J. King: The Diamond

"A couple of cells around the corner stand empty. You'll feel right at home."

The noble blinked at this sally, measuring his son, and then came to some sort of decision. "We've much to discuss," he said in an almost pleading tone. "Come, grant your father one audience?"

Noph nodded despite himself. No matter how despicable and grasping Lasker's deeds, he thought, the man was still his father.

Lasker led the way, small and fidgety, muttering along the line of lanterns. Noph, catching fragments here and there, realized his parent was rehearsing the speech he was about to give. A ragged string hung from the older man's coat, waggling behind him like some sort of limp tail. Noph watched it droop.

They rounded a corner. In the shadows cast by distant, flickering lantern light, the door of one cell stood ajar, three inches of solid oak banded with oiled iron. Dust swirled up behind Noph's and Lasker's bootsno, not dust. Ash.

The walls, ceiling, and floor of the cell were coated with soot, and two perfect cones of ash stood like sentinels at its far end. Above, the back wall sloped down, gnarled and ancient bedrock that seemed like a giant hand pressing the space closed.

Lasker turned. "Let's get to business. You've no doubt recognized that I've changed since you left. My influence expands; I'm seeking high public office at last. You said I'd be at home in this cell. Well, if things run according to plan, not only this cell but this whole palace will be mine."

"You've been busy," Noph noted noncommittally.

A light kindled in Lasker's eyes. "I've won the support of ten merchants and three guilds. I've made speeches in every public square that matters. You heard me this afternoon! And unbeknownst to my rivals, I've struck an agreement with the Brothers Boarskyr: I'll get my bridge, and they'll get free High Forest lumber for ten years. Once the elves know what's hit them, the Kara-Turan trade route'll be open, with the weight of all Waterdeep behind the deal! D'you see? I've accomplished in one month what Piergeiron couldn't in a whole year!"

With a calmness he no longer felt, Noph asked, "What does this have to do with me?"

"I want to share it all with you," Lasker hissed, waving a clenched fist. "You are, after all, my son and my heir! I want you at my side. We'd be an irresistible pair: powerful merchant and young hero. Your presence would ensure power and fortune for our family."

Noph nodded. "You've all the underhanded expertise, and I the honest face people trust," he snorted. "In case you haven't noticed, Father, I've changed over the past month, too. I've traveled farther than you have in your whole life; I've been where there are no shadows at midday because the sun is right overhead. I've fought dopplegangers and squid lords, creatures that make your brand of evil as squalid as it is chronic. I've drunk with pirates and crossed swords with tanar'ri, and returned to tell of it. You said it yourself: I'm a hero. Why would a hero ever join you?"

Lasker's mouth set. "So, you've saved all Waterdeep from a plague of monsters and conjured armies. Congratulations." He sketched a mock bow. "What has it gotten you? The dungeons, serving common guard duty! Where's your estate? Your riches? Your influence? You saved all Waterdeep but own none of it!" The merchant waved a dismissive hand.

"With me," he said, the light in his eyes again, "you'll have all those things. Come back to the family. All it'll take is a public apology, asking to be received back."

"What?" Noph asked, astonished.

"You publicly humiliated the house of Nesher," his father explained, "and you will publicly remove that humiliation."

"I wouldn't join you," Noph said slowly, "even if you apologized to me-and not only to me, but to all of Waterdeep!"

As the young hero's last few shouted words echoed around them, his father's face grew sour. "My son, the great, self-righteous hero!" He sighed contemptuously, and then asked, "What good is it to be a hero if you lack any plan to make the public pay you benefits for your heroism? Eh?"

Noph shook his head. How could a man-and not just any man; his father! be this base? Wasn't "If I might ejaculate something between you-" a voice rumbled from nearby.

Noph had thought this end of the dungeon was empty. He looked through the open doorway at the cell across the corridor. Jostling at its bars were the unlovely faces of the Brothers Boarskyr.

Noph sighed. "Father, I believe your partners in cri-politics-have something to add."

"Thank you positively, young Hastacough," Becil Boarskyr bellowed, clearing his throat.

"Kastonoph."

"Right, Kastratoff. Listen well to your father's patronizing speech. Your sire's only trying to become a sire with a capital's', if you know what I'm hinting at around the bush. That would make you a sire with a lowly V at first, but soon enough, once your sire kicks off, he'll leave it in your posterior."

"Posterity," Lasker attempted a correction.

"How's about I have a look at your sword?" Bullard asked.

"This is a private conversation," Noph said flatly.

"Not to fiddle about with another man's privates," replied Becil, "but our enterprise has got its smarmy speaker (that's your progenital pater, there beside you), and two liberaltarian spenddrifts (that's ours truly), and now all we need is a hero's face to kiss the babies and shake the hands of men and ply his silvered tongue in every passing lady's behalf-"

"Arrgh! It's useless!" Lasker screamed, tossing his hands into the air and stalking away down the corridor.

Noph smiled at the two idiots. "I never thought I'd say this to you, but… thanks."

Bullard nodded. "I never thought I'd say this, neither, but how's about a look at your sword?"

The younger and elder scions of House Nesher had scarce turned a corner in search of a cell when there was a great rush of black wool and imperious gestures along the passage. The whirlwind resolved itself into Khelben the Blackstaff even before the armsmen got their weapons out. A raised magely eyebrow sent the few drawn weapons hastily back into their sheaths.

"Gather round, all of you," he said. "Aye, those in the jakes, too."

The dungeon was suddenly alive with shuffling feet and nervously attentive armsmen crowding around the mage.

Khelben looked around. "Is that all of you, at last? Good. The spells I'm about to cast on you are complex and costly; I don't want to have to repeat a single one of them."

A final guard rushed up to join the group, hands darting beneath his belt where shirttails flapped.

Khelben gave him a glare, and then turned his head to favor all of the other armsmen with it. "Any of you been under a stoneskin spell before?" There were a few nods. "'Tis pretty simple; makes your skin as tough as stone. It'll turn arrows, daggers, swords, and the like. It should keep you from hurting each other down here tonight. I'm casting it now."

In the silence that followed, the armsmen stared at a small pebble rolling hypnotically between Khelben's fingers as the wizard shaped gestures in the air. With a sudden pop and a hiss, the stone collapsed into gray ash, and tracers of smoke whirled out from the mage's fingers to smite each guard between the eyes.

The silence held until Khelben spoke again. "This second enchantment will enable you to fight as a unit, for once." Khelben made two quick gestures, uttering a word that sounded both old and cruel. "You'll share an only slightly unpleasant dream, but in the end, you get to be heroes." Twenty-some guards stared back at him in silent confusion.

Khelben saw their expressions, shrugged, and made another gesture. "You needn't be upset by any of this. In fact, you'll forget all about our little conversationand that I was even here. I'm completely invisible to you until highsun tomorrow. You can't even remember my name until then. If you see me before that time, you see nothing at all. Understand?"