Blackstaff Tower w-1

by Steven E. Schend

  "This isn't guild business. It's-"

  "Someone's torturing someone in the cellars beneath your property, man!" Meloon blurted. Renaer's jaw dropped.

  Pelar stepped forward again, fists up, and said, "Take that back, and apologize to the saer."

  Even though Meloon was nearly a foot taller than the stable hand, he stepped back, surprised by the anger in the man's eyes.

  Renaer rested a hand on the older man's shoulder and said, "Thank you again, Pelar, but I don't need to be saved from everyone with a cross word for me. Besides, I want to hear what's got these two all wound up and angry with me this morning."

  Pelar's eyes never left Meloon's, but he lowered his fists and muttered, "They should show more respect to you, saer, that's all." He dropped his hands, nodded to Renaer, and then returned to brushing the horses.

  The door behind them opened and a halfling with his long, dark hair tied at the nape of his neck entered the stables. He juggled a few scrolls, and keys jangled at his belt. He cleared his throat, and said, "Milord, a word. In private." Despite being less than half the size of Meloon, this halfling cowed both him and Laraelra with a stern look when they tried to follow Renaer. Once Renaer was close, he knelt in front of the halfling to block their line of sight to his face.

  "What is it, Bramal?" Renaer said. "Do you have the papers on Roarke House?"

  The halfling whispered, "No, milord. That's what I came to tell you. They're missing, along with two sets of keys. I didn't sell or lease out the property. The last dealings I had with that house was in renting it this past summer to some guests of Lady Nhaeran Wands. As far as any of us know, Roarke House should be vacant. There're only four people with complete access to those records and keys. You and I are two of them, and the others are our fathers."

  "Very well, Bramal, thank you. Don't worry about it, but do give me the other set of the keys to the place." Renaer stood as Bramal put the ring of keys into his hand. "Was there anything suspicious about the deeds on the adjoining properties?" Renaer asked this loudly for his guests to overhear, and Bramal took the hint.

  "No milord," he replied. "The Gildenfires remains, as it has for thirteen years, in need of repair and a tenant to do so. We replaced the roof year before last to keep the building intact, but your father insisted we not waste money fixing up anything a tenant might do for us. The warehouse between that festhall and Roarke House has those long-term leases with Houses Ammakyl and Gralleth. At last autumn's inspection, half the warehouse was filled with older furniture and other decorations from the last three times Lady Ammakyl decided her mansion was not quite up to the leading edge of Waterdhavian fashions. The other half, the Gralleths have filled with materials from former noble villas when they absorbed the estates and interests of the Bladesemmers and the Markarls."

  "Well, Laraelra? Meloon? Feel up to walking to Roarke House?" Renaer said. "We can inspect the property, and you can tell me more about whatever is 'not guild business.' "

  Laraelra had rarely been in this neighborhood, even though it bordered on the Heroes' Garden where she met Meloon earlier. The buildings she noticed lining Skulls Street were better-kept row houses with stone foundations and wooden upper floors, none of which loomed less than three stories high. Once they turned into Rook Alley, the building quality and size plummeted, most of the structures of one or two stories and in ill repair. The roof slates became rough wooden shingles with moss-encrusted gaps, the foundations simple brick rising to knee height and continuing with dark stained wood. While the outer buildings surrounding Rook Alley celebrated the richness of Sea Ward, those hidden within reflected the ill fortunes visited on the city in times past and present.

  Following Renaer's lead, Laraelra and Meloon came to a stop on the stoop of an imposing three-story building. The well-kept stone front was freshly scrubbed and cleaned, unlike most other buildings to the south and east. This was one of two stone buildings in the general vicinity, the other being the Halaerim Club directly across Kulzar's Alley. Roarke House's columned frontage seemed ostentatious, compared to the slightly rundown nature of the buildings attached to it. This neighborhood had fallen on bad times in the past decades, and now Roarke House was among a well-tended few. The cleaner buildings here and there along Skulls Street did suggest gentrification might be returning to this part of Sea Ward, but it would'be some time in coming.

  Laraelra sniffed and said, "Very clean for a vacant place, Renaer. Hiding a rich friend from the Watch?"

