Blackstaff

by Steven E. Schend

  “Intriguing. Absolutely intriguing, don’t you think, thief?” Kemarn knelt behind the peak of the roof, watching the fray across the street, but Raegar knew he spoke to him. “I don’t know what that last effect was, but I trust the creature and my agents can fend for themselves a bit. I for one have learned enough today. The students use preset trigger words to move from the walls into the tower, yes? They probably use many such preset magic to quickly move throughout the tower. What else did you learn while watching them and the tower this past tenday, skulking one? I heard the Sapphire House barmaid last night and another two nights ago in the Flagon Dragon call you Raegar Stoneblade.”

  Raegar grimaced and wondered how Kemarn had detected his presence. “What gave me away?” he asked.

  Kemarn replied, “Your familiar face kept wandering past my own reconnaissance people, so we started to watch you as well. You’ve shown no obvious connections to the usual interested parties who might harass the Blackstaff. You inadvertently helped us figure out the best ways to follow the wizard’s apprentices while they wander the city, skulking for news to bring their master. As for how I found you just now, you’re not as good as you assume, and all of your magic comes from items. Now, I can roast you in your little perch beneath the eaves or we can negotiate. Give me that sword—the one that punctured the tower’s defenses—and I’ll let you live. Refuse and you suffer the wrath of Kemarn Darkthrush of Nesmé.”

  Raegar, smirking at the wizard’s overconfidence, used his enchanted boots to cling to the wall like a spider. “Here’s all you’ll get of the sword, Kemarn,” he said, and he shoved the short sword with all his strength through the eaves and the roof above him.

  Kemarn shouted in surprise as Raegar’s sword stabbed through the roof and gashed his shin. The wooden shingles erupted beneath him and clattered down the steep roof, taking the cursing wizard with them. Raegar heard Kemarn’s painful landing in the dusty street below as he pulled his sword free from the damaged roof.

  The rogue sprinted across the Flagon Dragon’s outer wall, leaped over Marlar’s Lane, and ran up Sapphire House’s walls. Once he scaled the inn’s five-stories-tall roof, he dropped onto the empty rooftop terrace adjoining it. Raegar raced across the veranda of the opulent four-story townhouse of the Delzimmer clan. He vaulted down into the rooftop gardens of Sablehearth, the Irlingstar mansion adjoining it to the north. Both were vacant for the coming winter, but he couldn’t hide there without drawing attention. Raegar knew he had to get out of sight before either Kemarn or the Watch caught him.

  “Raegar, old son, you’ve got to get a few more answers before this continues,” he muttered to himself while he ran. “Stick to your rules, man, as you broke two of them today. ‘Never get into a game if you don’t know all the players,’ and ‘Make sure you know what you’re carrying.’ Damlath’s plan will have to wait until he coughs up some answers.…”

  The thief dropped the final eight feet onto the corduroy surface of Zelphar’s Walk and headed east to lose himself among the Market’s throngs on Bazaar Street.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  28 Uktar, the Year of Lightning Storms

  (1374 DR)

  blindingpainoverwhelmingsensesfloatingdrifting

  falling

  soaring

  the brilliant gold-white sunrise over the towers of Deshkant

  swelling pride of accomplishment in the building

  scent of marble dust and brimstone as a demon tears away at the base of Phalam’s Tor

  anger boiling up and quenched immediately in cold resolve

  Laeral’s face contorted in a grimace of hatred and evil laughter as blackened horns erupt bloodily from her forehead and temples

  horror and despair flooding

  scent of jasmine upon silk sheets still warm from her body

  running through the underbrush, leaves and twigs snapping and lashing at my face and arms and exposed body, the spring of untrammeled deadfall beneath my feet, the pleasure of the hunt and the chase alive in me

  her slim hand reaches in earnest toward me, the glistening magic closing the portal around me and wrenching me from her saving grasp

  confidence and determination to return

  feeling the tingling and the subtle warmth of the silver fire crackling along arms and fingers, interlacing together with the fires from Dlaertha, Vethril, and Myroune, all ablaze to hem in the otherwise fire-immune demons of Manth’ehl’nar Ascalhorn

  happiness at love felt through the fires

  Laeral’s face shines with tears, her emerald eyes a stormy sea of happiness and apprehension, determination and fear

  bliss and peace, a smile soul-deep overtakes me

  I feel her touch and that of the wind, tickling the light hair only recently grown and rarely exposed to the sun, and I ache for more

  curiosity and lust mixed, a teenager’s crucible of confusion and fear

  “I know a storm is coming, Master. I can smell the rain on the wind as it wafts up from south of the Vowstone.”

