Dark Elf advanced a step. "What wondrous magic you must work in this place. You don't even need fight to work by."
"Oh, but we do not permit elves here," the man said timidly.
But Naitachal ignored him. "Don't be silly. I am a visiting diplomat. If this place is off limits, then no one has bothered to tell me." He entered a darkness punc- tuated with dim, flickering candles, some no more than stubs. No windows in this place; one or two would make all the difference. "Who's in charge here?"
"I am," a loud, booming voice announced. "Why has an elf dared to darken the doorstep of the Associa- tion Hall?"
"Soren!" the man who opened the door exclaimed.
"He forced his way in here. It wasn't my fault!" He ran off into the shadows, and stopped there, gesturing with agitation.
The second speaker answered him in an impatient voice; the little man whined his reply. Naitachal stood in the darkness, listening to them argue. As with any elf, his eyes adjusted to the gloom quickly. An over- weight wizard wearing a gaudy, tawdry robe glared at him from a spiraling staircase. Naitachal wondered how the flimsy staircase could hold the man's weight, but evidently the wizard had no worries about it.
At the top of the stairs, Naitachal saw an opened door. Naitachal only caught a glimpse of the room beyond, but from where he stood, it looked like an -- establishment of dubious repute.
Scantily clad females appeared in the doorway and peered down, confirming his suspicions, before retreating nervously and closing the door behind them.
"Please forgive my intrusion," he began evenly. "I am Ambassador Naitachal from the kingd Althea. While I respect your laws and do not wish to violate them, I would like to see how precisely," he paused, glancing up at the now-closed door, "the prac- tice of magic is sanctioned and administered in your fine land."
The wizard flushed, then blustered forward. "We do not allow beings such as yourself in the Associ Hall."
Naitachal raised an eyebrow. "And why not?"
"It is -- ah -- forbidden."
Naitachal considered his situation. I can either leave, or I can turn this into an international incident, and then leave. But something tells me this is impor- tant, that I need to see the inner workings of this place, or at least as much as I can persuade them to show me.
"Perhaps I should leave then," Naitachal began.
"Soren, is it?" He coughed, politely. "I have to admit, I am a bit disappointed at what I've seen already.
Althea, we have granted our mages homes to equal those of the wealthiest nobles, and they engage in the councils of the King as equal to any there. I was under the impression that your mages enjoyed equal power and prestige, but it appears that I was mistaken. Per- haps there isn't much for me to see here after all."
The elf turned to leave, arranging his face in a mask of disappointment.
"Now wait just a minute," Soren began. "It's not entirely fair to judge our Association by just what you've seen here. We have power and honor!"
Naitachal paused, then said casually over his shoul- der, "Frankly, I have not seen anything yet that would lead me to agree with that statement. Unless you would like to show me the inner halls of this place."
The wizard hesitated, as if he was tempted to prove to the Bard that his words were no boast.
"What could it hurt?" Naitachal added. "My liaison has never said this was forbidden to me. Go ahead.
Impress me. If you can."
The wizard stammered unintelligibly; Naitachal shrugged and started for the door.
"If you would follow me," Soren sputtered. "I will escort you to the heart of the Association Hall, the place of our deepest and most powerful magics. Only if you promise not to wander off by yourself."