Blackstaff Tower

CHAPTER 18

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

The Goreclipse sheds its crimson light over Faerun one night every 784 winters, and it also sheds light on many a legend. Learn, too, that those things that suffered 'neath Ahghairon's hand unlock many secrets. Should ye gather as many 'neathmountaineers he battled when Sehlne and her tears wept blood in his lifetime, ye shall then gain the Tower Impregnable."

The words from his studies haunted him and goaded him on. I need more keys, Khondar thought, and Dagult has them. He doesn't deserve them-no one untouched by the Art deserves them.

On his best day, Khondar "Ten-Rings" Naomal was one to avoid in the streets, his kindest face a glowering warning to those in his way. Today, even the dogs and cart traffic stayed out of his way as the wizard stalked his way up the Street of Silks to the Palace. Despite the strong highsun glare, the wizard's disposition wove the cold of the early winter more tightly around him, and folk shivered with his passing.

Khondar passed a steaming food cart, its vendor hawking hot buttered payr nuts, the smell of which reminded him of Centiv, who loved the snack. Khondar's step and face tightened as he thought of his last view of his son in Blackstaff Tower, the fearful face, as green mists and blue imps swarmed over him.

I just need those keys, he thought, and I can re-enter Blackstaff Tower as the Open Lord, not an intruder. Then my son can find himself my most favored of children again.

What snapped him out of his reverie were the overheard rumors. "They say the Open Lord's son killed the Blackstaff's heir!"

Khondar's attention snapped back to the nut vendot, who passed on the latest gossip to his customers, a pair of servants wearing the star-headed mace atop the green banner seal of House Korthornt. One of them responded, "Aye, his love of history has got the better of him, what he tries to steal the secrets of Blackstaff Tower itself." The woman elbowed her companion and whispered a response Khondar did not hear. Still, he smiled as his disttacting rumors kept the gossips busy and everyone's attention away from him. That would make this easier, and also serve to keep" the current Open Lord off his guard-an advantage Khondar would exploit.

Ten-Rings had fled Blackstaff Tower last night, slipping invisibly back to Roarke House to recover his energy. He tried to sleep, but to no avail, so he buried himself in research all night, specifically the books from Samark. The items they took from Samark's corpse glowed with a new light after Khondar's trip through Black-staff Tower. He now saw a minor enchantment he'd previously ignored as merely a signature of sorts by the items' makers. He realized each of these was a key. Ahghairon and anything he himself enspelled acted as a key to pierce the fields around his tower-and Khondar already had five of the six keys he needed in the amulet, the ring, the dagger, and the two wands he pulled from the grasp of the Blackstaff's Tower.

That realization forced him through the streets on a frosty morning with flurries in the air. All that time he and his son had researched spell fields and protections around Blackstaff Tower had paid off-and now the Ten-Ringed Wizatd would pierce veils unbroken for centuries. He would claim far greater prominence as Ahghairon's Successor and the new Open Lord. All he needed was one last key-and he knew that more than one was in Daugult's grasp. First he would take the keys from him, then the Open Lord's throne, and then the city would see the munificent tule of wizards again.

Khondar turned slightly off the main street toward the palace, but he stopped to stare at Ahghairon's Tower. The slim stone pinnacle rose four stories high. It had a conical roof and very few windows-a very plain and most common of wizards' towers. Were it not for its location or its builder's prominence in Waterdeep, few would ever give it a second's pause-until they noticed the slight glow around it and the skeleton that floated within that glow at street level. While most others had never known much about the failed invader, Khondar smiled. One of the books Samark brought out of Khelben the Elder's tomb named that invader- Melkar of Mirabar. Why Samark sought the book was unknown to Khondar, but he learned from it nonetheless. He reread it in the early morning, seeing it in the same new light he now saw the items he claimed from Samark.

