Blackstaff Tower w-1

by Steven E. Schend

  Renaer's eyes welled up, but no tears escaped until he turned his head toward the light touch on his shoulder.

  Renaer looked up into the peaceful eyes of Wavetamer Garyn Raventree, whose own prayers had ended moments before. "A good prayer, if a bit random."

  "How is she?" Renaer asked.

  Garyn shrugged and said, "I've healed her, so she's physically as strong as she can be. But mentally… I don't know. She's under the influence of some magic I've never seen. Given that she's linked to the Blackstaff, that's not surprising."

  "So why won't she wake up?"

  "I asked for clarity on her cdndition, and all I know is her soul now carries twenty or more lifetimes."

  "What does that mean?"

  "On that, Valkur puts me on still seas, friend."

  "Well, thank you for everything, Garyn. I'll be by within a tenday and we'll talk about my debts to you."

  "Consider this but payment for our own debts, for the young Lord Neverember has been a staunch friend of Valkur and his faithful."

  Renaer stood up, walked over to his desk, and withdrew a small purse, which he handed to Garyn. "In that case, let me pay fot some prayers to be sung in Faxhal's name."

  "Of course. His ship will sail the stars on the waves of our prayers, friend. While he wasn't the best sailor, he was a good comrade to many of our faithful."

  The priest bowed and exited the room just as Madrak came in bearing a pair of copper kettles, their contents piping hot. He poured both kettles into a basin by the window, the steam rising in the sunbeams.

  "It would seem that only the lady Safahr has slept well since your adventures began yestermorn, milord. Can we not urge you and your friends to sleep? To eat? At least I can insist you not waste the hot water for your morning ablutions."

  Madrak had been starting his normal day just as Renaer and his friends returned to Neverember House. Since then, he'd sent runners to Valkur's temple on Sul Street and another down to the palace to hear of any news or gossip and to notify the Watch or the Lords that the Blackstaff was not who he seemed.

  "Later, Madrak," Renaer said. "I want to know what the reaction is to our news before I collapse either into bed or a trencher. Who did you send down to the palace to tell about the Black-staff-about the duplicity?"

  "Varkel. I gave him the Saddelyn pony to make sure he got there as quickly as possible."

  "Good. He'll remember every single word spoken to him and around him. Are the others well?"

  "Master Vharem is sullenly distraught, but has remarkably stayed away from the liquor cabinet. Mistress Laraelra has been quietly meditating in one corner, while only Master Meloon shows any sense in eating and catching some sleep. Of course, he has placed his filthy boots up on the tables and ruined the tablecloth, but…"

  Renaer had wandered away from Madrak to approach the bed. Vajra looked vastly better, now that she had a clean robe and had all the grime and blood washed out of her hair and face. Renaer just wished she would wake up and give them some answers to help get them out of this mess.

  "The fact that you have the Blackstaffs Heir in your care- however her condition-speaks well for your story, Renaer," Madrak said. "No matter how thickly the lies fly, truth is like a sunlit breeze that scatters them."

  "Where did you say the others were?" Renaer asked.

  "The dining room, master," he replied. "I'll check with the staff to see what other word is on the streets and meet you there. After you've refreshed yourself and dressed."

  The two of them pulled the curtains around the bed closed, allowing Vajra even more warmth and silence to help her sleep. Madrak approached a tall cabinet and pulled on a decorative design between the two drawers, producing a small set of steps on which he stood to open the tall wardrobe doors. The butler began pulling out new clothes, while Renaer stripped off his old clothes and threw them to one side. Renaer splashed the hot water on himself, scrubbing himself clean and thoroughly dousing his head and face multiple times before he put the basin on the floor and soaked and cleaned his feet in it. By the time he was done, Madrak had assembled a new set of black leather pants, green muslin shirt, a black ermine-lined vest, and a new wolf-furred cloak. Madrak withdrew to let his master finish dressing.

  As the latch-clicked shut on the door, Renaer finished rubbing himself dry with the towel, only to realize he was being watched. Vajra's face stuck out from between the curtains, a mischievous smile on her lips. While Renaer was hardly embarrassed, he was surprised, especially as he watched the woman's eyes shift between normal looking eyes to dark orbs to a pair of mismatched eyes, all as she rambled incoherently. Her facial expressions also constantly shifted, as if she were at war within herself.

