Steven Schend - Blackstaff Tower

"No, child, you are not. Another has been recruited."

Vajra stopped, the litany in her head disrupted. She stared at Ashemmon's shade in disbelief, then searched her memory. She nodded and smiled. "It's Eiruk, isn't it? Even with Khelben possessing me, we all felt it when he touched us-Khelben's mark is on him."

"Aye, lass, good deduction. He may be your heir, should you choose, though he himself is yet unaware of his potential and his gift."

Vajra hesitated, then said, "He is a good friend, but his feelings tun deeper for me than mine do for him. Until I can face that more evenly"-Vajra cast her eyes back at Samark's ghost-"let us leave Eiruk in peace. The Blackstaff needs less passion and more thought at present."

Ashemmon's shade began again. "By what right do you claim the Blackstaff?"

"The Blackstaff before me bound me to this power, this tower, and this time and place."

Again, the ghost gestured and the circle barring her from moving closer disappeared.

"By what right do you claim the Blackstaff?" said the image of Krehlan.

"I claim it by power, having been born of Art with sorcery in my veins."

Another circle gone.

"By what right do you claim the Blackstaff?" said Kyriani's spirit.

"I claim it by knowledge, having learned of magic at the feet of the Grand Wizard of Tethyr's Crown, the Court Vizera and my aunt, Mynda Gyrfalcon-Thann."

Kyri winked at her as she skipped around the circle, the magical barrier dissipating with each playful step.

"By what tight do you claim the Blackstaff?" asked the ghost of Tsarra Chaadren.

"I claim it by love, having earned the trust and heart of Samark, the Blackstaff before me."

"By what right do you claim the Blackstaff?" came the stern question from Khelben, the greatest and oldest of the Blackstaffs.

"I claim it by pain, having enduted much in its setvice, having lost friends and lover."

Khelben smiled grimly. "Girl, you have not yet known hurt or loss."

With that forbidding omen, Khelben swept his hand around, and the final barrier between Vajra and the true Blackstaff was gone. Vajra was sure she heard the wolf s head on the staff snarl a warning at her, but her heart pounded in her ears now.

All six of the Blackstaff spirits hovered near, creating a new circle around Vajra and the staff. They joined hands to seal the circle behind her. When they all linked, the floor pulsed with silver and green energy, filling the room with light.

Taking a deep breath, Vajra said, "I, Vajra Safahr, take up this burden willingly, humbly, and with all I was, am, and ever will be."

Her right hand closed about the metal-and-wood amalgam. It felt warm and inviting. The only sensation she felt was a centering, a grounding, as much of her tension slipped down through her body and into the stones beneath her. She shuddered as she expected some explosion of power when she touched it, but she felt nothing new other than a reduced pressure in her head.

She looked at Samark and Khelben, who stood together, surprised. Samark's shade said, "Darling, you've been carrying the full power and knowledge of the Blackstaffs within you for months. It came to you when I died, as it does to the Blackstaffs heir. Alas, since you didn't come to the tower and touch this staff to ground that power, it wreaked havoc with your mind. For that, I'm so sorry. Our spirits remain here in these stones, available for counsel and help, but never to walk the city again."

"You mean I was as powerful as any of you all the time I was

Ten-Rings's captive?" Vajra felt her temper rise, but let it go when Kyriani raised her hands before her.

"No, dear heart. You carried fragments of our spirits, pieces of our knowledge, and only some wisps of power-enough to let us send you aid to keep you alive."

"I don't understand."

Krehlan stepped forward and said, "Woman, when the Grand Mages of Rhymanthiin and I dissipated the kiira n'vaelhar that held the spirits of my father, Tsarra, and Kyriani, we bonded its magic to this tower and its sister in the Hidden City. When someone takes on the mantle of the Blackstaff or its heir, a template of their spirit, their intellect, their knowledge, becomes part of the Blackstaff and its place of power. What you had to endure was all that knowledge without sorting or grounding it properly in ritual. While Ashemmon and Samark assumed their power easily inside the tower, you had neither the benefit of a Blackstaff in hand to hold some of the power nor the tower itself to ground it. You held all our spirits and knowledge, but our collective lifetimes and awareness overwhelmed yours."

Tsarra, impatient at Krehlan's long answer, broke in. "We drove you mad because the tower is what should hold twelve centuries of life experiences. That's why Krehlan merged the gem with the tower-so it could be yout advisor, rather than have the Blackstaff be a slave to the copied minds of those who came before her."

Khelben cleared his throat, silencing all the others, and placed his hands on Vajra's shoulders. "It is your time now. I see my blood and Gamalon's blood in you, and I know Waterdeep is safe. Go now and be the Blackstaff. Reach out with your feelings, find your friends, and go forth. You all have work to do this day. We shall be here to help if you need us."

With that, he disappeared, and the others did as well, filling the room with greenish mist. The last to dissipate was Samark, who embraced and kissed her before dissolving, leaving Vajra with teatful eyes in the chilling mist.

Vajra cleared her throat, and then did as Khelben bid. She realized her companions stood in chambers below, each of them tested by the spirits of the tower. She knew how to manipulate the tower so that all the doors they opened would lead them to where she was. With concentration, she even could listen in on what they were saying. Vajra knew the secret words that locked and unlocked score upon score of mysteries within this tower. She realized she had no new knowledge of magic or spells, but she knew where to find information and hidden lore to do so. She knew the location and nature of every magical item within the walls of the tower, and some made her shudder with their power or what they held at bay.

Vajra could see another tower-N'Vaerymanth-in her mind's eye, its layout the same as this, but the city over which it looked was far more orderly, far more magical, and she vowed to visit Rhymanthiin, the Hidden City of Hope, when the time came.

All this and more awaited her as the Blackstaff. It was time to let her city know.

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

Khondar stood and stretched in the morning sun flooding through his windows. He walked over to the western window. Guards dutifully walked the parapets of the palace, and he could see from this vantage that breakfast had been laid out in his office in the easternmost tower. With a mere thought and a blink of magic on his left index finger, the Khondar became a beam of light and lanced across the distance, reappearing among a gasping group of courtiers, visiting envoys, and various sycophants and servants.

The room proudly displayed the Lords' Arms and the Seal of Waterdeep in massive tapestries on opposite walls. Marble floors and intricate wood-inlay walls gleamed with the polish of human effort, not magic. The palace no longer catered to outlanders or nonhumans, and the city was richer for it and for the rule of mages. Khondar looked out the window to see many tall ships in the gleaming harbor, wizards from many lands coming to this great city and the rebirth of magic.