'No, I don't think so, little man.' Khondar laughed. 'Should anything happen to me, your son dies.' The wizard let that sink in, and while he knew Renaer and Dagult were estranged, he counted on fatherly attachment to stay his hand. Khondar found himself amused by some of the other things in Dagult's hidden cache, from a small metal dragon sculpture that breathed fire when you pressed its footclaw, to a small silver necklace dripping with thumb- sized sapphires, to a singular silver bracer with two palm-sized sapphires set in its guard. He left the recess open and wandered closer to Dagult's desk, where he spotted a gnarled hunk of phandar wood and gasped with what he saw through his wizard sight.
'You have a piece of the Staff of Waterdeep?'
'That? It's just a idle hunk of worrywood I rub when I need to relax.'
'Hardly, Dagult, and forget bluffing me. Few can sniff out lies better than I can.' What Khondar left unsaid was that the power in this isolated piece of wood tied into greater magic than he dared dream of. While inert on its own, it joined with eleven other fragments to create a fabled artifact tied directly to Waterdeep. Khondar picked up the lump of wood and tucked it into his belt. 'I believe the Watchful Order is better prepared to protect this item of Ahghairon's making, rather than leaving it lying about holding down a pile of parchments.'
'Put that back, wizard. I don't care if I can't use it. That staff is better kept apart.'
'The Staff of Waterdeep saved the city twice!' Khondar whirled and glowered at Dagult.
'And nearly destroyed it! That stays here, or I'll have you and every member of the Watchful Order loyal to you rounded up and imprisoned at best.'
Khondar considered Dagult's threat and, seeing no doubt or hesitation in his eyes, bowed deeply. 'Enjoy your tenure on the throne, little conniver-merchant. Soon Waterdeep will see Ahghairon's heir rise to take Waterdeep back to the heights it deserves. I shall restore the City of Splendors, and there shall be a reckoning upon those deemed less than loyal to me.'
With that, Khondar teleported away, the chuff of imploding air being the only sound in Dagult's office until the gnarled piece of ironwood fell loudly back on the desk, knocking over a wine goblet. Dagult watched as the wine soaked into the parchments, causing the ink on the message to bleed and tun. The red wine made his hand- scrawled Lords' coat of arms-the torchlike seal of the Lords-blur into a mass of black ink. Dagult shiveted, but he could not tear his eyes away from the spreading stains.
CHAPTER 19
In her long-held guise as Khelben Blackstaff, Tsarra Chaadren held the Spellplague at bay the first time it struck Waterdeep. Its resurgence from Undermountain forced her unveiling by shattering her illusory guise amongst a crowd of nobles outside the palace. This led to the two long Retributive Years when Khelben's foes descended upon the city, ne'er expecting the half-elf to bring them to heel like misbehaving hounds.
11 Nightal, Year of the Ageless One (1479 DR)
Meloon stepped off the stairwell and swallowed hard. Whatever he'd expected to find inside Blackstaff Tower, it wasn't this. He stood on frost-rimed grass in a tiny clearing, surrounded by a forest and a starlit sky. Behind him, the stairwell's stone steps descended under a small hillock. Only one other friend was here with him. Vajra hovered at the center of the area, standing upside down from where Meloon stood, the top of her head even with his eyes. The floating patch of stone on which she stood seemed to be the floor for her, as her hair and robes all fell toward it.
Vajra turned to him, a lone tear running down her cheek. While she looked in his general direction, Meloon knew her eyes didn't focus on him as she said, 'I'm sorry, friends, for what we now must endure. I thought it safe, but the tower seeks to prove us worthy to walk its halls.' Her form shimmered as she sobbed. 'I'm sorry- and may Tymora bless you with good luck.'
As her voice wavered, she faded into a miasma of green mists, leaving Meloon alone to contemplate what to do. He looked more closely at the trees, the pattern of the woods, and found it slightly familiar. Intrigued, he climbed the nearest tree, securing Azuredge to his back before doing so. He climbed to the top of the tree, confused as it seemed to grow beneath him. When he reached the crown of the tree and looked out onto the forest, he gasped. Dotted in amongst the trees and various clearings were landmarks of Waterdeep-Mother Marra's House, Pamhael's Inn, the Stag and Hawk, Zarlhard's Swordsmithy, the Open Lord's Palace-and others he didn't recognize, like a tower shaped like a dragon, a trio of towers joined at the top by arching walkways that met a solitary tower above them all, a huge mansion he'd seen in ruins down in Dock Ward, and a noble's villa, its curtain wall keeping much of the forest at bay from its six buildings. As there was a slight glow coming from the windows of the villa, Meloon decided to head there, investigating the Stag and Hawk which lay along that direction too.
Meloon clambered down, dropping to the forest floor the last ten feet from the lower branches. He expected a cushioned fall from the usual woodland deadfall, but it felt like he landed on hard stone. Hearing a noise behind him, he leaped and rolled to his left, narrowly avoiding an arrow that now jutted from the ground where he landed.
'Thanks be to the Lady Who Smiles,' Meloon whispered as he came up into a crouch, readying Azuredge in his hands. He looked at the arrow and tried to judge the direction from which it came, but the arrow itself dissolved into green sparks as he watched.
Meloon rubbed his chin and decided to continue on his original plan. Whoever was stalking him could follow him, and he'd catch him or her later. For now, he'd head for the light at that villa. Above him, there were only stars in the sky and no moon, so the two brightest lights came from his axe and the villa.
He jogged through the forest, taking a zigzag path to avoid the archer. Frustrated at feeling so exposed, he whispered, 'I wish this axe wouldn't be so bright. It's giving me away.' With that, the flames on the axehead snuffed out, leaving Meloon wide-eyed and in relative darkness.
Another arrow thunked into the tree ahead of Meloon, and a woman's voice came from it. 'She listens to you, despite your callow nature, boy. Do you listen to her?'
Meloon kept running past that tree, not recognizing the voice. He heard another twang of a bowstring behind him, and the next arrow zipped by his left shoulder, grazing his leather armor. He turned hard to the right, grabbing the vine-covered tree and swung himself around to face his attacker. 'Some light would be good now, axe!'
Azuredge flared, its blue fires lighting up the woods around Meloon and revealing the attacker. She stood almost as tall as Laraelra, clad in leathers, and her long hair was pulled tightly back and bound with a silken cord, revealing slightly pointed ears. She held her bow in her left hand, but her right was weaving a spell. What Meloon found most curious about her was the green hue in everything-her skin, hair, clothes, and weaponry.
'Who are you?' he asked. 'Why are you attacking me? And where are my friends?'
Steven E. Schend
Blackstaff Tower
'You're in no position to demand anything, boy,' the woman said. She finished her spell, and all around her in the shadows among the trees, huge eyes reflected Azutedge's blue fires. Eight new eyes, each larger than his fists, stated at him, and he heard a loud growling coming from all sides. One of the creatures stepped into the light, its golden mane and fur glistening. Meloon judged this lion to be at least three times his size. He gulped and tightened his grip on the axe.
Patience, Meloon, a voice said inside his head, its soft tone melding with glimmers of light within the runes on the axe's head and haft. She is Tsarra. Talk, don't fight. Move toward the light.
Meloon saw Lauroun's face in his mind's eye, and her eyes matched the shimmer inside the runes of his axe. Meloon stared at the axe for a moment, then his eyes darted at the gigantic lion approaching and baring its fangs.
Tsarra stood back, drawing another arrow into her bow. 'Well, warrior? Surrender or a hopeless battle? Which
