'And those strangers were party to their deaths?' A new Lord chimed in, pounding a fist on the table in emphasis.
Renaer paused, thinking his way through his personal library. 'If my Lords would have their staff consult Quallon of the Six Fingers' book Ghosts and Spectres Vengeful-or their own court transcripts from multiple incidents between 1268 and 1300-they will find ample evidence that Magister Pallak Nharrelk's ghost judged and sentenced those men, not I. His presence beneath and in the Magistree killed those men, for they were unpunished for previous crimes.'
'What prevarication is this? Centuries-old scrolls cannot help your cause!'
'They will,' Renaer said. 'Ravencourt's three-centuiies-old shadowtop is all that remains of the House Nharrelk noble villa. Buried beneath that tree is a magister of the city who was slain by the corrupt Guildmasters who overthrew the Lords for a brief time two hundred years ago.'
The presiding Lord flinched at that and paused, but said, 'This court shall recess to test the accuracy of the defendant's statements. Until we reconvene, you are a prisoner and shall-'
As the other Lord was speaking, a court aide had approached another of the Lords and whispered to the side of the helm. That Lord nodded once, twice, and then held up a hand to intetrupt both the aide and the presiding judge. 'My aide Urlath supports what the accused has stated. The Hanging Tree of Ravencourt, while inactive for more than a century, has been deemed a rightful arm of the Lords' Justice and thus none can be held accountable for deaths caused by it save the victims themselves.'
'What of sworn testimony from a guildmaster that you are responsible for torturing young women in hidden cellars beneath a property of yours?' said another Lord. Renaer found it iiritating that all the Lords spoke in the same hollow, nondescript voice.
Renaer had to fight off both the lurch of fear in his stomach and a smile, admiring the deftness at which Ten-Rings covered his own tracks. He paced a moment, collecting his thoughts, and then said, 'What we do on our own properties to consenting peoples is our own affair, a code to which each of you Lords, if unmasked, would attest. What we do to those unwilling is actionable, I agree. I'd like to face my accuser in open court and send the same charges at him, for he seeks to place his crimes on me. I proclaim Khondar
Naomal of the Watchful Order, the mage oft-called 'Ten-Rings,' a traitor to the city and one of two persons guilty of the crimes of which I am accused and more. I would accuse another, but he remained cloaked behind illusions. His co-conspirator walked the streets as Samark 'Blackstaff' Dhanzscul for at least this last tenday, if not longer.'
Tumult erupted both on the floor of the Lords' Court and up above in the gallery of witnesses. As the presiding Lord tried to gavel the crowd into order, Renaer yelled, 'I demand a private audience! It is my right as a citizen of Waterdeep to plead my case to the Open Lord before any trial or senrencing is final.' With his first statement, Renaer himself quelled the crowd to a watchful silence.
'The Open Lotd recused himself from these proceedings,' the presiding Lord said.
Another of the Lords spoke up. 'Regardless, it is the boy's right as a citizen.'
Five other Lords nodded in agreement and looked to Dagult. The one closest to Dagult said, 'As it is our right to hold the Open Lord accountable for judgments he proclaims in our collective name.'
The Open Lord readjusted his ermine-lined vest and his heavy amulet of office on his chest, and said, 'Very well. Guards, provide us our escort. I shall lead the way.'
Lord's Champion Vorgan and three guards led Renaer through the back of the Lords' Court chamber, down a slim hall northward, and through a series of stairs and turns until he wasn't sure of his orientation. By the time they reached a set of double-doors, Renaer knew he'd not seen this place before, despite much time spent in the palace over the years. Dagult, ever in the lead, opened the doors, let his son inside, and then closed the doors again, saying to Vorgan, 'Remain here, in case of need.'
Renaer looked around this private office, sumptuous in its appointing. 'The Chamber Emerald. I've heard of it but never seen it.' Renaer went around, touching the silk wall hangings of a green dragon in flight flanked by an outward facing pair of black-pelted pegasi with green feathers and manes. 'Can't quite remember-this was built with money from a noble family from Impiltur, right? They lost their fortune a few decades later, leaving this as their only surviving legacy. Didn't they lose all their family and fortunes with the Spellplague?'
