Blackstaff (27 page)

Raegar smiled, winking at Laeral in the opposite chair but watching Tsarra for her reactions. He had never been so close to anyone of Blackstaff Tower in either his recent missions nor in all his years in the City of Splendors. Still, he knew enough about them to expect what would happen
next. For his part, he bent over in the chair to touch his toes and stretch out his torso and back.

As he anticipated, he rose from the chair to find the point of a glimmering scimitar near his throat. As he smiled and felt a rush of excitement go through him, Raegar heard a complicated growl come from the tressym, who lay nestled among a pile of books on a high shelf over the door frame. Tsarra’s gaze snapped to him and she uttered a similar tangle of purrs and growls. The conversation between the woman and her familiar continued for a few moments until Raegar cleared his throat, earning a glare from Tsarra. He raised his hands slowly, smiling his most sincere smile, and tried to push the point of the blade away from his neck by his fingertips.

“Ahem. If I’m to duel, I’ll need to borrow a blade, milady.” Raegar wasn’t sure how she would react to his teasing, but he hoped Laeral might aid him.

Laeral smirked as she set down her helm and stood. “Tsarra, please. You’ll hardly get the lad to answer any questions that way. Besides, Nameless tends to be right about a great many things, whether you want to acknowledge that or not.” Laeral’s fingers danced and a small silverfish appeared to swim upwards through the air and into the black tom’s claws.

“This is not the time for jokes, Laeral!” Tsarra snapped back at the taller woman, the point of her scimitar not moving an iota. “Khelben urged me—”

“Yes, yes, girl, but allow a moment to revel in irony aplenty.” Laeral moved closer to Tsarra, easing her sword arm down and whispering to her as the two women moved away from Raegar. He wasn’t sure if Laeral meant him to overhear, but his heart leaped as he caught her whispered comment. “After all, holding him at bladepoint was the first thing I did to
my
beloved when we first met.”

Tsarra’s reaction was a frustrated growl followed by what Raegar guessed might be a chuckle from the tressym. The auburn-haired half-elf glared at the tressym, Laeral Silverhand, and Raegar as she sheathed her scimitar. After
a moment, Raegar saw her catch herself, close her eyes, take three deep breaths, and her shoulders dropped as she relaxed. When she opened her eyes again, Tsarra looked directly into Raegar’s eyes, but he couldn’t read anything in hers other than impatience.

“Well, stonecarver, chisel us some knowledge from that grinning stone face of yours. Who or what was behind your attack on the Font of Knowledge?” Tsarra’s tone was brusque and clipped. Raegar had seen her do that with others in the street—cloak off her emotions and keep things strictly on the matter at hand, despite how she felt at the moment. He admired her a little for that.

Raegar dropped his smile, and said, “I don’t know his name, but he’s obviously a lich who killed my friend. I want to see him dead and buried far more than you, woman.”

“I doubt that. What does it look like?”

Laeral said, “Even without their original gender characteristics after death, Tsarra, liches are never ‘its.’ ”

“To me, they’ll never be more than things that desperately need to be put back into the ground.” Tsarra replied. “Well, Raegar?”

Raegar said, “Tsarra, I hate to disagree with you, but the lich was—er, is, er … Blast it! Is it ‘is’ or ‘was?’ ”

Laeral snickered and said, “Keep to the present, Raegar. Liches still obey the identity they bore in life, so give them the benefit of present tense. You
are
sharper than some give you credit, lad.”

Raegar smiled at the compliment and continued, “The lich is most definitely a man, Tsarra—sorry to disagree. You can tell by his stance and how he moves, not to mention his swaggering. He wears olive green robes embroidered with gold runes, keeping the hood up. I think that’s less for show and more to hide the fact that he’s only got a little skin left on his face. Just enough to hold his jaw on and a little around one eye socket.”

“He could be any one of five liches from that description, three of whom are in the North,” Tsarra said. “Did he wear any distinct jewelry?”

“He had a ring of cold iron, really rough workmanship except for the silver part placed on top. Its sigil was a sword with a moon for a hilt among a rack of antlers. I thought it seemed familiar but I couldn’t place it.”

