Blackstaff Tower

CHAPTER 14

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

That way!" Renaer said, kicking a block out from behind a wagon wheel, and Vharem did the same on the other side. "Down Shyrrhr's Steps and northeast on the Garmarl's Dash over to Windless Way!"

The, two of them pushed the wagon and sent it careening back down the street to slow any pursuers and distract any observers. They caught up to Laraelra and the others dashing down a short stairwell linking them to an alleyway behind a slate of rowhouses. They looped around a pair of adjoined buildings and a covered well, startling three scullery maids filling buckets there. With Osco in the lead, the group slipped over to the brick-paved Windless Way.

Laraelra stopped dead and rasped, "Osco, stop!" She looked for Meloon, Vajra, Vharem, and Renaer, and spotted another Watch patrol in pursuit behind them. Luckily, the morning sun rose into the Watchmen's eyes, which helped conceal the fugitives. Laraelra could see both Vharem and Renaer keeping their hands in front of their torsos, hiding their ditections from the Watch, and pointing her to theit right, to the south.

Laraelra held back, letting Osco, Meloon, carrying the swooning Vajra, and finally Vharem and Renaer past her, as she hid behind the side of an apothecary shop. Once everyone was past her, she let the Watch close a little more before she cast her spell, unleashing an explosion of magical colors over them. Of the quartet, three fell unconscious and the armar went blind. She smiled at the effectiveness of her magic and ran to catch the others.

Renaer had led the rest of them down the dark-bricked Windless Way. As Laraelra reached them, they darted onto a black cobblestone alley and into a tiny bricked courtyard. Three doors faced out onto the court, and the southwest-facing upper windows of the three two-story homes were still shaded from the morning sun. Renaer pointed at the door on the far left and said softly, "A friend lives there. He should be able to hide us from the Watch for a nonce."

When Meloon approached the door and raised a fist, Renaer whispered, "Stop!"

The burly man raised an eyebrow in question, and Renaer reached up and. used the door knocker-a crude iron sculpture of a bird's head set atop a large plate of iron. The knocker oddly made no sound, but within a moment, a window overlooking the door on the upper floor opened.

"Who's there?" The voice preceded the night-capped head of an older man with a close-cropped gray beard, who fumbled to put spectacles on his long nose.

"Parlek, it's me!" Renaer said. "Let us in, please!"

The older man leaned out, squinted down at Renaer, and gaped at them and at the prone Vajra in Meloon's arms.

"You're wanted for murder, boy," Parlek replied. "Give me one reason to trust you and your friends there."

"I'll give you three-The Annals ofKyhral. You'll finally complete the set! The volumes are yours in exchange for safe haven."

The old man's face brightened. "Finally! I knew I'd gain those volumes from you one day, boy!" The old man practically cackled with glee, then caught himself and said, "Er, well, that proves you are who you say, as you're the only one in the city with those volumes. And for you to part with them means you're either desperate or innocent-or both. Come in, all of you."

The man waved, a light bout of sparkles drifting off his hand, and the door below unlocked. As Renaer opened the door, the older man above closed the window.

"We'll be safe here, temporarily," Renaer said, escorting them all into the row house.

They entered a snug antechamber, then walked through a slim passageway to the front of the house and an equally slim stairwell leading upstairs. Down those stairs came a bowlegged old man wrapping his robes more tightly about himself.

Renaer gestured up and said, "Everyone, Parlek Lateriff-sage, sorcerer, and smith of the highest order."

"Stop basting my ego, boy." The old man stopped in midstep, grabbing the railing in surprise. "I wasn't sure… but it is! You've got her! That is Vajra Safahr, isn't it?"

Renaer nodded. "What exactly are we accused of doing now?"

"The usual, when they want someone caught without having to explain much-murder, dissent against the Lords, and more. Surprisingly, there are specific charges that tell more, if you know how to listen." He motioned them all up the stairs and continued. "The fact that you're protecting someone you're accused of murdering should help your case-or harm it, if they claim you used your connections with many temples to resurrect her so you could kill her again."

Renaer sputtered, "But… why-who?"

Vharem smacked him between the shoulders and said, "He's stuck. Lemme help."

"Who's accusing us of all this?" Laraelra said.

"And who might you be, lass?" Parlek asked.

"Laraelra Harsard, daughter of-"

Parlek's eyes widened and he interrupted her, "Malaerigo

Harsard, who claims his daughter has been bewitched into helping a murderer and offers a reward for her rescue. Interesting. Interesting."

Laraelra groaned. "On a brighter day, Father'd not be such a fool."

"Yes, but your own reputation for cool-headedness serves you well. More folk than your loud-mouthed sire believe your involvement is both voluntary and honorable."

Laraelra got a small smile out of that.

