Steven Schend: Blackstaff Tower

"Patience, Renaer, patience," Torlyn said. "I hear Vharem spent most of his day chaperoning the youngest Phullbrinter sisters in their shopping for the Gralleth feast."

"Ah, what that man does for his coins," Renaer said. "He'll need stronger drink than this, then."

The door to the tavern opened, and two of his oldest friends entered. Renaer stood and waved them over to the table. Faxhal smirked a perfect mimicry of Renaer's own grin back at him. Faxhal resembled Renaer in many ways-broad-shouldered and brawny, clean-shaven, shoulder-length brown hair, square-jawed with chiseled features-but his claim that he was the better-looking of the two urged Renaer to remind him he was shorter and had thus concentrated Renaer's charisma. Vharem wore an expensively tailored night blue cloak in contrast with his unkempt blond beard and scuffed brown boots.

"The Watch is hunting for you again, Renaer. We had to shake a patrol on our way here." Vharem rolled his eyes along with Renaer as he related the news. The tall blond man signaled Arlanna to bring two more tankards as he shrugged his dark cloak open and sat down next to Torlyn. The two men traded nods as greetings.

"What have I allegedly done this time to displease his Open

Lordship, my father?" Renaer sighed, rising to let Faxhal get past him to a seat.

The shorter of the two men shook his head, then rushed forward and vaulted over the table, using one hand to catapult himself onto the bench in the corner of the tavern. Renaer grinned and muttered, "Show-off," as he sat down again.

Faxhal said, "Not a thing, so far as we know. It's just a few new shieldlars and their patrols trying to impress their new captain and tonight's valabrar-and unfortunately, tonight's overseer for the Watch in Castle and Sea Wards is Kahlem Ralnarth."

Torlyn choked on his drink and coughed. "How did that inbred noble idiot get promoted? What have I missed the past two tendays?"

"Only a marvelous chase across Field- and Sea Wards not three nights ago," Vharem said with a snicker. "A dash across the Northbeach is not something I want to repeat before spring."

"Yeah," Faxhal said. "You'd think he'd be grateful we led them right to those smugglers at the Lancecove. Capturing a septet of forgers and smugglers was shine on his sword, to be sure. His promotion from aumarr should have made him more grateful."

Renaer looked up, dropping his sly grin quickly, as he said, "I think he's worried his superiors will regret that promotion if they find out he only caught them due to chasing and trying to arrest us for assaulting a city official and defiling a holy place."

Torlyn gasped, and Renaer and Faxhal chortled. Vharem draped an arm across Lord Wands's shoulder and whispered, "Kahlem staggered into us after leaving his favorite festhall-er, 'newest shrine to the Red Knight'-and took offense that we happened to be using the midden abutting its wall after a night at Raphen's tavern on Imar Street."

Torlyn's eyes widened, and he said, "Don't tell me…"

Vharem nodded. "He pushed Renaer and me to one side, and this one"-he jerked his thumb toward Faxhal-"turns and asks,

'What beems to see the broplem, occifer?' as he finished relieving himself on the man's boots!"

"Kahlem's not a bad Watchman," Renaer said, "but his water-headed ideas on how to investigate crimes-"

Faxhal interrupted, "-led the fool to believe we're smugglers too!" He punched Renaer's shoulder and laughed. "Now get ready. I've got time for one drink before we give them the run-around." Faxhal grabbed and downed Renaer's drink in one gulp, and then belched loudly. He pulled two hooded mantles out of his bag and tossed one to Renaer. "Let's give them the old seeing-double bit, yes? I've needed a good run all day."

Renaer marveled at his friend's desire to intervene for him and said, "You know, I could actually let them take me in for a change. Clear the air and settle things with Kahlem?"

To their credit, the four men kept straight faces for nearly two full breaths before snickering. Renaer and Faxhal pulled the stylish dark blue hooded mantles over their heads and atop their black cloaks.

Vharem said, "We'll meet you at the Grinning Lion by the next bell, then?"

Lord Torlyn Wands groaned and asked, "Gods, why does it have to be that place?"

Faxhal asked, "What's the matter with it? Argupt always has a table for us. Besides"-his voice dropped to a whisper-"the food's better there than here."

Torlyn groaned, "It's become a watering hole of late for the Thongolirs, and I'd as soon avoid their ilk until the solstice balls where I've no excuses to avoid them."

Vharem said, "Sacrifices must be made, milord, in the name of friendship. Besides, you'd have no problem if the Lady Nhaeran would give Lord Terras an answer on his suit."

"Which, as you're all aware, is an unequivocal no, and you know my sister cannot tell him that until after we clear up the debts that Hurnal set up with the money-grubbing old bastard." Torlyn sighed. "My cousin's even opened up our old hunting lodge for rent by hunting parties a tenday at a time. Our family's private hunting lands have become just another asset for him to exploit."

"I'd be happy to help, milord Wands, truly," Renaer said, his face losing its smile as he locked eyes with his friend. Faxhal, for his part, adjusted Renaer's hood so the two of them looked nigh identical.

"Appreciated, but impossible, sirrah." Torlyn shook his head, avoiding Renaer's eyes. He cleared his throat, then chuckled nervously and said, "Be off with ye, nigh-noble rogues. Your sport awaits and the night is young! Vharem and I can't wait to hear about the latest ways you two've found to avoid Watch pursuit."

Renaer and Faxhal looked at each other, sketched salutes at their friends, and bolted for the door. Before they even reached it, Renaer heard Vharem shout, "Ten taols says the Watch comes up empty again tonight! Do I have any takers?"

Renaer looked back once to see Toryln raise his tankard in salute before he was lost behind the quickly massing crowd around their table, all gambling men eagerly betting on successful escape or pursuits.

Renaer and Faxhal found Darselune Street relatively empty. The slate-roofed wood-and-stone buildings across the way had been cleaned by the past night's sleet and ice thawing that day and rinsing soot off the buildings. Ice and frost returned with sunset, and moonlight twinkled on slate and slats alike. The two men passed a carriage tied up in front of the Slaked Sylph, and Faxhal shrugged toward it, his eyebrows rising in question.

Renaer shook his head. "Why actually do something illegal to add merit to their pursuit of me in Lords' Court?"

They jogged across Gulzindar Street, their boots scraping the frost-rimed cobbles on the road. They saw a Watch patrol heading west toward the Field of Triumph, their backs to them.

Faxhal belched loudly, and then bellowed, "Have you no manners, Renaer?" The man grinned and then sprinted south toward the Spires of the Morning, leaving Renaer a few steps behind.

The watchmen spun on their heels and the armar shouted, "There he is! Renaer Neverember, hold! We have a-After them!"

The broader avenues like Julthoon Street, Calamastyr Lane, and Swords Street glowed brightly in the moonlight due to the diligence of the Dungsweepers' Guild and a lighter shade of cobblestones used on the major roadways all across Waterdeep. As the two men dashed across a carriage's path, they heard their pursuers curses at their path being blocked by that same vehicle soon after.

Renaer kept quiet as the opulent and well-tended buildings of Sea Ward receded. Faxhal was already past the temple to Amaunator, its pink marble courtyard walls glistening with frost and icicles. Looming ahead were the more utilitarian domiciles and row buildings of Castle Ward, though there were exceptions to the common buildings, like- the gargoyle-infested Charistor looming three stories tall over the intersection with Swords Street, or the squat white stone of Jhurlan's Jewels with its quaint Old Cormyrean wall merlons atop its roof at Tchozal's Race.