Blackstaff Tower

CHAPTER 5

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

Selune and her Tears gleamed in the clear night sky, the lunar satellites illuminating the steam that rose from the mouths of those arguing in the cold night. The figures worked their way cautiously off Heroes' Walk and around to the south along Gunarla's Dash. Their boots scraped the frost-rimed cobblestones. Although they were among the few out on foot in this neighborhood, they did their best to remain in the shadows, hugging the rough wooden walls of the buildings. The moonlight glistened off the tile roofs up ahead, but Renaer couldn't spot anyone standing watch over the alleys. He waved his friends along, but their bickering continued.

"I'm just saying if you're a sorceress, why not conjure a few lights and save us the lamp oil and the smoke?" Vharem whispered.

"Magic is more precious than lamp oil, fool," Laraelra snapped. "Besides, it also attracts drifting glow-globes, so it would make it harder to hide. Now would you get out of my way?"

"Why do you need to be right next to Renaer?" Faxhal asked. "Sweet on him already? Fast work, Neverember."

Both Renaer and Laraelra hissed, "Shut up!" Faxhal merely grinned in response.

"Hey," Meloon said in an excited whisper, pointing to his right. "I've been in that tavern. Had my pocket picked, but recovered my loss in the fight after. Anybody else try The Mysticslake?"

"Will you all be quiet?" Renaer said. "We don't want to draw more attention than we already have."

"There's no one else out here, Ren," Vharem said.

"I want to keep it that way," he replied. "Besides, don't you always say that's when you should be more nervous? When you can't see who's watching?"

"What'reyou so worried about?" Faxhal asked.

Renaer threw his hands up. "We're about to break into a powerful wizard's house-even his ownership of it is suspect-and you're asking me what I'm worried about?"

Renaer paused at the alley intersection. The rest halted behind him, and Faxhal bumped into Laraelra. A lamppost illuminated the north side of Roarke House, the south sides of another of his warehouses, and the slate-tiled Kendall's Gallery. From this angle, the group could see the lights ablaze in the windows of the Halaerim Club across Kulzar's Alley. The windows of Roarke House were all dark. Renaer tugged his hood low and rushed past to the door of the building on his left. Renaer shrugged and then rotated his shoulders a few times, releasing some tension along with a long exhale. He rummaged in his belt pouches for the key he needed.

"I get it," Faxhal whispered. "He's worried because of you. He doesn't know if he can count on you."

"He can count on us," Meloon snapped at Faxhal. "You're the ones late to the party, as I see things. Laraelra and Renaer spent most of the day reading up on the old passages 'neath these buildings. You and he just showed up looking for a free meal and drinking."

"Like we always do," Vharem said. "We weren't expecting a home invasion on Gunarla's Dash. Not that lack of planning makes it any less fun."

"Please, let's keep talking until the Watch finally hears us," Laraelra grumbled.

Renaer grunted as he turned the key in the long-unused and rusted lock, and he pushed the scraping door inward. He turned and nodded at Vharem and Meloon, who both lit their lanterns and brought them up as the five of them shuffled inside. Renaer barely spoke louder once inside. "Welcome to Gildenfires, friends. Watch where you step."

The long-abandoned festhall still had some furniture and decor intact, but all could see why the place had been abandoned since the reign of the previous Open Lord. Scorch marks marred the paintings and half-burned gold draperies along the walls. Massive holes yawned in numerous places in the ceiling and floor.

"What happened here?" Meloon asked.

"A battle among some wizardly patrons," Vharem said. "No one could get any charges upheld, though. These men had so many people scared or bought. Rumor has it they were high-ranked members of the Watchful Order. Because the festhall operators couldn't claim restitution, they went broke and this building's been empty for twelve years. Dagult chose not to fix the place and just had it boarded up."

"Too bad, really." Faxhal sighed. "This place had some great attractions in its day."

"How would you know?" Laraelra asked. "You would have only been twelve or thirteen when it closed."

Faxhal winked at her in response, and Renaer chuckled as he saw Laraelra blush.

"Let's keep moving," Renaer said. He led the five of them past the piles of rubble and around the holes in the floor toward the kitchen. Other than their footsteps on the creaking floorboards, the squeals of rats fleeing were the only sounds.

"So remind me again why we're not out having a fine evening entertaining our new companions?" Vharem asked.

"I'm having fun," Meloon said.

"How many times do we have to tell you?" Laraelra said. "Meloon and I heard someone being tortured somewhere beneath this area. We just couldn't get to her."

