'and our name.'
'Gemcloaks?' ventured Taeros.
'Of course. The question remains: What shall we Gemcloaks do?'
'Gossip, gamble, drink, wager, and plot little schemes to pry money out of rich and title-hungry merchants-all of which we'll promptly loose in various bad investments,' Malark replied promptly. 'In short: The usual.'
'Add to that list a haven for younger sons,' Taeros said glumly. ''Tis my misfortune to have a paragon for an older brother. When Waterdeep was attacked, I was away on a 'pleasure trip,' but Thirayar slew ten sahuagin with a salad fork-or so our proud parents tell the world.'
'At least you still have a brother,' Starragar said sharply. 'Roldo wasn't so fortunate.'
An uncomfortable silence fell. Roldo Thongolir was still on his wedding trip. His older brothers had both died in the defense of Waterdeep, leaving him heir. Roldo was a fine companion, the first to lift tankard in tribute and a stout lad at your back in a tavern brawl, but he was fashioned to follow, not to lead, command, or administer. Thongolir elders had swiftly chosen a bride for him, a brisk and competent young woman who would manage the family fortune capably and, no doubt, Roldo as well. Never was a man less suited to the duties of a noble of Waterdeep, but Roldo did as his family bade without a word of complaint.
Beldar cleared his throat sharply and nodded at the crate. 'Roldo's is of rose quartz, as he honors the Morninglord.'
'A thoughtful gift,' Malark said with a grin, 'and practical. With one of us sporting pink, we're sure to be invited to a brawl early on. Get the fighting over and done first, and we can devote the better part of the night to the ladies.'
'As to fighting,' Beldar said firmly, 'if Roldo had been here, he'd have acquitted himself better than either of his brothers. 'Tis Waterdeep's misfortune that none of us were here when the attack came.'
'And ours,' Taeros added under his breath.
Though none of them liked to admit it, they all wore the weight of unintended absence from the battles. Who'd have expected the sea to erupt with scaly beasts bent on destroying Waterdeep?
One and all, they were younger sons of proud Waterdhavian noble houses. Come every spring, until circumstances or family decrees thrust them into posts of responsibility, they were expected to wander and learn the ways of rivals, buyers, and would-be clients in the family trades all across Faerun. If much of their time was spent in festhalls and taverns, did that make them wastrels any idler than their sires had been? Didn't every traveling merchant of Waterdeep do as much, insofar as coins allowed?
A shared sigh of relief arose in the room when Beldar's eyes lit with new mischief. He pointed out the nearest window. Across crowded and ramshackle rooftops, one structure stood out, bright with new timbers and scaffolding-one of many Dock Ward buildings damaged in the sahuagin fighting. Fire had all but gutted it, but restoration was well underway.
'See yon scaffolding? All those ropes?' Beldar smiled. 'An excellent place for some fun, I'm thinking…'
'A battle!' Malark said gleefully. Slapping his knees, he bounded to his feet. 'Beldar and I against you three.'
'Beldar's the best sword among us, and you're the biggest and strongest,' Starragar complained.
'Two against three,' Beldar pointed out, 'and you've got Korvaun. He's nearly as good as I am.'
This teasing boast brought a bow from Korvaun and a groan from the others. It occurred to Taeros that- Beldar's claim notwithstanding-if one set aside flamboyance and showmanship, it just might be that Korvaun could best them all. Moreover, Korvaun probably knew as much, but considered it unworthy of mention.
Not that it mattered. The day was fair, and the glorious game unfolding once more! Amid general laughter and swirling of new finery, Taeros tucked his things into his satchel and became the rearguard of the general rush downstairs.
'I cannot believe,' Beldar Roaringhorn announced in aggrieved tones, whirling his drawn sword in a gleaming flourish to underscore his pique, 'that some fool-head of a shopkeeper needs a building of this size to sell a few sandals.'
'And I,' Starragar added, 'find myself mired in similar disbelief that a shop on Redcloak Lane in Dock Ward can truly sell 'Fine' anything.'
