Centiv frowned at the reprimand, his shoulders slumping, and he said, 'I've already apologized for that. There was nothing I could do, short of being captured myself. I stabbed her to keep her from talking and hid her as best I could in short time.'
'They're children and amateurs, Centiv,' Khondar said. 'You should have just blown them all away.' Khondar turned away and stared out his window.
'In those tight corridors? I'd have roasted myself!' Centiv growled. 'Not all of us can hide behind so many magical rings to protect us from spells blowing back on us.'
Khondar's face blazed with tight-lipped fury, but he kept his temper when he asked, 'What was it you came to tell me? How does Vajra spill her secrets now?'
Centiv beamed. 'I had a tome and quill magically recording everything said within her cell. I'd hidden it behind an illusion in the cell across from her. After I left Roarke House with those records and books just ahead of the invaders, I used one of my other illusory guises and went to her chambers we keep over on Keltarn Street. I spent much of the night reading the transcript. Vajra had babbled a few things-names, locations, dates, item names, and the like-but we never thought they were anything more than random thoughts or words to stall Granek's next wound. She repeated them at night when Granek and we were gone, as if she were talking to herself. When you look at them all at once, they have a pattern-'
Khondar got up from his chair slowly, glowering, and asked, 'You recorded everything?'
'Yes, and when I found-'
'Everything? Centiv, you fool! That's now evidence of our direct involvement!'
'I already destroyed the evidence, Father-once I confirmed she spoke the truth.' 'What?'
'I found a pattern in a few passages of the transcripts. Each place she mentioned also corresponded to a person's name she blurted out. I've spent the day looking at every place she mentioned and found every person she named. Once my status as the Blackstaff cowed people out of my way, I could search for secret chambers or compartments in their locations. I found a few scraps of parchment hidden in each location. By themselves, the parchment scraps are nothing but trash. But together… well, here.'
Centiv tossed the dozen fragments up into the air and cast a minor spell on them as they floated. They fell into place as one scrap on Khondar's desk. They spelled a single name: Sarael.
Khondar looked up at his son, irritated, and raised an eyebrow in question. Centiv smiled and motioned with his hand to flip the parchment over to reveal Elvish script on it.
Khondar — sighed. 'You know I don't read Elvish, Centiv. Stop showing off and tell me what you know.'
'It says, 'The first heir of his body points the way to a new heir of his spirit. The Tears light the way.' I am certain this refers to Khelben Arunsun, the first Blackstaff. His first son was Sarael Arunsun, whose mausoleum resisted the Spellplague, unlike many others. We simply need to wait for moonrise and visit the tomb of Sarael Trollscourge in the City of the Dead. There, we should find what we seek.'
Khondar thought long and silently, his fingers steepled in front of his face, his gold and silver rings all glistening. He nodded finally and looked up at Centiv. 'Very good work, Son. I'll send Eiruk Weskur with you in case you run into trouble. He's loyal to a fault and will just assume this is guild business. He'll meet you at the gates of the cemetery at nightfall.'
'I don't need his help on this,' Centiv said. 'I could have done all this without telling you, after all. I might have just brought you the secrets after the fact!'
'Well, you didn't, and this isn't the first time you've had the chance to show initiative and failed me. I'm not going to let your tendency to panic when confronted with the unexpected ruin our plans. Now take Weskur with you and we'll mind-wipe him later if we must. Just get whatever the Blackstaff has hidden in that tomb.'
'But I don't-'
'Enough!' Khondar slammed his hands down on his desk. 'I will not be questioned by my own child! We'll meet at Roatke House when you have the secrets.'
Centiv wrapped himself in the illusionary guise of Samark 'Blackstaff' Dhanzscul. His illusions did not disguise his anger, though, and he slammed the door behind him. Khondar shook his head. He and his third son shared so much, like the magic that drove them from the superstitious backwater of Sundabar more than two decades ago. Unfortunately, they also shared a temper, and Khondar wondered how much longer their scheme would hold up before someone's temper lost it all.
