Words shimmered inro view-words in a strong hand, written in Gnomish. 'Your oath is fulfilled, friend. Give the bearer the right hand passkey, if my marks are on him.' In Ompahr's own hand- written so long ago there was no tremble or waver in his lettering, the scroll read, 'Grant the scrolls bearer the keys of the left hand, if he should come ablustering without the marks to show he passed Khelben's test.'
'So be it,' Ompahr whispered. 'No marks. No mercy.'
'What does it say, wise one?' The halfling asked, lowering his unmarked palms.
Ompahr did not answer for a few breaths, and it amused him slightly to see his guest get increasingly agitated. While Ompahr loved playing games, he suddenly felt tired as his mind washed over memories of friends long fallen and oaths nigh-forgotten. Finally, he snorted. 'Well, at least you're as properly impatient as a hin, I'll give you that. Your disguise is lacking, as is your subterfuge, wizard.'
'How did you-' the figure exclaimed, then shook his head. 'It matters not. Just tell me what the scroll bids, and I'll be back on the streets above where I belong.'
'Unless we choose to cancel your magic.' Ompahr leaned forward, his hand aglow with his threat. 'You'd hardly be able to cast effectively or move easily, once your full form unfolded in my warren.'
'Don't threaten me, gnome,' the wizard said. 'I've bested every challenger I've ever faced in arcane combat or otherwise. Some newcomers digging beneath my streets don't worry me, no matter their age or god.'
Ompahr's smile drew tight and thin, his bushy eyebrows rising. 'Supercilious shapeshifter. The Warrens have been here longer than ye know. Some existed long before there were human buildings up above us-well, aside from Hilather's Hold and a few temples. We just knew how to hide them better in days past. Once we told the hin about them, though, they invited everybody down here. Our secrets held for centuries among us and the dwarves, but once you tell a halfling a secret, it's a rumor in a breath and a fact by next highsun.'
Ompahr's guest drew back, a confused look on his face.
'Did you think the dwarves and humans were the only ones drawn here to this upland?' the old gnome continued. 'Every race in Faerun feels the call of this place, one time or t'other, one road or t'other. Not all roads lead to Waterdeep, but precious few lead to more worthy destinations. Magic-not just a good harbor and defensible highland-drew folk here, till they fulfill their purpose on or under the shadow of the mountain. Me, I have a role to play yet. That's why I'm still here after so long-my oath to that scroll and him what wrote it with me.'
Confusion danced across his enemy's face, shifting into anger every other moment. Ompahr delighted in toying with the intruder, and he chose to play his hand out in full now and see whether his foe would reach for the prize given or seek out more.
'The scroll talks of keys. Keys to power. I am bound to give them to the bearer of the scroll-save when that bearer brings false face and false name to me. Tell me a name I can believe, and they will be yours.'
'Give me the keys, old fool!' His hands fidgeted and two of his rings glowed.
'Yer spells will avail ye little here, boy of ten hidden rings.' Ompahr enjoyed the look of shock on the false halfling's face, but continued, making his voice its most serious in decades. 'I've not used my sorcery in three times your lifetime, and I can still shrug off your worst with that and the Cloakshadow's blessings.'
'I doubt that you understand my full measure, gnome,' the man said. 'Call me Ten-Rings, then. You'd not be alone in that.'
Ompahr chuckled, then broke into a hoarse coughing. The ancient gnome fell back and turned away on his cushions, a wet phlegmy cough ending his seizure. When he regained his wheezing breath, he looked with one eye back at the man. 'Ten-Rings,' mused Ompahr. 'So a senior of the Watchful Order comes scraping for the BlackstafPs power, does he?'
'You know of me, then?' Ten-Rings asked. 'Then you know I work toward the city's good, not my own.'
'I hear tell of a wizard whose pride and paranoia has him wearing ten rings to hide his magic and show it off at the same time,' Ompahr said. 'Some of my kin are among your guild, 'tis true, and they speak of your arrogance and magic.'
'I am not proud. I simply acknowledge my own abilities. Unlike many others, I do not hide them.'
