Myrintar Hasantar, Things a Knight Should Know,
Year of the Mace (1307 DR)
9 NIGHTAL, YEAR OF THE AGELESS ONE (1479 DR)
Milord?”
“Yes, Madrak?”
“Apologies at interrupting your breakfast, but you have unexpected callers.”
Renaer looked up from his trencher of fried eggs and potatoes and stared at the white-haired halfling whose face barely cleared the table top. Renaer swallowed and said, “Anyone who knows me would not call on me before midmorn. Who is it?”
Madrak cleared his throat and said, “The Lady Laraelra Harsard, daughter of Guildmaster Malaerigo Harsard of the Cellarers and Plumbers’ Guild, and one Meloon Wardragon, sell-sword.” Madrak’s tone left Renaer little question as to his opinion of them.
“I’ve met Laraelra before at the Wands manse, but never more than to say hello,” Renaer thought aloud, “but why she would need a sellsword to come here?”
The halfling harrumphed and said, “They claim to have questions for you about your properties on Kulzar’s Alley. They appear to have come directly from the sewers to your door. I took the liberty of receiving them around back at the stables.” Renaer smiled. “Thank you for that.”
“No thanks needed, young lord. After all, you’d not be the one to clean up the foyer after such, would you?” Madrak said, and then asked, “Shall I tell them to call another time?”
“No,” Renaer said, and he got up from the table. “Odd that the guildmaster’s daughter herself brings me news of some problem with the cellars or somesuch. It’s the sort of thing normally channeled through low-level guild members and servants.” Renaer pulled his napkin out of his shirt front and wiped his mouth, then looked down at the butler at his side. “Could you have Bramal bring me the deeds and keys to those properties? I don’t know who’s renting them at present, if anyone. That way, we’ll be able to deal with any problems directly.”
“Very good,” Madrak replied. “I took the liberty of asking my son to do just that before I came in here. He’ll join you around the stables. Now, don’t let these strangers take advantage of you. I’ve heard tell that the cellarers can back the sewers up into one’s vaults simply to shake coins loose from an unsuspecting young lord such as yourself.”
Renaer chuckled and patted Madrak on his shoulder. “I appreciate the warning, old hin, but I didn’t just fall off a dung-sweeper’s cart. Let’s see what they have to say before we accuse them of trying to separate me from my gold, hmm?”
Madrak snorted and said, “Lad, you just learned to walk a short tenday ago in my eyes. I’m looking out for you as I promised your good mother when she placed your swaddled self in my arms. You’ve a good ear for sniffing out falsehoods, but your head for business isn’t nearly as keen as your love of books.”
“And that is why Bramal conducts the bulk of the family business as my proxy.” Renaer knew that Madrak’s son and his children were vastly more capable than he would ever be at keeping track of his holdings, collecting rents, and the like. “I trust you and them, Madrak, but today at least I wish to have a hand in my business.”
“Does our hearts good to hear that,” Madrak said. “It’s high time—”
“The Brandarth holdings were seen to by me, not my father?” Renaer said, and the old halfling flushed.
“I’d never say that, young master,” Madrak replied, and he and Renaer said in unison, “for it’s not my place nor my concern.”
Renaer knelt at his butler’s side and rested both hands on his shoulders. “Madrak, you and your family have been at my side since I was born. I know that Dagult would have put you out, save for my insistence and the conditions of Mother’s will. Never fear. Your family will always have a place in my house—and not just because of the hin-sized servants’ passages. You never have to mince words with me, old halfling. I trust your judgment more than my own.”
A wry smile appeared on the halfling’s lips. “Then you’d best stop leaving guests awaiting your pleasure, milord Renaer. Time to start living up to all your potential and being more than a shut-in scholar or a rake-by-night racing with the Watch.” Madrak shooed the young man off. He waved a dismissive hand at the cloak rack by the doors leading into the stables. “Oh, and wear that heavy cloak, milord. Auril’s blessed us with a biting cold this morn.”
