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finger tiny lightnings flared.
They curled and spat toward the sphere with almost aimless sloth; as Elminster watched their slow
progress, he called on Mystra once more.
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A vision appeared in his mind, as bright and as sud-den as if someone had snatched aside a curtain. He
was standing naked in the forest, face lined with pain, and covered with scrapes and thorn-scratches. Or
rather, he was almost naked: at his wrists and ankles were glowing manacles, attached to chains that rose
into the air to fade into invisibility a few feet from his limbs. Their links blazed with the same tiny lightnings
as were crawling toward the sphere that held him, right now. The Masked suddenly strode through the
background of the scene, making an impatient beckon-ing gesture almost absently as he hurried on his
way.
Elminster was jerked around by the chains and forced to follow his master. They went through the trees
for quite some distance, stumbling and scraping along, until El fetched up against a jutting rock with
bruising force. The elf left him there as he bent down to examine a certain plant, and the vision swept in to
show Elmin-ster laying his hand flat on the stone, whispering Mys-tra's name, and concentrating on a
particular symbol an unfamiliar and complex character of shin-ing golden curves that hung in El's mind
and caught fire, as if it was was being branded into his memory.
In the scene, Elminster's bare body changed, arch-ing away from the rock as it flowed into the smooth,
full curves of a woman, a form he'd worn before in Mystra's service. 'Elmara,' he'd been then, and it was
Elmara who stepped away from the stone, chains gone, and began a swift casting even as The Masked
straightened up and spun around, his face sharp with astonishment and fear. That face that promptly
van-ished in the bolt of emerald fire Elmara flung through it. The green flames flowed and splashed
through his head, and the scene was gone.
El found himself shaking his head to clear his dazed vision. Through the sudden glimmer of tears, he saw
the lightnings, back in the here and now, touch the sphere around him at last, and awaken it to fresh fire.
He tried to recall the symbol he'd seen, and it swept back into his mind in all its intricate glory. Well
enough; touch stone and think of that while calling aloud of Mystra, and he would wear a woman's shape
again a changing that would be enough to break the bindings this treacherous elven sorcerer was going
to lay upon him now. The Masked a proud elf with a thin, cold voice that he'd heard before, he was
sure ... but where?
El shrugged. Even if he learned who wore the mask, what then? Learning a face and a name meant little
when you knew little or nothing of the character be-hind them. To a Cormanthan born and bred the
iden-tity of The Masked might well be a secret as valuable as it was deadly; to Elminster, it was simply
something he didn't know yet.
He suspected his very unfamiliarity with the realm was his chief value to this elven mage, and he resolved
to reveal as little as possible of his own true powers and nature, belittling even his experience with the
kiira. Who was to say what an overwhelmed human mind could even comprehend of its stored
memories, let alone retain after the gem was gone?
"Look into my eyes," The Masked commanded crisply. El looked up in time to see one long-fingered
hand make an imperious gesture. There was a flash of light from all around, and a high singing sound, as
the sphere burst into a sheet of golden sparks.
For an instant El felt as if he was falling and then there was a sickening surging feeling, as if eels were
wriggling through his innards, as the sparks streamed into the midst of his misty form.
Fire followed, and the wracking pain of being caught squarely in the raging, blistering heat of hot flame.
Elminster threw back his head and shouted a sound that echoed back off the high vaulting above as he
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fell in earnest this time, dropping several feet before he was rudely caught up in a tangle of webs.
The webs were spells spinning themselves down and around him from the smoky helix. He was caught in
their coils, their substance melting into his skin and pouring into his nose and mouth, choking him.
He gagged, writhed, and tried to vomit, throat shud-dering spasmodically. Then it was over, and he was
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