Steven Schend - Blackstaff Tower

All around the table, applause scattered and then grew as people cheered his arrival. Above all, he heard Centiv the Blackstaff sing out in pride, "All hail the Open Lord! Long live Khondar, destroyer of the Shadow Thieves, the Dark Brotherhood, and the Cabal Arcane! All hail the Restorer of an orderly and lawful city! All hail the Open Lord!"

The tall doors leading into the chamber slammed open, and Renaer Neverember led a group of dirty, ragged-clothed halflings into the chamber. The female wizards in the crowd fainted at the sight of the lecherous midgets. Renaer loosed a crossbow quarrel at Khondar, who altered the bolt into a magic missile that returned and slammed into Renaer's chest. Centiv cowed the rabble that followed him by making the Hoot seem to fall open into spiked pits. The rebels fell to the ground, insensate, and Khondar reached down to hoist Renaer up by his now-filthy shirt.

"Why do you tesist our rightful rule?" Ten-Rings demanded. "Why do you not let the wizatds rule?"

Renaer smiled a cat's grin. "Because the Blackstaff and the Open Lord serve the city, not the other way around."

Khondar Naomal tossed in his sleep, his dreams of power driving him. He rolled over, pulling his furs and covers closer to him. The small fire in the hearth kept the room above the freezing temperatures outside, though the room could hardly be considered warm.

The spell-fields Ten-Rings established around his new home kept out all magical intrusions but those he desired. Wards protected all the doors and windows, and some of Centiv's more ingenious illusions cloaked the entire third floor, where Khondar now slept. Those magical protections muted all noise coming through walls and windows, allowing him rest despite the nearby belltower off" the Fanebar or the noise and occasional tumult in the stteet outside the inns and festhalls in the vicinity.

Normally, he would not have heard the voice on the wind in the Crown of the North that frosty morning. The fact that it launched him out of a sound sleep both irritated and frightened him as soon as the message was delivered. He growled, "Blast that woman!"

Khondar threw back the furs with a growl, launching himself out of bed and over to his worktable. With a snap of his fingers, the fire on the hearth blazed up, increasing the heat in the room. He took a quick survey of the table and sighed with relief. All six keys were in place-Ahghairon's Amulet, Key, and Ring; the sheathed dagger his research told him was Anthaorl's Fang, a gift to a long-since-dead loyal watchman from Ahghairon; and the two wands he'd plucked from the clutches of Blackstaff Tower. He breathed a sigh of relief and reached for a ceramic dome on the corner of his desk.

He lifted the cracked blue cover to expose a crystal ball the size of his fist. "Show me my defenses," he said.

Mists filled the center of the globe and showed swirling images of various rooms and doors, each aglow in shades of pink, ochre, and ash. Khondar exhaled in relief as his survey showed no spells had been disrupted, but he vented his fury. "That bitch bypassed my wards without disrupting them!" He muttered in harsh whispers to himself. "Bah-it matters not! Blackstaff or no, I'll soon have power over her and the entire city!"

Khondar settled on to a cushion next to the hearth, his spellbook on a low stand before it. Time was of the essence, and he needed every spell prepared for the coming battle for Ahghairon's Tower-and control of Waterdeep.

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

The Crown of the North awoke at dawn with a woman's voice carried on the snow-laden winds. Her voice echoed through every alley, every privy, every bedchamber, every hearth house, and every nook and cranny within the walls of Waterdeep. Even those places guarded by spells and prayers heard this proclamation. Few folk recognized her voice, but more than a few had heatd this oath, or versions quite similar, more than a few times in the past decades-each time a new Blackstaff stood atop the tower to declare the assumption of power.

"Know this, now and hereafter, the Blackstaff has fallen in service to the City. Mourn Samark Dhanzscul and honor his memory. Yet the Blackstaff has been taken up once more. I am Vajra Safahr, and I am the seventh Blackstaff of Waterdeep. Hear my solemn vow-I shall protect the city, its citizens, and its futute from all those who would see it harmed. I act as Magic's eye, hand, and heart for the Lords and for the good residents of the city. My predecessor Samark Dhanzscul died due to the predations of power-hungry men. I and my friends shall avenge him, and I shall strive to be worthy of Waterdeep's friendship and respect. Know you that she already has my protection and my loyalty."

As expected, those in the immediate vicinity around Swords Street and upper Castle Ward threw open their shutters to glimpse this event personally. Those farthest off with a high vantage point saw five figures at the top of Blackstaff Tower, four standing in an arc around a solitary figure holding a massive staff almost half-again as tall as she was. The tower gleamed and pulsed with silvery energy in every mortar crack in the tower and its curtain wall. Folk nodded, remembering this happened each time the tower found a new master. Talk flitted about the gathering crowds that the tower had never accepted anyone unworthy of being the Blackstaff-even if she were "but a slip of a girl."

Atop Blackstaff Tower, Vajra turned back to the group assembled around her. "I am very glad to see all of you survived. I know now, moreso than I did before, that you are worthy allies and friends to the Blackstaff. And I'm sorry for all you've suffered and lost in my and Samark's name. Now, I can do more to help us all-and hurt those who so richly deserve it." Vajra stepped forward, and stamped her foot once on the roof.

A flash of light and the five of them stood in a library, surrounded by walls of books save one wall with a massive fireplace. The ceiling rose higher than three men's heights, and book-laden shelves covered every span of the walls, some even floating without floors to support them. Globes of light shimmered brightly and zipped around the books and shelves to put lights over every person's head.

"There's quite a crowd growing outside right now," Vajra said. "More than a few have dozens of questions, not the least of which have to do with my being declared dead and Renaer accused of my murder."

"Can't say I'm surprised," Renaer said, "given how Ten-Rings managed to pin every I'll he's done on others. Shouldn't your announcement take the wind out of the Watch's sails? Keep them from bothering to capture us?"

Vajra chuckled and said, "And did your obvious innocence ever stop some less-than-objective officers from chasing you?"

"Fair point."

"I'm all for a little banter to lighten the mood," Osco said, "but don't we have an over-accessorized guildmaster to stop from conquering the city?"

"Listen to you, little halfling," Laraelra said, "talking like a hero. I thought you only got involved in things with profit."

"If that one takes power, there won't be much profit to be had in a city run by magic-users. All that energy goes to theit heads, makes 'em crazy." When Laraelra and Vajra shot him hard looks, he stammered, "Yourselves excluded, goes without saying."