Renaer grabbed the cloak off its peg and swung it around his shoulders as he shoved open the door. The smell of hay and horse manure wafted around him as he closed the door behind him. He waved to Pelar, the groom, who was brushing down Ash, Renaer’s favorite stallion. While all the servants answered to Madrak, not all were halflings related to him. By necessity, the grooms were humans capable of handling the larger animals.
Renaer spotted two strangers standing a few paces to his left by the servants’ entrance off of Senarl’s Cut. He turned and walked briskly toward the scrawny woman and broad-shouldered man. She stared out at the stream of carts and people heading toward Tespergates at the southern end of Senarl’s Cut. She hugged herself, but Renaer couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or nervous habit. The young man seemed more interested in admiring Neverember House’s carriages and horses.
“Milady Harsard? Master Wardragon?” Renaer asked when they turned to face his approach. “What seems to be the problem today?”
Laraelra spun on her heels and pointed an accusatory finger in Renaer’s face. Her face switched from angry to surprised, as if she had shocked herself. “Who’s living in Roarke House right now?”
Behind the three of them, the rasp of a sword being pulled from its scabbard preceded Pelar running forward to defend his young master with a shout of “Back away, woman!”
Renaer noticed the blond man with Laraelra—noticed especially his hand reaching for the axe on his back.
Renaer held up both hands and shook his head. “Calm yourself, Pelar. This lady has a lot on her mind. No threats here, right?” Renaer shot a smile at Meloon, whose grip relaxed on his axe hilt.
Laraelra sighed and stepped back. “My apologies, milord. It’s been a tense morning.” She hugged herself again and stared away. Pelar stopped, sheathed his blade, and slowly returned to Ash’s stall.
Renaer exhaled and began again. “I’d invite you in for a warm cup, but the state of your clothes presents a problem for my staff.” He smiled at Laraelra’s answering blush and continued, “Now why do you ask about Roarke House? I’ve got someone fetching me the deeds and details on that property as we speak. Is there a problem with the sewers beneath it?”
“Not as much as—” Meloon started, but he stopped when Laraelra elbowed him in the stomach.
“I just need to know who’s living in that building, Lord Neverember,” she said. She grabbed some errant black hairs that waved in front of her pale face and pulled them back inside her hood.
“Lord Neverember is my father,” Renaer said. “Call me Renaer, but don’t expect me to part with my business if the Cellarers and Plumbers’ Guild won’t tell me why they need to know it.”
“This isn’t guild business. It’s—”
“Someone’s torturing someone in the cellars beneath your property, man!” Meloon blurted. Renaer’s jaw dropped.
Pelar stepped forward again, fists up, and said, “Take that back, and apologize to the saer.”
Even though Meloon was nearly a foot taller than the stable hand, he stepped back, surprised by the anger in the man’s eyes.
Renaer rested a hand on the older man’s shoulder and said, “Thank you again, Pelar, but I don’t need to be saved from everyone with a cross word for me. Besides, I want to hear what’s got these two all wound up and angry with me this morning.”
Pelar’s eyes never left Meloon’s, but he lowered his fists and muttered, “They should show more respect to you, saer, that’s all.” He dropped his hands, nodded to Renaer, and then returned to brushing the horses.
The door behind them opened and a halfling with his long, dark hair tied at the nape of his
neck entered the stables. He juggled a few scrolls, and keys jangled at his belt. He cleared his throat, and said, “Milord, a word. In private.” Despite being less than half the size of Meloon, this halfling cowed both him and Laraelra with a stern look when they tried to follow Renaer. Once Renaer was close, he knelt in front of the halfling to block their line of sight to his face.
“What is it, Bramal?” Renaer said. “Do you have the papers on Roarke House?”
The halfling whispered, “No, milord. That’s what I came to tell you. They’re missing, along with two sets of keys. I didn’t sell or lease out the property. The last dealings I had with that house was in renting it this past summer to some guests of Lady Nhaeran Wands. As far as any of us know, Roarke House should be vacant. There’re only four people with complete access to those records and keys. You and I are two of them, and the others are our fathers.”