  Renaer glared at her. "Would I have brought the daughter of one of the loudest mouths in the city with me, if I were?"

  Meloon rested hands on both their shoulders. "Hey, I'm sure there's a simple explanation for all this. Can't we be friends here?"

  "No," came the simultaneous reply from both.

  Renaer put the key in the lock of an ornately carved duskwood door, its surface a relief of stars and crescent moons. The door knocker, lock, and door pull were all silver crescents, as was the decorative end of Renaer's key. The lock clicked, and the door swung easily in silence. Renaer's eyebrows rose in surprise, which Laraelra followed with one arched eyebrow.

  Renaer shrugged and said, "Last time I opened this door, the hinges shrieked. Someone's oiled them. Shall we?"

  "You're not worried about us fouling your floors here, milord?" she asked.

  "Drop the tone, Laraelra," Renaer said. "The walk here cleaned your boots."

  The trio stepped into an echoing entry hall, its stone floors and high ceiling dominated by a sweeping grand staircase that hugged the walls of the room as it led upstairs. Overhead loomed a three-stories-high atrium, a glass skylight shining light down to the ground floor. Tiles covered that floor in a continuing pattern of stars, moons, and random pairs of eyes. Two doors bracketed an open archway opposite the front door and beneath the stairs. Additional doors flanked the front wall of the house. All doors were closed, and aside from their footsteps, no sound could be heard.

  Meloon let out a low whistle then said, "Why the eyes and moons and stars everywhere?"

  Laraelra said, "Roarke House was built by Volam Roarke, an exceedingly devout worshiper of Selune, right?" She smiled with Renaer's answering nod, and continued. "He financed the restoration of the House of the Moon after the Spellplague collapsed it."

  Renaer nodded and said, "The Roarkes had even reached the nobility about seventy-five years ago, but their family fortunes dried up over the years since. By the time they lost their noble status and other riches forty years ago, my grandfather bought their holdings in the city. Last I'd heard, the Roarke clan owned only two inns along the High Road between Leilon and Neverwinter. This place has had about half a dozen long-term tenants over the years. It's only been the past four years that it's been a summer rental. Most of the folk who rented it out never even knew about the sub-cellars."

  Renaer walked to the door on the left. "This door leads to the cellars. Now, tell me more about what you saw-no, heard down below. It seems like we'll need to update the maps for the sub-cellars. Wonder if the Rook's Hold was part of what you saw down there?"

  "The Rook?" Meloon asked.

  "A thief of some repute more than a century ago," Renaer explained. "His hideout was in the subterranean crypts after which Skulls Street outside was named. It sounds like the tunnels and crypts may have collapsed and merged a while back. I never knew they extended beneath this house. They've always been blocked off, or so I was told."

  Laraelra chuckled. "Renaer, the amount of things beneath the streets that the city chooses to ignore or not know about would stagger your imagination."

  The three of them entered a small stairwell that spiraled down into darkness. Renaer grabbed a torch out of a wall sconce and lit it.

  "And I thought I heard you complaining at the last Wands feast that you wanted nothing to do with your father's guild," Renaer said. He took the lead on the stairs, the smoke from his torch rising and stinging Laraelra's eyes. "Why were you poking around beneath the streets this morn
ing?"

  Laraelra cleared her throat and lowered her voice. "Someone has to stand up to the bigots in the guild. The dwarves deserve equal pay and equal treatment, and some of my father's foremen will hardly bother with that. Parkleth, one of the worst of them, would have left a friend of mine to drown this morning as a lesson for the dwarves to stay out of sewer work. We only uncovered your house's secrets by accident."

  "My-" Renaer stopped dead and glared up at Laraelra. "That's it. We're done here. That's the last insult you get at my expense, when I've been naught but accommodating."

  Laraelra's face felt hot as she realized what she'd said, and she slumped her shoulders. "I'm sorry. Truly, Renaer, before the gods, I apologize. I'm tired, angry, and I spend too much time around my father, who's all too eager to blame everything on nobles or the ruling class."

  Renaer resumed their descent to the cellars, and Laraelra knew she had to watch her tongue around the young Lord Neverember. His clipped tone told her he was still angry as Renaer said, "I'm neither of those things, really."

