"Aye, Lady," said Elminster, sitting up eagerly. "Will the city be hard to find?"

"Not with my guidance," Mystra said with a smile, "yet be in no haste to rush off. Sit with me this night and talk. I have much to tell you ... and even G.o.ds grow lonely."

Elminster nodded. "I'll stay awake as long as I can!"

Mystra smiled again. "You'll never need to sleep again," she said tenderly, almost sadly, and made a complicated gesture.

A moment later, a dusty bottle stood between them. She wiped its neck clean with one hand, teased out the cork with her teeth like any serving-wench, took a sip, and pa.s.sed it to him.

"Blue lethe," she said, as Elminster felt cool nectar slide down his throat. "From certain tombs in Netheril."

Elminster raised his eyebrows. "Start telling," he said dryly, and then glowed in the midst of her tinkling laughter.

It was a sound he treasured often in the long years that followed. .. .

Thus it was that Elminster was guided to Cormanthor, the Towers of Song, where Eltargrim was Coronal. There he dwelt for twelve summers and more, studying with many mighty mages, learning to feel magic, and know how it could be bent and directed to his will. His true powers he revealed to few-but it is recorded that when the Mythal was laid, and Cormanthor became Myth Drannor, Elminster was one of those who devised and spun that mighty magic. So the long tale of the doings of Elminster 'Farwalker' began.

Antarn the Sage from The High History of Faerunian Archmages Mighty published circa Year of the Staff