"So why don't we use the way you two came before?" Faxhal asked.

"We couldn't reach it before," said Laraelra. "The guild should already be at work repairing that breach. Besides, I don't want word to reach my father that I'm-"

"Fraternizing with the high and mighty oppressors of us all?" Renaer smirked, his tone rising to a rough voice with a nasal high pitch.

Laraelra's jaw dropped and she said, "By the gods, that's a pitch-perfect impression of him! I didn't think you'd met him that often."

"Once was enough, I'm afraid," Renaer said. "Your father's rants disrupted a rather pleasant party I attended at the Jhoniron Club last summer down in Castle Ward. As for the impression, my apologies. I don't always realize when I'm mimicking someone's accent."

"You should hear him do Watch Aumarr Krothyn Slakepike!" Vharem said. "His impression's so good, he can get the Watch to abandon their posts by shouting orders in his voice."

"True enough, but now there's enough of us to get caught," Faxhal replied. "It's easier to rat-scamper or avoid being seen with only two or three. This mob's too easily caught, especially the big guy there. I doubt he can move his monstrous feet fast enough to run."

"Don't mind him, Meloon," Vharem said, as he drove an elbow into Faxhal's stomach. "He's just jealous he's the least handsome and shortest one here. He's always been one to pick fights with the biggest guy in the room."

Faxhal spat loudly, landing a gobbet right in front of Vharem's boot. "So how do you know something is amiss? Other than those two strangers heard screaming. Bells of Belshaba, I hear screaming in half the taverns every night!"

"Not like this, little man," Meloon muttered, his voice low and serious.

"If you'd heard it, you'd know someone was being tortured," Laraelra said. "Last time I checked, torture was still a severe offense in the city."

Renaer said, "We also saw the Blackstaff and Ten-Rings working together. Willingly. What does that tell you?"

"They're up to something magical?" Faxhal asked.

"Probably," Renaer replied, "but let's look a little beyond the obvious. They acted like old allies, when in fact-"

"Those two can't stand one another!" Vharem said.

"And so?" Renaer spun his questioning eyes toward Faxhal.

Faxhal shrugged. "I don't know. You know full well I'm going to ignore local politics unless it involves pretty women. I make it a point to ignore wizards always, even when it does involve pretty women."

Renaer rolled his eyes and said, "One of them wasn't who he seemed to be. Perhaps both of them weren't who they claimed, and they're trying to point blame at targets that no one dares accuse. In any case, the Watch won't believe our word against the supposed Blackstaff, so if anyone is going to do anything to stop them or at least save that woman, it's going to have to be us."

During their conversation, the five of them had inched their way across the creaking and dangerously sagging wooden floor to the cellar door. The floor was stone in the back third of the building where it met the walls and doors. The kitchen yawned off to the right, an icy draft coming down the chimney and stirring the cobwebs at the long-cold fireplace. The party chose the door opposite, leading to the cellars.

Renaer opened the door with some difficulty, its boards having warped over time. He stepped into the stairwell that led down to a small landing before turning into the main part of the cellar. He descended to the landing but stopped and turned to stare up at the rest of them on the stairs.

"Everybody needs to move past me on the stairs. Vharem, bring that lantern closer. Elra, help me look for that trigger." Renaer knelt down on the slab and began scraping at the edge of the upper stairs as the others walked past him.

Faxhal nudged Meloon. "Elra? Have they been getting chummy all afternoon? They've got pet names for each other."

Meloon smiled. "She asks her friends to call her that. Why? You jealous? I'll give you a pet name if you-"

"Will you two please be quiet?" Laraelra said as she knelt next to Renaer. "When we find the door to these tunnels, we don't want you two yammering away and giving our foes warning."

"I don't think there's much chance of that," Renaer said. "There are at least three sets of tunnels and chambers we'll pass through to get beneath Roarke House."

"So what're they there for?" Vharem asked. "Your forebears smugglers or something, Ren?"

"Or something. The tunnels were either built by or expanded upon by three or four different ancestors." He pulled off his gloves for a better sense of touch along the wall and step. "One of them was among the earliest guildmasters of the Cellarers' Guild, which explains how they all managed to bypass any mention on official or unofficial maps."

Faxhal, irritated and impatient, asked, "Why are they here?"

"Imagine my surprise to find that my great-great-grand-uncle was none other than Kulzar Brandarth."

"The old pirate?" Vharem asked.

