25th Mirtul, Year of Three Ships Sailing, 1492 D.R. – two bells after highsun.
I stare at the shimmering letters as they fade into the dimness. I spoke resolutely to my friends, urging them to help me plan an attack against the foul Hag. But now I struggle to rally my thoughts towards strategy. I am deeply disturbed by Lif’s frantic message. It evokes season after season of suffering. Years of bearing helpless witness to horror. It freezes me. I cannot think of much beyond his pain. And of the gruesome fate of the spirits of the lost children.
“I will speak to my roommate, Aubray. She may be able to help – soothing the spirits of the children. Maybe some of their remains are still to be found in this house. Then she can talk to them.” I offer uncertainly.
“Yes. You did say that your friend communicates with those murdered in the Deep.” Vaikner nods eagerly. “That is a fine idea: to bring someone here who can speak to the children!”
“Let’s figure out exactly what we mean to do here.” Eliana suggests. “Obviously dealing with the Hag is important. And we have a timeline now. We know that whatever scary shit happens in the manor, it goes on at the New Moon. So we need to get a plan together before then. But I have something else that I have to do as well…”
She trails off, frowning slightly at us.
“Brother Helmsing asked me to look into some odd occurrences on the farms just east of Waterdeep. Followers of Mielikki are among those affected and they have reached out to the Shrines of Nature for help. My Lady’s Chosen, a Lady Jeryth of Phaulkonmere, would like this matter investigated. And Brother Helmsing indicated that the family who requested assistance, the Snobeedles of Undercliff, may have some information that would be…useful for me. He asked me to go. And to take Sister with me, saying that she could learn from such a venture.”
“Undercliff? Do these odd occurrences involve attacks on livestock by a type of creature called a ‘Scarecrow’?” I ask.
“Um, yeah.” Eliana looks at me with surprise. “There seems to be some kind of infestation of animated straw men attacking the farmlands, yes.”
“I read about it in the Wazoo!” I say happily. “It is a troubling story and should certainly be investigated. I am happy to hear that Sister will be going with us. She seems a very serious and thoughtful individual. And I would like to spend more time with her. Is this a matter that we can look into after we defeat the Hag? Or do you intend to pursue Brother Helmsing’s quest before the New Moon, Eliana?”
She remains mute for a moment, face carefully blank.
“You mean to come with me, then? To help?” She asks quietly.
“Certainly!” It is my turn to be surprised.
“Right. Well, Brother Helmsing did think it sounded rather urgent. I would not wish to wait three days. Ideally, I’d go tonight. Or tomorrow, at the latest.” Her tone turns brisk.
“Very well.” I nod and then glance to Vaikner.
Expecting the Drow to respond to any mystery, particularly one so clearly involving malevolent use of the Art, with his usual curiosity, I am perplexed by his silence. He squirms unhappily under my gaze.
“I cannot leave the Deep.” He announces glumly.
“Why not?” I enquire brightly as, next to me, Eliana lets out an unsurprised puff of breath.
“I did not arrive here in the – usual -fashion.” Vaikner answers. “So I therefore did not obtain the documents that allow me official residency here in Waterdeep. Or the freedom to move in and out of the city. If I try to leave and, especially, come back in again, I will draw attention and interference from the City Guard.”
I stare at him, my air swirling dust into agitated little flurries around me. This is most disconcerting – Vaikner was smuggled here! I remember that the Underdark is a brutal place and its denizens are often desperate to leave it in any way that they can. I suppose attempting to follow official channels may seem like a useless luxury in such a setting. But, now that Vaikner is on the surface, surely he would be more comfortable moving about as a law-abiding citizen.
“Well, there is a simple solution to that problem, Vaikner.” I reassure him. “You should immediately head to the nearest administrative outpost and obtain the correct papers.”
“She’s right, Vai.” Eliana backs me up. “Traveling with the caravan I heard about all manner of shenanigans that folks have tried in the past. To save money or to avoid attention. The general consensus was that it is not worth it. And, apparently, it is easy enough to get an after-the-fact writ of residency. Every Ward has a City Guard post where you can apply for this. There is a fairly steep fine owed: ten gold dragons. But I think it would be worth it to give you legal status, Vaikner.”
“Ten dragons?” Vaikner looks stunned. “I was told…I was under the impression that the proper papers cost a great deal more than that.
“Well, my information might be a bit out-dated. But not by much, I imagine.” Eliana shrugs. “We can add checking on that to the list of other things that we need to do. And, speaking of gold, we have yet to pay that informant, Chisel, what we owe her for telling us about the Zhentarim warehouse.”
“Oh yes! I will take coin to the Skewered Dragon for her. It is on my way back to my own inn.” Vaikner volunteers.
“And I believe that, as we prepare to rid the manor of the Hag, it would still be useful for us to talk to those who defeated the creature in its physical aspect.” I speak up. “Before we leave for Undercliff tonight, we should try to meet with Ushien Stormbringer and Alric Wends. Then we can consider any wisdom that they give us as we make our own plans.”