Melkar had failed more than two centuries before because he musinderstood the legend. While many still talked of Ahghairon and his deeds to this day, those tale-spinners corrupted things in the telling. Details were lost and secrets obfuscated, either by accident or design. Most Waterdhavians learned "The Ballad of Battle Ward" by repetition and sing-alongs at taverns in any ward, its simple refrain praising Ahghairon's holding the line against Halaster and his pet demons. Most people assume that this long-ago battle involved only two demons and Halaster himself, as few bards bother to learn more than nine verses of the song, three verses per battle. Khondar knew that Melkar believed in that, which is why he only penetrated the first three barriers around Ahghairon's Tower when he attempted his entry. The legend he'd learned suggested the number of keys should match the number of monsters

Ahghairon fought during the Goreclipse, a celestial event where Selune went fully eclipsed and dark but the Tears of Selune were stained red.

Khondar's deeper researches and his torture of Vajra taught him that he needed not three-the number of foes assumed by most-but six. That clue came from Love atLlast, a rather insipid volume of love poems with the full version of the ballad written in with footnotes detailing what spells Ahghairon used against them. Khondar knew he needed six keys-one for each of the five demons to pierce the barriers, and a sixth key representing Halaster to enter the tower itself. According to the poet Malek Aldhanek, Ahghairon slew the demons on the very spot he built his tower, sealing an otherworldly portal with their blood and sinew.

Khondar felt the two keys he carried with him-the ring and the dagger-thrum with power as he passed Ahghairon's Tower. "Soon," he whispered, "soon, I will claim that as my own. Fot now, my power is enough to force the Open Lord's attentions-and to claim from him something he's'taken for himself." He masked his eagerness and impatience as he mounted the long and deep steps leading up to the palace.

Standing in the central reception hall of the palace, Ten-Rings drifted over to one of Ahghairon's more amusing creations- and one more easily noticed if moved or lost. Resting on a chest-high base, the ctystal globe contained a miniature diorama of Waterdeep as it had stood when Ahghairon founded the Lords of Waterdeep. The weather depicted in the globe had accurately predicted the weather as seen at highsun the following day fot more than thtee centuries. Khondar stared into the massive crystal ball, watching the snow swirl around its confines. As he peered closer at Ahghairon's Tower within the globe, a page approached and cleared his throat.

Standing at attention, the sandy-haired lad had the usual face-rash of early adolescence but the stance and voice of someone trained in diplomacy and courtly manners. "Milord Naomal, I am Milluth. Please forgive my delay. It took us some time to track down the Open Lord, as he oftimes sttays from his official schedule, much to our dismay."

"Never mind that, boy," Khondar said. "Just take me to him."

"I can't do that, milord," Milluth replied. "Milord Neverember is in a meeting and cannot be disturbed. If you'd care to make an appointme-"

"No," Khondar said, putting magical compulsions and spells behind his clipped whisper. "You'll find you can, Milluth. Let us go find and interrupt your precious Open Lord."

Ten-Rings was grateful the alcove in which Ahghairon's Globe rested kept any from seeing him cast the spell on the boy, whose glassy-eyed response revealed the spell held him in "thtall.

Milluth quickly crossed the chamber, leading Ten-Rings out of the palace proper and to the southeastern tower of the palace-the Parley Tower, where the Lords met with any envoys or ambassadors from lands east of Anauroch. As they crossed the courtyard, Khondar noticed the clouds growing darker overhead and Ahghairon's Tower looming beyond the curtain wall of the palace. He knew it would snow before too long, and he wanted to be inside, preparing his spells and meditating before it did. The pair crossed to the heavy door with its pair of flanking guards. Milluth led them through the doot, across the entty chamber, and up three levels. As they climbed, Khondar planned his next move, and with a thought, two rings among his ten blinked with light, and were replaced with a different pair of rings. He looked at his hands and smiled, confident in his protections and magic.

They stopped at the landing and the ornate double doors that topped the stairwell. Flanking the doors were two pairs of guards-two in Lords' livery and two bearing badges with a raven holding a silver piece in its mouth. Khondar recognized the badge and smiled grimly. As Khondar and Milluth approached, all four guards put hands on their weapons but did not draw them. Khondar whispered a spell, unleashed it ahead of the boy, and paralyzed all four guards. He pushed the boy forward and said, "The door, Milluth."