'Enough scholar's games, Renaer,' Dagult said. 'You have your private audience. Don't waste my time and yours reciting what you know of House Khearen.'
'You know these charges are false, Father,' Renaer said. 'You know I can prove my innocence beyond what I've already said out there in open court. I'm just here to save face-yours, in fact.'
Dagult, drinking from a goblet, spit out wine in surprise and coughed. 'What are you blithering on about?'
'You're in this too, Father. I just didn't want to expose you before your fellow Lords.'
Dagult spun toward Renaer, his face purple with fury, but before he could unleash his tempet, Renaer simply said, 'Roarke House.'
Dagult deflated and took another breath before he said, 'I don't know what you're talking about, boy.'
'You're the only one who had access to the deeds and keys to all our holdings, Father,' Renaer said. 'You gave or sold Ten-Rings that house in return for something. What were you promised for his doing the dirty work?'
'Careful, boy,' Dagult said. 'You can still be punished by my hand, officially or simply parentally.'
'Don't even think to try it,' Renaer said, 'or I'll simply start asking questions out there as to how Ten-Rings the Traitor got hold of a house owned by the Open Lord. That alone shall lead even dim-thinkers to other questions. And worse answers.' He knew his father was shaken by these accusations, even if it didn't show on his face. The fact that he paced without looking at anyone or anything in particular told Renaer volumes.
Dagult took a few breaths before he said, 'Don't threaten idly or without proof, Renaer. It's unbecoming. Besides, you're dealing with wizards here, boy.' He paced away from Renaer. 'They obviously got to your precious hin, charmed him into selling them Roarke House, and then wiped his mind of the memory later. We see at least one case a month like that in court.'
Renaer slammed his hand against the desk. 'Don't lie to me!'
The doors to the chamber burst open. Vorgan and the armed Watchmen entered. Dagult shook his head and waved them back. They closed the doors behind themselves after they looked around, seeing only the two men in the room.
'You have a share of my temper,' Dagult said, 'as much as you have your mother's wits.'
'Father, her wits are what undid you. Them and your choice of agents.' Renaer tossed a small pouch at Dagult, who opened it to find a blood-spattered eyepatch. He turned his back on Renaer to stare out the window of his office, only allowing his son to see him crush the pouch and patch. 'Granek worked for you on more than one occasion before and after he was drummed out of the Watch. No longer. As for your cover earlier, one of the reasons I trust Sambral to collect my rents and manage my affairs is simple-he seems to be nearly immune to any mind-affecting magics. I am sure you know how many hedge-and-penny wizards and sorcerers try to weasel out of their rent by bending the brains of the collectors.'
Dagult froze, his back to Renaer, and then sighed. Without turning to him, he said, 'What is it you want of me?'
'I want all charges dropped and a public apology issued for me and my friends. I also want an end to this harassment by certain members of the Watch,' Renaer said. 'We both know they're more needed elsewhere than they are chasing me and my friends every night.'
'Fair enough,' Dagult said. 'Provided you actually favor me with your presence when I ask for it. For the past two years, the only times I've seen you are when the Watch arrests you and drags you to me.'
'I'll not appear simply at your summons,' Renaer said. 'A meal shared and scheduled once a tenday here at the palace, and I'll bring the wine.'
'You do have your mother's penchant for good wines.' Dagult chuckled. 'Aye. Done.'
'I also want independence,' Renaer said. 'You're the Open Lord, so live here at the palace. Conduct your affairs from here. Leave me Neverember Manor. I'm planning to restore its original name of Brandarthall in Mother's honor. I can oversee the Neverember business, if you wish, or you can find someone else to manage your holdings- openly or in secret. I only wish to manage what Mother left me-her wealth and her family's holdings, which far outstrip what you cobbled together with her money and family's connections. You can even pretend that I'm simply