'Of course, I know that,' the Blackstaff told the guard. 'My predecessor was the one who created that law. Now step aside. I mean to honor that predecessor's son this night, on the anniversary of his greatest victory. Worry not. Only benefit shall come from blind eyes toward us.'
He levitated a large bag of coins at the guard, who took it, then nodded at his younger compatriot who unlocked the gate.
'Come along, Weskur,' the Blackstaff said, waving his companion forward.
Eiruk Weskur complied, following the older wizard through the gates. He shuddered despite himself, knowing full well that there were many reasons why people were locked out of the City of the Dead at night. He shivered beneath his heavy wool cloak and hood, wishing he'd not recently cut his black hair to a short skullcap. Still, to work directly with the Blackstaff was worth the discomfort. He just wished he knew what they were doing, as he had only the spells he'd already prepared that day and two wands given to him by Guildsenior Khondar Naomal before he was told to meet the Blackstaff here two bells after sundown.
The two of them left Mhalsymber's Way through the Weeping Gate, so named for an unidentified ghost whose sobs could be heard only on the night of the new moon. Eiruk was glad Selune shone nearly full and bright tonight, if only to keep that ghost at bay. Inside the gate, the moon shone brighter still, as the interior walls were mirror-smooth and reflected the light, even though they remained worked stone blocks on the street-side. Eiruk had not been in the City of the Dead in quite some time, and he was shocked at how ill-tended it seemed to be. The wide paths, cobbles that had become glazed smooth slabs under the Spellplague chaos, were cracked, and weeds jutted out everywhere along the avenues among the mausoleums. The once-carefully manicured lawns lay untehded, rife with weeds and badly in need of trimming. More than a few trees were obviously dead, while others grew out of proportion or unnaturally. The shadowtop in their path looked like a wooden fountain, its trunk shattered and spreading out to fall back and reroot in fifteen different points around itself. That tree proved healthy and strong, even if it did grow over a small tomb, which now lay in rubble beneath its boughs.
Worse yet were the mausoleums and tombs. Eiruk knew they used to hold portals built by Ahghairon the Open Lord himself, allowing more burial space in uninhabited dimensions. The dangers of those portals had been put on display when the Gundwynds buried three of their own shortly after the Spellplague first hit Waterdeep. All those who entered the family's tomb and went through its portal were transformed into trolls or giants. All were maddened by the pains of transformation and rampaged through the city. While they were stopped by the Blackstaff and a contingent of the Watchful Order, no one could be restored, which led to the end of the Gundwynd Waterdeep clan in 1388. Ever since, scouts did extensive magical reviews before anyone entered any of the tombs-especially those warped by the Spellplague. At least a dozen tombs either winked out of existence or exploded in the magichaos of that time, while others morphed or shifted, their stone melting like butter at highsun. Only a handful remained utterly unchanged by that time, and the pair of wizards approached one of those now.
An adamantine statue of a warrior stood proudly atop its blue Moonshavian marble base, as it had since its creation more than three centuries ago. Eiruk liked the look and strength of Sarael the Trollscourge, his face clean- shaven, strong-jawed, and smiling triumphantly, his hair flowing in a breeze and frozen in metal. The warrior wore chain mail from shoulders to toe, his shield resting upside-down on its straight top, the point of the three-sided shield resting on his left knee. His arms held two battle-axes crossed high above his head, and as clouds passed over the moon, reducing the light, a slight blue glow shimmered around the axes. Eiruk remembered an old dwarven forge-magic called blueshine that might explain that. What he couldn't explain was why he was following the Black-staff as they walked two complete circuits around the base of this small memorial. He had been busy looking at the statue, while the older wizard stared at the marble base. The Blackstaff swore when the moon's light faded, as if he were looking for something by moonlight.
'Watch for any changes or signs on the statue or the base when it's in moonlight,' said the Blackstaff. 'Tell me immediately if you see something.'
With that, the old man pulled his hood close around his balding head. Eiruk peered carefully at the tomb as he walked three circuits around the base, passing the distracted wizard multiple times. As the Blackstaff looked low and at the base, Eiruk looked higher at the statue or their immediate surroundings. On his fourth circuit, Eiruk