“Right.” Eliana agrees. “And there is one more thing that I was thinking about. Now that we have confirmation on what is haunting this place, who is most vulnerable, and when danger is most serious, we should warn the neighborhood. We won’t be here all the time and we can’t ask Lif to take sole responsibility for keeping curious children out of here. Let’s have a quick word with the families in and around Trollskull Alley. Tell them what we have found out and make sure that they know to keep their youngsters out of here. We’ll need to visit Saer Ederick as well. Have him keep his orphans away.”
“Yes. We are here now so let us start with warning the families in the neighborhood.” I turn to the front door.
Bidding goodbye to Lif, my friends and I step outside.
“Let us go to Steam and Steel first.” I suggest. “You can meet Bekhir’s family!”
At the armory, Avi opens the door. His face breaking into a delighted smile, he greets me with the same kindness that I remember from my first visit here. I introduce Eliana and Vaikner to the armor-master, and explain the reason for our call. Avi listens politely but his smile turns uncomfortable.
“Trollskull Manor haunted? You are saying that a Hag that preyed on children lived on our quiet little street and that its spirit is still active in your new house?” He says incredulously. “And you are planning some form of…of exorcism?”
“Yes.” I reply earnestly. “And, before we can remove this blight, we are asking you to watch Behkir and Bekhora very closely. Do not allow them near the manor.”
Avi only stares, perturbed wavelets lapping at his shoulders where his hair falls down his back.
“Here, Vaikner, show him.” I turn to my friend. “We have a document from the Hall of Records that shows Mathilda Graegrimes once owned the manor and that the property was taken from her for crimes against the city.”
Vaikner is well prepared. Reaching into his pack, he not only produces the record of deed transfer to Trollskull Manor, but also the aged copy of the Wazoo that describes the discovery of Gristlegums’ foul deeds, capture, and trial. I was certain that we had returned the newspaper to its proper place in the Font of Knowledge! Torn between admiration and deep disapproval at this useful theft, I watch Avi read. His eyes grow shocked and he shakes his head repeatedly.
“Oh no.” He mutters. “This is truly ghastly. I would never have let Bekhir play in that old house if I had known about any of this…”
“What? You what?” A fiery voice makes us all start.
Embra and Bekhir have quietly come into the front room of the shop. They are carrying baskets brimming with vegetables; clearly they are returning from a visit to the market to obtain provisions. Embra’s eyes and braids blaze. Bekhir is looking at us all with worryingly keen curiosity.
“Ah.” Avi smiles weakly. “Hello my dears.”
I bow respectfully and step forward to take an overloaded basket out of Embra’s arms.
“Perhaps I can help you with this?” I cough slightly at the ashy heat that shimmers into my air. “ Bekhir can show me where to put your supplies. And then, perhaps she and I can walk a little outside…”
“I can show you my blades!” Bekhir announces enthusiastically. “We can fight.”
I have seen enough of the young Steam Genasi to understand that any warnings she hears about a Hag-haunting will only ensure that Bekhir does all she can to get into Trollskull Manor.
“That sounds like a fine idea. You and I can spar outside together while my friends and your parents talk.” I stumble a little as I try to step back from Embra only to find that she retains an unyielding grip on the basket that we are both holding.
“It does not sound like a good idea.” Embra rumbles.
“Please. We really need to talk to you.” Eliana says quietly. “It’s important.”
Avi and Vaikner both nod fervently. Embra looks suspiciously from her husband to her guests. Then she releases her shopping basket and settles back with an impatient little hiss.
I let Bekhir lead me out of the room. It seems unworthy to leave Eliana and Vaikner with the task of convincing the Fire Genasi of our good character and noble intentions. But I trust that my friends are prepared for this challenge. And somebody needs to distract Embra’s inquisitive daughter. So I do my best to conceal my relief as I skip hurriedly behind Bekhir. Under her guidance, we stow away provisions with more haste than neatness. And then we head outside to a little walled courtyard off to the side of the armory.
“Mama made these for me.” Bekhir says proudly.
She draws two short swords. They are light, well-balanced, and perfectly sized to her small form. And they are very sharp.
“These are beautiful. Your Mama’s work is superb.” I nod as Bekhir beams. “You are interested in fighting with two blades?”
“I am now.” She nods eagerly, looking at my belt.
I smile and draw Quen and Vess. The little Genasi’s eyes light up.
“Here. Let us begin with your stance.” I instruct.
I have never taught blade work to another. But I remember my own early lessons in sword-craft very well. I now re-tread these same paths with Bekhir: instructing her on how to grip her weapon, how to stand, assessing her balance and flexibility in preparation for demonstrating the basic attacks and parries.
She is very excited. Can a fledgling be considered endearingly blood-thirsty? Perhaps it is more proper to call Bekhir impressively ferocious. And absolutely fearless. She listens raptly to all that I say, her focus as rapier-sharp as her blades. Then, as I show her one of the spins that I myself have just learned from the fighters of Corellon Larethian – all hypnotic grace ending with a deadly slash – she shakes her little head firmly.