"What did you mean when you said the charges tell more?" Vharem asked.

"You disappeared yesterday morning from Neverember Manor. Too many people saw you go in, and none saw you come out. Without someone telling your side of the stoty, your accusers filled the streets with gossip to support their claims. What'd you do to get on the wrong side of Khondar Naomal, Renaer?"

"How did you know he was behind it?"

"Those slinging the most accusatory statements all had ties to the Watchful Order, and to him specifically. I have some guilded friends who want to know what's going on, since most of them aren't buying the story. The Watch-or at least those few you've shamed in your nightly pranks-believes the rumors and search hard, as do some Order apprentices. Otherwise, most of us use our heads as other than hatracks and wait for the truth to come out at Lords' Court."

"Thank the gods for that," Renaer said.

Parlek led them through a small room toward a doorway in the far wall. "Don't touch anything-especially you, Osco Salibuck!"

There were two work tables, on which were fine smiths' tools, vises, and some works in progress-a bracer, a headdress, and an amulet. Above the tables and set on slim support rods were two long planks, on which were gems small and large of various colors. Across from the tables were shelves overflowing with books and scrolls.

Everyone passed through the room quickly. Renaer held onto Osco's cloak, and Vharem held onto the hin's tunic. However, while Renaer and Vharem were broad-shouldered, they were not as large as Meloon. In order to avoid dislodging things from the shelves on his right, Meloon bumped into the table on the left as he passed it, and he knocked its shelf over, spilling its contents on the table and floor.

"Parharding stlaern it!" Parlek swore. "It's going to take forever to sort all that out again! You've ruined my work for the next tenday!"

Meloon blushed and muttered, "Sorry," but whispered back at Renaer, "What's he got all that for?"

"Parlek makes a living by creating replicas of jewelry pieces for nobles," Renaer said. "It allows him to afford better books and time to study on all things ecclesiastical."

While Parlek groaned and shot glares at Meloon, the others gathered up everything that fell off the shelf onto the table.

"You big ox!" Parlek snapped. "I'll never finish that tiara in time!" He pointed at a half-finished headdress of filigreed silver webworks, half its fake gems in place. The parchment on the table illustrated the finished piece, but that was half-covered in loose gems.

Osco hopped up on the stool, produced a lens out of his back belt pouch, squinted to hold it close to his right eye, and began picking small gems up to examine them. "It'll be less than forever and certainly not a tenday, but it'll still take some time. Settle back, gentles, and let me show you glass from class. Ooo, nice work there! Almost didn't see the seam."

Laraelra swept all the loose gems together, gestured at the jumbled pile of fake and real gems, and uttered a few syllables.

"Hey!" Osco yelled, as all but the single gem in his hand spun away from him, glowing. The gems glistened and spiraled into eight separate piles-two blue, two red, two clear, and two green gems, one each of fake and real gems. The fake gems easily outnumbered the real gems by ten to one, as there were only two or three real gems of any color.

Parlek gasped, looked at Laraelra, and back at the piles, and both of them smiled.

"It's a minor magic of mine," Laraelra said. "Separates out components and puts like with like."

"I might pay you to teach it to me, lass, but another time," Parlek said. He motioned them forward toward the door behind him. "Let's get out of my workroom and into my parlor. Phase" The last word he pleaded, looking directly at Meloon, who gingerly side-stepped his way through with Vajra.

They entered a moderate-sized room flooded with morning light. Two couches and four chairs hugged the walls of the room. Parlek motioned them all to sit, himself taking a seat by the window and the light. They all sat and Renaer said, "Sorry for the disruption of sleep and home, but we need to know everything you've heard."'

"Too much," Parlek said. "Tell me what you know and I'll try and fill in the rest."

Meloon chimed in with, "All we know is Khondar and somebody posing as the Blackstaff want us dead because we kept them from killing her. They stuck a knife in her gut!"

"Those two hated each other for decades," Renaer said. "I suspect Khondar killed Samark or had him killed, and then had a trusted lieutenant wear an illusory shape to divert attention or sow confusion."

"We don't know who the illusion-weaver is," Laraelra added, "but they must have enough information to steal the Blackstaffs power. When Vajra's cogent, she talks about getting to Blackstaff Tower before someone takes its power."

Parlek listened to all of them, nodded, and said, "You're right in that you need to get her to the tower-her place of power. I suspect that'll help her just by being there. As for the illusion-wearer, that's probably Khondar's son, Centiv. He's good with illusions, and one of the few that ring-wearer would trust-at least as much as he trusts anyone." He whistled. "You sure pick enemies, Renaer, that's for certain." His gaze happened upon Osco, whose hands shot up into the air to show he didn't have anything in hand despite having passed by a silver serving set on the sideboard.

