Rosemary Jones: City of the Dead

Lord Adarbrent pointed at a small marble casket, standing on four lion's paws and almost touching the Markarl tomb on the south side. "There. It took some years searching through your family's ledger but I found one small bit of land left unclaimed in the City of the Dead, right next to the Markarl tomb. Your father carved that casket for me many years ago."

Sophraea looked at the stone casket. It was quite small, only built for one corpse to occupy.

"So you were always planning to be buried here?" she asked. Lord Adarbrent smiled.

"I never thought that it would stay empty for so long. In some ways, I suppose I'm no better than Stunk, rearranging this graveyard for my own selfish desires." The old man shrugged.

"Ah," she murmured. She simply didn't know what else to say.

"After all, I am the last of my family. Who will care where I am buried? When Waterdeep no longer needs me, I will rest near my dear unforgettable girl. In my own place at last, where I want to be."

"We will care," Sophraea answered him, her voice a little hoarse but her words as fiercely stated as ever. "And we will remember you. Always. You have been a good friend to us. To me." She sniffed and straightened her shoulders, adding briskly, "Most of the time. Just, no more rituals cast in the City of the Dead."

"I promise." Lord Adarbrent bowed deeply to her, as deep as he had bowed to Volponia. "You always were' a good girl, Sophraea Carver, and I think you will be an amazing woman in the years to come. As long as there are those like you in Waterdeep, my burdens are much lighter."

Blushing at his praise, Sophraea left Lord Adarbrent to his memories. She crossed the path and circled past the Deepwinter monument. She slipped through the Dead End gate.

"It's a funny name," said a voice above her head.

Sophraea latched the gate and looked up. Briarsting was sitting cross-legged on the snow-covered wall. The topiary dragon peered over the thorn's shoulder at the girl. One brown leaf fluttered down over a bright berry eye in a friendly wink. The big leafy ears waggled back and forth in a topiary greeting.

"What's wrong now?" Sophraea asked the pair.

"Nothing, nothing at all. Your uncles carried Rampage Stunk out with no problem. We just wanted to make certain that you reached home safely. But I was thinking Dead End House was a peculiar name for your house," Briarsting replied.

"Dead End House? It's always been called that. It seems very appropriate to me."

Briarsting glanced at the courtyard filled with Carvers. The younger boys had swept the remaining snow into large piles. Someone had fetched the battered leather ball from the barn and so most of Sophraea's brothers, cousins, and nephews were knocking it back and forth according to their own loudly shouted rules.

Leaplow kicked the ball straight through a pile of snow, incurring either a penalty or a goal, and certainly earning a pile-up of bodies all flung on top of him.

Her uncles Vigilant and Sagacious were lined up watching, their arms resting on each other's shoulders. Sophraea's father shouted nonsensical instructions to his buried son while the beards of his brothers quivered with, laughter. Out of the windows, screaming just as many instructions and laughing even harder, all the aunts shook their heads over the boys' game.

"See," said Briarsting, standing up and brushing the snow off his seat in an unconscious imitation of Lord Adarbrent, "there's nothing dead to be found on that side of the wall. Not an end that I can see. It's too full of life, too fond of beginnings, that house of yours."

He swung up to the neck ofthe topiary dragon. The pair turned and headed back into the snowy quiet of the graveyard.

"I'll visit you soon," Sophraea called through the gate. Briarsting gave a wave over his shoulder. "I promise!"

Then she turned and plunged into the game occupying the yard, kicking the ball right out from under the nose of a startled brother and sending it sailing over a pile of snow with a whooping cry of triumph.

Gustin sat on a block of marble in the courtyard. It was a clear, cold day, the sun sparkling on the icicles dripping off the edge of the roof. Two Carver cats basked in the warmth on the top of a newly polished coffin.

After three days of freezing cold, Sophraea's half wish was melting away. Waterdeep was sliding back to its usual warmer wet winter weather. The stone man was permanently stuck in front of the tomb. Gustin's repeated attempts to reanimate it had failed, Algozata's old curse being far stronger than any ritual that he knew. Sophraea's father joined Gustin in the yard. "I'm sorry," said Gustin. "I just don't have enough coin to pay the remainder of what was owed on the statue. And I haven't quite come up with a scheme to make any more. Give me a day or two, though, and I'll think of something. I usually do."

Astute shrugged. "I'm not worried," he said. "You can pay me back with magic." "Magic?"

"Rituals. Whatever you want to call it. That trick that you do with stone, making the statue walk. That would save us a lot of hauling."

"That one works best for me," agreed Gustin, rubbing the back of his neck. "Besides working off a debt, any chance for a little more?" Gustin just had to ask.

Astute crossed his arms and appeared to ponder the question for a long moment. "You keep your room, you continue to eat free meals, and I don't ask you about sneaking off with my only daughter into the tunnels beneath the graveyard and who knows where else."

"Ah," he mumbled. After once again assessing the truly amazing breadth of shoulders possessed by Sophraea's father, Gustin indicated that this was a fair deal indeed.

The bell on the public gate jangled and Lord Adarbrent appeared in the entry.

"My friends." He bowed slightly in the direction of Astute and Gustin.

"It is good to see you as always, my lord," Astute answered. "What news?"

"The rumors appear to be quite true," Lord Adarbrent said. "Lady Ruellyn will take over her husband's business while he recuperates."

"How is he?" asked Sophraea, running down the house steps to greet Lord Adarbrent.

"No great change," Lord Adarbrent replied. "She has called in healers to make him comfortable. I hear Rampage Stunk now spends most of his days dozing in front ofthe fire."

"The lady may find a docile husband much to her liking," Gustin observed.

"Quite," said Lord Ardabrent with a quelling look. "Such speculation would be rude, however."

"And the others? Those guards that we found in the City of the Dead?" Sophraea asked.

"Well enough, as far as. I know. And a certain hairy individual has been persuaded by the City Watch that Waterdeep is not the best city for his residence," the old nobleman told her.

"Oh," said Sophraea.

"Your father mentioned that the doorjack had caused you some distress. I thought you would not mind a very small intervention on my part," said Lord Adarbrent.

"Leaplow said something about looking for him and walking him through the City of the Dead," Sophraea revealed.

"Your brother's most recent black eye is still quite evident. This seemed a simpler solution."

Sophraea exchanged a quick glance with Gustin. The wizard realized that she'd acquired yet another protector or, given the family's long history with Lord Adarbrent, the old man had always been one of Sophraea Carver's champions. It truly was incredible that he'd survived that first kiss, he decided. Still, life was dull without challenges, Gustin thought to himself, and one of these days he would talk her into a second kiss. Then he could worry about how to avoid being crushed by Leaplow or her other enormous male relatives. That would be an exciting challenge and, looking at his own personal dark dearling of Waterdeep, one quite worth it.