“Mama says not to get too fancy.” She announces gravely. “She says just to dispatch your enemy as quickly and efficiently as you can.”
I blink at her for a moment.
“Papa, though…” Bekhir confides with disarming trust, beaming again. “Papa says that there’s nothing wrong with a little flourish and elegance. They have both killed many enemies. Many, many.”
The Genasi child looks at me proudly. I return her gaze, thinking about the exquisite craft on display at Steam and Steel. I consider Embra’s fiercely protective hostility and Avi’s horror to hear the truth about Trollskull Manor. I picture the little family – water, fire, and steam – as I first saw them all together.
“Yes. I can believe that.” I reply. “I hope that one day your Mama will share some of her undoubtedly noble battle tales with me.”
“No, I do not think that she will be doing that.” Bekhir says.
“No. I can believe that too.” I acknowledge. “Well then, perhaps…just maybe you should not tell those tales either. If you do not think that your Mama would talk to others about how accomplished of a warrior she is, it may be better if you do not reveal this information either, yes? Now here, look at this…”
We return to our training. With a pupil as enthusiastic and athletic as Bekhir, the time passes joyfully. And quickly. I am surprised to see Avi at the door, waving for us to come back inside.
“That was fun!” Bekhir exclaims. “Will you come back and practice with me again?”
“I certainly will.” I promise. “For one of your age and size, you are already skilled. And I very much enjoyed our time together. I hope to see you again soon.”
Little puffs of steam are left floating in the air as Bekhir races inside. I hear her excitedly reporting on the progress she has made in sword-craft while Embra’s gravelly voice questions why her daughter piled heavy turnips on top of delicate spinach yet again. I pass by, in time to catch Bekhir’s jaunty grin and wink. Her voice turns sweet as she reassures Embra that she will not treat the vegetables so thoughtlessly again. Wincing guiltily, I quickly follow Avi in to the front of the shop, rejoining Eliana and Vaikner.
“Thank you for coming to us and telling us about this danger to the little ones.” Avi says. “We will remember that. And, Elodie, after discussing this situation, Embra offered to help you on the night of the New Moon. When you plan to battle this Hag spirit.”
I look at him, startled. Eliana and Vaikner nod in confirmation.
“She will not enter the house. But she will stand guard outside. Ensuring that no child goes within. Not on that night, of all nights.” Avi explains.
“That…I did not expect her to offer such assistance!” I cry. “Please thank Embra most warmly for this! An excellent arrangement, I think. She will be on patrol outside while we are all safely indoors. I mean…we will be able to focus all of our attention on the manor. With only the Hag to worry about.”
Avi laughs his burbling laugh as he waves goodbye.
“Alright.” Eliana turns to look west down the alleyway. “Avi told us the name of the master of the school that Bekhir and Jenks both attend. A Balthazar Englehart. Seems like he is definitely one that we should visit. He’ll need to keep any children in his care well away from Trollskull.”
“I would like to stop in at Corellon’s Crown.” Vaikner says. “As the shop is so close to the manor, it will be good to ask Fala to keep an eye out. For any trespassers or anything else that may be suspicious. Also, they may have helpful advice on how to handle the haunting.”
I am curious to meet an Elven neighbor and to see inside their shop, with its glittering glass-paned roof. I offer to accompany Vaikner.
“Let’s save some time. I’ll go to the school, you two talk to Fala.” Eliana agrees.
Opening the apothecary shop door, I am instantly dazed by the melange of fragrances that wafts all around me. From mushroomy loam to acrid ammonia to pungent herbs and sweetly floral aromas. The air is thick with smells and clings, warm and damp, to my suddenly tight curls. I sneeze with displeasure. Vaikner is already striding towards a cluttered counter beyond a small jungle of potted plants. Brushing away a questing green tendril reaching out from a hanging basket, I follow him.
Fala is tall, with the willowy grace and brown skin typical of a Wood Elf. Their slender build is accentuated by the bulkiness of their companion: a Half-Orc. His green-grey skin blends well with the exuberant leafy growth all around him. But his muscled build, black leathers, and beautifully crafted bow do not allow him to fade into the background. I examine Fala and their friend curiously. Even as we come close to the counter, they continue their conversation. Their voices are pitched too low for me to hear what they are saying but they are speaking intently and appear quite preoccupied with their talk. They only break off when Vaikner calls out a cheerful greeting to the shopkeeper.
“Good afternoon, Fala!” Vaikner smiles. “I am back, as you see, to purchase more of your fine herbal supplies. And, may I introduce the third of Trollskull’s new owners? This is my friend, Elodie Skyshard.”
I step forward, greeting Fala politely. Then, after an expectant pause that remains unfilled, I nod to their Half-Orc companion.
“Hello. And this is your friend?” I turn back to Fala.