  “Tsarra?”

  whirling mist and a flood of faces, stopping at almond eyes of hazel offset by a green gem with tattoos around it, confusion of long-standing clearing

  Shock of recognition—that’s my face, but older! Why do I have tattoos on my face?

  Pains soul-deep release under the warmth of the silver fire, bones mend, and man and goddess laugh together

  “You shall serve us well, son of Arun. Try not to discern all the secrets our fires place in you. Know simply that they are things of import to us.”

  Voice of bells in morning cloaked in fog, the laughter of children, and the excitement of a wild mare .…

  “She’s lost in my memories. Tsarra! Focus on my voice, girl.”

  I know that voice. Black beard, steel-blue eyes. Voice that could command gods. He sounds worried.

  Focus and concern, worry and decision, lightning clashes of emotions and drives

  Lancing light stabbing behind … through … beneath … into eyes, mind, soul

  A child dances through a puddle, laughing at the spray and smiling at the rainbow overhead, then the violet drips off the bow’s bottom and floods over the street. Hands reach from the slough and teeth grow in the puddles.

  Surprise and shock, then a stray thought of gems

  “Concentrate, girl. Use your mind, Tsarra. Come back to us.”

  I know him. Master Arunsun. Help me, master!

  A delicate elf’s face, ragged with mummification and a veil of webs, a purple gem glistening on the bridge of her nose …

  decay mixed with dust and the sharp tang of recent spellwork

  “Tsarra, they’re only memories. Ignore them and join us.”

  the whisper of time’s touch, the tug of the spider’s cloak, the chill of time gone by and death interred

  Lightning bolts flashing—one, two, three; wait for the crashing—deafening to me

  The sewer’s darkness suddenly swells, an eyeless face pushing itself through the grate, and its teeth are not hampered as its head reforms and lunges …

  Pain brings focus and terror as its teeth gnaw through my arm, gnashing, grinding, and my arm falls away, its protection gone and the teeth geyser toward my eyes …

  “Child, awaken!”

  Her scream launched her upright, the two archmages around her rearing back in surprise. Her dress clung to her sweat-covered body, and Tsarra could do nothing but gasp for air, her lungs fighting to breathe. Khelben and Laeral helped her lie back down onto the bed, their faces filled with concern. Above them, Nameless settled back down onto the wide headboard above her, his green and blue eyes wide with surprise and his tail and wings twitching nervously. She felt as well as heard his low growl reverberating through the wooden headboard and silently willed him to calm himself.

  “Nameless has been reluctant to let us near you, dear. I’ve never known a familiar to be quite so protective.” Laeral dabbed Tsarra’s brow with a cold cloth, and smiled at her.

 
; A malevolent cackle—“Do you still wish to bed me, Blackstaff? Do you wish to know this Laeral whose petty morals lie in ashes?” Blood ran freely across hate-twisted features as the horns continued to push their way out through her skin.

  Tsarra’s eyes widened, and she recoiled from Laeral’s touch. She didn’t even realize she’d begun a spell until Khelben grabbed both her hands and held them still.

  “Enough, Tsarra! Close your eyes and breathe.” Khelben’s stern whisper thundered through her aching head. “Get back into yourself so we may both shoulder our burdens.” His voice sounded heavy as he placed her hands back in her lap and rose along with Laeral to the far side of the room.

  Tsarra closed her eyes. Her sides were taut with fear, and it took time before she relaxed and her breath came easily. The feel of her own room and bed and the comforting scents helped, though how she got there she didn’t know. It was highsun when the ritual began, but the night sky hung black outside her window.

  How long was I unconscious? she wondered.

  Flapping wings whipped by her head, and a weight landed on her lap. He uttered a series of meows and yowls, which Tsarra understood as, “Happynow mistresssafe. Longnapgood? Washsickscent you must. Scratchtweenwingsnow.”

