'No, dear heart. You carried fragments of our spirits, pieces of our knowledge, and only some wisps of power-enough to let us send you aid to keep you alive.'
'I don't understand.'
Krehlan stepped forward and said, 'Woman, when the Grand Mages of Rhymanthiin and I dissipated the kiira n'vaelhar that held the spirits of my father, Tsarra, and Kyriani, we bonded its magic to this tower and its sister in the Hidden City. When someone takes on the mantle of the Blackstaff or its heir, a template of their spirit, their intellect, their knowledge, becomes part of the Blackstaff and its place of power. What you had to endure was all that knowledge without sorting or grounding it properly in ritual. While Ashemmon and Samark assumed their power easily inside the tower, you had neither the benefit of a Blackstaff in hand to hold some of the power nor the tower itself to ground it. You held all our spirits and knowledge, but our collective lifetimes and awareness overwhelmed yours.'
Tsarra, impatient at Krehlan's long answer, broke in. 'We drove you mad because the tower is what should hold twelve centuries of life experiences. That's why Krehlan merged the gem with the tower-so it could be yout advisor, rather than have the Blackstaff be a slave to the copied minds of those who came before her.'
Khelben cleared his throat, silencing all the others, and placed his hands on Vajra's shoulders. 'It is your time now. I see my blood and Gamalon's blood in you, and I know Waterdeep is safe. Go now and be the Blackstaff. Reach out with your feelings, find your friends, and go forth. You all have work to do this day. We shall be here to help if you need us.'
With that, he disappeared, and the others did as well, filling the room with greenish mist. The last to dissipate was Samark, who embraced and kissed her before dissolving, leaving Vajra with teatful eyes in the chilling mist.
Vajra cleared her throat, and then did as Khelben bid. She realized her companions stood in chambers below, each of them tested by the spirits of the tower. She knew how to manipulate the tower so that all the doors they opened would lead them to where she was. With concentration, she even could listen in on what they were saying. Vajra knew the secret words that locked and unlocked score upon score of mysteries within this tower. She realized she had no new knowledge of magic or spells, but she knew where to find information and hidden lore to do so. She knew the location and nature of every magical item within the walls of the tower, and some made her shudder with their power or what they held at bay.
Vajra could see another tower-N'Vaerymanth-in her mind's eye, its layout the same as this, but the city over which it looked was far more orderly, far more magical, and she vowed to visit Rhymanthiin, the Hidden City of Hope, when the time came.
All this and more awaited her as the Blackstaff. It was time to let her city know.
CHAPTER 23
The original splendors of Waterdeep were Ahghairon's secrets, which keep us safe today and always, despite the predations of lesser so-called lords.'
12 Nightal, Year of the Ageless One (1479 DR)
Khondar stood and stretched in the morning sun flooding through his windows. He walked over to the western window. Guards dutifully walked the parapets of the palace, and he could see from this vantage that breakfast had been laid out in his office in the easternmost tower. With a mere thought and a blink of magic on his left index finger, the Khondar became a beam of light and lanced across the distance, reappearing among a gasping group of courtiers, visiting envoys, and various sycophants and servants.
The room proudly displayed the Lords' Arms and the Seal of Waterdeep in massive tapestries on opposite walls. Marble floors and intricate wood-inlay walls gleamed with the polish of human effort, not magic. The palace no longer catered to outlanders or nonhumans, and the city was richer for it and for the rule of mages. Khondar looked out the window to see many tall ships in the gleaming harbor, wizards from many lands coming to this great city and the rebirth of magic.
All around the table, applause scattered and then grew as people cheered his arrival. Above all, he heard Centiv the Blackstaff sing out in pride, 'All hail the Open Lord! Long live Khondar, destroyer of the Shadow Thieves, the Dark Brotherhood, and the Cabal Arcane! All hail the Restorer of an orderly and lawful city! All hail the Open Lord!'
The tall doors leading into the chamber slammed open, and Renaer Neverember led a group of dirty, ragged- clothed halflings into the chamber. The female wizards in the crowd fainted at the sight of the lecherous midgets. Renaer loosed a crossbow quarrel at Khondar, who altered the bolt into a magic missile that returned and slammed into Renaer's chest. Centiv cowed the rabble that followed him by making the Hoot seem to fall open into spiked pits. The rebels fell to the ground, insensate, and Khondar reached down to hoist Renaer up by his now-filthy shirt.
'Why do you tesist our rightful rule?' Ten-Rings demanded. 'Why do you not let the wizatds rule?'
Renaer smiled a cat's grin. 'Because the Blackstaff and the Open Lord serve the city, not the other way around.'
Khondar Naomal tossed in his sleep, his dreams of power driving him. He rolled over, pulling his furs and covers closer to him. The small fire in the hearth kept the room above the freezing temperatures outside, though the room could hardly be considered warm.
The spell-fields Ten-Rings established around his new home kept out all magical intrusions but those he desired. Wards protected all the doors and windows, and some of Centiv's more ingenious illusions cloaked the entire third floor, where Khondar now slept. Those magical protections muted all noise coming through walls and windows, allowing him rest despite the nearby belltower off' the Fanebar or the noise and occasional tumult in the stteet outside the inns and festhalls in the vicinity.
Normally, he would not have heard the voice on the wind in the Crown of the North that frosty morning. The fact that it launched him out of a sound sleep both irritated and frightened him as soon as the message was delivered. He growled, 'Blast that woman!'
Khondar threw back the furs with a growl, launching himself out of bed and over to his worktable. With a snap of his fingers, the fire on the hearth blazed up, increasing the heat in the room. He took a quick survey of the table and sighed with relief. All six keys were in place-Ahghairon's Amulet, Key, and Ring; the sheathed dagger his research told him was Anthaorl's Fang, a gift to a long-since-dead loyal watchman from Ahghairon; and the two wands he'd plucked from the clutches of Blackstaff Tower. He breathed a sigh of relief and reached for a ceramic dome on the corner of his desk.
He lifted the cracked blue cover to expose a crystal ball the size of his fist. 'Show me my defenses,' he said.
Mists filled the center of the globe and showed swirling images of various rooms and doors, each aglow in shades of pink, ochre, and ash. Khondar exhaled in relief as his survey showed no spells had been disrupted, but he vented his fury. 'That bitch bypassed my wards without disrupting them!' He muttered in harsh whispers to himself. 'Bah-it matters not! Blackstaff or no, I'll soon have power over her and the entire city!'
Khondar settled on to a cushion next to the hearth, his spellbook on a low stand before it. Time was of the essence, and he needed every spell prepared for the coming battle for Ahghairon's Tower-and control of Waterdeep.
CHAPTER 24