“Very well, Bramal, thank you. Don’t worry about it, but do give me the other set of the keys to the place.” Renaer stood as Bramal put the ring of keys into his hand. “Was there anything suspicious about the deeds on the adjoining properties?” Renaer asked this loudly for his guests to overhear, and Bramal took the hint.
“No milord,” he replied. “The Gildenfires remains, as it has for thirteen years, in need of repair and a tenant to do so. We replaced the roof year before last to keep the building intact, but your father insisted we not waste money fixing up anything a tenant might do for us. The warehouse between that festhall and Roarke House has those long-term leases with Houses Ammakyl and Gralleth. At last autumn’s inspection, half the warehouse was filled with older furniture and other decorations from the last three times Lady Ammakyl decided her mansion was not quite up to the leading edge of Waterdhavian fashions. The other half, the Gralleths have filled with materials from former noble villas when they absorbed the estates and interests of the Bladesemmers and the Markarls.”
“Well, Laraelra? Meloon? Feel up to walking to Roarke House?” Renaer said. “We can inspect the property, and you can tell me more about whatever is ‘not guild business.’”
Laraelra had rarely been in this neighborhood, even though it bordered on the Heroes’ Garden where she met Meloon earlier. The buildings she noticed lining Skulls Street were better-kept row houses with stone foundations and wooden upper floors, none of which loomed less than three stories high. Once they turned into Rook Alley, the building quality and size plummeted, most of the structures of one or two stories and in ill repair. The roof slates became rough wooden shingles with moss-encrusted gaps, the foundations simple brick rising to knee height and continuing with dark stained wood. While the outer buildings surrounding Rook Alley celebrated the richness of Sea Ward, those hidden within reflected the ill fortunes visited on the city in times past and present.
Following Renaer’s lead, Laraelra and Meloon came to a stop on the stoop of an imposing three-story building. The well-kept stone front was freshly scrubbed and cleaned, unlike most other buildings to the south and east. This was one of two stone buildings in the general vicinity, the other being the Halaerim Club directly across Kulzar’s Alley. Roarke House’s columned frontage seemed ostentatious, compared to the slightly rundown nature of the buildings attached to it. This neighborhood had fallen on bad times in the past decades, and now Roarke House was among a well-tended few. The cleaner buildings here and there along Skulls Street did suggest gentrification might be returning to this part of Sea Ward, but it would be some time in coming.
Laraelra sniffed and said, “Very clean for a vacant place, Renaer. Hiding a rich friend from the Watch?”
Renaer glared at her. “Would I have brought the daughter of one of the loudest mouths in the city with me, if I were?”
Meloon rested hands on both their shoulders. “Hey, I’m sure there’s a simple explanation for all this. Can’t we be friends here?”
“No,” came the simultaneous reply from both.
Renaer put the key in the lock of an ornately carved duskwood door, its surface a relief of stars and crescent moons. The door knocker, lock, and door pull were all silver crescents, as was the decorative end of Renaer’s key. The lock clicked, and the door swung easily in silence. Renaer’s eyebrows rose in surprise, which Laraelra followed with one arched eyebrow.
Renaer shrugged and said, “Last time I opened this door, the hinges shrieked. Someone’s oiled them. Shall we?”
“You’re not worried about us fouling your floors here, milord?” she asked.
“Drop the tone, Laraelra,” Renaer said. “The walk here cleaned your boots.”
The trio stepped into an echoing entry hall, its stone floors and high ceiling dominated by a sweeping grand staircase that hugged the walls of the room as it led upstairs. Overhead loomed a three-stories-high atrium, a glass skylight shining light down to the ground floor. Tiles covered that floor in a continuing pattern of stars, moons, and random pairs of eyes. Two doors bracketed an open archway opposite the front door and beneath the stairs. Additional doors flanked the front wall of the house. All doors were closed, and aside from their footsteps, no sound could be heard.
Meloon let out a low whistle then said, “Why the eyes and moons and stars everywhere?”
Laraelra said, “Roarke House was built by Volam Roarke, an exceedingly devout worshiper of Selûne, right?” She smiled with Renaer’s answering nod, and continued. “He financed the restoration of the House of the Moon after the Spellplague collapsed it.”
