Steven Schend - Blackstaff Tower

Osco felt mote weight in the few pouches in his cloak, and he fished out four small cat's heads carved out of onyx. He tossed them at the ghost, as if to ward him off, and the ghost held his distance. The one-eyed halfling stalked over to the opposite statue and stepped through it, saying, "Wake up, son. Family's come a-visitin'."

The ghost trailed greenish smoke, but it drew out more smoke that soon collected into the visage of Pikar. While Osco still hated the fact that he was trapped in a room with two ghosts, Pikar s smile comforted him a little.

"Great," Osco said as he stood. "I realized that the test is in not stealing from a friend, rather than taking what's owed me. That's not going to have me haunted now, is it? You'll back off, now that I've thrown all that away."

The one-eyed ghost crouched down by the ivory cat statue and raised his eyebrow over his eyepatch. "Ye sure ye want to just toss this away?"

Osco the Younger nodded vigorously, and the elder ghost let out a low whistle. "Worth a fair piece, all this stuff."

"So're friends, and I lost one already today." Osco sighed. "Don't need to lose another. And I sure as sunrise don't want to be a ghost down here the rest of my days."

Pikar's ghost floated closer and put an ephemeral arm around Osco, saying, "We're proud of you, great-grandson. It is tough being friend to the Blackstaff, but the road's an exciting one, and one filled with treasures vastly more valuable than gems."

"Oh joy," Osco muttered. "Lessons from me family what died helping the Blackstaff. That'll motivate me to keep helping Vajra. What'll it get me at best but a statue down here with you ancestors?"

"What makes ye think we're family, boyo?" Osco the Elder's ghost chuckled, and it began to morph, his features and clothes shifting to greenish hues and growing. He grew to twice his original height and the eyepatch dropped away. His long hair unfurled, and his hair grew slightly longer and darker, a widow's peak forming at the top of his forehead. His mustache and sideburns grew together to a full beard with a recognizable lighter patch at the chin. Osco saw the similarities between the Nameless Haunt and this ghost and nodded.

"S'pose I'm to be honored that the oldest Blackstaff chose to test me?" Osco said, placing his fists defiantly on his hips and looking up at the phantom's impassive face.

His only answer was one slightly cocked eyebrow as the wizard-ghost conjured up a pipe shaped like a loredragon, placing it in his mouth and lighting it with a jet of flame from one finger.

"So are you wondering how I knew?" Osco said, nervously pacing about the chamber, kicking now errant-gems into the corners. "Simple. Nobody but nobody puts gems in chests where you can find them. They hide them in plain sight if they've loose gems. Seen some in vases with dried flowers, others in a fish tank. Best place I ever saw were emeralds slipped into tubes set into the legs of a table-those were tricky to find."

Osco realized he had paced around the chamber while he talked, and the ghost did nothing more than puff on his pipe and remain facing one direction. His eyes did trail on Osco when he was in front of him, but he never made any move to turn and watch him when he walked behind.

"Say something, ye patharding spook!" Osco threw a handful of the gems through Khelben's head. Each made a small hole in his features, trailing wisps of green smoke. When the mists coalesced again, the ghost's front had shifted toward him. Osco found it even more unnerving to have the ghost of an archmage smile at him.

"Silence always makes hin nervous, I have found," the ghost said, with a wink, "and they tell more than they should. That seems the same since my time. When did you realize this was merely a testing, not an actual looting of Blackstaff Tower for your benefit, Osco Salibuck?"

"Well," Osco said, "Vajra'd said something about the tower testing me, and it didn't stop me. Not all hin're greedy and stupid- count on dwarves for that. I figured the only way to help myself is to not help myself, and when I saw those statues, I figured out that all these temptations were just that-to tempt me away from where I'm supposed to go."

One eyebrow rose over the wreathing cloud of smoke from his pipe. "Oh really? And where is it you are supposed to go, little halfling, filcher and spy?"

"This way," Osco said, walking directly through the green ghost with a wicked grin. He felt the wall a moment befote ttiggering the secret door, and stepping through. Where the door deposited him was unexpected, windy, bitter cold.

And Osco wasn't alone there.

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

The Goreclipse sheds its crimson light over Faerun one night every 784 winters, and it also sheds light on many a legend. Learn, too, that those things that suffered 'neath Ahghairon's hand unlock many secrets. Should ye gather as many 'neathmountaineers he battled when Sehlne and her tears wept blood in his lifetime, ye shall then gain the Tower Impregnable."

The words from his studies haunted him and goaded him on. I need more keys, Khondar thought, and Dagult has them. He doesn't deserve them-no one untouched by the Art deserves them.

On his best day, Khondar "Ten-Rings" Naomal was one to avoid in the streets, his kindest face a glowering warning to those in his way. Today, even the dogs and cart traffic stayed out of his way as the wizard stalked his way up the Street of Silks to the Palace. Despite the strong highsun glare, the wizard's disposition wove the cold of the early winter more tightly around him, and folk shivered with his passing.

Khondar passed a steaming food cart, its vendor hawking hot buttered payr nuts, the smell of which reminded him of Centiv, who loved the snack. Khondar's step and face tightened as he thought of his last view of his son in Blackstaff Tower, the fearful face, as green mists and blue imps swarmed over him.

I just need those keys, he thought, and I can re-enter Blackstaff Tower as the Open Lord, not an intruder. Then my son can find himself my most favored of children again.

What snapped him out of his reverie were the overheard rumors. "They say the Open Lord's son killed the Blackstaff's heir!"

Khondar's attention snapped back to the nut vendot, who passed on the latest gossip to his customers, a pair of servants wearing the star-headed mace atop the green banner seal of House Korthornt. One of them responded, "Aye, his love of history has got the better of him, what he tries to steal the secrets of Blackstaff Tower itself." The woman elbowed her companion and whispered a response Khondar did not hear. Still, he smiled as his disttacting rumors kept the gossips busy and everyone's attention away from him. That would make this easier, and also serve to keep" the current Open Lord off his guard-an advantage Khondar would exploit.

Ten-Rings had fled Blackstaff Tower last night, slipping invisibly back to Roarke House to recover his energy. He tried to sleep, but to no avail, so he buried himself in research all night, specifically the books from Samark. The items they took from Samark's corpse glowed with a new light after Khondar's trip through Black-staff Tower. He now saw a minor enchantment he'd previously ignored as merely a signature of sorts by the items' makers. He realized each of these was a key. Ahghairon and anything he himself enspelled acted as a key to pierce the fields around his tower-and Khondar already had five of the six keys he needed in the amulet, the ring, the dagger, and the two wands he pulled from the grasp of the Blackstaff's Tower.