“Ah. This is a good customer of mine.” Fala smiles smoothly.
The Half-Orc says nothing, merely turning and walking away. I notice that he does not leave the shop, however. Instead, he heads towards a staircase at the back of the room.
“Your good customer has a very fine bow.” I say in loudly courteous admiration.
The Half-Orc continues to say nothing, disappearing onto the upper floor.
Shrugging, I turn back to Vaikner.
“Actually, Fala,” The Drow is saying eagerly. “It is good that we talk to you in confidence. We have discovered new information about our property.”
The Wood Elf’s tapering ears quiver delicately.
“Really? This sounds most intriguing. What have you found out?” They give Vaikner their full attention.
Vaikner, his tale told with the efficiency granted by frequent repetition, relays the ghastly tale of Gristlegums to Fala. The Elf listens intently but says little in response.
“And so you will be purifying this manor?” They finally ask. “Exorcising the Hag’s spirit from this place?”
“Well…no.” Vaikner says hesitantly. “Lif inhabits Trollskull Manor also. And we do not wish to harm him.”
“Who is Lif?” Fala’s eyes sparkle with curiosity.
“Lif was once the owner of this property too.” I answer. “He ran a tavern out of Trollskull Manor. He was murdered and his ghost is now trapped in the house.”
“But he is not an evil spirit!” Vaikner adds hurriedly. “He is not like the Hag.”
I think of shards of glass piercing my lovely coat but, with a virtuous sigh, I hold my peace.
“Murdered? Oh my!” Fala cries. “And another haunting? Tell me more about this!”
“Did you know Lif? Were you here when the manor was a tavern?” I ask.
“Alas, no. No, I cannot say that I knew this Lif.” Fala replies. “But how tragic! And who does he say murdered him?”
“Hmm. It has been difficult for him to communicate this.” Vaikner frowns. “A horned creature of some kind. Perhaps resembling a Minotaur.”
“Does such a description spark any memory for you, Fala?” I ask.
They only gaze at me, eyes wide as they shake their head. I see them drawing breath for another eagerly inquisitive question.
“Do you know if there are many Minotaurs in the Deep?” I pre-empt the Elf.
Fala’s mouth closes and they pause in thought.
“Well, there is the Misty Beard.” They say slowly. “A tavern known for hiring the more…unusual humanoids. I know a Minotaur was employed there several years ago. But, whether he is still there now…”
Fala shrugs their shoulders and spreads out their hands in a gracefully helpless gesture of ignorance. I scowl. The Misty Beard certainly sounds like an intriguing place to visit. But I am frustrated with the Wood Elf’s clear preference to hear all available information while themselves revealing as little as possible. Fala may simply be innocently curious but, in this brief meeting with them, they make my hair bristle as I note all the hallmarks of an experienced and cynical collector of gossip.
Vaikner is not perturbed. He engages in cheerful discussion with Fala, seeking their advice on which of the Wood Elf’s wares are most likely to be of use to us in our upcoming struggle against the Hag. I do not share Vaikner’s enthusiasm for herbal remedies. I find it difficult to overcome my doubts: how are sage, ginger, or anise to be helpful when battling a dark, cannibalistic spirit? Strained as my patience becomes, I successfully maintain a diplomatic silence until Vaikner has completed his purchases and we have left the leafy shop.
Two Halflings stand across the street from Corellon’s Crown, staring at us fixedly. Vaikner and I both stop abruptly.
“Do you see them, Elodie? Right there – looking at us?” Vaikner whispers tensely.
“I see them.” I answer grimly. “Let us walk that way directly. It is best that we gain the upper hand right away. Forestalling another ambush.”
Vaikner nods, striding forward with determination. The Halflings make no attempt to hide their interest in us. One of them reaches into his pocket! I move swiftly to catch up to Vaikner. Not wishing to appear weak, I prepare to draw my swords.
At that moment, the male Halfling produces a flute. His companion, a slight female Halfling, strums a lute. Flashing sweet smiles, the pair start to play, sing, and dance. They are street performers!
Faltering slightly, and then continuing forward at a slower pace, Vaikner and I join the Hin. Once we are close to them I can see how thin they are. Their clothes are worn and stained. They smell like dirty dock water, smoke, and sweat. Vaikner reaches into his cloak and holds out a silver coin to the performers. Hunger flashes over the Halflings’ grimy faces.
“Hello.” Vaikner smiles. “You play very well. How about another song? One of your choosing.”
I nod, seeing his wisdom as the Hin’s eyes turn dreamily thoughtful. Without needing to exchange words, they begin to play. The music that ripples through the alley is liquid sadness. The female Halfling continues to play her lute, but, after a moment, the male Halfling sets his instrument aside. They both start to sing. It is a wistful melody and sung with great feeling. I find myself transported; yearning for something long lost weeps in my heart. Regarding Vaikner’s rapt expression and the light shining out of the Haflings’ gaunt faces, I see that I am not alone in my feelings.