Renaer nodded and said, “The Roarkes had even reached the nobility about seventy-five years ago, but their family fortunes dried up over the years since. By the time they lost their noble status and other riches forty years ago, my grandfather bought their holdings in the city. Last I’d heard, the Roarke clan owned only two inns along the High Road between Leilon and Neverwinter. This place has had about half a dozen long-term tenants over the years. It’s only been the past four years that it’s been a summer rental. Most of the folk who rented it out never even knew about the sub-cellars.”
Renaer walked to the door on the left. “This door leads to the cellars. Now, tell me more about what you saw—no, heard down below. It seems like we’ll need to update the maps for the sub-cellars. Wonder if the Rook’s Hold was part of what you saw down there?”
“The Rook?” Meloon asked.
“A thief of some repute more than a century ago,” Renaer explained. “His hideout was in the subterranean crypts after which Skulls Street outside was named. It sounds like the tunnels and crypts may have collapsed and merged a while back. I never knew they extended beneath this house. They’ve always been blocked off, or so I was told.”
Laraelra chuckled. “Renaer, the amount of things beneath the streets that the city chooses to ignore or not know about would stagger your imagination.”
The three of them entered a small stairwell that spiraled down into darkness. Renaer grabbed a torch out of a wall sconce and lit it.
“And I thought I heard you complaining at the last Wands feast that you wanted nothing to do with your father’s guild,” Renaer said. He took the lead on the stairs, the smoke from his torch rising and stinging Laraelra’s eyes. “Why were you poking around beneath the streets this morning?”
Laraelra cleared her throat and lowered her voice. “Someone has to stand up to the bigots in the guild. The dwarves deserve equal pay and equal treatment, and some of my father’s foremen will hardly bother with that. Parkleth, one of the worst of them, would have left a friend of mine to drown this morning as a lesson for the dwarves to stay out of sewer work. We only uncovered your house’s secrets by accident.”
“My—” Renaer stopped dead and glared up at Laraelra. “That’s it. We’re done here. That’s the last insult you get at my expense, when I’ve been naught but accommodating.”
Laraelra’s face felt hot as she realized what she’d said, and she slumped her shoulders. “I’m sorry. Truly, Renaer, before the gods, I apologize. I’m tired, angry, and I spend too much time
around my father, who’s all too eager to blame everything on nobles or the ruling class.”
Renaer resumed their descent to the cellars, and Laraelra knew she had to watch her tongue around the young Lord Neverember. His clipped tone told her he was still angry as Renaer said, “I’m neither of those things, really.”
“Yes you are, whether you admit it to yourself or not,” Laraelra said. “Even without noble title, you’re one of the richest land-holders in this city. When you add your father’s holdings to yours, only House Nandar and a handful of others own more properties. Even if you don’t acknowledge or use it, that gives you power over a lot of people, Renaer. Now, can we finish what we started here?”
“Not even my father would put up with an accusation of being party to torture,” Renaer said. “The only reason I’ll continue is to prove this has nothing to do with me and mine.” Renaer continued down into the main cellars.
Meloon put his hand on Laraelra’s shoulder and whispered, “Maybe it’s not my place to say, milady, but I don’t think he knows what’s going on any more than we do.”
“Then we’re all in for an education, aren’t we?” she whispered in return as both of them joined Renaer in the vast cellar. To the right of the stairwell lay cords of firewood carefully stacked from floor nearly to ceiling. Open and empty earthenware jars rested on shelves to the left, while hooks dangling from the ceiling were empty of the usual smoked meats that might hang there. Across the room was an archway leading farther into the cellar. The trio moved into the next room, where stacked furniture and chests completely filled the right-hand side of the chamber. The long left-hand wall was covered with wine racks, though only a few bottles remained on the shelves.
“Now,” Renaer said, “if someone were living here right now, those shelves back there and the wine cellar would be far better stocked, wouldn’t they?”
Laraelra waved her hands and said, “Fine. We believe you. Now will you show us where these secret sub-cellars are so we can prove that we weren’t lying?”
Blackstaff Tower Page 5