Blackstaff Tower

EPILOGUE

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

The light of Selune and her Tears reflected off a fresh snowfall as the private carriage dashed past Ahghairon's Tower. "Ugh," Lady Nharaen Wands said. "I can't stand that new horror the wizards unleashed." She looked away, pulling her mink-lined hood closer to shield her eyes, but Lord Torlyn Wands could not tear his eyes away.

The now-skeletal remains of Khondar "Ten-Rings" Naomal continue to fly within the spell barriers around the tower, his skull ever turning to spot his pursuers. Also within the barriers lurked two spectral wolves, ever giving chase. Torlyn smiled grimly as the wolves flew in opposite directions around the tower, only to have Khondar's skeleton explode as the wolves tore him in two different directions at once. Lord Wands knew that the skeleton would reform and the chase would be on again-forever a warning to those who sought to abuse Waterdeep's past and its magic.

A good sign for our times, Torlyn thought. The past watches and warns us always, and we can't ignore it. Still, we have to keep moving forward-and perhaps we'll be deserving of the gifts of the past in the hopes of a brighter future.

A short time later, the carriage halted at Roarke House, and Torlyn said, "This is my stop, sister. You go on and enjoy the Gralleth ball. If our business gets concluded early enough, Renaer and I will be along."

"Can't I come with you, Brother?" Nhaeran asked. "With Hurnal being found dead, are you sure it's safe for either of us tonight?"

"We're both safe. Our cousin died because of his own dealings with Khondar Naomal. Even if the old wizard hadn't killed him to get at the Blackstaff, Lord Thongolir and his men might have done so rather than just reporting their finding his body." Torlyn smiled, and his reassuring touch on her arm calmed his younger sister. "So go to this feast with a light heart, but don't expect me before highmoon."

"I shall have to set up a number of ladies with whom you can dance when you arrive, Brother," Nhaeran teased.

Torlyn shut the carriage door and shook his head as he approached the door and knocked.

Madrak, Renaer's halfling butler opened the door and waved him in, smiling. "A pleasure to see you again, Lord Wands. This way, please."

Renaer watched from above as Torlyn, the last of his eight guests, arrived. He smiled and finished adjusting his new tunic and jacket before he headed downstairs to the dining hall. According to Madrak, the early arrivals had quickly guessed who had summoned them here to Roarke House, given the presence of the halfling setvants and cook staff from Neverember Hall. Still, as requested, all the hin begged off providing any more details when asked by simply replying, "The master will tell you when he's ready."

Renaer entered the room, and Madrak and the three other halfling servants withdrew, closing the doors behind them. Renaer strode to the head of the table and raised a goblet, toasting all.

"Friends, good health, good deeds, and good fortune to us, those we hold dear, and our city!" He looked on each of them and was glad all were now healthy and healed from their recent adventures.

After the nine of them drained their goblets and filled them again, Renaer strode to the sideboard and pulled a long chest out of the lowest drawer. "I asked you all here tonight-at the sight of our foe's failings-to thank you all for your help in these past tendays and to beg one more indulgence on my part." He placed the large box at his end of the table, opening it and withdrawing its contents one by one.

He passed each of them a small box, which opened to reveal a gold signet ring marked with a crescent moon and a star. "Look inside them as well," Renaer said. Inside the band, beneath the signet, a smooth garnet glinted in the light.

Osco snorted. "What's all this?"

"I want you all to join me in restoring the city to what it should be-the City of Splendors. We need to be heroes like those who used to fill this city. We need to bring hope and honor and trust back to the streets."

"And we need rings for this?" Eiruk Weskur asked. "One would think after Khondar's fall, you'd not want anything to do with rings for a while."

"Not particularly, no," Renaer said, "but I wanted a badge or symbol of some kind for us. When I had those rings made, I was thinking I might try and resrore the Moonstars, who were former Harpers and personal agents of the Blackstaff."

With that, every other head in the room turned to Vajra, whose silver-shod Blackstaff rested upright of its own volition next to her chair. She finished what she was eating and wiped her mouth.

