Tradelord Amhath Dessultar cleared his throat and said, 'How did you know that he wasn't who he appeared to be? I've known Markall Silverspur for more than thirty years, and you dispatched-'
'— a traitorous being who'd impersonated him for more than three years.'.
'How can you know that?' another Sembian howled, one Khondar had never met.
'Because,' Ten-Rings replied, raising his rings, 'it's my business as a Guildmaster of the Watchful Order of Magists and Protectors to know.'
'Not good enough, wizard,' a third Sembian said. 'Explain or hang.' The woman was the only person without a dagger at hand. She held a small diamond-studded rod in his direction, and her eyes crackled with magical energy thanks to a diadem at her brow.
Khondar glowered at the woman, then said, 'I slew Markall Silverspur years ago in Yhaunn when I caught him blackmailing my guild and stealing thousands from our coffers. I had heard of his recent rise in fortunes and rumors had placed him in the city again. Whether grave-risen or replaced by an imposter,' the man's insults were enough to garner a second spot of revenge on my part. Just how well did you all know Markall?'
Khondar fought a smug smile as he let that news sink in, the coin-grubbers wondering how much gold or influence they'd lost to hidden subterfuges of the now-dead shade.
'Khondar,' Dagult said in a low voice, 'I trust what brings you here is of the utmost importance to disturb these negotiations.'
'It is, Open Lord Neverember,' Khondar replied, sketching a barely respectful bow. 'It is only a surprising gift of fate that I was able to prevent the shades from gaining any foothold in trade or other concessions with our fair city. After all, we welcome fair Sembia and its trade, not its insidious back-shadow rulers.'
'Watch whom and what you accuse, Naomal,' Amhath said. 'We know each other and do business, but we are hardly friends.'
'True enough,' Ten-Rings said. 'My business with the Open Lord is crucial for the city's welfare and must be private.'
Khondar had been pacing around the table, past the slumped shade corpse, and when he finished talking, he stood at Dagult's right shoulder. He touched him on the shoulder, and the diamond ring on his right hand flared bright. When everyone's sight cleared, both the wizard and the Open Lord were gone.
Madrak ran his feather duster over the collected bric-a-brac on the ledge around the bay window seat in Dagult's office. As he brushed away a tenday's accumulation of soot and dust, he gazed out the window at the light snow falling.
'Auril,' he whispered, 'be kind to the young master, and use your snows to hide him from his foes, who seem to lurk closer than he knows.'
Madrak hopped off the window seat and was picking up dishes and remnants of meals half-consumed off the three tables, the desk, and the floor when four feet suddenly appeared on the carpet in front of him. He stepped back, startled, and looked up into the cold gray eyes of a wizard glaring down at him. Dagult's back was to him, and he seemed to be sitting in a phantom chair. The halfling butler stepped back just in time as the very surprised Dagult let out a toar and fell solidly on his back. The stream of invectives and swear words coming from Dagult as he rose were directed solely at the wizard, who Madrak learned was named Naomal or Khondar and who had questionable parentage concerning lower animals and even lower planes.
Madrak cleared his throat and said, 'Er, welcome, milords. Would you care for anything to drink?'
Years of practice kept any hint of amusement or terror off his face as the halfling flicked his glance from Khondar to Dagult. The wizard, however, made his disdain and dismissal of both Madrak and his master quite plain, at least to the butler's eye. Dagult, as usual, blustered and abused those under him privately, despite all his public demeanor painted him an unmatched diplomat and shrewd negotiator.
'By all the gods, when I tell you to stay out of my office when I'm not here, I mean it!' Dagult, having risen to his feet, aimed a powerful kick at the old halfling, who ably dodged the attempt and retreated through the hidden door just barely tall enough for him in the office wall.
'Thrice-damnable halflings!' Dagult roared after the retreating butler's door clicked closed. He spun back to Khondar and said, 'Always rooting around, sneaking about the house through secret doors I can't fit through.'
