Blackstaff

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

29 Uktar, the Year of Lightning Storms (1374 DR)

Tsarra stood, stretching her back and shoulders after sitting too long over the book. "Khelben, this is the worst doggerel you've ever subjected me to in sixteen years of study. Did he write this way to punish people?" Khelben coughed and closed the last dusty tome before his eyes. He kept his back to her, so she couldn't read his face. He levitated the books back to their resting places on various shelves before he answered, "Rhaelnar's ears may not have been good for poetry, nor obfuscation really. Still, from what we've already discovered and discussed today, what leaps to mind? What might Rhaelnar's Legacy be?" Tsarra didn't have to reread the poems. Her ability to instantly recall what she read allowed her to recite from memory. " 'Gilded lore of Netheril's pride,' is fairly obvious. He's talking about finding one or more of the Nether Scrolls. Even Volo could see that one!" Khelben snorted loudly. "No, I'm afraid Master Geddarm yet postulates that Rhaelnar's Legacy is some form of magical potion, the poem an elaborately disguised recipe." Khelben and Tsarra blinked at each other a moment then burst out laughing. "Never underestimate the power of misdirection, Tsarra. You know this from hunting, if you want to distract a predator. True as well when tracking prey through written words," Khelben said. "Now, can you identify any of the items of the Legacy from the poems? We've already found a few of them, though regrettably we don't hold them all."

Tsarra repeated the eighteen stanzas in her head, shuddering at the awful rhymes but focusing on what they said. "That man I saw outside the tower! He had one of them, obviously. Wait-do you have a copy of Selchant's Catalogue of Swords Enchanted here? I want to check a hunch." "Fourth row of Shelf G, red leather binding-the only one without singe marks on it." Tsarra hadn't noticed before but each massive set of bookshelves was marked by an Elvish letter, and the G sigil glowed faintly to show her where to look. After a few moments of page flipping, Tsarra grinned. "I knew it! He's carrying Rhoban's Diamond Blade, isn't he? That's the first 'dream' in the sixth stanza!" "Indeed. Congratulations on your deduction. So few of my students bother to learn the Vilhon Reach histories, let alone its prehistories in the Twelve Cities of Swords," Khelben said. "Not one of the twelve ruling blades, you know, but certainly a blade of distinction. One wonders if its current bearer is as noble as Rhoban himself." Tsarra put the catalog aside and looked again on Rhaelnar's book. " 'Dream next of the forceful hand that wrested hope for a waveswept, deepwater land?' I'd guess the seventh stanza refers to Raurlor's Ring, here in Waterdeep?" "Indeed." Khelben muttered, searching through the piles on the table for something. "The tenth stanza refers to a glistening girdle, so I'll just take a wild stab in the dark and suggest it's this belt I've worn for two days now."

Khelben nodded, his brow knitted in concentration as he blew smoke shapes. She'd seen him do that with Elminster, whose facility with it created elaborate murals of smoke with moving figures. Khelben only managed to create a smoky image of the belt she wore. "I don't suppose you could tell me what it is? My knowledge of elven artifacts is lacking, despite my blood." Khelben shook his head and said, "Another time, we'll look into it together and you can prove to me you can do research. Now, what of Rhaelnar's Legacy? What else do we know?"

Tsarra continued, thinking aloud, "The next stanza that makes any sense to me-'Sleep again to see your goal apparent. In the laughter of the lyre can one find the Legacy penned.'-is an awful stretch for a rhyme. The context of the earlier stanzas, though, hints that we're looking for a golden scroll. 'Laughter of the lyre?' Are we looking for music written on gold? That's not a topic I know much about."

"Neither do I, and I've had more time than you to learn. That item, I believe, is close at hand, but we must wait until late tonight to retrieve it, lest we disturb too many pious brethren. Continue,"

Khelben said, still searching for a parchment. "What is it? You know where it is?" Tsarra asked. "I know where all of these sundries are, Tsarra. I would hardly be the archmage of Waterdeep if I did not. The question remains how much you have gleaned of all this." Tsarra felt her pulse jump in anger, and her exasperation seemed to infect her familiar. The tressym, having grown bored with chasing the glowglobe, alighted upon a pile of tomes, which quickly collapsed beneath him, and he tumbled off the table. Correcting his fall and taking to the air again, the tressym flew up atop one of the nearby bookshelves and settled in, as if he'd planned that all along. Tsarra felt his surprise and embarrassment but her horror at his disturbing Khelben's research overshadowed that until she saw his eyes never left her face.