"You're not personal agents of mine" Vajra said. "That was more than a century ago. I'm happy enough to call you friends and staunch allies. Nor am I a leader of folk-at least, not yet. Know that while Renaer and I talked about this, I am not the driving force behind the idea-Renaer is-though you're all welcome to use the name of the Tel'Teukiira. I know those who came before you would be honored. I will happily work with you, but my responsibilities force me to remain apart from your group for now."

"I remember most of them Moonstars dying at the Stump Bog fighting some group of vampires or something," said Harug Shield-sunder. "Year of the Fallen Friends or something."

Parlek Lateriff said, "That's right. Many did. But not all. The most significant change from that battle was the death of Tsarra, the second Blackstaff. The Tel'Teukiira are a dubious group to follow, Renaer, with a less-than-charmed legacy left behind."

"Why not be the Red Sashes?" Osco piped up. "Isn't that where you were going with the hidden red gem, Ren?"

The only response he got from Renaer was a sly smile as he lifted his goblet to his lips.

Torlyn Wands snorted and said, "Depending on whom you ask, the Sashes were either the agents of a rogue Lord, a lawless band of brigands who thwarted the Watch from ever changing Dock Ward, and even some who claimed they were demons hiding in the city and slaying those who dared try and send them back to their home planes."

"Well, I don't want to be linked to that!" Meloon said, slamming his mug down. "What's all this about linking us to some old group long-dead? Not all of us have our heads stuck as much in the past as you do, Renaer."

"I'm hardly stuck in the past," Renaer said, placing his goblet back down quietly as he got up. "It's more about honoring the past efforts of those who kept Waterdeep a good… nay, a great place. But above all, it's not the name we call ourselves as much as that we acknowledge the past while forging a new way for the future. Change is all around us, and it's inevitable. I just want us to make the city change for the bettet, whether we use old names or new."

"Count the "Wands as allies in secret," Torlyn said. "I for one love the idea of aiming for a better city-one filled with heroes and magic like my ancestors built, rather than the one the Spellplague did, full of mistrust and fear. Old Maskar would have loved this."

"I'll do it," Laraelra said, "provided we can honor Vharem and Faxhal with posthumous membership in this group of ours."

"Already done, but thank you for bringing them up, Elra." Renaer paced around the long table, touching her shoulder as he passed. He raised his goblet and said, "To Vharem Kuthcutter and Faxhal Xoram, to lives of friendship and honor, and to fighting for what is right and true. May the gods smile on all who thrive or fall while pursuing such lives."

Everyone drained their goblets and mugs and Renaer began again.

"Vharem and Faxhal are both interred in a tomb Harug and I converted from one of the storerooms in that hall of doors beneath us. Their sarcophagi each bear the crescent moon and star. That's why I want to use Roarke House as a base for this group. I don't want this place to only be half-remembered as a house of a traitor. I want it to hint at but not confirm that our group is indeed here."

"But if you want us to be heroes and inspire folk, why operate in secret?" Osco asked. "Other than to keep your cards close to the vest?

Again, Renaer's only answer was a sly grin. "Mirt's Mysteries," Vajra giggled. "Well done, Renaer. We approve."

Harug also grinned beneath an ale-foam-soaked moustache. Meloon looked at Vajta and Renaer, and said, "Huh? What's she talking about?"

Parlek smiled as he said, "It's an old idea of the Lords, attributed to Mirt the Moneylender, from whom all the modern usurers take their name. 'If you want people to talk about things in Waterdeep, suggest that folk keep it a secret. It'll be on everyone's lips without your ever having to utter a word.' "

Eiruk and Meloon started talking over each other, soon joined by Elra and Osco and Harug. Only Parlek, Vajra, Torlyn, and Renaer kept their council as everyone fought over what to call themselves and why. They argued long into the night, never deciding on their group's name, nor attending any solstice ball, but cementing friendships that would last years. Renaer had no doubt that these comrades would help him foster new changes. He looked forward to seeing increased valor and bravery on the mean streets of Waterdeep for the first time in a long time.