ever tell thee how I first came to serve Mystra? No? Ye won't believe a word of it naetheless. The way of
the Lady seems strange to most men [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]