Blackstaff

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

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

Tsarra woke sharply, her eyes snapping open and seeing directly into Khelben's staring back at her. For a moment, Malek Aldhanek's clean-shaven and olive-eyed visage hung in the air as a translucent mask over Khelben's. "You're peeling back far more memories and secrets of mine than I ever expected, Tsarra. I'm just glad neither one of us truly had to remember what it feels like to be stabbed in the eye." Khelben said, as he helped her sit up. Sometime during the vision, he'd moved Tsarra to one of the easy chairs in the library.

Tsarra found the questions flooding even faster than usual, and she struggled to keep still, as her head throbbed with pain, especially around her left eye. "You're even older than anyone believes, Master, aren't you? Even Khelben the Elder wasn't around for Stornanter. And Lady Arunsun is the same Laeral, the first Witch-Queen of the North?"

"I was only Malek Aldhanek for ten years from the Year of the Warrior's Rest to that of the Laughing Swan. In that time, I helped build Stornanter, restore Illusk, and write a few books people still try to comprehend fifty-six decades later. The identity was in fact significant only because it allowed me to meet my soul mate and establish many of the conundrums surrounding us now. You've now seen one of the most important moments of my long life, apprentice. Now tell milady she's as beautiful now as she was five centuries agone."

Khelben waved his hand, and Tsarra noticed Laeral approaching with a steaming mug that smelled of cinnamon and cloves. Aside from a change from shorter to longer hair, Laeral looked the same as in the vision.

"How did you survive? And why didn't you heal yourself, Lady Laeral?"

Tsarra demanded, her response as tied to the vision's emotions as to her own curiosity. Laeral slid onto the arm of the chair next to Tsarra's, leaving the seat for Khelben who sat down with her. "At the time, I was not yet aware of who I truly was. My time to be Chosen was a few decades later, though that was my last day ever in that audience chamber. I've not set foot near Port Llast in five centuries because of all that." She shifted her attention to Khelben for a moment. "Did I ever tell you how long it took us to drop that smoldering traitor after he killed you? Honestly, the man was more stubborn as a corpse than he was in life!" Laeral chuckled, but her white-knuckled grip on Khelben's hand told Tsarra other things. She saw the tension and pain it brought up again. Khelben looked at Laeral then shifted his eyes to Tsarra, then back to Laeral. "My only concern at the time was that you wouldn't bury me too deep. I'd used a lot of silver fire to keep you alive, so all I could do was keep myself from abandoning my body. The tougher part was feeling my body healing but having to lie there without breathing for four days while my body lay in state. It was a nice funeral, love, did I ever tell you that?" Khelben winked at Laeral, then turned to Tsarra. "My lady here was the most inconsolable woman I'd ever seen at a funeral until I met the widow at Lord Raventree's funeral about forty years back. Laeral did have a nice crypt built for me-unfortunately very solid, and tough to break from from the inside, I must say. Especially when one is buried without his spellbook." "I was curious!" Laeral shrugged, then giggled. "I was going to put it with you… eventually." Despite her shock at it all and the headache, Tsarra joined the two of them in laughing. "Dug yourself from many graves, Master?" "Once before and since," Khelben replied. "After that third trial, I disposed of my identities away from sight and spread rumors of their passings. It's also easier to build an empty crypt and hide things therein for later. Tsarra, this vision only knocked you out for a few hours, but it's a lot to digest.

And it has been some time since you've had a chance to sleep. We'll continue later this morning, as it's nearly dawn. For now, let us return to the main tower, shall we, ladies?" Khelben held out a hand to each woman and led them up toward the stairwell. "But what about Aldhanek's theories? That the sharn were Netherese transformed to fight the phaerimm?" Tsarra asked. She held her elbow out for the tressym, who flew down from the rafters. Khelben smiled. "One of my better attempts at misdirection, my dear. I made it up and wrote seven other books under three other names that expanded those theories until the idea itself was accepted as fact. Safer that way than to allow people to stumble upon the whole truth of things before the world is ready for them." "So you deliberately mislead people into accepting falsehoods? You write up lies to cover the truth?" Tsarra found herself getting angry all over again. "How can you live with the deceit?" Laeral put a hand on Tsarra's shoulder and smiled. "Child, those who truly seek the truth are rarely misled by these… hurdles, shall we say? Only those who greedily seek power-like our current foe, apparently-accept these short answers and are hoodwinked.