When Milluth hesitated, Ten-Rings concentrated and willed the boy to forego knocking and simply open the doors. Milluth's hand jerkingly reached for the key ring at his belt, and he unlocked the doors and opened them in one smooth motion. Khondar cast one spell on himself, in expectation of trouble.

Inside the room, wide windows covered with expensive glass let in much light and allowed guests a good view of Castle Waterdeep, the spur of the mountain, and southern Castle Ward. Dagult sat facing the doors with his back to the windows, both allowing his guests the view and showing he worried little about having his back exposed. Many described Dagult Neverember as a "lion of a man," and Ten-Rings could see how he earned that ascription. His pumpkin-brown hair flew around a furrowed brow, deep-set dark eyes, and an angry mien like a mane. He looked every bit the impressive and forceful ruler, even when taken by surprise. He wore a gold velvet overtunic emblazoned with the Lords' mark, and his black linen shirt and black-bear pelt cape broadened his already-wide shoulders impressively.

Chairs shrieked as people shocked by the intrusion stood or shoved their chairs back from the door. Khondar's reaction was equally swift. From the guards outside and at least two old acquaintances at the table, Ten-Rings knew this was a Sembian trade consortium-Concord Argentraven-meeting with the Open Lord. He rushed to the table at one man, half-risen from his chair, and he punched him hard in the throat. The man fell back into his chair, choking, and Khondar put his left fist to his mouth, uttering a low syllable. Ice erupted into the man's mouth, surged out his nose, and engulfed his entire head.

"What is this?" Dagult yelled. "Guards!" as he snapped a dagger out of his sleeve and into his hand.

Khondar saw all the other delegates in the room had minor weapons in hand. Their attention was on Khondar and his victim, who had suffocated in the ice and now wore a different face than the white-beatded one he wore moments before. The corpse had no beard, but his skin and hair were varying shades of ash gray. It told those assembled much.

"A shade!"

Khondar turned to face the assembly and said, "Forgive my intrusion and attack, milords, but haste was the best course of action here-lest our Open Lord and you be further duped by a cunning shade seeking to undermine our fair city."

Tradelord Amhath Dessultar cleared his throat and said, "How did you know that he wasn't who he appeared to be? I've known Markall Silverspur for more than thirty years, and you dispatched-"

"— a traitorous being who'd impersonated him for more than three years.".

"How can you know that?" another Sembian howled, one Khondar had never met.

"Because," Ten-Rings replied, raising his rings, "it's my business as a Guildmaster of the Watchful Order of Magists and Protectors to know."

"Not good enough, wizard," a third Sembian said. "Explain or hang." The woman was the only person without a dagger at hand. She held a small diamond-studded rod in his direction, and her eyes crackled with magical energy thanks to a diadem at her brow.

Khondar glowered at the woman, then said, "I slew Markall Silverspur years ago in Yhaunn when I caught him blackmailing my guild and stealing thousands from our coffers. I had heard of his recent rise in fortunes and rumors had placed him in the city again. Whether grave-risen or replaced by an imposter,' the man's insults were enough to garner a second spot of revenge on my part. Just how well did you all know Markall?"

Khondar fought a smug smile as he let that news sink in, the coin-grubbers wondering how much gold or influence they'd lost to hidden subterfuges of the now-dead shade.

"Khondar," Dagult said in a low voice, "I trust what brings you here is of the utmost importance to disturb these negotiations."

"It is, Open Lord Neverember," Khondar replied, sketching a barely respectful bow. "It is only a surprising gift of fate that I was able to prevent the shades from gaining any foothold in trade or other concessions with our fair city. After all, we welcome fair Sembia and its trade, not its insidious back-shadow rulers."

"Watch whom and what you accuse, Naomal," Amhath said. "We know each other and do business, but we are hardly friends."

"True enough," Ten-Rings said. "My business with the Open Lord is crucial for the city's welfare and must be private."

Khondar had been pacing around the table, past the slumped shade corpse, and when he finished talking, he stood at Dagult's right shoulder. He touched him on the shoulder, and the diamond ring on his right hand flared bright. When everyone's sight cleared, both the wizard and the Open Lord were gone.

