Steven Schend - Blackstaff Tower

"Too much," Parlek said. "Tell me what you know and I'll try and fill in the rest."

Meloon chimed in with, "All we know is Khondar and somebody posing as the Blackstaff want us dead because we kept them from killing her. They stuck a knife in her gut!"

"Those two hated each other for decades," Renaer said. "I suspect Khondar killed Samark or had him killed, and then had a trusted lieutenant wear an illusory shape to divert attention or sow confusion."

"We don't know who the illusion-weaver is," Laraelra added, "but they must have enough information to steal the Blackstaffs power. When Vajra's cogent, she talks about getting to Blackstaff Tower before someone takes its power."

Parlek listened to all of them, nodded, and said, "You're right in that you need to get her to the tower-her place of power. I suspect that'll help her just by being there. As for the illusion-wearer, that's probably Khondar's son, Centiv. He's good with illusions, and one of the few that ring-wearer would trust-at least as much as he trusts anyone." He whistled. "You sure pick enemies, Renaer, that's for certain." His gaze happened upon Osco, whose hands shot up into the air to show he didn't have anything in hand despite having passed by a silver serving set on the sideboard.

"The gods' honest laughs," Osco said. "They found all this trouble by themselves!"

"What can you tell us about Ten-Rings?" Renaer asked.

"Once I realized he was the one slandering your name," Parlek said, "I asked friends who know the city's wizards. Naomal only picked up that name about eighteen years ago when Sarathus died and Khondar failed to become Ashemmon's apprentice and heir for the third time. Before that, he'd been a middling wizard with a brief stint in the Watch-wizard corps. In less than a year, he was a power in the guild with his new affectation of a ring on every finger. I heard he searched spellplagued areas in Neverwinter Woods and found some artifacts-including the Jhaarnnan Hands." Parlek smiled, happy to impart his knowledge. "The four sources that discuss them say the items are from Memnon in Calimshan, though all disagree as to their origin. One says they were made by the great djinni lords, one says efreeti, and the third by their wizard servitor-proxies. The fourth insists demons worked to undermine the djinn-rule of the time and made them to do so."

"By the gods, man!" Osco said. "We're hunted! Less story, more information!"

Parlek frowned and said, "Of course, you're right, you're right. The Jhaarnnan Hands are a matched set of gold bracers and sculpted stone hands, which allow Khondar to swap out magical rings he wears with those on the Hands. I assume he wears a ring on each digit to disguise when he changes rings."

"So if we find these hands, we can strip him of power?" Meloon asked.

"Doubtful, but decreasing his power should keep you alive." Parlek shrugged.

"Don't suppose you've got a way to just blink us over to Black-staff Tower, do you, old man?" Renaer asked, winking at Parlek.

He laughed and said, "Even though magic's more stable in the city, Renaer, there's very few of us who would dare to teleport to Blackstaff Tower-even if we could."

"So we're on our own," Vharem sighed.

"I think you'll find that the only folk who're pursuing you in the streets are the ignorant or those corrupt few who seek to curry favor with those more corrupt above them." Parlek rose and approached another door, which he opened to reveal another set of stairs leading down. "These are the outside stairs leading out onto Firegoad's Gambol. If you're lucky, you can take that down to the Talltumble Stairs, which should get you to Castle Ward. From there, you've a bit of a run to Blackstaff Tower. May the gods whisk you along, friends."

They left Patlek's home and emerged onto a slate-colored brick street that was starting to bustle with activity. When a few folk took note of them because of the unconscious woman in Renaer's arms, he quickly explained, "She's sick. We're looking for the nearest shrine to Tymora."

The fact that she was hooded and heavily wrapped against the cold kept most from recognizing who she was. Some helpful folk pointed out directions, while others shunned them, but they made their way to the top of the Talltumble Stairs as most folk ended their mornfeast and got on to work in the city.

The Talltumble Stairs clambered down the eastern slope of Mount Watetdeep to provide a way for the Watch and others to go up or down into Mountainside. The name came from how folk lost their balance on the shallow steps and oft-tumbled down a bit of the mountain slope. The name remained, even after the Stonecutters' Guild reworked the stairs from one complete straight run to a number of angled staits with four resting platforms along the way.

The party made its way down the first set of stairs to the Lovers' Landing, so named for its use at night by amorous nobles of Mountainside. The only others on the stairs were merchants carting goods in packs, heading up to the High Market to sell their wares. No one gave the party much notice, focused as they were on simply keeping their balance and their wind while trudging up the steps with their heavy packs.

The party continued to the Dragon's Spout, the informal name for the second landing, at which there was a magically maintained fountain with clear, fresh water. The stone fountain-a carved dragon's head-once topped the Dragontower of Maaril, but that edifice had rocketed skyward during the Spellplague and exploded high over the city. The only piece to have survived was the dragon's head, which was put to use at this fountain.

Osco whispered to Vharem, "Hey, V, is this going too easily or is it just me?"

"No, it's not just you," Vharem said, his hand resting on his sword hilt, as he looked around at all those approaching them.

The group paused to drink at the fountain, and Renaer passed Vajra over to Vharem to stretch out his atms and lean over for a drink. With the group clustered around the fountain, Osco snapped to attention and hopped up onto the fountain's surrounding ledge. "Something's wrong."

"What makes you say that?" Meloon asked.

"It just got really quiet, and those two people on the far side of the fountain haven't stopped talking." He unfurled a whip at his belt and snapped it out into mid-air-and suddenly the air shivered around them.

Within a bteath of Osco's whip-snap, nine young wizards wearing the gray robes of the Watchful Order surrounded him and his friends against the fountain.

"How the gods did he know?" A young mage yelled as he came into sight.

His companion lurched over, howling and holding his face. He glared at Osco, the welt on his cheek fresh and bleeding. "You'll pay for that, halfling."

All nine of the gray-robes held wands, aimed at Laraelra and her friends.

11 Nightal, Year of the Ageless One (1479 DR)

It shocked Eiruk Weskur that these accused murderers traveled so brazenly with an injured person, but he held his wand on the large blond barbarian while Sarkap called out, "Renaer Neverember and company, you are to come with us to answer for your crimes!"

Eiruk knew all of the gray-robes had wands to either paralyze or slow their foes down, but he didn't trust Mauron or Ulik to not have more potent magics at hand. The pair of them were fanatic followers of Guildsenior Naomal, and they followed his every command. While Eiruk respected the wizard, he could not put his finger on why he felt increasingly nervous around him.