Raegar the most. While spying on the apprentices, Raegar heard that Pikar's father had lost his life working for the Blackstaff. Pikar was among the rarest of hin to be able to touch the Weave, and Khelben took him in as recompense for his father's sacrifice. Raegar watched as the strong halfling grabbed the Blackstaff under his arms and dragged him toward the sundered gate as quickly as his short legs allowed. The smoky tendrils of the nishruu stretched to reach them, but it relinquished its grip to wrap its mists around the tower. As Pikar pulled the unconscious archmage toward the street, argent flames flashed around Khelben and blazed through the tower. Pikar fell back, screaming, and Khelben's form spasmed as the fires seared away bits of the nishruu and destroyed the ice wall that sealed the tower as well. '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 Nesme.' 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