The song ends and the four of us return slowly to the shadowed reality of Trollskull Alley. I take a shard out of my coin purse and hand it to the lute player.
“That was truly lovely. Thank you.” I sigh. “I am Elodie, Elodie Skyshard. And this is Vaikner Bootsman. What are your names, please?”
“I am Ferny Tosstream.” Ferny’s speaking voice is as mellowly sweet as her singing. “And this is my cousin, Wilster Leaflow. We are both of Hardbuckle.”
“You are very gifted!” I exclaim.
“Yes indeed! That was a charming performance!” Vaikner adds enthusiastically.
We look at each other, eyes aglow. It is clear to me that we have both been struck by the same marvelous idea!
“I believe that your impressive musical skills would be a most valuable addition to any future tavern that we open here!” I speak first. “If you have no other claims upon your time, perhaps you would be willing to perform there.”
Ferny and Wilster stare.
“Yes, yes!” Vaikner confirms. “We are the new owners of this house here, Trollskull Manor. We intend to make it safe, perform the necessary repairs, and then open it as a working tavern. So, you see, we will be in need of musical entertainment. And you are wonderful! Would you be able to play for us?”
Ferny and Wilster’s eyes grow big.
“That’s very kind of you to say! And yes, we would certainly want the work…” Wilster stammers.
“As you can see, it is a very large house. There are many rooms so, if you have no other place that you prefer to stay, you will be able to find accommodations for yourselves here. I am sure that you will be most comfortable!” I suggest happily.
Ferny and Wilster’s eyes grow bigger.
“Indeed!” Vaikner continues the negotiations. “And, naturally, we plan to have a fine kitchen. So you will be able to fully nourish your talents.”
Wilster sways a little, audibly gulping. Ferny glances at him quickly and then looks up at us.
“Um, yes. Yes, that all sounds most acceptable.” She squeaks.
“Excellent!” Vaikner beams. “Perhaps you can call back here at the manor and we can discuss this further…”
“After the New Moon night.” I interrupt hastily.
“Yes. I was going to say so.” Vaikner shoots me an irritated look. “In several days, perhaps, we can meet again to talk over your steady employment here. Meanwhile, I imagine that there will be children coming around the alley for treats during the Trolltide celebrations. We may also have a group of little ones with us for a holiday outing. They would enjoy your music too. Will you be available to play here at the manor on Trolltide? It will not be open as a tavern yet, of course…”
“Yes. We will be able to play on the holiday. Happily. We will be pleased to.” Wilster answers with an eager smile.
“But we’ll need an advance!” Ferny speaks over him, looking with sudden nervousness at the dilapidated manor behind her. “To…to reserve our service for that particular day. Holidays are always busy. We will need coin.”
“Of course.” I wince, following her gaze to the ominous-looking house that we have been enthusiastically pointing to as our chosen venue.
“Certainly. We should pay you for performance in advance.” Vaikner nods agreeably. “What is a fair day’s wage? Three dragons?”
It is now Ferny who gulps.
“Yes. Yes that will be fine.” She chokes out.
I count out the agreed upon amount. Then I look with concern at the musicians: their threadbare coats and pale, thin faces.
“And…will you be alright until that time?” I ask. “Will you be safe? Have a place to stay and sufficient food?”
“We’ll manage, aye.” Wilster says.
“We always do.” Ferny nods.
“Well, if you find that you need help before the New Moon, let us know. You should not go into the manor but my friends and I will be here at various times. You will surely be able to find us if you wish to.” I assure them.
Somewhat reluctantly, I allow the talented young pair to skip off down the alleyway and out of sight. Beside me, Vaikner gives a contented sigh.
“What a find!” He says with satisfaction.
We are still exchanging mutual congratulations on the swift and decisive way that we secured such fine performers for our future tavern when Eliana returns from her conversation with the school master. Bursting with pride and anxious to share our news, Vaikner and I barely manage to listen politely as Eliana tells us about her visit to the nearby school.
“Master Balthazar Engleheart is a sensible man.” She says. “He has promised to keep a close eye on the students at Murkledorn Academy. And he has undertaken to write to all of the parents. Asking them to please keep their families away from the alley on New Moon night. He will use the excuse that there are refurbishments being done at the school…
“Elodie, you hair is…floofier than usual. Vaikner, why are you squirming? What’s going on with you two?”
“We met the most wonderful pair of musicians!” I blurt out exuberantly. “They performed for us right here! In the street!”
“Yes! We managed to convince them to play at the tavern that we will open in the manor. And, to be starting with, they will musically entertain the orphans on Trolltide!” Vaikner announces rapturously.
Eliana sighs heavily.
“That’s alright. I suppose.” She frowns. “Although I’d prefer it if we all made hiring decisions together in future. What terms did you offer?”
“Well, they asked for an advance, naturally.” Vaikner replies. “So we paid them three dragons today. We have not yet decided on what the actual daily rate for their performances will be. Whether more or less than the advance – we will discuss this when we talk to them again.”