  "Yes you are, whether you admit it to yourself or not," Laraelra said. "Even without noble title, you're one of the richest land-holders in this city. When you add your father's holdings to yours, only House Nandar and a handful of others own more properties. Even if you don't acknowledge or use it, that gives you power over a lot of people, Renaer. Now, can we finish what we started here?"

  "Not even my father would put up with an accusation of being party to torture," Renaer said. "The only reason I'll continue is to prove this has nothing to do with me and mine." Renaer continued down into the main cellars.

  Meloon put his hand on Laraelra's shoulder and whispered, "Maybe it's not my place to say, milady, but I don't think he knows what's going on any more than we do."

  "Then we're all in for an education, aren't we?" she whispered in return as both of them joined Renaer in the vast cellar. To the right of the stairwell lay cords of firewood carefully stacked from floor nearly to ceiling. Open and empty earthenware jars rested on shelves to the left, while hooks dangling from the ceiling were empty of the usual smoked meats that might hang there. Across the room was an archway leading farther into the cellar. The trio moved into the next room, where stacked furniture and chests completely filled the right-hand side of the chamber. The long left-hand wall was covered with wine racks, though only a few bottles remained on the shelves.

  "Now," Renaer said, "if someone were living here right now, those shelves back there and the wine cellar would be far better stocked, wouldn't they?"

  Laraelra waved her hands and said, "Fine. We believe you. Now will you show us where these secret sub-cellars are so we can prove that we weren't lying?"

  Renaer approached the wine racks and counted the rows. He reached out, grasped one section of the racks, and pulled. The rack slid out easily and then turned on a hidden hinge to expose a section of the wall behind it. He stepped forward, chuckled lightly, and pressed a small stone on the wall.

  Nothing happened.

  "Well?" Laraelra asked.

  "This should have opened!" Renaer said. "The door leading to another stairwell should be right there!"

  Meloon motioned for Renaer to move. He rushed forward and slammed his shoulder into the wall. "Ow! If there's a door there, it's well-braced or locked."

  "Or held by a spell," Laraelra said.

  In the house above them, shouts filled the air.

  "Someone's in here!"

  "They've gone down into the cellars! Come with me!"

  Renaer shoved the wine rack back into place, and then held Meloon from drawing his axe". He whispered at Laraelra, "Time later to talk on-all this. Do you know any spells to help here?"

  "Only if you're spoiling for a fight, and they'll only stop someone temporarily," she said. "Nothing that will get us out of here without notice."

  "No need," Renaer said, as the three of them rushed back into the front cellar chamber. "I'll explain."

  "I hope so, young lord, for you have much to answer for." The white-haired man leaned on a duskwood staff, its presence as much as the speaker's own notoriety identifying him as Samark "Blackstaff" Dhanzscul. The premier mage of Waterdeep, the Blackstaff glowered at them while the crystal atop his staff pulsed a bright purple.

  "Indeed they do, friend," said the other man descending the stairs. Bald with a tightly trimmed gray mustache, the man exiting the stairs walked with confidence and strength belying his scarecrow frame. His fingers steepled in front of his face and his prominent eyebrows, the ornate rings on every digit of his hands reminded her of his full name-Khondar "Ten-Rings" Naomal, the Guildmaster of the Watchful Order of Magists and Protectors.

  Khondar asked, "Shall I call the Watch or the Cere-Clothiers, Ossurists, and Grave-Diggers' Guild? Your choice, children."

  CHAPTER 4

  I watched a wolfcub challenge his pack leader this morning. The guile and experience of the old wolf won out again, despite the younger's strength and speed. Would that youth did not always rely on bluster and newfound strength…

  Laeral of the Nine, Thoughts on Life and Wizardry, Year of the Snow Winds (1335 DR)

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

  Khondar surveyed the intruders carefully. He recognized the one at the forefront. Khondar maintained his neutral face, but bristled inwardly at the surprise intrusion. "Renaer Neverember, would you care to explain your presence here? Have you taken to hiding from the Watch here now?"

