Steven Schend: Blackstaff Tower

The Open Lord readjusted his ermine-lined vest and his heavy amulet of office on his chest, and said, "Very well. Guards, provide us our escort. I shall lead the way."

Lord's Champion Vorgan and three guards led Renaer through the back of the Lords' Court chamber, down a slim hall northward, and through a series of stairs and turns until he wasn't sure of his orientation. By the time they reached a set of double-doors, Renaer knew he'd not seen this place before, despite much time spent in the palace over the years. Dagult, ever in the lead, opened the doors, let his son inside, and then closed the doors again, saying to Vorgan, "Remain here, in case of need."

Renaer looked around this private office, sumptuous in its appointing. "The Chamber Emerald. I've heard of it but never seen it." Renaer went around, touching the silk wall hangings of a green dragon in flight flanked by an outward facing pair of black-pelted pegasi with green feathers and manes. "Can't quite remember-this was built with money from a noble family from Impiltur, right? They lost their fortune a few decades later, leaving this as their only surviving legacy. Didn't they lose all their family and fortunes with the Spellplague?"

"Enough scholar's games, Renaer," Dagult said. "You have your private audience. Don't waste my time and yours reciting what you know of House Khearen."

"You know these charges are false, Father," Renaer said. "You know I can prove my innocence beyond what I've already said out there in open court. I'm just here to save face-yours, in fact."

Dagult, drinking from a goblet, spit out wine in surprise and coughed. "What are you blithering on about?"

"You're in this too, Father. I just didn't want to expose you before your fellow Lords."

Dagult spun toward Renaer, his face purple with fury, but before he could unleash his tempet, Renaer simply said, "Roarke House."

Dagult deflated and took another breath before he said, "I don't know what you're talking about, boy."

"You're the only one who had access to the deeds and keys to all our holdings, Father," Renaer said. "You gave or sold Ten-Rings that house in return for something. What were you promised for his doing the dirty work?"

"Careful, boy," Dagult said. "You can still be punished by my hand, officially or simply parentally."

"Don't even think to try it," Renaer said, "or I'll simply start asking questions out there as to how Ten-Rings the Traitor got hold of a house owned by the Open Lord. That alone shall lead even dim-thinkers to other questions. And worse answers." He knew his father was shaken by these accusations, even if it didn't show on his face. The fact that he paced without looking at anyone or anything in particular told Renaer volumes.

Dagult took a few breaths before he said, "Don't threaten idly or without proof, Renaer. It's unbecoming. Besides, you're dealing with wizards here, boy." He paced away from Renaer. "They obviously got to your precious hin, charmed him into selling them Roarke House, and then wiped his mind of the memory later. We see at least one case a month like that in court."

Renaer slammed his hand against the desk. "Don't lie to me!"

The doors to the chamber burst open. Vorgan and the armed Watchmen entered. Dagult shook his head and waved them back. They closed the doors behind themselves after they looked around, seeing only the two men in the room.

"You have a share of my temper," Dagult said, "as much as you have your mother's wits."

"Father, her wits are what undid you. Them and your choice of agents." Renaer tossed a small pouch at Dagult, who opened it to find a blood-spattered eyepatch. He turned his back on Renaer to stare out the window of his office, only allowing his son to see him crush the pouch and patch. "Granek worked for you on more than one occasion before and after he was drummed out of the Watch. No longer. As for your cover earlier, one of the reasons I trust Sambral to collect my rents and manage my affairs is simple-he seems to be nearly immune to any mind-affecting magics. I am sure you know how many hedge-and-penny wizards and sorcerers try to weasel out of their rent by bending the brains of the collectors."

Dagult froze, his back to Renaer, and then sighed. Without turning to him, he said, "What is it you want of me?"

"I want all charges dropped and a public apology issued for me and my friends. I also want an end to this harassment by certain members of the Watch," Renaer said. "We both know they're more needed elsewhere than they are chasing me and my friends every night."

"Fair enough," Dagult said. "Provided you actually favor me with your presence when I ask for it. For the past two years, the only times I've seen you are when the Watch arrests you and drags you to me."

"I'll not appear simply at your summons," Renaer said. "A meal shared and scheduled once a tenday here at the palace, and I'll bring the wine."

"You do have your mother's penchant for good wines." Dagult chuckled. "Aye. Done."

"I also want independence," Renaer said. "You're the Open Lord, so live here at the palace. Conduct your affairs from here. Leave me Neverember Manor. I'm planning to restore its original name of Brandarthall in Mother's honor. I can oversee the Neverember business, if you wish, or you can find someone else to manage your holdings-openly or in secret. I only wish to manage what Mother left me-her wealth and her family's holdings, which far outstrip what you cobbled together with her money and family's connections. You can even pretend that I'm simply a wastrel son living off his father's money, if you choose to continue that tale. We'll both know who's the latger land holder in Waterdeep-and we'll both know each other's measure. I'll keep your secrets, if you keep out of my affairs."

After a long pause, Dagult said, "Done," but he remained unmoving before the large window.

"Am I free to go, then?" Renaer asked.

"One thing more-do you know where Khondar Naomal is now? Or his illusion-slinging lackey of a son?" Dagult turned to face him. "They, at least, are traitors, and the city shall demand blood."

"I don't know what happened to Centiv," Renaer said, "but my friends were going to face Ten-Rings before he tried to broach the shields around Ahghairon's Tower."

"What?" Dagult's surprise was genuine. "Guards!"

The three Watchmen burst in.

"Summon all forces and surround Ahghairon's Tower!" Dagult screamed. "Now! Get a runner to the Watchful Order and get us their most powerful to stop one of their own guildmasters from high treason!"

"Why the panic, Father?" Renaer asked. "It's not like Khondar'11 be able to penetrate all the shields. He's under a compulsion to do this, and Vajra believes it to be a suicide run. Thus, the city will get its blood after all."

"I helped raise you, so I know you're no fool," Dagult said. "Few know how to penetrate those shields, but those who tried unleashed all manner of magic. Ahghairon's magic helps protect this city and keeps spells more stable here than elsewhere. Should something disrupt that, the only magic left here might be mundane commerce."

Renaer finished his father's thought. "And there's too much coin to be taken from wizards and their ilk to let that happen."

Dagult spun around and spread his arms as if to say, "Of course!" His smile faded when he said, "Another thing we do know is that any intruder who penetrates those fields far enough, a Walking Statue-yes, a monolithic guardian of the City-teleports in from gods-know-where to attack the intruder."

Renaer started to ask where the problem was, but stopped and gasped. "That statue hasn't been summoned. Ever. It could very easily-"

Dagult and Renaer uttered the same conclusion together. "-bring a patch of the spellplague back with it!"

Renaer ran for the door, heading for the same destination as the Watchmen.