“But we did make sure to offer them rooms to live in at the tavern.” I hurry to assure Eliana. “And told them that we will have a working kitchen where they may eat when they are hungry.”
Eliana’s face, sun-kissed despite her naturally fair complexion, grows pale. She closes her eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath. Then she begins to talk.
It quickly grows clear that Eliana does not share our delight to have discovered the talented Ferny and Wilster. Her grievance has to do with how it is not typical to offer itinerant musicians room, board, and payment all at once. I shake my head sadly.
“I see that Humans place a different value on music and do not judge the quality of gifted singers in the way that I am used to.” I say loftily. “I should have realized this after the painful experience that was the Opera.”
Eliana’s eyes narrow.
“Erm…” Vaikner looks worriedly between the tall archer and myself.
“Despite this, Eliana: I have faith that, when you hear Wilster and Ferny for yourself, you will appreciate how special they are.” I continue kindly.
Eliana takes another deep breath.
“Besides, they had nowhere else to go. It was obvious that they were sleeping out in the streets and had not eaten in some time. Or bathed.” I conclude, wrinkling my nose.
Eliana pauses, the fury in her eyes fading to mere exasperation.
“Alright. I get that life is harsh for many in this stinking city but you and Vaikner…Vaikner? Are you alright?” Eliana’s voice grows urgent.
Concerned, I look to our friend. Vaikner is standing perfectly still and his face is blank. There is a dazed look in his eyes and, as I watch, they cloud over; vibrant crimson fading to hazy maroon.
“What’s wrong with him?” Eliana asks.
I only have time for a helpless shake of my head when Vaikner abruptly inhales and his eyes shine out in ruby tones once again. His face grows animated.
“I am well! Quite well. That was a Sending!” He cries excitedly. “I received a message from the Blackstaff of Waterdeep! Asking the three of us to join her at her tower at our earliest convenience. Naturally, I responded that we will head there directly. I only wish to wait until four bells, for Fukurou to report back…”
I work to calm the snapping tendrils of my hair. The Blackstaff! Unable to attend to Vaikner, or even to feel more than a passing curiosity about what it is that my friend wishes to discuss with Vajra, I bite my lips. I must quiet my mind. I have traveled so far for a chance like this one! I must focus: my People depend on my deft handling of this matter.
Do I confide in this most powerful of Human Magists and appeal to her inner righteous nature in a sincere call for help? Or do I approach her with caution and try to finesse information from her under some pretext? A vague diplomatic mission or, perhaps, a passionless quest of research for abstract knowledge? My air flickers about me with uncertainty. While I am confident that I can be subtle and manipulate the situation to my needs, the devious approach is so much less appealing to me. I long to gain a true and trusted ally to my People’s cause. I am so far from Home and have been so alone for such a long time…
I must be strong. I must observe carefully and judge wisely. It is obvious that Vaikner is eager to meet Vajra; the Drow surely has much knowledge that he wishes to exchange with another practitioner of the Art. I will watch them together. Perhaps then I will know how to act.
The soft feathery whisper of Fukurou’s wings, and a gust of lavender, recall me from my anxious planning. Vaikner shows no surprise as his Familiar lands gracefully on his shoulder. They have obviously been in mental conversation for some time. Vaikner now turns to us with fresh cheer.
“Fukurou was successful!” He exclaims proudly. “He followed Maxeen all the way to where the drays stopped and the beasts pulling them were unharnessed for their rest. Maxeen is stabled in a large courtyard with multiple buildings for animals. Fukurou says it is in the Trades Ward. Close to Uza’s shop.”
“Probably at the Court of the White Bull, then.” Eliana nods. “There are large stables there.”
We thank Fukurou, congratulating the owl for his fine tracking work. Fukurou accepts the accolades calmly, nipping gently at my fingers as I scratch behind his sleek little head.
“Well, I expect that one or the other of you knows how to get to the Blackstaff’s Tower.” Eliana says. “We should be off.”
“Yes. Of course. I know where it is located. Now that Fukurou is safely returned, we should go.” Vaikner agrees.
“The Blackstaff’s Tower is a famous landmark here in the Deep. In Castle Ward. Of course we can find our way there.” I say slowly. “But, Eliana, are you sure? I know that you have other business you are in a hurry to attend to.”
“Aye.” She smiles. “But that will keep a while longer. Meeting the Blackstaff is obviously important to both of you. And besides, Vajra invited all of us, yes?”
Vaikner nods.
“Well, I suggest we take a hansom cab. The sooner we get there, the sooner we find out what this is all about. And can move on with the rest of our growing to-do list.” Eliana sighs.