Laeral snapped her fingers, drawing both their attentions. “Did it look like this?” she asked, and her hands wove an illusion in mid-air of a dusty shield hanging on a wall. The seal on it was a sword with a crescent moon hilt painted atop a dark stag’s head on a midnight blue field. Beneath the shield was a pillow holding a dark iron ring with the silver emblem, just as Raegar had seen earlier.

“Yes, exactly. The rings seem identical. What are we looking at, milady?”

Laeral sighed and said, “If my husband could copy these items, someone else could too. How is a question for another time, though. This is Raurlor’s Ring, which sits under heavy magical protections in Castle Waterdeep. Only a lord of the city can approach within five paces of it, and yet somehow it lies in another’s hands. That’s equally fascinating and worrisome. Khelben, our plan isn’t as secure as hoped.”

Raegar saw Tsarra’s eyes flash with anger, and her jaw tightened, but she looked at nothing in particular. He asked, “Lady Laeral, Lord Arunsun’s in that necklace. Why are you talking as if he can hear us?”

“Oh, my love could hear me if he stood in far Kozakura and I here, Raegar. Trust me. He’s just having a silent chat with our lovely apprentice here.” Laeral nodded toward Tsarra as she rose from her chair. “Try and tear your doting eyes off of her, young man, and follow me. We’ve much to do, and you don’t want to find out what the tower likes to do to those without a proper escort.” Laeral’s fingers trailed across Tsarra’s throat and shoulder as she walked by, her index finger touching the glowing necklace.

Raegar looked at Tsarra, who hardly seemed to notice what Laeral’s touch meant. Her shoulders were tense, and Raegar wondered what went on inside the young half-elf’s head. He noticed the emerald gem on her forehead glinting and glowing. He watched her grimace, tensing all the
muscles in her jaw, neck, shoulders, and even her clenched hands were white-knuckled. Her posture changed, and she shifted her weight as he and Laeral moved past her. Tsarra fought something deep inside herself.

If I didn’t know better, Raegar thought as he pursued Laeral, she’s either fighting herself or she’s possessed. She changes how she stands as if she’s not sure who she is.

W
hen Laeral addressed Khelben, Tsarra felt a stirring in her mind. She paused a moment as waves of emotions and thoughts hit her simultaneously. For a moment, she felt dizzy and tasted and smelled something sour.

“Sweet Lurue,” Tsarra prayed under her breath, “don’t let the vision take me. Don’t let me be swept away by these thoughts and emotions not my own. May your horn cleave this wave and leave me with my senses.”

She concentrated and gently pushed away other thoughts and feelings, letting them flow around her rather than flood over her.

Tsarra felt more timid and her shoulders bunched up when the sending came to her. A red flare of anger came with Khelben’s waking thought.

Blast it!

Don’t shout
, Tsarra sent to Khelben, idly fingering the necklace that held his reduced form.
It makes my ears ring, even if I’m not using them
.

Tsarra felt more than heard Khelben’s mental sigh.
Tell Laeral not to check on the ring. An agent can retrieve it for later inspections
.

Khelben, when you’re conscious, it’s very hard to …

Hard to what, Tsarra?

While you were dormant, all my doubts went away. I was thinking more clearly than I have since this all began. What are you doing to me?

I’m not doing anything, apprentice. Now tell Laeral—

Gods take you, wizard, you are doing something to me! I’ve lived here for nearly two decades, but I’ve not been this apprehensive around you since my first year! My temper’s not been this bad in at least ten years. What’s going on?

We don’t have time—

Well make time, Khelben. I’m not sure of my own self, and if you need my sorcery to be ready to fight a lich, I have to be able to focus. Right now, I’m fighting a war inside myself and I’m losing. What is happening here?

Tsarra felt Khelben’s surprise, followed by a pregnant pause. Finally, Khelben sent his thoughts to her:
I stand corrected. We were affecting you without knowing we did so. Luckily, the explanation will take a fraction of real time outside the
kiira.
Close your eyes and think of the design of your tattoo
.

Tsarra imagined the image of the tattoo on her forehead, its seven whorling lines converging on or wrapping around their central green gem. The verdant light flared into flames along the lines of her mark, and filled her head with emerald energies. She saw Khelben’s private library, but it was all olive-tinged and glowing. Khelben stood before her, whole, unharmed, and smiling. She gazed around, noting how everything glowed or was entirely a translucent green, and sent in a whisper,
We’re inside the
kiira,
aren’t we?

