"Ed Greenwood - Forgotten Realms - Elminster 2 - Elminster In Myth Drannor" - читать интересную книгу автора (Greenwood Ed)

Hairy Ones were amusing at first, but very 'one note,' and above all elves of Cormanthor hated to be
bored-or at least, to admit their boredom.
Not that this wasn't a grand revel. The Ereladden had spared no expense in the weaving of the
field-spells. A constant array of conjured sounds, smells, and images swirled and wafted over the
revelers, and the power of the conjured field allowed everyone to fly, moving through the air to wherever
they gazed, and desired to be. Most of the revelers were floating aloft now, drifting down occasionally to
take in refreshments.
This night the usually bare garden walls bristled with carved unicorns, pegasi, dancing elven
maidens, and rearing stags this night. Every statuette touched by a reveler split apart and drifted open, to
reveal teardrop decanters of sparkling moonwine or any one of a dozen ruby-hued Erladden vintages.
Amid the spires of the decanters were the shorter spikes of crystal galauntra whose domes covered
figurines sculpted of choice cheese, roasted nuts, or sugarstars.
Amid the rainbow-hued lights drifting among the merry elves were vapors that would make any
true-blood light-hearted, restless, and full of life. Some abandoned, giggling Cormyth were dodging
through the air from cloud to cloud, their eyes gleaming too brightly to see the world around them. Half a
hundred giggles rolled amid the branches of the towering trees that rose over all, twinkling magestars
winking and slithering here and there among their leaves. As the moon rose to overwhelm such tiny
radiances, it shone down on a scene of wild and joyful celebration. Half of Cormanthor was dancing
tonight.

*****

"Surprisingly, I still remembered the words that would bring me here."
The voice came out of the night without warning. Its welcoming tone dared him to recall earlier
days.
He'd been expecting it, and was even unsurprised to hear its low, melodious tones issuing from
the shadows in the deepest part of the bower, where the bed stood.
A bed he still found most restful, even with age beginning to creep into his bones. The Coronal of
all Cormanthor turned his head in the moonlight, looking away from the mirror-smooth waters that
surrounded this garden isle, and said with a smile that managed to be happier than his heart felt, "Be
welcome, Great Lady of the Starym."
There was silence for a moment in the shadows before the voice came again. "I was once more
than that," it said, almost wistful.
Eltargrim rose and held out his hand to where his truesight told him she stood. "Come to me, my
friend." He stretched out his other hand, almost beseechingly. "My Lyntra."
Shadows shifted, and Ildilyntra Starym came out into the moonlight, her eyes still the dark pools
of promise that he recalled so vividly in his dreams. Dreams that had visited him down all the long years
to this very night. Dreams built on memories that could still unsettle him... .
The Coronal's mouth was suddenly dry, and his tongue felt thick and clumsy. "Will you-?" he
mumbled, gesturing toward the Living Seat.
The Starym held themselves to be the eldest and most pure of the families of the One True
Realm-and were certainly the proudest. Their matriarch glided toward him, those dark eyes never leaving
his.
The Coronal did not have to look to know that the years had not yet touched her flawless white
skin, the figure so perfect that it still took his breath away. Her blue tresses were almost black, as always,
and Ildilyntra still wore them unbound, falling at her heels to the ground. She was barefoot, the spells of
her girdle keeping both hair and feet inches above the dirt of the ground. She wore the full, formal gown
of her house, the twin falling dragons of the Starym arms bold in glittering gems upon her stomach, their
sculpted wings cupping her breasts in a toothed surround of gold.
 Her thighs, revealed through the waist-high slits in the gown as she came, were girt in the