Madrak ran his feather duster over the collected bric-a-brac on the ledge around the bay window seat in Dagult's office. As he brushed away a tenday's accumulation of soot and dust, he gazed out the window at the light snow falling.

"Auril," he whispered, "be kind to the young master, and use your snows to hide him from his foes, who seem to lurk closer than he knows."

Madrak hopped off the window seat and was picking up dishes and remnants of meals half-consumed off the three tables, the desk, and the floor when four feet suddenly appeared on the carpet in front of him. He stepped back, startled, and looked up into the cold gray eyes of a wizard glaring down at him. Dagult's back was to him, and he seemed to be sitting in a phantom chair. The halfling butler stepped back just in time as the very surprised Dagult let out a toar and fell solidly on his back. The stream of invectives and swear words coming from Dagult as he rose were directed solely at the wizard, who Madrak learned was named Naomal or Khondar and who had questionable parentage concerning lower animals and even lower planes.

Madrak cleared his throat and said, "Er, welcome, milords. Would you care for anything to drink?"

Years of practice kept any hint of amusement or terror off his face as the halfling flicked his glance from Khondar to Dagult. The wizard, however, made his disdain and dismissal of both Madrak and his master quite plain, at least to the butler's eye. Dagult, as usual, blustered and abused those under him privately, despite all his public demeanor painted him an unmatched diplomat and shrewd negotiator.

"By all the gods, when I tell you to stay out of my office when I'm not here, I mean it!" Dagult, having risen to his feet, aimed a powerful kick at the old halfling, who ably dodged the attempt and retreated through the hidden door just barely tall enough for him in the office wall.

"Thrice-damnable halflings!" Dagult roared after the retreating butler's door clicked closed. He spun back to Khondar and said, "Always rooting around, sneaking about the house through secret doors I can't fit through."

"Good help is hard to find, indeed," Khondar said, and he found himself remorsefully thinking of Centiv, left to his fate inside Blackstaff Tower. He paced the room to cover his sudden emotional response, and remembered his goal. The key! Unfortunately, getting a word in edgewise around Dagult proved difficult.

"But they're not nearly half as presumptuous as you, Ten-Rings! Our agreement was that no one would ever see us associated together! You've now given any foes a link between us and a suggested past history. Kidnapping me in front of witnesses won't bode well for your trial." Dagult's voice had started loud and balking, but by the time he finished his sentence, it was a cold, hard whisper with an edge of steel to it. "Abduction and threats against the Open Lord is a punishable offense, after all."

"Don't threaten me, little Open Lord." Khondar smiled as Dagult's face paled and his fists clenched at the insult. Ten-Rings continued, keeping him even more off-balance. "You don't have enough power to challenge me, even if that sword at your side truly holds all the magic it allegedly did in the hands of your predecessors. Frankly, I doubt you're able to draw it, and you just wear it to impress."

"That might be, Guildmaster, but what I do know is this-You assaulted me, my aide, my guards, my guests, and slew a member of a trade delegation. Even if they did not see your flashy abduction of me from the Parley Tower, many saw you enter the tower just before the panic began. Tongues are wagging now, even as we speak. No one can turn rumors and gossip into coins like Sembians. Should anything happen to me before I explain myself, all manner of hells will empty upon you and yours. And you have only yourself to blame for that. Beyond all that, there's this matter you seemed to have skillfully dumped into my son's lap. While the boy needs some challenges, I'll not see him swing for your activities, wizard."

"Hmph. Well, be that as it may, we both have our secrets and our sins. You, I'm sure the people would love to learn, have a knack for acquiring things, if only so you can gloat in their having. I sensed it last time I visited here-you keep true magical items of the Lords here, while leaving fakes behind to keep anyone from looking for them." Khondar's theory got its proof by Dagult's face going ashen again. "I'm looking for a key, Dagult. Do you have it?"

"You'll need to be more specific, Naomal." Dagult sneered, trying to regain control of the conversation. "I have hundreds of keys to hundreds of properties, secret places where only the Lords walk, and keys to every tomb within the City of the Dead."

