over the Blackstaff. She winced, but she merely felt a buzz in her head and a warmth in her palm, as if the staff were a living thing. Vajra's palm was just as sweaty as her own, but her tiny hand held power-as did her eyes. Laraelra felt rather than saw three pulses of magic pass from Vajra's eyes into her own. After the third pulse, Laraelra found she gripped the Blackstaff alone, and she felt its power simmering just inside the duskwood staff's surface.
Vajra cast a final spell, dissipating the energy dome over them, and said, 'For as long as you and I concur, you are an heir to the power of the Blackstaff. That won't provide you with any more power at the present time, other than the ability to safely carry and wield a Blackstaff. In days to come, we'll talk more of you learning from me and from the tower.'
Laraelra gulped, realizing this meant more time with the ghosts inhabiting the most formidable fortress on the Sword Coast. She started to ask, then coughed nervously, swallowed, and tried again. 'How can we stand against Ten-Rings? He's powerful enough to destroy all of us with one spell.'
'Once you get to Roarke House, simply say the word geh-rallen, and my power will be added to the battle,' Vajra said. Laraelra smiled, realizing she understood what was to come without having to utter it aloud. She nodded and shifted the Blackstaff to her left hand, resting one end on the ground. 'So what next?' she asked.
Vajra seemed distracted for a moment, as if she were listening to something no one else could hear. When her attention snapped back to the group assembled around her, she said, 'Forgive me. That's going to take some getting used to. I can hear and see what folk are doing anywhere inside or within a step or two from the walls around the tower. Watch commander Delnar Kleeandur just demanded the surrender of all of you. He wants you to come to the palace for questioning and a possible trial. At least he has the sense to be courteous.'
'I'll go,' Renaer said.
'What?' Meloon said. 'They'll hang you!'
'Doubtful,' he said. 'The main charge is for the murder of Vajra, who's very much alive. I want to clear all our names. Also, if I'm keeping the Watch busy, they can't get in the way of what the rest of you have to do. I'm less use in a fight than the rest of you, but I can talk our way out of the false charges Ten-Rings dumped on us.'
'A sound plan,' Vajra said. 'Say the word traeloth when you step onto the stairs, and they will deposit you at the entry chamber. When you exit the tower, the gates will wrap around you, but not let anyone else enter. Advise anyone trying to do otherwise to desist, as the Blackstaff is not receiving any more visitors today.' Vajra hugged Renaer and kissed him lightly on the cheek. 'Thank you again, friend, for all your help. We'll discuss things at length later at your home-matters of days past and the future.'
Renaer sketched a salute at the rest of the group and headed for the stairs.
Vajra gestured, and a trio of rings appeared in mid-air in front of Meloon, Osco, and Laraelra. 'Those should help you all survive the coming battle with Khondar. Consider the rings my thanks. Now, here's the rest of the plan…'
CHAPTER 25
…and every citizen shall have bis say, beitinopen Court or in private with the Open Lord.
12 Nightal, Year of the Ageless One (1479 DR)
Renaer's steps and those of his Watch escorts echoed from the marble of the floor to the peak of the dome that loomed over the Lords' Court. He held his head high, neither flinching his eyes away from those who met his nor looking at any beyond those in his path. After the trial at Blackstaff Tower, this held little fear for him.
He stood at the center of a semicircular table's arc, his father straight ahead of him and in full regalia as the city's Open Lord. To see his father reminded Renaer that father and son shared much in looks and manners. Long brown manes tumbled past both their sets of muscular shoulders, though Dagult's hair tended more toward pumpkin while Renaer's locks were almost a chestnut brown. Both men preferred to remain clean-shaven, though Renaer's stubbly chin bespoke his past few days of hard pursuit and toil. They both wore clothes of good solid workmanship and tailoring, but while Renaer's clothes were subtle and simply better-made than many of those around him, Dagult stood out, a blazon of color and sartorial excess in his black velvet cloak, ermine-lined vest, red Shou-silk shirt, and the Aglarondan hip boots of deep crimson leather. Dagult's face wore an expression of deep disgust and impatience.
To each side of Dagult sat thtee gray-robed and gray-helmed Lords. As usual, they appeared identical in form and stature, regardless of whomever wore the helm and robes. No details of gender, girth, or infirmities could be discerned through the robes, as the Open Lotd Ahghairon had designed them long ago.
Behind the Lords loomed a giant bulldog of a man, Lord's Champion Vorgan Drulth, looking uncomfortable in his fotmal uniform as the Open Lord's personal bodyguard. Renaer noted he wore metal sleeves over each of his index fingers, both sharp as claws, and other weapons bulged conspicuously from his boots, sleeves, and belt.
Dagult opened the proceedings by unfurling a scroll and reading it to the court. From the comer of his eye Renaer noticed a quill untouched by any hand, scribbling away the transcript onto a thick tome at a stand in a side alcove.
'Let this Lords' Court be convened on the mattet of the death of Samark Dhanzscul, the Blackstaff; the murder of Vajra Safahr, heir of the Blackstaff; and the deaths of Ramok of Red Larch, Jarlan of Waterdeep, andBaentham of Luskan,' Dagult said. 'Given that the accused is my own son, I have an obvious conflict of interest here. I therefore recuse myself from this proceeding's judgement, but stay in accotd with the traditions of the Lords' Court.'
Dagult stepped back, handing the scroll off to a masked Lord who had entered the chamber behind him. The same dark robes and helm enshrouded this Lotd as they did the other six. The seventh masked Lord stepped into Dagult's place, sat down, and intoned in a hollow, toneless voice, 'The accused stands before us. How does he plead to his Lords?'
'Innocent of all charges, milords,' Renaer said. Gasps erupted among his guards, the packed gallery of observers, and also from a few of the Lords themselves. Renaer continued, 'I beg my Lords' indulgence, but could you identify the last three names you noted?'
The masked Lord on Renaer's far left stood and pointed at him.
'They swing from the shadowtop in Ravencourt, as the tree refuses to give up its dead. We have more than two handfuls of witnesses claiming you led them there to their deaths, and either you or your pet wizard cast the spell that slew them.'
'Hardly, but thank you for identifying them. I knew not their names.'
This elicited a fresh set of gasps from the gallery and even one shouted, 'Hang him too, then!' before the presiding Lord pounded a gavel on the table.
Renaer continued, keeping the proceedings in his favor. 'In fact, I am not guilty of any deaths laid before me this morn. Four fell by others' hands and one is not dead, as you all may have heard with her pronouncement at dawn.'
'That can be faked,' the accusing Lord said, sitting again. 'And if not by your hand, all others died at your orders.'
'No,' the fifth Lord said. 'I was on the streets this morning. I saw Vajra atop Blackstaff Tower. Only a Blackstaff true could hold the staff with the wolf's head, make the tower glow silver, and send that pronouncement throughout the city.' The Lord's helm turned in Renaer's direction, and asked, 'I would know, young Neverember, if Vajra be not dead, who lies in the Castle's crypts with your weapons in her heart and eye?'
'You will probably need the Watchful Order to dispel some illusions on her body,' Renaer said. 'As for who it is, I suspect it might be an agent who failed my foes-a woman who called herself Charrar. I lost two daggers and a short sword over the past few days due to haste and peril. It would have been an easy matter for my foes to gather and use them.'