  He rubbed his scent markers against her palm and nestled into her lap. Tsarra happily obliged him by scratching him just between his wings at the shoulders. Across the room, she could hear Khelben and Laeral talking, though they kept their voices low. Tsarra lets the tressym’s deep purr help her relax, but she suddenly tensed and her eyes snapped open.

  “Danthra—is she all right?”

  Lord and Lady Arunsun looked at her with sad eyes, and Tsarra’s heart sank. She wanted to mourn her friend, but it felt as if the Dreamer was there on the bed, embracing her. Tsarra ran her hands through her sweat-slick hair to pull it back from her face, and for a moment she felt Danthra’s hands on her shoulders.

  “What in—?” She looked at her teachers with fear and confusion, and they seemed worried as they moved closer.

  Laeral said, “We found you unconscious, and the study had been partially destroyed. The lightning bolts that exploded through the room took out a large section of the wall. Khelben, stubborn fool that he can be, wandered out and into a battle despite leaving his brain behind.” Her teasing tone didn’t cover up Laeral’s obvious concern over her husband. She looked to him and laid a gentle hand on his cheek, then she turned her eyes back to Tsarra. “Nothing was left of Danthra, Tsarra. At least physically. You feel her, don’t you?”

  Laeral reached over to touch her reassuringly, but Tsarra recoiled from her. The Lady Archmage of Waterdeep sighed after a moment and looked at her husband, who dropped his eyes. She got up and walked away, her hand trailing briefly on Khelben’s shoulder as she passed from the room.

  Tsarra had to fight herself. While she had known and loved Laeral Silverhand-Arunsun for more than a dozen years, she kept getting flashes of fear and revulsion when she looked at her.

  Tsarra managed to ask her master, “What’s going on?”

  Khelben cleared his throat, looking pointedly at her. “Danthra’s body was destroyed, Tsarra, though it had nothing to do with her spell. The magic that did this was far more potent—powerful enough to catch me off-guard. As to why you feel her presence, she’s not entirely dead—she’s in you and me and that.” Tsarra followed Khelben’s eyes to the bedside table where the metal belt she had been investigating lay. Khelben continued, “When her body died, her soul splintered among us, and we must find a way to save her without harming her, or us, in the process.”

  Tsarra gawped and closed her mouth as she assessed what had happened. She put her hand up to her head and felt something small, cool, and foreign stuck to her forehead. She tried to pull it away, and pain lanced through her skull. Nameless leaped into the air and away from the bed, his howls of pain communicating their mutual discomfort. She even noticed Khelben wince slightly at the same time.

  “Leave it be, my dear.” Khelben said, “It’s what keeps us both sane.”

  Khelben brought her a small hand mirror, and Tsarra looked at herself. Aside from the haggard look and the disheveled and damp hair, Tsarra looked the same—but something new glinted on her forehead. Centered just above her eyes was an intricate tattoo on her skin with a small green gem affixed at its center.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “It’s all that keeps our minds and souls separate right now, Tsarra.” Khelben sighed. “I adapted an elven kiira n’vaehlar on which I had been working. Luckily for both of us, it was nearly complete, but not entirely. When I awoke, I found myself thinking your thoughts and experiencing your past. While I have experience with mind sharing, I had to protect you from what’s in my head. The touch of Mystra can be devastating to those not Chosen by her. That gem keeps your soul intact and allows us some measure of privacy from each other’s thoughts. It’s not perfect, given the time I had to enspell it, and the tattoos were necessary to stabilize the magic. They, like the gem, are now yours. Permanently.”

  Tsarra fell back against the headboard, her eyes wide. She looked at Khelben in disbelief then laughed nervously as she tried to assimilate the news. “Permanently? I’m a simple observer in a new spell trial, and I end up with my best friend’s soul and the Blackstaff’s memories in my head. Got any other surprises for me beyond facial tattoos?”

