Blackstaff

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Feast of the Moon, the Year of Lightning Storms (1374 DR)

Tsarra fought against a scream and channeled the pain into ending the vision. She found herself on her knees in the illusory library Khelben had established earlier. Khelben's image remained there, standing by the fireplace. Once she'd steadied herself, Tsarra stood up and said, I don't know what felt worse-what Cvor did to you or the despair you were feeling about Myth Drannor's fall. Now I know how you got that massive scar across your chest. Forgive me, Tsarra. Some of my memories are too powerful to block entirely. Likewise, some magic, as you've felt already. Tsarra rose, ignoring a gentlemanly hand from Khelben, but fell back onto a chair as she saw a tapestry depicting Nameless. Khelben! This possession-will it harm my tressym? Hmph.

Intriguing. I don't believe so. He can be a part of the ceremony through your links, or he can be an observer. Your choice. In the physical world, Khelben reached down and scratched Nameless behind the ears, eliciting a loud purr. No. The choice is his alone. I'll not force anything upon him against his nature. That's why I wait for him to tell me what he wishes to be called. He's listened to all of this, and if he wishes to participate, I'll be happy he's with us. If not, I'll be glad he's safe. Nameless looked up at Khelben's face and narrowed his eyes. Thinktoomuch, goodfriend. Call me Nameless, if that pleases. Strong name for mystery, and suits me, like smelly-beardwhitewizard says. Makes silverlaugher happy too. We all same pride, stand together. Khelben said, "He wishes to stay. Would he mind helping Raegar keep watch?" Elminster said, "Aye. He can't stay with us here. Were they near the first two circles, both would be cinders within moments." "So, should Nameless and I start walking now?" Raegar jested, though all could see how nervous the last comment made him. "Nay, lad," Laeral chimed in. "You two will stand with a friend soon. He will keep you safe to observe much of what occurs here on this Feast of the Moon." So what's to protect me, or at least my body? Tsarra found it odd to be watching the conversation through a massive mirror in the kiira-library. Staying more inside the kiira allowed Khelben to focus his concentration more. I am, and those who watch us now from the Grasp. Khelben's sendings still came from the simulacrum that sat with her in the kiira-library. Forgive me, my dear, but I must move our body and give it my full concentration to perform these preparations. Khelben walked around the five plinths, finally laying both hands flat against the third stone and intoned,

"First Sleeper, awaken to your task. Ivaakh!" A surge of silver permeated the stone beneath his hands. Once the silver reached the ground, black sharnstuff began flowing over the plinth, filling in the handprints last of all. Khelben approached each plinth in turn, repeated his actions, and intoned the same summoning, altering only the number of the Sleeper. After the fifth time, he turned to a figure stepping from the first plinth. The hooded man looked at his hands, body, then up at Khelben. Both men laughed and embraced each other.

Khelben? Who is this? Tsarra concentrated, hoping she might slip the names from Khelben's memory. Her efforts created a large tome open in her lap. The page showed the man's face, Khelben's script beneath it identifying him as Mentor Wintercloak. The two men broke their embrace, and as Mentor turned to embrace Elminster with equal strength, Tsarra watched Khelben's reunion with the other four Sleepers: white-haired Orjalun of Silverymoon, the elf wizards Darcassan of Windsong Tower and Shalantha Omberdawn, and the seemingly young human Jhesiyra Kestellharp. Sweet Mystra's stars, Tsarra muttered to herself, all of them mystics of note who disappeared under mysterious circumstances over the centuries and all assembled here.

Has there ever been such a collection of power in one place for one working? Bells sounded within the plinths, and the ten assembled beings turned toward them. The first two plinths manifested the marks of Corellon Larethian and Sehanine Moonbow. Mystra's eyes appeared next with her seven stars, then the mountain of Dumathoin on the next plinth, and the last showed the rolled scroll of Oghma the Binder.

Once all the sigils were in place, three figures stepped from the blackened plinths as well, each wearing the high priest's regalia of their respective churches. Tsarra willed the names and faces to remain in her tome, to have a record of the day's events. Pages ruffled forward to continue recording names and faces of the attendants, though few were known to her. Raegar recognized the all-too-surprised face of Sandrew the Wise, who returned his grin. Twenty-five people soon filled the space within Malavar's Grasp, but aside from brief nods among those familiar with each other, not a word was spoken for long moments. "Are we too late? Nain and I found more friends for our party," a woman's voice broke the silence, and a hole seemed to draw itself in space. Kyriani laughed as she stepped through, a floating disk bearing a large chest behind her. As she looked around at the faces of the assembled personages, even the ebullient mistress of Selune's Smile fell silent. Her right hand trailed behind her to lead Nain Keenwhistler, who held a blackstaff gingerly in his other hand.

He stopped and stared agog at that aggregate of the powerful until the people behind him cleared their throats. Two hooded figures exited the open circle in the air, though only the female bore another blackstaff. Lathander's dawn streaked across the High Moor as the sun finally rose over the Gray Peaks. Khelben cleared his throat and said loudly to all assembled, "Gentles, we have waited centuries for this, and the time is upon us at last. If you would, step outside of Malavar's Grasp so we may start our working." All but the three Chosen moved beyond the stone plinths, while the new arrival stepped forward with her blackstaff. Raegar and Nameless moved with Sandrew. Inside the kiira, Tsarra saw a sketch appear of a lovely half-elf blonde woman with short-cropped hair before the woman let her hood drop open in the world beyond. Her name flashed on the tome's right-hand page-Alvaerele Tasundrym. The Silent Chosen? When was the last time four Chosen assembled for any working of the Art? Tsarra wondered.

Khelben's scrawl wrote on the page beneath her image: When we sealed Hellgate Keep. Today we shall see five. Khelben, Laeral, and Alvaerele levitated their black-staves into place, bridging the gaps between the tops of the plinths and creating archways. Elminster blew a smoky hand, which drew a blackstaff from his cloak and settled it into place. A fifth blackstaff shimmered atop the plinths, turning Malavar's Grasp into five curved archways. In like fashion, a shimmer of silver rain brought three figures into the palm of the Grasp. The silver rain coalesced into Alustriel Silverhand, Ualair the Silent, and a hulking mezzoloth. Tsarra's tome showed a pleasant gnome's face in front of the mezzoloth's chitinous insectoid head. He was identified as both Rhymallos and Parthar the Valiant. Spells erupted from the crowd directly toward the mezzoloth, but a flare of energy from the orange gem on Ualair's brow absorbed them all as Khelben yelled, "Stop!" Arguments and murmurs rose and fell among the crowd, but Khelben continued, "I stand with a tragic hero of Myth Drannor and know that all who stand here today do so with purpose and warrant. Our brethren of the Pentad's faith can certainly attest to that. Now, our final compatriots will arrive momentarily, and the Gathering will commence."