  "Tasty, just like a good strong lad he carried us all the way wish I could things he needs know protect me is he the Heir can he help something's wrong with the we need help fight Ten-Rings problem is son recover the Dusk owe him pain oh let me play…"

  With that final reach and one of the most lascivious looks Renaer had ever received, Vajra fell unconscious again, her head and left arm resting on and over the end of the bed. Renaer pulled on his pants quickly and then got Vajra resettled in bed. Even when he lay beside her to pull up the furs and coverlet, she did not respond at all to his presence.

  After he finished dressing, Renaer came down to the dining room. As he entered, Vharem turned toward the sound of the door. Laraelra's eyes also opened and locked on his. Meloon's light snore continued as the tall man's chin rested on his chest, his feet on the table, and his chair precariously tipped beneath him.

  Madrak entered the dining room, cleared his throat, and said, "Varkel has returned, master. He-"

  A blur pushed the door further open and rushed past Madrak. He ran right up to Renaer, his face red with exertion and wind-burn, his hair slightly frosted from the cold. "Master Renaer!" he shouted, and the noise woke up Meloon, whose sudden start tipped over his chair, and the young blond man fell flat on his back on the floor.

  Varkel hardly noticed the crash or Vharem's snickering about it. He started talking very fast. "Master Renaer, they're saying such awful things. I could hardly stand there and listen to them spew such lies about you-what with how well you've been to us all these years. Now mind you, were I not to know that these kind folk were associated with your lordship, I might be inclined to believe-"

  "Varkel, slow down," Renaer said. "Take a breath and simply tell me what's news on the streets. What happened when you told them about the Blackstaff?"

  "I weren't never getting the chance to, master," Varkel said. "The crowds were so thick, and when they gave the pronouncements, I figured I should highstep it back here right soon!"

  "What did they say?" Meloon asked.

  The sandy-haired halfling took a deep breath and began speaking very quickly. "Rashemel Steeldrover, the Watchlord of the North Towers, she gave the pronouncements from the steps of the palace, which seemed odd, considering-"

  "Varkel! Focus!" Madrak and Renaer said simultaneously.

  "There are warrants out for the arrests or information leading to the arrest of Renaer Neverember and any present associates, including Ararna, Pellarm, Vharem Kuthcutter, and Faxhal Xoram, for having allegedly conspired against the Lords' Rule, having knowingly undermined and interfered with the guild business of the Watchful Order of Magists and Protectors, having trespassed upon private property and caused extensive damage thereupon, having caused grave harm to be visited upon the Watch and other persons, and other sundry charges to be visited upon those so warranted at the time of their arrest and summoning for trial."

  Laraelra surprised herself when her response was a light chuckle of disbelief. "But… that's…"

  "Fully fabricated and false, I know, but actionable as far as the city's citizens are concerned," Renaer said. "Still, it's another sign that we're in slightly over our heads until we get some help equal to the quality of that stacked against us."

  "We better get going, then," Vharem said. "I've a few
ideas, Ren-know a few places we can go."

  He shook his head. "Thanks, but I've got the perfect place in mind. I meant to take you, Faxhal, and Torlyn earlier, but things got busy."

  "They're right, master!" Varkel cried. "You have to flee! Shrunk-shanks and I ran as fast as we could, but we've not the speed nor the longest of legs to stay ahead of a battalion of Watchmen."

  A loud pounding reverberated from downstairs, a mailed fist against the solid oak door.

  Varkel hopped up onto the seat by the bay window, looked out, and said, "There's about a dozen Watchmen outside, and they've brought a battering ram to get through the doors."

  "It doesn't look like they're going to use it," said Meloon. "They're talking to someone at the door."

  "Nolan has gone down to stall them," Madrak said, "and while he is capable of confusing them awhile, he cannot stop them, should they lose patience."

  "Right," Renaer said. "If they're in the front entry hall, we can't go back the way we came." The young Lord Neverember moved to the window to confirm Meloon's observation, talking over his shoulder to the halfling. "Madrak? The garden path?"