"The gods' honest laughs," Osco said. "They found all this trouble by themselves!"

"What can you tell us about Ten-Rings?" Renaer asked.

"Once I realized he was the one slandering your name," Parlek said, "I asked friends who know the city's wizards. Naomal only picked up that name about eighteen years ago when Sarathus died and Khondar failed to become Ashemmon's apprentice and heir for the third time. Before that, he'd been a middling wizard with a brief stint in the Watch-wizard corps. In less than a year, he was a power in the guild with his new affectation of a ring on every finger. I heard he searched spellplagued areas in Neverwinter Woods and found some artifacts-including the Jhaarnnan Hands." Parlek smiled, happy to impart his knowledge. "The four sources that discuss them say the items are from Memnon in Calimshan, though all disagree as to their origin. One says they were made by the great djinni lords, one says efreeti, and the third by their wizard servitor-proxies. The fourth insists demons worked to undermine the djinn-rule of the time and made them to do so."

"By the gods, man!" Osco said. "We're hunted! Less story, more information!"

Parlek frowned and said, "Of course, you're right, you're right. The Jhaarnnan Hands are a matched set of gold bracers and sculpted stone hands, which allow Khondar to swap out magical rings he wears with those on the Hands. I assume he wears a ring on each digit to disguise when he changes rings."

"So if we find these hands, we can strip him of power?" Meloon asked.

"Doubtful, but decreasing his power should keep you alive." Parlek shrugged.

"Don't suppose you've got a way to just blink us over to Black-staff Tower, do you, old man?" Renaer asked, winking at Parlek.

He laughed and said, "Even though magic's more stable in the city, Renaer, there's very few of us who would dare to teleport to Blackstaff Tower-even if we could."

"So we're on our own," Vharem sighed.

"I think you'll find that the only folk who're pursuing you in the streets are the ignorant or those corrupt few who seek to curry favor with those more corrupt above them." Parlek rose and approached another door, which he opened to reveal another set of stairs leading down. "These are the outside stairs leading out onto Firegoad's Gambol. If you're lucky, you can take that down to the Talltumble Stairs, which should get you to Castle Ward. From there, you've a bit of a run to Blackstaff Tower. May the gods whisk you along, friends."

They left Patlek's home and emerged onto a slate-colored brick street that was starting to bustle with activity. When a few folk took note of them because of the unconscious woman in Renaer's arms, he quickly explained, "She's sick. We're looking for the nearest shrine to Tymora."

The fact that she was hooded and heavily wrapped against the cold kept most from recognizing who she was. Some helpful folk pointed out directions, while others shunned them, but they made their way to the top of the Talltumble Stairs as most folk ended their mornfeast and got on to work in the city.

The Talltumble Stairs clambered down the eastern slope of Mount Watetdeep to provide a way for the Watch and others to go up or down into Mountainside. The name came from how folk lost their balance on the shallow steps and oft-tumbled down a bit of the mountain slope. The name remained, even after the Stonecutters' Guild reworked the stairs from one complete straight run to a number of angled staits with four resting platforms along the way.

The party made its way down the first set of stairs to the Lovers' Landing, so named for its use at night by amorous nobles of Mountainside. The only others on the stairs were merchants carting goods in packs, heading up to the High Market to sell their wares. No one gave the party much notice, focused as they were on simply keeping their balance and their wind while trudging up the steps with their heavy packs.

The party continued to the Dragon's Spout, the informal name for the second landing, at which there was a magically maintained fountain with clear, fresh water. The stone fountain-a carved dragon's head-once topped the Dragontower of Maaril, but that edifice had rocketed skyward during the Spellplague and exploded high over the city. The only piece to have survived was the dragon's head, which was put to use at this fountain.

Osco whispered to Vharem, "Hey, V, is this going too easily or is it just me?"

"No, it's not just you," Vharem said, his hand resting on his sword hilt, as he looked around at all those approaching them.

The group paused to drink at the fountain, and Renaer passed Vajra over to Vharem to stretch out his atms and lean over for a drink. With the group clustered around the fountain, Osco snapped to attention and hopped up onto the fountain's surrounding ledge. "Something's wrong."

"What makes you say that?" Meloon asked.

"It just got really quiet, and those two people on the far side of the fountain haven't stopped talking." He unfurled a whip at his belt and snapped it out into mid-air-and suddenly the air shivered around them.

Within a bteath of Osco's whip-snap, nine young wizards wearing the gray robes of the Watchful Order surrounded him and his friends against the fountain.

"How the gods did he know?" A young mage yelled as he came into sight.

His companion lurched over, howling and holding his face. He glared at Osco, the welt on his cheek fresh and bleeding. "You'll pay for that, halfling."

All nine of the gray-robes held wands, aimed at Laraelra and her friends.