spotted a hidden blue glow, visible only to his mystically sensitive eyes, and said, 'Blackstaff, I see something.'
'What is it?' The Blackstaff scurried to his side.
Eiruk pointed and said, 'Look there. It points to something.'
The Blackstaff sighed loudly. 'I've no desire to waste energy on a detection spell or analysis. Just show me where it points.'
Eiruk and the Blackstaff stood between the tomb and the northern wall of the City of the Dead. Looking through the wide stance of Sarael's statue, he saw thin lines of magic glimmering in response to the moonlight. Two points led from the axes and intersected with a third line from the point of the shield. When the lines intersected, they became a stronger white beam that pointed directly to one spot on the back wall of a tomb within the shadow of the Beacon Tower.
'There are magic beams directed from this statue to the Ralnarth tomb there,' Eiruk said as he pointed.
'Why that tomb?' The Blackstaff wondered aloud. 'And what do the beams do?'
'The Ralnarths bought all holdings of the Estelmer clan,' said Eiruk, 'and I think the Estelmers were allies of the first Blackstaff long ago. That might be the connection. As for what they do, I can see they're conjurations overlaid with illusions, but I can't tell you more. If Vajra were here, she could easily discern these spells. If I may ask, where is your apprentice? She can do this task far better than I.' Eiruk hoped he kept his face impassive as he asked. He respected the Blackstaff and his power, but he still pined to be close to Vajra, despite her love for the older man.
'You may not ask, underling.'
Eiruk became uncomfortable beneath Samark's long and angry stare. He returned his attention and concentration to his spell.
'Show me where the beams touch the tomb,' the Blackstaff said.
Eiruk stepped up on the marble dais and crouched to maintain his line of sight. As he squatted, he rested his hand on the cold statue. A stabbing headache suddenly formed behind his eyes and a ghostly shimmer of the lights appeared in normal sight.
'Ah! Very good, Weskur!' the Blackstaff exclaimed.
The Blackstaff moved away to the back of the tomb and began chanting, weaving his fingers through a few simple spells directed at the wall. Eiruk realized that while the statue and his hand were cold, his fingernails glowed the same as the beams.
Eiruk could not discern what spells the Blackstaff cast at the beam's final point, but the younger mage's vantage offered him new insights. Eiruk watched the wizard mutter more arcane phrases, snapping his fingers through spell after spell to no apparent effect and then swear at the wall. The young man had worked briefly with the Blackstaff thrice before in the six years he had been with the Watchful Order, and now he could see that whoever stood before him, it was definitely not Samark Dhanzscul. That older man never swore, even in battle, and always used people's given names. Samark also spoke kindly and respectfully to everyone, from the lowliest servant to the guildmasters and Lords themselves. The contempt Eiruk heard in his voice should have warned him sooner. This person, while a decent enough actor to cow most with his illusionary form, was rash and impatient when faced with the unexpected. As Eiruk watched the wizard move, he detected a shimmer around the Blackstaff and another dark-haired form beneath his skin. He squinted, trying to see the man's face, but he couldn't over the distance with only moonlight.
Eiruk felt a tingling beneath his hand and turned his attention back to the statue. The inside of the shield that rested against Sarael's leg shimmered slightly with the same blue glow as the axes. Maintaining his contact with the statue but moving his hand along the cold metal, Eiruk shifted closer to the left leg and tentatively reached toward the shield with his right hand. He expected to touch cold metal, but instead felt warmth. He felt a throb of heat on his palm, and then the surface yielded and his hand sank inside-but not through-the shield. Eiruk could only feel warm air and the edges of the shield. He smiled, fascinated by the curious magic set by a long-dead wizard, one who truly earned the title of the Blackstaff-an honor for which Eiruk fervently wished.
The open hand of peace and a loyal heart gains you alone entry. Eiruk heard the deep voice in his head and struggled to keep his face from revealing his shock. He felt another stab of pain behind his eyes and heard the voice again. If ye truly be friend, Blackstaff Tower will welcome you. All others will only enter to gain knowledge in accord with their hearts.