Once we reach a busier thoroughfare, finding a carriage is quick work. As we pass westwards through the Deep, the residential streets make way to the larger guildhalls and temples of Castle Ward. Our brief journey ends on Swords Street and, disembarking to pay our carriage driver, I look around curiously. The Blackstaff’s Tower stands alone on the western side of the wide road. Unlike the elegant and grand parade of pale stone buildings that line the rest of this street, Vajra’s Tower is a dark, solitary structure. Rising up from its own shadowy garden, it looks like a ashen finger. Pointing with baleful resentment at the golden sky.
We cross the street and pass through the low wrought-iron gates into the Tower’s desolate garden. My air trembles with sudden chill. From this close, the walls rising before us are obsidian shiny and entirely featureless. I see no outer staircases, turrets, or balconies. Not to mention windows or doors. It looks more like an obelisk than an inhabited building. Frowning, I take deep, careful breaths. I have encountered Human use of the Art in my travels. But this is vastly different to my previous experience of minor conjuration or illusion. This place thrums with power beyond my comprehension. I abruptly fight a rising sense of dread.
Vaikner, his face avid, steps lightly forward towards the base of the Tower. Looking back from him to the dark expanse of the wall ahead, I gasp. Doors, tall and arched, have silently appeared in the smooth stone. They swing open invitingly. Vaikner hurries inside. Eliana and I follow. The enspelled portal closes soundlessly behind us and its outlines dissolve, leaving only a blank wall. I shudder, realizing that we have no choice but to go deeper into the Tower.
“Well, that is a well-calculated creepy first impression.” Eliana mutters next to me.
I smile at her weakly, pushing aside my trepidation so that I can assess our surroundings for any immediate threat. We are in an entry hall of medium size. The floor is laid with tiles the color of sullen rain clouds. The inner walls are the same unmarked black, glistening stone as the outer Tower. The room is empty of any furnishings. It contains only a spiral staircase, curled and waiting in one corner. At the base of the stairway shimmers an odd figure. I see the shape of a tall Human man but he is not entirely solid in form. I study him intently: there is a green tint and translucent quality to the stranger that mark him as some kind of spirit.
“Greetings.” The figure speaks in a warm tenor voice. “Welcome to the Blackstaff’s Tower. I am Samark. Vajra awaits you. Come upstairs.”
Vaikner is already hurrying towards Samark. Moving more cautiously, Eliana joins him. I take one last look at the wall that we just walked through. It already seems a dreamy impossibility that the free air of a sunlit Waterdhavian afternoon lies just beyond. Slightly dazed by my surroundings and intensely curious, I turn back to my friends.
Stepping carefully from one worn stone stair to the next, we wind our way up the Tower. The building is disorientating in its dimensions. The staircase curves and grows first wide, then narrow. Its shape does not seem to match the lines of the building that we saw from outside. A few turns in and we arrive at a landing. The stairs continue up beyond it and there is also one door off the landing. It is closed and, hovering quietly in front of it, is another ghostly male Human figure. Translucent jade eyes regard us without curiosity.
“Welcome. The Blackstaff awaits. Continue up.” This figure speaks in a more sonorous voice.
We do as we are bid and, arriving at a second landing, find another door and another guardian. The third figure emits a wheezing rasp, greeting us and ordering us to continue ever upwards. He too stands so as to block access to the door behind him, while leaving only the spiraling way open. As we continue to climb, I glance back. My curls tighten to see that all three of the ghostly figures are following close behind us. The clear message is that we are not permitted to retreat. Our only course is forward and up.
We come to the third landing. Breathing in carefully, I smell only dust. The door off this level is guarded by a female Drow. Her pellucid form shimmers as she shifts restlessly in place.
“Welcome, honored guests.” She speaks in the same clipped tones as Vaikner. “Keep going. Up and ever up.”
I stop. I bow to the Drow, look behind me again, and then turn my gaze to the closed door.
“What if I were to stop here?” I ask quietly. “If I were to go through the door that you stand in front of. Rather than continuing to troop obediently up the stairs?”
The dim space suddenly rings with delighted laughter.
“Oh! You are precious!” The Drow calls merrily. “And I am bored. Please do try to do what you said!”
I glower at her mocking smile. I decide that I do not care for her at all. She makes my fingers twitch unthinkingly towards my sword hilts. Still, I spoke only out of idle irritation at being herded like a flock of cloud-sheep up the stairs. I do wish to see the Blackstaff. So, gritting my teeth, I follow my friends as the Drow’s taunting chuckle ripples out behind me.
On the fourth landing, we encounter another female figure. This time, the spirit is Half-Elven. Her almond-shaped eyes are calm and the lines of her face delicate but not weak. Her translucent throat is mangled. I hear Vaikner inhale in surprised concern. Eliana’s steady steps slow. I find myself trembling: the spirit’s piteous appearance troubles me deeply.
“What has happened to you? Who hurt you in this way?” I blurt out before the figure can speak.
“My throat was torn out by Artor Morlin in the Mere of Dead Men. In the Year of Fallen Friends.” She answers tonelessly.
Sick and saddened, I think quickly. Year of Fallen Friends – that would be 1399 D.R. Almost one hundred years ago. I think I am beginning to understand these strange servitors.