Khondar glared at him. "Where have you hidden Ahghairon's

Key? The one on display in the Ruby Hall at the palace was false-I could sense it! Now show me the real key!"

"If your information is accurate, wizard," Dagult said, "and you can sense fake constructs, you should be able to find it yourself."

Khondar walked around the room, angrily at first, but then secretly delighted that Dagult had given him the excuse to examine the room closely. Like the rest of Neverember Manor, the room was richly appointed with thick carpets and wall hangings in Dagult's favorite red hues. Ten-Rings skipped over all the bric-a-brac in the windows, sensing no magics from them, but his senses sang of magical auras against the back wall. He paced back and forth, seeming to admite a painting hanging there, and he spotted a stone out of place in the corner seam of the wall. He pressed it, and the painting and part of the wall recessed and slid out of the way, revealing a shelf with a number of items on it. Dagult's sigh of defeat was audible across the chamber.

Khondar reached in and picked up a small brass key, the handle of which was Ahghairon's swirling whorl of a wizard mark. It thrummed beneath his touch, and his wizard sight told him this was the genuine article. "What ever did you need Ahghairon's Key for, Dagult?"

"That key identifies and unlocks any door, known or unknown or however barred, when it passes nearby. When my wife died, she left me nothing-gave everything to the boy. I used it to search this entire mansion, finding out every secret door, every compartment, every possible place she might have hidden money, of evety place my son might have hidden things from me. I kept it because it amused me to do so and because I'd never know when I might need it again."

"Well, I need it now." Khondar said, dropping the key into his belt pouch.

"That is not yours to hold," Dagult said, his hand on the dagger that rested on his desk. "Return it or find yourself in deeper trouble than even you can imagine."

"No, I don't think so, little man." Khondar laughed. "Should anything happen to me, your son dies." The wizard let that sink in, and while he knew Renaer and Dagult were estranged, he counted on fatherly attachment to stay his hand. Khondar found himself amused by some of the other things in Dagult's hidden cache, from a small metal dragon sculpture that breathed fire when you pressed its footclaw, to a small silver necklace dripping with thumb-sized sapphires, to a singular silver bracer with two palm-sized sapphires set in its guard. He left the recess open and wandered closer to Dagult's desk, where he spotted a gnarled hunk of phandar wood and gasped with what he saw through his wizard sight.

"You have a piece of the Staff of Waterdeep?"

"That? It's just a idle hunk of worrywood I rub when I need to relax."

"Hardly, Dagult, and forget bluffing me. Few can sniff out lies better than I can." What Khondar left unsaid was that the power in this isolated piece of wood tied into greater magic than he dared dream of. While inert on its own, it joined with eleven other fragments to create a fabled artifact tied directly to Waterdeep. Khondar picked up the lump of wood and tucked it into his belt. "I believe the Watchful Order is better prepared to protect this item of Ahghairon's making, rather than leaving it lying about holding down a pile of parchments."

"Put that back, wizard. I don't care if I can't use it. That staff is better kept apart."

"The Staff of Waterdeep saved the city twice!" Khondar whirled and glowered at Dagult.

"And nearly destroyed it! That stays here, or I'll have you and every member of the Watchful Order loyal to you rounded up and imprisoned at best."

Khondar considered Dagult's threat and, seeing no doubt or hesitation in his eyes, bowed deeply. "Enjoy your tenure on the throne, little conniver-merchant. Soon Waterdeep will see Ahghairon's heir rise to take Waterdeep back to the heights it deserves. I shall restore the City of Splendors, and there shall be a reckoning upon those deemed less than loyal to me."

With that, Khondar teleported away, the chuff of imploding air being the only sound in Dagult's office until the gnarled piece of ironwood fell loudly back on the desk, knocking over a wine goblet. Dagult watched as the wine soaked into the parchments, causing the ink on the message to bleed and tun. The red wine made his hand-scrawled Lords' coat of arms-the torchlike seal of the Lords-blur into a mass of black ink. Dagult shiveted, but he could not tear his eyes away from the spreading stains.