'Why do you seek the keys, then?'
'The city has no Blackstaff nor heir,' Ten-Rings said, 'and I would put that burden on myself for the sake of the city.'
Ompahr snorted and began a great long belly-deep laugh. When he finished, he wiped tears from his eyes and locked them on Ten-Rings. 'You might fool others, but ores make better lies to my face than you just did. You're after power, plain and simple.'
'No!' Ten-Rings said. 'Our city fares better beneath the rule of wizards like Ahghairon or Khelben, and I willingly shoulder that burden. I only seek to restore the city to its rightful stature again-with the rule of magic as well as law.'
'Khelben never ruled outright,' the gnome corrected. 'And you hardly compare to Ahghairon either, wizard or no.'
'I am mighty in magic and wise in the politics of the city,' Ten-Rings said, 'and I know I can serve the city better than that coin-pincher Dagult.'
'That might be, child,' Ompahr said, 'but that neither makes you Open Lord nor Ahghairon, and I should know. He and I were students in Silverymoon together. I helped him make the first Lords' Helms.'
'Challenge me to a duel of wits or spells. I shall prove my worth!'
'I'm too old and tired for such games,' Ompahr said, 'and a gnome has to be plenty aged to be saying that, to be sure. I have naught to prove, and you need nothing other than that scroll and your bearing it to me.'
'Then why bother with this pretext? Why follow an oath to those over a century dead?'
'Across five centuries, I have been many things, but never oath-breaker,' Ompahr said. He gestured, and the entire dais on which his pillows and cushions rested rose. In a recess beneath the platform lay a small chest. Ompahr sighed. 'Take what I have held for long years, and remember that you took this burden on yourself.'
Ten-Rings held his ground, casting a spell or two, and then said,
'No protections on it, no illusions, no traps. I thought gnomes kept things hidden better than this.' He leaned forward and grabbed the chest, pulling it close to his torso.
'Hidden better?' Ompahr said, 'You're the first to come looking for it since I took the oath with Khelben twenty-three decades ago, so I consider that well-concealed and protected. May you deserve all that that coffer brings you.'
Ten-Rings clutched the strongbox tight to his torso, nodded to Ompahr, and said, 'We shall talk again, old one, when I am the city's archmage and you can tell me more of our Firstlord and the city as it once was.'
'No,' Ompahr said. 'I doubt I shall survive to see the year out, with my oaths now fulfilled. Should you need my wisdom, commission a copy of my journals from my temple-if you have both the coin and the shelf space for seventeen volumes of lore.'
The old gnome's final smirk and dismissive wave sent Ten-Rings out of the temple of Baravar Cloakshadow in the Warrens.
Roywyn returned and said, 'Grandsire Ompahr, do you feel ill?'
The old gnome cackled until he was overcome by another fit of coughing. When he regained his breath, he smiled and said, 'Child, I feel better than I have since Caladorn's investing as the Open Lord. Ready my litter and the acolytes. There'll be fireworks on the mountain tonight we have to see!'
'How do you know?'
'Khelben the Blackstaff was the only human I ever knew with a sense of humor to best a gnome's. I swore to hide two coffers and give one to him who asked for it and bore his hidden mark on his palm. Since Ten-Rings did not, I gave him the second coffer, but I never knew what either held. By the gods, I'd even forgotten about them entirely until I saw that scroll! Good thing I used the green seal on the scroll; that reminded me to give him the proper reward.'
'But why risk going uptop? The way you talked, I'm worried you don't expect to live long!'
'Pish-posh, Roywyn,' Ompahr said with a broad grin. 'You think I'd tell him the truth? I've got a few more years left in me than teeth, by the gods' blessings. Besides, I may not know all that the Blackstaff had planned, but his pranks were only ever exceeded by Baravar himself!'
In his entire life, Centiv doubted if he'd ever seen Khondar as angry as he was upon his return. Khondar slammed the door and roared, 'If I ever set foot in the Warrens again in my lifetime, it shall be to raze them!'
Centiv hovered over the burden his father set down, only half-listening to the rant. The strongbox's outside