  The Blackstaff glared at Tsarra. “Don’t take this lightly, apprentice. Magic now binds us on numerous levels, and the powers I contain can do you even more harm than those you’ve already felt today. Just after the lightning strikes, the Tower came under attack, I’m told, by an over-reaching mage and his agents. Pikar Salibuck sustained serious injuries this afternoon trying to drag me to safety from a nishruu. The power I bear flared up to aid me when he dragged me too far from you, and the magic that binds us incapacitated both of us for a time. The fires are among my greatest powers, but I dare not use them without risking your life. Mystra’s fire could sever the links, but not without destroying you, your familiar, and what remains of Danthra in the process. Until we can afford the time to separate our souls, you and I will remain bound by magic and must remain within eight armspans of each other at all times. For good or ill, apprentice, we are each other’s company until Mystra deems our task fulfilled.”

  “How is Pikar? Is anyone else hurt?” Tsarra asked. “Were the invaders caught?”

  “No one else suffered injuries, and Pikar is fine now as well. Yes, four intruders are the newest guests of Castle Waterdeep’s cells, awaiting a magister’s pleasure come morning. Their ringleader, however, escaped.” Khelben frowned. “I did not see him, but to summon fiendish wolves and nishruu requires some power. None of those captured had magical ability—merely mercenaries told to loot what they could grab. The sixth figure, however, interests me the most. He wore red and bore a short sword—”

  “With golden diamonds on the blade?” Tsarra asked. “I saw him just before I fell unconscious. He didn’t seem to be attacking, though, Master. He looked as surprised as you—er, all of us.” Tsarra blushed and looked away from the startled archmage.

  “You saw him?” Khelben asked. “Oh, of course. Your mother’s keen eyes. Well, his sword interests me more than the man himself, and we’ll have to glean more on that later, when you’re able.” Khelben gave the briefest of smirks as he said, “Some congratulations are due you, Tsarra. Apparently, your youngest students stopped the nishruu. While Elkord and his students captured the invaders, your two young brothers from Myratma knew of nishruu—from bedtime stories, of all things. They used floating disks to dump salt appropriated from a nearby vendor onto the creature to dissipate it.”

  Tsarra laughed at that but winced as Nameless launched himself off her lap. She didn’t have to ask why, as she felt what he did—and his nose smelled food moments before her own caught the scent. As he flew by, the tressym bit a hunk of venison off the platter Laeral brought into the room. Nameless settled on
to an exposed beam overhead and began tearing away at his prize.

  Laeral said, “Your charges in the kitchens worry about you and had this ready for you to test for taste. If it’s suitable, all of us should join the students for dinner. That is, of course, if you’re done telling her what she needs know, darling.” Laeral handed the fork to Tsarra, who tried then devoured the heavily spiced deer meat.

  Khelben took Laeral’s hand as she set the tray down between him and Tsarra. “You know more of me by choice than Tsarra may learn by accident, my love. You alone know my soul.” Khelben kissed his wife lightly before he turned again to Tsarra. “Tsarra, the next few days will be rough on both of us, but I insist you not share what you see with anyone without my express permission. You may learn more about me than any living being knows, aside from Laeral. Likewise, the magic unleashed this afternoon is older than this city, and it will be our task to contain it properly. We have until the Feast of the Moon to resolve this. I dare not focus beyond that, as more is at stake beyond our four lives.”

  Khelben’s steel-blue eyes bored into hers, and Tsarra felt the seriousness of the moment. She also heard Khelben’s voice in her head say, Understand?

  “Was that this link?” She touched the green jewel.

  “Yes.” Khelben replied. “The gem normally just stores memory and magic, but as a kiira n’vaelahr, it also allows mental communication between you and me. The gem also helps stabilize the fragments of Danthra’s soul so we might help her survive.” Khelben gestured toward the tressym overhead. “I can even feel your connection to him, and a familiar’s bond is not something I’ve felt in ages.”

  Tsarra asked. “If this is so dangerous, why aren’t you wearing one? And what is so important that we can’t tend to Danthra first?”

  “I only had the one kiira, which you need more than I do. Mystra’s fire protects me from the confusion and the damage the link can do,” Khelben said, as he got up. “Danthra is safe, if uncomfortable, for the time being. Waterdeep may not be. Still, the dangers will hold at bay until dinner is completed, since you deemed the main course acceptable. We shall dine then make a few visits this evening.”