Khelben steepled his fingers and said, "Tsarra, as your teacher, I need to test your understanding of the situations and my edification as to how well you will do without my tutelage. After all, you need to graduate beyond Blackstaff Tower, and it seems this current emergent situation presents itself as your final examination." "You're forcing me to leave the Tower? Because I'm losing my patience over too many unanswered questions?" The tressym's growl and lashing tail audible from across the chamber underscored Tsarra's irritation. "Calm down, Tsarra, lest you slip into another vision. Your temper sets off those visions, doesn't it? Whenever you lose your focus on the immediate, Dantha's gift for visions taps into my memories. Whereas I already remember my experiences and dismiss the memory, Dantha's visions force-feed you the whole experience from the briefest flashes of my recall." "So what I saw-that battle in the Eightower…" "Yes, that was a memory. In fact, that was the place we were to visit last night, before your vision and our side trip to Rassalantar changed our path."

"But I've met Tandar, the so-called Green Wizard of Sea Ward, and he's over a century old! How could you know him as a young man?" "After all you've learned here, do you truly still believe me to be the son of Lhestyn and Zelphar?" Khelben's eyes went wide with surprise. "You're smarter than that, even if I do keep up that pretense at all times for the emotional comfort of the common folk. Zelphar was my son." "So you're really Khelben the Elder?" "Among other names I have worn, yes." "Why tell me your secret now?" "Because you already suspect it, and thanks to this mishap of bound souls and that gem, will always know it. Even if I manage to save Danthra's soul after dealing with Rhaelnar's Legacy, I suspect my memories will remain with you in that kiira forevermore. Still, our conversation wanders onto paths best trod later. Do you have any other deductions on the poem?" "Hang the poem, Khelben! Give me a moment to understand all this." "Time is the luxury in scarce supply now, my dear. The only time I have had to plan and think was when we were first laid low yesterday. While you remained unconscious, I worked on the kiira and tattooed your forehead to accept the gem's altered magic. Laeral contacted many agents to whom I've entrusted some secrets and other tasks. Some of them safeguard many of these Legacy artifacts. Those people in turn contacted their agents. We have already spoken with other key players in this drama, and we'll contact more soon." "But you still haven't told me what's going on. How do you know what to do?" "My plans have been in place for centuries. Those who needed to know anything ahead of time did so, either by my hand or Mystra's." "Mystra's hand?" "I've had portents sent in my dreams from the goddess in past months. They share a chronic imagery of threes, lightning bolts, and the city's seal. These dreams recurred frequently enough that I knew the message came from her. I simply had to eliminate any other possible explanations or options before I knew the Legacy was the key." "So that's why you've been attending nobles' parties for the past year! I thought that was out of character for you, since I remembered you only attended those functions you couldn't avoid, such as Thann family gatherings or functions at the palace." "I certainly don't enjoy them, no. Even family parties are endurable only for brief moments.

Unfortunately, now the lords Agundar, Cragsmere, Ilitul, Ilzimmer, Jhansczil, and Gauntyl all believe me a close personal friend for my attentions." Khelben shook his head sadly and ran his hands through his hair, shaking off frustration. "So Mystra doesn't tell you everything as you need the information?" "She would hardly be the Lady of Mysteries, were that so. Even this new Mystra understands that. No, she only leaves me with hints and reminders of previous omens, including some I haven't seen since the day I was Chosen. Your face-tattoos and kiira and all-was one of those." "You knew all this would happen? You've known this was coming for sixteen years?" "I've known something would happen for fourscore decades, Tsarra. I only knew, after we first met and I recognized you, what you were called.

I've known for ages that you would have an important role to play for Mystra and her Weave. Beyond that, I don't know your fate in this venture." "But you seem to know everything about Rhaelnar's Legacy."

Khelben snorted. "That's because I made that all up. Only those fools who believe in it think they can find the Nether Scrolls by chasing down its clues. It is a logic-trap to hide a greater secret and to draw out those who might try and usurp power not rightfully theirs."