  "I understand," Madrak said. "I'll fetch what you need." He shuffled out of the room just as a loud boom signaled the end of the Watch's patience.

  Renaer sighed. "They've thrown Nolan into the street and started using the battering ram. Here's what we have to do. Meloon, look under those window seats there and there"- Renaer pointed to the bay windows across the room-"and grab as many furs as you can. We'll meet you upstairs once you have them." He put his finger to his lips and then pointed at Vharem. "Can you dash to the kitchens and have Ellial put together some quick provisions for the five of us? Meet us up in the garden. Elra, with me, please."

  Renaer motioned for Laraelra to join him and they half-ran out of the room. They turned down the hallway and entered the library. Laraelra breathed in the smell. She loved the scent of tanned leather and vellum and that slight hint of mildew and dust common among old books. Bookshelves lined the north wall from floor to ceiling, but there were large gaps among the books in them. Two tables at the room's center held large piles of books, some opened and some stacked haphazardly. Renaer moved to the large fireplace on the eastern wall. He grasped the coiner cornice and slid it upward into the mantle. The nearest bookshelf clicked, and its lower half swung open, revealing a hidden area behind it.

  "We'll need these. I don't have time to check which ones, so we'll take them all." Renaer pulled the bookcase open further and he and Laraelra knelt down. Set into the stone wall was a recessed shelf on which were five books bound in black leather with ornate silver clasps. Renaer pulled them out and loaded them into her arms.

  "Whose books are these, and why do we need them now?" Laraelra asked. The books thrummed beneath her touch-she could feel there was magic within them. The drumbeat of the battering ram echoed through the mansion.

  Renaer shouldered the shelf back into place and headed for the door. "I'll explain later. Right now, we've got to get out of here."

  "Let me guess-there's a hidden slide in the walls that'll whisk us to the alley out back?"

  "Even better, but we need to hurry."

  Loud retorts joined the battering ram's blows as the door started to crack. Renaer heard someone yelling down in the entry hall, "The door's cracking! Get the bar up here now!"

  The two of them ran from the library and up the stairs to the third floor. They met Meloon, his arms piled high with various bear, wolf, and ermine pelts.

  Laraelra asked, "Renaer, why aren't you carrying something? The rest of us-"

  "Fine," Renaer snapped as he opened the door to his room. "I'll let you carry Vajra, then, and I'll take Varad's books."

  He crossed the darkened chamber to his desk, pulled open the right-hand drawer, and pocketed a large ring of keys. He then moved over to the bed. Vajra lay beneath a heavy fur cloak, which Renaer kept on her as he picked her up gingerly. She groaned and threw an arm around Renaer's neck without coming fully awake.

  Renaer whispered, "Head back out into the hall and turn right. Look for a stone rosebud on the wall."

  The four of them moved quickly out of the room and down the passage, soon followed by Vharem, who ran up the stairs with two armloads of parcels, from one of which jutted two long loaves of bread. The hallway past Dagult's office ended at a deep curved recess in the wall, stone roses carved in relief all over the back of it.

  Meloon chuckled. "First the sewers, then a secret door privy, and now a garderobe. Lovely smells follow our adventure at every turn."

  Renaer smirked, and nodded to the sorceress. "Elra, turn that last stone rosebud on the right-hand side toward us, please?"

  Laraelra shifted the books into one arm, and she did as directed. Above the pulse of the battering ram, they heard the grinding of stone as a circular stair descended from the ceiling down into the garderobe. A slim pillar of stone rose from the floor of the gard-erobe to add support to the center of the stairs as well. A chill breeze came down with the stairs, as did Madrak's voice. "Hurry masters and milady, the Watch is almost inside!"

  They mounted the spiral stairs, Renaer having to choose his steps gingerly and make sure Vajra's head did not hit anything as they ascended. When they reached the top, they found themselves greeted by Madrak, all wrapped in a heavy cloak. Once all of them were up the stairs, Madrak shoved a metal bench over the stairwell, and the stones recoiled back into place.