Renaer nodded. "Kulzar had been disowned by the family and wasn't allowed to use his family name, but they granted him a house that used to be here. He buried his final treasures somewhere around here, but no one's ever found them in the two centuries since. Of course, the family reclaimed the deeds after his passing, just in case."

Renaer beamed as he and Laraelra both found bricks in the walls alongside the third stepface that each tipped inward.

Faxhal gasped. "We're going after pirates' treasure?"

"Unlikely," Renaer said. "The tunnels were built during the Guildwars for the resistance against the guildmasters' rule of the city. I suspect someone's found part of the tunnels and is using them for a foul purpose."

"Kulzar's treasure might explain the involvement of those wizards," Laraelra said, "but I think the woman they were torturing might be able to tell us what they wanted. If she's still alive."

She and Renaer reached into the hidden trigger points and pressed the stone buttons set into the side of the third step. The upper stairs began sliding silently and swiftly downward, stranding them on the landing but reforming as a new stairwell leading deeper than the Gildenfires' cellar.

"So far as we know, no one's used these tunnels since before any of us were born." Renaer unfurled a parchment from his sleeve, showing a map. "Some of the tunnels shifted or melted together during the Spellplague. They may not be as they're marked. In any case, I'll want to keep the maps of these tunnels current. Vharem, you've got the rope, if we meet any drops?"

Vharem nodded, shrugging his cloak aside to reveal the rope looped around his torso.

Renaer led the way down the stairs, but slowed his pace as the steps grew taller and more difficult to descend. He noticed the tunnel shrank as they descended, and soon all but Laraelra had to shuffle sideways, as the corridor wasn't wide enough for their shoulders. The third landing, which turned them to the right one more time, was partially melted, and the direction the tunnel turned was all a smooth stone ramp.

Vharem unfurled the rope, handing one end to Meloon and the other to Faxhal. Renaer cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow in question. Vharem usually deferred to Renaer's decisions, but he looked him right in the eye and bypassed him, giving Faxhal the rope.

Faxhal clapped Renaer on the shoulder and said, "He wants me going first in case there's trouble, Renaer. No offense, but I'm a little better in a fight than you are. If we meet someone who wants to talk, you're our fellow."

Renaer rolled his eyes but motioned them to continue.

"Why don't I go, then?" Meloon asked.

"Because I need you to help me anchor the rope while the others go down ahead of us." Vharem clapped Meloon on the shoulders and braced his feet against the corridor's walls. He'd wrapped the rope around his waist once and fed it through his gloved hands. Once Vharem was braced, Faxhal saluted them, eased his way past his friend, and picked up the rope and Vharem's lantern.

"You can hardly hold onto the lantern and the rope, little man," Laraelra said. "Allow me." She whispered a few words, causing her fingernails to glow a light blue, and slid that blue light onto the pommel of Faxhal's dagger. He smiled, handed Laraelra the lantern, and kissed her hand as she took the lantern from him. He then slipped down the twisting slide, feeding out rope as he went. After a minute or so, his blue light was out of sight.

The rope suddenly wrenched through their hands. It pulled Vharem off his feet, but Meloon braced his feet and stopped them from sliding more.

"Yow!" Faxhal's feet slipped out from under him after the sharp turn in the tunnel, and he slid a ways before he slowed his fall with his feet against the walls. He yelled, "Sorry!" back up the tunnel before he looked below and found himself above a vertical opening in the ceiling of a chamber. He said, "Another drop coming!" up the shaft to warn Vharem, then jumped free, smiling as he slid quickly down more than twice his own height to land on the floor.

The blue light Laraelra placed on him barely reached the ceiling, and Faxhal noticed the opening he'd come through was the highest point in the ceiling-the arc of the ceiling and odd shape of the room made him think of an egg. Stalactites of stretched out and warped brick and mortar hung from the ceiling in places. Faxhal knelt and looked along the floor, easily seeing its uneven slope toward the center.

"Definitely egg-shaped," he muttered. But why such an odd shape?

The only other features in the room he could see were copious amounts of webbing and spiders.

Faxhal tugged on the rope and yelled up, "Nothing down here but spiders! All clear. Send Ren down!"

He untied himself and fastened the line to a small clump of stone beneath the opening. It'll take Ren a little while, so I'll look around a bit, he thought.

Faxhal paced around, finding the room's walls and clearing away the veils of dusty webbing with his sword.