Eiruk felt a searing sensation in his palm. It ended swiftly, and then he felt stone scrape against the top of his knuckles. A large bundle apparated beneath his touch. He closed his hand, hooking his fingers beneath what felt like leather bindings', and pulled a large parcel out of the shield. As he did so, the light emitting from the statue and the light inside the shield both winked out. Eiruk found no visible mark on his palm, though he felt magic pulsing beneath his skin. He would have to study it later-on his way to Blackstaff Tower for more answers. The leather bundle in his hand was sealed with a complex sigil unmistakable to many Waterdhavians-the wizard mark of Khelben Arunsun, lord of Waterdeep and the first Blackstaff.
'What happened?' The false Blackstaff turned around, angry at the interruption of his activity. 'What did you do, Weskur?'
When he saw Eiruk held something, he dashed forward and snatched the leather bundle from his grasp.
Eiruk kept calm and said, 'When you cast spells at that spot, the statue's shield here became some sort of portal. I reached in and withdrew this.'
The false Blackstaff tore at the leather bindings, ignoring Eiruk and the significance of his predecessor's mark on the parcel.
Inside the surprisingly supple and warm leather wrap were two bundles. One, wrapped in lighter kid leather and stamped with an Elvish rune Eiruk didn't recognize, was round with an obvious bulge on one side. The other was an elaborate scroll tube carved from a dragon's leg bone and set with gold-plated runes and many gems. From the weight of the bundle, Eiruk also knew the tube held far more than the usual few parchments.
Eiruk watched the Blackstaff examine the parcel and tube. The young man resisted the urge to expose the imposter before him. Eiruk knew there was no one here to help him, and his foe's power might be far stronger than his subterfuges. For now, the young wizard held his tongue. Perhaps Maerla Windmantle, another guildsenior of the Watchful Order and one with whom he usually studied and worked, would be able to help. If he could find Vajra, they could expose this fraud of a Blackstaff.
The false Blackstaff looked up at Eiruk. 'You should smile, for you've done well. You have the Blackstaffs thanks.' The false Blackstaff retied the leather straps and tucked the bundle into his belt pouch. 'Let us return to the Towers of the Order and show Master Naomal the fruits of our work tonight.'
Eiruk could resist no longer. He had to test the lying wizard as the pair of them headed back toward the Weeping Gate. 'As you wish, milord. If I may, will you tell your apprentice Vajra that I asked after her welfare? If she is ill, I'd be happy to visit any apothecary.'
The Blackstaff shot a look back ovet his shoulder at the younger man. 'Thank you for your offer, Eiruk, but no matter. Vajra suffers naught. She merely winters with her family down among the hills of Tethyr. She returns with the spring.' With that, he pulled his hood tight around his head and said nothing more.
Eiruk worried that this imposter had harmed Vajra. While she only returned his love as friendship, Eiruk knew Vajra would not leave the city without saying farewell.
No, Eiruk thought. Maerla needs to learn of this tonight, no matter how late.
'Thank you, Eiruk,' Ten-Rings said. 'That will be all. Return to your room and remember nothing of this night but a long, peaceful sleep.'
The wizard finished his spell, and Eiruk Weskur walked calmly out of his office and down the stairs toward the younger guild members' dormitories. Once he was gone out of sight, Khondar closed the door, turned around, and said, 'Not here.' He rested his hand on his companion's shoulder and said, 'Oralneiar.'
The two men disappeared from the Tower of the Order with a chuff of imploding air.
They reappeared in a small, cold room lit only by a meager fire. Two tables flanked the hearth, both piled with scrolls and books. The table farthest from the window held a sculpture of two human hands carved from hematite, rings winking on every digit.
'Show me,' Khondar said. 'Show me, boy!'.
Ten-Rings muttered a few arcane words, and two glowballs flared to life above the tables in his work chamber.
'I wasn't sure what we had, but I recognized both Khelben's mark and the Elvish rune.' Centiv's face