"What?" Behind them, Nameless took to the air again, a low growl that spread around the room as he flew and darted among the bookshelves to shake off the emotions he felt from his mistress. In response to her shout, the tall crystal spindles began to spin and hum an unearthly harmony. "Don't shout, Tsarra. It upsets your familiar and can disturb my Uvaerenni lore-crystals. Again, calm yourself or you'll slip into another vision." For a few moments, the only sounds in the chamber were the dying hum of the crystals, Tsarra's breathing, and Khelben's footsteps as he paced from shelf to shelf. When he touched their spines, the books pulled themselves off the shelves and their covers flapped merrily to fly across the room and pile themselves upon the table. Khelben returned to the table and looked at Tsarra. "You recall the troubles with the phaerimm two summers ago? All of these events have been imminent since then." "Don't change the subject, Master.

What do the phaerimm have to do with this?" Tsarra asked. "They haven't attacked us or anyone else within hundreds of miles of Waterdeep, at least that we know of." Khelben waved one arm to the side, and hands grew from the table's wood, both on its surface and along its legs, to grab fallen items. The hands reorganized the morass of books into neat piles until the area was cleared. He placed out one scroll and three large tomes in that area and gestured Tsarra forward.

"You're neither ignorant nor stupid, Tsarra. I expected you'd have worked it out yourself already if we'd had a chance." Khelben's irritation came through his tone. "Very well. Simplest lore first.

Against whom did the phaerimm battle most?" "Netheril and its archwizards. So this is about the Nether Scrolls? But you said-"

"Patience. Did they have any other prominent foes?" Tsarra smacked a hand down on the table. "The sharn! Gods, I feel stupider than an otyugh." Her face went red from embarrassment. "Don't berate yourself," Khelben continued. "This situation has more conundrums and enigmas within it than most wizards see in a lifetime. You demanded this knowledge, and we're building it up from its most basic. Now, what is different about the Realms now compared to the past millennia?" Tsarra's anger flared again, but she kept her response civil. She hated condescension, but she knew Khelben meant to put her back in the place of the student. Still, two could play that game, and Tsarra recited Khelben's lecture of the last month back to him:

"'Netherese walk the Realms again, and their myopic and self-serving use of powerful magic threatens all of us. They bring a darker magic not of Mystra with them that may have unforeseen effects upon the Weave. The Sharnwall that once hemmed in the phaerimm beneath Anauroch is no more. These two events above all others must be studied seriously, as I suspect they bring greater effects than are yet known.

However, they are not to be feared-Fear keeps you from seeing what you need to see to counter a spell or divert a disaster. Respect your foes, understand all you can about each event, and never let your emotions keep you from learning all you can. Your lives may depend on it some day.'" Khelben smirked at her and said, "Word for word. Good.

Your eidetic memory's intact. You had me worried for a while, my dear.

Now, you've studied lore on Netheril in the past and you've had more experience than many with the sharn-at least more than most who still draw breath. Where's the connection? You've got most of what facts you need, so put it together." Khelben's face took on an eager yearning, one Tsarra used to see on her father's face when they were hunting game for a feast. Tsarra paced around the table, since she thought better while moving and she wanted to get out from under his stare.

Khelben watched her, rifling through the tomes without looking at them. Tsarra started to consider aloud, "For some reason, the sharn attack us when we get Legacy artifacts together and the lightning strikes. They have some unknown link to both phaerimm and Netheril."

Thinking back on her research and an unfinished scroll on her desk, she remembered something. "Wait a moment-you had me studying any other possible methods of survival Netherese archwizards might have used to see if there are others out there. In Camarlenn of Hunabar's Musings on Magic Past, he spoke of a theory that the sharn fought the phaerimm because they were transformed Netherese." "That is what that source says, yes." Khelben said, with a nod. "Pray, continue." "I can't. I tried to find sources he referenced, but our students' library and those of five sages in the city didn't have any of the relevant writings. I did find out that Malek Aldhanek-the mage-historian Camarlenn studied-was the court wizard of the first Laeral, the ruler of Illuskan and the first Witch-Queen of the North. He died-oh, Horned Lady, no!" Tsarra interrupted herself as she heard and felt her ears fill with the roaring that heralded one of Danthra's visions. Tsarra fought against it, but the vision proved too strong. She dropped to the floor just as she lost consciousness. Again, she smelled things before the vision took hold: dust, mildew, the tang of new leather, and the smell of unwashed men in close-quarters.