Renaer arrived with a, "Fair day down here, then, friend? Good to have a little light again, that's for sure." He tugged on the rope to signal he was down. "What's the situation?"

"Not much here," Faxhal said, "and the room's warped floor to ceiling like an egg, though'I don't think it was built like this. I was just walking the perimeter and clearing away webs to find any doors."

"Well, it'll give us something to do while the others descend."

Faxhal and Renaer stayed together, using their swords to sweep away webs and a few rotting tapestries here and there. Under nearly a solid mound of webbing, they discovered a long-dry cistern, its edges merged with the slope of the wall.

"So what befalls below, gentles?" Laraelra's voice drew their attention up toward her. She descended, a lit lantern floating alongside her while she slid down. Faxhal found himself dashing over to help her down, his hands at her very skinny waist before he even thought about it.

"What exactly are you doing, Faxhal?" Laraelra flinched from his touch and swung slightly to the side on the rope to drop to the ground. She looked irritated and suspicious-reactions with which Faxhal was very familiar.

What wasn't common to him was the nervous feeling of disappointment in his gut. He looked at her arched eyebrows and muttered, "I meant no-nothing. Just, nothing." He stomped toward an unexamined corner.

The three of them diligently and carefully pulled back more and more dust and webs to find the room had once stored old food crates and wine barrels, all since emptied by rats. Faxhal sighed in relief when his probes with his sword finally revealed a door.

Faxhal pressed his ear to the door and listened, but he heard very little.

"Is it safe to drop the rope?" Meloon said. "Are we going to need to climb back up?"

"Unless you found somewhere to anchor it, we'll have to trust in luck that these other corridors can lead us out of here again," Renaer said.

"Could be worse," Meloon said. He tied the rope around himself as Vharem shrugged it off, then braced his feet, and said; "You first, Vharem. I'll jump after you're down."

"You sure? It's a long fall," he said. Meloon answered with a nod. "Very well, friend."

Vharem held the rope on both sides of the loop around his trunk. He slowly played out the rope, sliding down into the chamber, and let himself fail the final few feet to land near what seemed to be a long-dry cistern, its back corner rearing up like a stone wave. He moved forward and waved up to Meloon, who let the rope drop to the floor. As soon as Vharem had gathered the rope, Meloon jumped, landing hard but rolling forward to save his legs from injury. "Whew! There's a jump! You sure we're not in Undermountain, Renaer?" Renaer smiled and offered him an arm to help him up.

"I've scouted a little ways ahead," Faxhal said. "Once beyond these first rooms, there's lots of ways to choose from. Most have no noise behind them, but I didn't open any of them yet. Renaer probably knows what they are, so let's go and let him show us his great brains." He winked at Renaer as the five of them moved through another door and into a very tall but slim door-lined corridor. Renaer took out a small chapbook and flipped pages, nodding as he read and counted out sixteen various doors, eight on each side of the corridor.

The high ceiling echoed their steps back to them. Renaer tried his keys on each of the doors. While some opened into long-empty storehouse chambers, a few opened to reveal melted walls and contortions merging with sewer lines. Laraela shook her head, and muttered, "Either there's older sewer lines we don't know about, or there are breaks in the system we haven't found."

More than half the doors would not budge though, their locks either rusted or the doors jammed by the shifts in the corridor. Faxhal nodded toward one and Meloon and said, "Care to help me knock?" The two men shouldered the door in, and it splintered, falling off its hinge. All they revealed was another warped room with sewage bubbling up in a back corner. After the second of such discoveries, Faxhal gave up helping and just waited on Renaer to open a door with his keys.

The group reached the end of the corridor, which was covered by a carved stone demonic face taller than any of them, its mouth snarling to reveal large fangs the length of Faxhal's forearm. Far above, they could see a light coming through at the ceiling, a vent helping the airflow among the subterranean chambers.

Renaer walked forward, consulted his notes, and reached out to push the demon's head horns closer together on its forehead. An audible click followed, and the demon's face moved slightly. Faxhal could feel a draft rushing out the gap, but when he put his hand on the stone to open it, Renaer cleared his throat and shook his head. Faxhal and Vharem exchanged looks and both of them rolled their eyes. Faxhal whispered, "Ren, either let us help or show us what your precious books tell you."

Renaer moved past the others to the nearest door on the right side of the corridor. He reached up, pushed hard on the doorframe, and the stone lintel there slid upward and clicked. Renaer then opened that door and walked through it. "One of the builders had a dwarf s help in some of the stonework. Good distractions and good traps. If we'd used the corridor behind that demon's head, there's at least four pit traps beneath weighted tip-floors. This is the safe way."