  "I'm not seeing a way out of here, Renaer!" Laraelra looked over the rooftop garden, its plants in decay or wrapped in burlap to help them survive the coming winter. The entire roof was a meticulously designed garden with tiled paths and a walkway around the perimeter that might have an arbor of roses arcing overhead in summer. With the winter, the terraces and flower beds and arbors were bare mausoleums of dead vegetation. "Do you mean for us to jump down to the roofs of your neighbors?" Laraelra saw the look of excitement on Meloon's face and frowned at him. Despite the strong sunlight, the slight wind made it bitterly cold.

  "Be quiet and follow me, all of you. Madrak, if you please. We'll meet you later, if or when you can join us. If Father or the Watch continues to hunt for me, tell him or them I'm off with some lissome young priestess learning about yet another god and its promises-and no hinting at malefic gods this time, mind you."

  Renaer and Madrak each winked and smiled at each other, and then moved across the roof. Meloon and Laraelra hurried to keep up with the short butler.

  His white hair whipping in the wind, Madrak stopped in one corner in front of a small statue of a kneeling elf maid, her hands cupped as if drinking water. The halfling whispered, "While I pour water into her hands, the gate remains open. Go quickly, and may Brandobaris grant your feet speed."

  Renaer nodded and stepped inside the arbor, cradling the still-unconscious Vajra. As Madrak poured water into the statue's hands, Renaer stepped forward and was gone. Meloon stepped back in surprise, while Laraelra said, "Fascinating. Not even any flash or hint of magic."

  "Get moving and follow him!" said Madrak. "This only works once a day and only with one stream of water. Now hurry!"

  Vharem smiled and followed Renaer's footsteps exactly. "Thanks, Madrak!" he said as he vanished into thin air.

  Laraelra stepped under the arbor and along the same path as Renaer. She also rushed into nothingness. Meloon timidly followed suit and vanished just as Madrak s bucket poured the last of its water into the statue's hands. -

  Madrak smiled as not one drop of water remained to betray what he'd been doing. He quickly walked back to the servants' exit, hugging himself for warmth. He left his cloak on a peg just inside the three-foot-high hidden exit. When he descended through the passage down to the kitchen, he stopped and peered through a spyhole and found exactly what he expected-a cadre of Warchmen bullying the staff for information.

  Time to buy the young heroes some time to do some good, Madrak thought. 'Tis about time someone did.

  Inside the door,
he had left an empty slop bucket to explain what he'd been doing-throwing kitchen scraps onto the compost on the roof. As he had done exactly that, there was no way for anyone to claim he lied. Now he simply had to stall for time and keep the Watch from asking too many questions about his lord.

  CHAPTER 8

  More has been lost in Waterdeep's City of the Dead than the innocence of youth. Its shadows hold far worse than a chill. Its stones cover more than bones and ossuaries. Savengriff, Swords, Spells, and Splendors, Year of the Harp (1355 DR)

  10 Nightal, Year of the Ageless One (1479 DR)

  Khondar nearly jumped out of his chair when an unexpected knock on his door disturbed his inadvertent nap-. The tome he had been reading before he fell asleep tumbled to the floor. Already, his dream of a wizard in charge of each ward of the city faded to obscurity.

  "Who dares disturb me?" he snapped. He picked the tome off the floor as he adjusted his chair. He placed the tome inside his desk and closed the drawer.

  "The Blackstaff," came the reply.

  "Come in, come in," Khondar said. "I'm honored by the Black-staffs presence." Behind the closed door, Ten-Rings grimaced at the irony of what he said, given his hatred of the man whose guise his son wore.

  The man entered the chamber and closed the door behind him. "Can we talk here?" the Blackstaff asked. "Is it safe?"

  "Yes," Khondar said. "One of the few benefits of this poor office location is that a previous tenant set rather durable spells to prevent anyone from hearing anything from without."

  "She finally gave up some secrets, Father." The Blackstaffs form shimmered, and the bearded face of Khondar's son smirked at him.

  "What are you prattling about, boy?" Khondar said. "She's been out of our grasp since last night-thanks to your and Granek's failures."

  Centiv frowned at the reprimand, his shoulders slumping, and he said, "I've already apologized for that. There was nothing I could do, short of being captured myself. I stabbed her to keep her from talking and hid her as best I could in short time."