'Good help is hard to find, indeed,' Khondar said, and he found himself remorsefully thinking of Centiv, left to his fate inside Blackstaff Tower. He paced the room to cover his sudden emotional response, and remembered his goal. The key! Unfortunately, getting a word in edgewise around Dagult proved difficult.
'But they're not nearly half as presumptuous as you, Ten-Rings! Our agreement was that no one would ever see us associated together! You've now given any foes a link between us and a suggested past history. Kidnapping me in front of witnesses won't bode well for your trial.' Dagult's voice had started loud and balking, but by the time he finished his sentence, it was a cold, hard whisper with an edge of steel to it. 'Abduction and threats against the Open Lord is a punishable offense, after all.'
'Don't threaten me, little Open Lord.' Khondar smiled as Dagult's face paled and his fists clenched at the insult. Ten-Rings continued, keeping him even more off-balance. 'You don't have enough power to challenge me, even if that sword at your side truly holds all the magic it allegedly did in the hands of your predecessors. Frankly, I doubt you're able to draw it, and you just wear it to impress.'
'That might be, Guildmaster, but what I do know is this-You assaulted me, my aide, my guards, my guests, and slew a member of a trade delegation. Even if they did not see your flashy abduction of me from the Parley Tower, many saw you enter the tower just before the panic began. Tongues are wagging now, even as we speak. No one can turn rumors and gossip into coins like Sembians. Should anything happen to me before I explain myself, all manner of hells will empty upon you and yours. And you have only yourself to blame for that. Beyond all that, there's this matter you seemed to have skillfully dumped into my son's lap. While the boy needs some challenges, I'll not see him swing for your activities, wizard.'
'Hmph. Well, be that as it may, we both have our secrets and our sins. You, I'm sure the people would love to learn, have a knack for acquiring things, if only so you can gloat in their having. I sensed it last time I visited here- you keep true magical items of the Lords here, while leaving fakes behind to keep anyone from looking for them.' Khondar's theory got its proof by Dagult's face going ashen again. 'I'm looking for a key, Dagult. Do you have it?'
'You'll need to be more specific, Naomal.' Dagult sneered, trying to regain control of the conversation. 'I have hundreds of keys to hundreds of properties, secret places where only the Lords walk, and keys to every tomb within the City of the Dead.'
Khondar glared at him. 'Where have you hidden Ahghairon's
Key? The one on display in the Ruby Hall at the palace was false-I could sense it! Now show me the real key!'
'If your information is accurate, wizard,' Dagult said, 'and you can sense fake constructs, you should be able to find it yourself.'
Khondar walked around the room, angrily at first, but then secretly delighted that Dagult had given him the excuse to examine the room closely. Like the rest of Neverember Manor, the room was richly appointed with thick carpets and wall hangings in Dagult's favorite red hues. Ten-Rings skipped over all the bric-a-brac in the windows, sensing no magics from them, but his senses sang of magical auras against the back wall. He paced back and forth, seeming to admite a painting hanging there, and he spotted a stone out of place in the corner seam of the wall. He pressed it, and the painting and part of the wall recessed and slid out of the way, revealing a shelf with a number of items on it. Dagult's sigh of defeat was audible across the chamber.
Khondar reached in and picked up a small brass key, the handle of which was Ahghairon's swirling whorl of a wizard mark. It thrummed beneath his touch, and his wizard sight told him this was the genuine article. 'What ever did you need Ahghairon's Key for, Dagult?'
'That key identifies and unlocks any door, known or unknown or however barred, when it passes nearby. When my wife died, she left me nothing-gave everything to the boy. I used it to search this entire mansion, finding out every secret door, every compartment, every possible place she might have hidden money, of evety place my son might have hidden things from me. I kept it because it amused me to do so and because I'd never know when I might need it again.'
'Well, I need it now.' Khondar said, dropping the key into his belt pouch.
'That is not yours to hold,' Dagult said, his hand on the dagger that rested on his desk. 'Return it or find yourself in deeper trouble than even you can imagine.'