  Renaer spread his arms wide and bowed to both him and the Blackstaff. "I apologize for our intrusion, Guildsenior Naomal. My clients asked to see Roarke House, but there seems to be some confusion as to its current status for tenants."

  "I am its current tenant, as of the tenday last. I have a copy of the signed deed upstairs."

  Renaer arched an eyebrow at that and said, "I handle all Brandarth and Neverember holdings within the city. And yet, you and I have never spoken aside from pleasantries at parties more than five months ago. Apparently someone on my staff failed to tell me about this transaction."

  "Apparently." Khondar disliked this boy more with every breath, since he remained calm and unreadable. Khondar ramped his temper down by focusing on Renaer's companions. The woman he had seen before, but he could not place her face or gaunt form. What made him seethe was the lack of respect for him in her scowl. Beside her, the young blond bear-of-a-man twitched with nervous energy, ready to fight anyone, but he seemed held in check with her hand. Khondar tired of the pretense and asked, "Do you need to see the deed to believe me, lad?"

  The Blackstaff interrupted, "My time is short. Surely explanations can wait another time?" He stamped his trademark staff upon the stone floor, its silver-shod end ringing dully. "I'm sure these young people have other matters to which they can attend."

  The larger man stepped forward. "No we don't! We need to know-"

  The woman stopped him by slipping into his path.

  "— if there's anything we can do to make your new home more comfortable?" said Renaer. He turned on his heels, showing Khondar his back as he swept his arms at the walls. "Would you like, perhaps, a few bottles of a lovely Farlindell Red from Tethyr's Purple Hills for these racks? As an apology for our interruption?"

  "The only apology we shall need, young Neverember," Khondar said, "is the keys by which you entered this house, followed by your swift exit."

  "We have a few questions yet, milord," Renaer said. "My friends Ararna and Pellarm were hoping to purchase this or another house in the same general area. They want assurances that there are no problems with either neighbors or the infrastructure. They don't believe me, as I'm trying to sell them property, but perhaps you could offer a more objective opinion."

  Renaer's companions flinched when he said their names aloud, and Khondar knew that Renaer had given them false identities.

  "You try my patience, all of you." Khondar sighed. "Such questions will wait for another time, if at all. If you insist on remaining tresp
assers, the Watch shall be summoned."

  "Fine!" said Pellarm. "Maybe they can find out who you're torturing and where you've hidden her!"

  Khondar froze, though the Blackstaff s outrage was apparent as he howled at the warrior. "Boy, you delay two archmages in important work with foul accusations! Where is evidence to back your claim?"

  "Only what we heard from the street." Pellarm shrugged. "We heard horrific screaming as we walked by-and I for one don't ignore pleas for help."

  Khondar smiled mirthlessly as he watched the boy spin his poor lies. He seemed ignorant of just how close to the lion's maw he put his head. "You're obviously new to the city, Pellarm. I'll not waste our time relaying all the sordid ghosts that haunt this and other nearby neighborhoods. That is why we're all in my all-too-empty cellar with neither woman nor tortures at hand." Khondar stepped off the stairs and into the cellar, motioning back toward the stairs. "Now, while I'll happily receive new neighbors at a later date, the Blackstaff s time today is more precious even than mine. Please, remove yourselves"

  "Again, my apologies, milord," Renaer said, and he backed up toward the stairs, taking each of his friends by their elbows. "When would be a good time to call again?"

  "Enough!" the Blackstaff shouted, his patience at an end. He swept his staff in an arc and his other hand wove a pattern in the air. A haze of colors shimmered into existence on the stairs next to the three young people. Renaer and Pellarm both stared fixedly at it, fascinated at its shifting color weave.

  The alleged Ararna shook her head and glared at the Blackstaff. "The Watch shall hear of this!"

  "Hardly," Khondar said as he finished his gestures and snapped his fingers to get the woman's attention. They locked eyes and his dominating enchantment burrowed into her mind. You cannot communicate anything you've seen here. Follow your friends and do not come back to this house. Khondar enjoyed this spell's usefulness in dominating people for days or whole tendays and wiping their memories of its use later. Before he let the spell lapse entirely, he'd find out what she really knew and why they were here, but now was not the time.