"Fine," Faxhal said, "but let us go first."

Renaer opened the door, and Faxhal and Vharem entered the room. After a small tunnel about three paces long, Faxhal entered a small round chamber filled with gold light from an enchanted ceiling. Inside the room was a pair of writing desks and a set of tall shelves heavy with parchments and bound books. The desks held old, desiccated parchments and the ink in the wells had long since dried. Faxhal probed ahead with light toe touches and his fingers ran along the walls, feeling slowly for any triggers or traps. He was especially careful by the only flat wall-opposite the entrance-in the chamber, as it was covered by a bas-relief carving of two trolls battling three Watchmen in antiquated garb. Once Faxhal knew the floor was clear, he examined the carvings carefully and identified one trigger to lock a hidden door from this side and a second to open the door. He left those alone for now and continued checking the chamber.

After one circuit of the room, he nodded at Vharem, who waved the others in. The room became crowded with all five inside, and Faxhal hissed everyone quiet when he heard a voice cry out, "Samurk! Samurk…"

"I hear someone crying," Faxhal whispered. "A woman. She keeps muttering a name or something."

A loud snore buzzed through the room, causing everyone to look at each other in surprise.

"We're well beneath both the warehouse and Roarke House," Renaer said. "This is a listening post built earlier for the resistance to spy on guild loyalists to whom they'd rent out the chambers beyond. Everything said, every noise made, in the two lower chambers can be heard here, where scribes used to sit and copy down everything said for use as evidence or blackmail."

Faxhal interrupted, wanting some of the attention, "And there's a secret door in that wall carving there, right?"

Renaer stared at him a moment, then grinned and nodded. "Yes, and it opens to a tunnel that leads back beneath Roarke House and ends in another secret door."

"Why would anyone use those chambers if they knew they could be spied upon?" Meloon asked.

"They didn't know anyone could hear any of that until we gave that away this morning," Renaer said. "According to our records, all of these secret tunnels and chambers were unknown by old Volam himself when he built Roarke House over the existing cellar and foundation. Others found those chambers, linked them to the house, and converted them for their personal use, but they've been unused since Grandfather bought the building decades back. At least, as far as I know."-He nodded toward Laraelra and Meloon and added, "You two probably heard things coming from this chamber filtered through some of those links with the sewers."

"Why didn't anyone else find out about the tunnels?" Meloon asked.

"If you don't know to look for something," Faxhal said, "you'll never be bothered to find it. That's why I always keep looking- and getting accused of poking around where I shouldn't."

"Faxhal's right," Renaer said, taking care to keep his voice down, "at least the first part. We can spot the triggers that are almost invisible on the other side."

Faxhal pointed out the lock triggers-the stonework swords wielded by the Watchmen in the battle scene. Renaer checked his journal and began moving the stone swords. Faxhal shook his head when Ren moved the second Watchman's sword. "You just locked the door shut again, chief. Just the two outer swords pushed outward should trigger this door."

Renaer nodded, scribbling corrections in his notes, and he turned toward the group, who stood around a scraped arc on the floor-the door's obvious path on this side. He said, "Everyone, get ready. They may have defenses ready in their cellars, even if they aren't expecting any company from this direction."

Renaer shifted the final trigger, and the door slid in toward them. They looked into a pitch black corridor, lit by the gold light spilling through the now-open door.

"Good." Faxhal chuckled then he drew his long sword out and brandished it in the air a little before he nodded at Renaer. He hoped Laraelra was impressed, and he added, "Been itching for a fight all day."

A sudden twang, and Faxhal snapped backward, a crossbow quarrel lodged in his throat.

"Careful what you wish for, boy," came the hoarse chuckle from the dark.

The thief felt both the impact at his throat and the crack at the back of his head when he slammed back on the stone floor. I expected that to hurt more, Faxhal thought. His breath caught in his throat and he found it hard to breathe or move. He lost his grip on his sword and heard it rattle on the stone floor. Oh stlaern, I never got the chance to tell her how pretty her eyes were… or save her from this…

The last thing Faxhal heard beyond his own heartbeat was a plaintive gasp from Laraelra's throat as she looked down at him. No love poem, but I'll take it, he thought.

The noise, the smells, the sensations all faded. Faxhal felt lighter and lighter with each heartbeat. Until the heartbeat ended.