'Well, then,' Malark roared, drawing a frown from a worker peering down over a fire-scorched sign proclaiming this no mere half-rebuilt shop, but the one and only Candiera's Fine Shoes and Sandals, 'we are collectively affronted. Does this establishment deserve a continued existence? I say no!'
'Whereas I,' Taeros responded with a grin, entering into the spirit of the thing, 'stand against you, sir, and say that it should and must! For humble shops like this, howe'er overblown and spurious their claims, have been the backbone, lifeblood, and ever-rising greatness of the City of Splendors these passing centuries, and bid fair to remain so! To strike at Candiera's Fine Shoes and Sandals is to threaten true Waterdhavians all!'
'Well shoveled,' Korvaun chuckled, as hammerings and clatterings fell silent above them, and the faces of workers-younger ones grinning, but older ones frowning apprehensively-began to gather to gaze down at the Gemcloaks.
'Moreover,' Starragar added hastily, recalling which side he was supposed to be on, 'I can only view any attack upon this establishment's claims, however embellished they might be, to be an assault on the essential character of what it is to be Waterdhavian! Endless mercantile disputation and strife is the very lifeblood of our city! In short, to demand the destruction of this shop is to decry the very soul and core of Waterdeep!'
'What, by all the watching gods…?' a grizzle-bearded carpenter demanded in bewilderment, shouldering between his suddenly idle trustyhands to gaze down and try to discover why they'd all stopped work.
'Foolblades,' an older worker spat scornfully, hefting his mallet. In response to his employer's sharp, inquiring frown, he added in explanation, 'Young wastrel nobles. At play, as usual.'
'And when foolblades play,' another worker grunted, 'things always get broken.'
The carpenter leaned forward and bellowed down at the Gemcloaks, 'Ho! Be off with you! Yes, you!'
Malark seemed not to hear. 'Well, then,' he said grandly, continuing the game, 'only one solution remains to men of honor!'
'Indeed,' Taeros replied politely. Four blades sang out of scabbards to join Beldar's already-bared steel, and the Gemcloaks drew themselves smoothly into two lines, facing each other in mock menace.
Someone hummed a mock fanfare, and one man from each line glided forward to stand blade-to-blade. With matching grins, Beldar and Taeros indulged in a mocking, finger-crooking parody of the elaborate lace-wristed courtesies of old nobles. Grand flourishes were made, bows performed, and blades crossed delicately, steel kissing steel.
'Insomuch as thy tragic and injurious delusions must fall, have at you, miscreant,' Beldar intoned, stepping back to strike a dramatic pose made resplendent by his ruby cloak.
'And to rescue all Faerun against thy grievous and ever-burgeoning errors, have at you,' Taeros replied, his fierce grin belying the haughty styling of his words.
With a whoop, Beldar lunged and charged, hacking hard twice at Hawkwinter steel as he came, the drive and direction of his assault seeking to back Taeros over a handy bucket.
Taeros, who'd marked that hazard before crossing steel, sprang over it without looking down. In a swirl of amber finery he retreated nimbly into the litter of boards, chopping-blocks, dangling ropes, and sawhorses that crowded the building's ground floor.
Beldar advanced, kicking the bucket at his Hawkwinter foe. If the bucket chanced to contain fresh and very sticky mulehoof glue, and if Taeros happened to be adept at sliding aside and letting such missiles hurtle past him to strike and topple a leaning sheaf of boards, and thence ricochet hard into the face of the first charging worker to come thundering down a rickety temporary stair, well, that was merely the will of the gods, was it not?
And if the Gemcloaks burst into the wood shavings and barrel-littered worksite with enthusiastic roars, wild slashes, and kicks that upset most of the barrels and toppled an entire run of thankfully unoccupied scaffolding with a deafening crash into the stout stone wall of the shop next door, well, that too was as the gods willed and merely to be expected when the future champions of Waterdeep's honor took the field with blades bared and battle in their eyes.