Besides, we follow both the dictates of our intellects and the directions of the Lady of Mysteries. The machinations demanded of us sometimes rival those of Shar's servants, but we do this willingly, knowing that we eventually expand people's understanding of magic."

"But-" Tsarra protested, but Khelben held up his hand to silence her.

"All right, Tsarra. Enough protesting. Time to directly learn one of my greatest secrets-one that may become a task of yours as well in the future. What do most common folk whisper when they guess what I am up to in my Tower? Other than the usual 'taking over the world' paranoia or 'conspiring with the Zhentarim' that has become popular the past few years?" "Most still wonder if you've truly abandoned both the lords and the Harpers. Oh, and the Watchful Order assumes you're producing major magical items for Piergeiron and the Guard without their due taxation or supervision." Laeral said, "It's astounding how fussy the guild of mages can be when they've nothing better to worry about." "Of course. Neither Laeral nor I need sleep unless we choose to-or are injured or ill. What occupies many a night-Stop smiling, Laeral, I'm not sharing those revelations-is writing. I enscribe as our Lady bids me or as my own heart deems. Even if what is written doesn't follow history, who is to say it doesn't hold a kernel of truth? Sometimes I work on my memoirs, and sometimes I write things to delude those seeking the easier paths to power. One of the reasons why the Darkholden stand with us is Sememmon proved more cunning about some things than did his former master. He saw through a thick web of intrigues and as a result, we struck a bargain, Sememmon and I." "Ah, I was wondering if they'd shown themselves or not," Laeral said. "You won't believe how angry Malchor is about having to work with them.

Still, these are all worries and thoughts to be wrestled with a freshly rested brain. Let us get you to bed, dear." Laeral slipped one arm through Tsarra's and led her toward the stairs. "Well, I can't possibly sleep now! I'm fine," Tsarra protested. "All of this changes so much." Khelben took up her other arm, nudging Nameless to the floor, and said, "You've had a hard enough day, my dear. I have endured your temper more than enough as well. That anger comes from exhaustion more than true outrage." He waved one arm, and the lights in the library dimmed. "Best sleep on this, and we'll discuss any further objections you have in the morning. I shall spend the night aiding Gamalon. Given our need for proximity, you'll have to sleep in one of the guest chambers. Besides, you need to be refreshed to properly wish Lord Wands the happiest of birthdays when we visit him tomorrow." "As long as he won't be offended by my wearing full armor and weaponry," Tsarra said. "If our foe is undead, as the evidence suggests, I don't intend to be caught without protection and a means of fighting back." "I wouldn't dream of suggesting otherwise, my dear," Khelben replied. As the three of them moved toward the stairs, Tsarra's eyes found a cabinet she'd not noticed earlier. Through its glass doors shone a flickering white light, only noticeable in the diminished light around them. The staff appeared to be blackened wood sealed along major cracks with silver metal. At the top, an axe blade, carved like a howling wolf's mouth in profile, seemed fused to the staff. Silver metal also filled in a multitude of runes carved into the staff along its length. "I've never seen this blackstaff, Master."

"That only leaves this chamber in the most dire of emergencies." "Why?

It looks like it's got powerful magic in it." "It does, but that power comes with costs and is not for idle use. In fact, it's the true blackstaff that ties my strength to the tower here." "When was the last time you used it? " "Not since the day I truly entered Mystra's service. Now, enough of things past. With some luck, you'll never know the burden of touching that staff. Let us go." "It's a good thing we know you love us, dear, or we'd be irritated by your half-answers and dismissals," Laeral teased him as they stepped around to the landing.

"I've no doubt he loves you with every fiber of his being, lady."

Tsarra whispered to Laeral. "I know," Laeral smiled, "so it's a wonder it's taken us over five hundred years to have our first child together." Tsarra gawped a moment and hugged Laeral fiercely.

"Laeral!" Khelben snapped, but his face softened. "I thought that would be our secret a while. Have you told anyone else?" "Only Sylune and Alustriel. I couldn't help it. Happy news is so rare among us, I had to share." Khelben sighed and nudged the two women ahead of him.

"I just hope our enemies don't get wind of a child of two Chosen before we're ready for them." "Isn't he sweet? Worried about them already…" "Them?" Khelben asked, his eyes wide. "Dear," Laeral caressed Khelben's face as they all descended the stairs, "do you honestly think I don't know when I'm carrying twins? I may not have borne as many children as Alustriel, but please. Besides, I'm glad you've no need to brag, but you've twice in the past bred twins. It seems you've done so again."