Khelben nodded, and the barest hint of a smile crept
out over the silver wedge in his black beard.
I love teaching sorcerers. Your intuitive flow with the Weave is so much quicker than another intellectual lecture
.

Tsarra looked around, and aside from the color, every detail was the same as the physical world with one exception. Wisps of mists snaked throughout the chamber and clung to both her and Khelben. She gasped as she turned, looking for concentrations of mist, and found herself face to face with the ephemeral Danthra the Dreamer.

Danthra?

The ghostly girl, eyes wide and wet, reached for Tsarra and winced back when her hands dissipated into thin mist as they met the half-elf’s fingers. Tsarra had only seen such despair on Danthra’s face twice before—when she foresaw and predicted the death of a first-year student six years ago, and when her first lover, a Watch armar of Sea Ward, died in a tavern brawl two summers back. Her pleading eyes bored into Tsarra’s and begged her release from pain.

Danthra? Dreamer? We’ll help you, dear heart. You’ll see. You’ll see. Calm yourself. Are you in pain? Khelben, why isn’t she responding?

She cannot speak or send to either of us, Tsarra. In truth, she’s barely alive on any level, but we both feel her sorrows and her fears. She is the innocent victim here again, as are you. To keep focused the past few days, I unconsciously shoved the burden of bearing her soul remnants onto you. That’s why you’ve been having her uncontrolled visions, albeit you’re pulling them from me through our connections. Another result of that was your feeling her emotions and fears. When added to your own apprehensions, they overwhelmed your normal emotional balance
.

Khelben approached both of them and tenderly placed hands on their cheeks, and he was careful enough not to disturb Danthra’s misty face. His shoulders slumped and his face carried the burdens and guilt of nine hundred years years rather than his usual stony demeanor.
For all this, I am sorry, and I pray I may help us all through this crisis as safely as possible
.

Tsarra stood still, staring into his eyes for a long moment until tears blurred her vision. She blinked them away and reached up to hold Khelben’s hand in hers.
You’re not used to someone getting this close to you, are you, Blackstaff? Our emotions affect yours too. This is the first time you’ve actually had to feel what great sacrifices you regularly ask of your agents
.

Aye, and it’s dredging up some regrets on which I’ve not the time to dwell. For now, I promise that I shall cradle Danthra as well as I may. You should know that she sees you as her protector more than me. She clings to you, oblivious that her own efforts to be comforted force her talents as well as her fears to the forefront in your mind
.

Well, asked and answered, then. Thank you for showing me this. Can I enter the
kiira
like this just by seeing my sigil in my mind?

Yes, and with the proper meditation techniques, you can visit my memories under more controlled methods. There are many, if they knew what you now possess, who would kill you for my secrets. I’ll help you keep that information away from them as best I can. For now, I believe we can hold off any more visions until our task is fulfilled
.

Are you ever going to tell me what that is? Even what little I know, this plan of yours isn’t falling together like you’d hoped. We’ve spent days calling in old favors, but for what reason I don’t know. We’ve chased after artifacts but seem to be three steps behind a lich, not to mention one powerful enough to mindtwist a number of people into doing its dirty work. Give me more information and let me help you. For Lurue’s sake, don’t make me your puppet while you sit inside that necklace!

It’s hardly comfortable or comforting to be there, considering. The only reason I am in there and refused Sandrew’s healing is to prevent such from disrupting the links among our three souls. As for the details I’ve not yet found the time to share, you’re right. It is time for you to learn the matter in full
.

Khelben gestured and a chair grew up from the stone
floor beneath Tsarra, forcing her to sit down before him. Another conjuring motion of his wrist and green fires hovered in one palm.

Tsarra, I ask for your trust again. While we can converse and exchange information very quickly speaking like this, you need to know the full extent of these events, and if I were to tell it to you physically, it would be a lecture at least two tendays in length. With this spell and our mutual concentration, I can open my memories and thoughts to you directly, gifting you with everything you need to know and what may be yet to come in this gambit. Are you ready?