“I am sorry.” I whisper, bowing my head. “I wish you peace.”
“There is no peace. Only service.” The Half-Elf replies grimly.
Troubled but increasingly intrigued, I continue moving up the Tower. All of the spirits that we have encountered now follow in our footsteps. Every turn of the stairway seems stretched out. We have taken longer to reach each progressive landing. And every door that has been locked to us has been more ornate; polished wood richer with carvings, gleaming door handles more fancifully wrought at every ascending level. We arrive at the fifth landing to find another Human spirit awaiting us. He appears to be in his middle years. Impatience, confidence, wry humor – I can read all these in the ghostly planes of his keen-eyed face. He waves us on imperiously.
My air swirls faster. I feel growing conviction that I know who this spirit guard is. Pausing again, I bow respectfully.
“Excuse me. What is your name?” I ask.
The ghostly man smiles. Perhaps at my excitedly high-pitched tone, perhaps merely because he is friendly.
“Khelben Arunsun.” He replies.
I successfully stifle a squeak of glee.
“Welcome to you, Eliana Cooper, Elodie Skyshard, and Vaikner…Bootsman. Continue up the stairs. You have only one more turn to climb. The Blackstaff awaits you above.” Khelben continues.
He knows us by name! I can barely restrain the dizzy whipping of my hair. This legendary Magist, a hero out of Elven and Human history tomes alike, knows who we are and greets us with kind words! My awed delight is matched by my fervent gratitude to my Lady. Aerdrie Faenya continues to guide my path. It is through Her grace that I have arrived here.
And here, in this enchanted Tower, are to be found all of the Blackstaffs of ages past! Or, at least, ghostly versions of the mighty spell-casters remain. Still serving Waterdeep and its current Blackstaff faithfully! Moved beyond speech, I follow Vaikner and Eliana up more steps. My heart quickens as I consider the immense knowledge that is surely held by the ancient spirits! I will find answers to my questions here. I will be able to fulfill the task that I took on for my People and prove my worth as a Warden of the Avariel. And I will return warmth and light to the Aerie!
On the sixth landing there is no spirit guard. Only a single door, standing open. The staircase continues past this level of the Tower. But none of us hesitate; we know our path. Vaikner, as eager now as he was at the entry to the Tower, moves forward first. He steps through the open door and into the room beyond. Eliana and I walk together, pausing at the doorway for a moment before following our friend.
The air that joins mine from within the Blackstaff’s chamber is cool and fresh. I breathe in the scent of candle smoke, parchment, fragrant black tea, and hint of a sweet floral perfume. The room is not particularly large but it appears comfortable. The ceiling is vaulted and late afternoon light streams in through several tall windows. There are colorful rugs softening the stone floor and armchairs, bookshelves, and small tables arranged invitingly around the chamber. Seated close to an unlit fireplace is Vajra Safahr.
The Blackstaff of Waterdeep is a Human woman. My first thought is that she is extremely young to hold a position of such power and honor. Then, as Vajra raises her head and I look directly into her sparklingly intelligent eyes, my second thought is that I am about to fall down clumsily in front of this mighty Magist. Stumbling to regain my balance, I look down in awkward irritation to see what has tripped me. It is Vaikner.
I place my arm quickly on Eliana’s elbow to spare her from making a similarly inelegant entrance. We both stare down at Vaikner. I am surprised that a Drow would lose his usually graceful footing in such an unfortunate fall. I quickly grow stunned as I realize that Vaikner has deliberately placed himself in this strange prone position. He is prostrating himself before the Blackstaff as if he were a battle captive before his vanquisher. Preparing to plead, with unworthy cowardice, for his life. My mouth drops open.
“Please. That will not be necessary. Please get up. There are plenty of seats. Make yourselves comfortable.” The Blackstaff sounds genuinely embarrassed to receive such homage.
Eliana and I, restricting ourselves to brief bows, hurry to obey her instructions. We sink into a soft sofa. Vaikner rises and, face tight with a combination of anxiety and excitement, perches on a nearby chair. Bolstering myself with a scatter of cushions until I am seated in a more appropriately upright posture, I look at our host curiously.
She gazes at each of us in turn, gentle humor turning the corners of her mouth up into the smallest of smiles. She is young and her build is slight. But her pretty face is touched by weariness; its sweetness tempered by a thoughtful sadness. Her skin is medium brown and the light green gown that she wears is in lovely contrast to her brilliant dark eyes and glossy tumble of black hair. Floating directly next to the slim woman is a seven foot tall ebony staff. It is topped by a metal hook. It hovers near Vajra, shifting to remain at a constant distance from the Blackstaff whenever she moves.
“Welcome. I thank you for coming so quickly on receiving my message. I am Vajra Safahr.” Vajra’s smile blossoms into a grin. “Renaer and Meloon have filled me in on your recent shared escapades. And Renaer said that you each wished to meet with me. To ask something of me. I have refreshments here somewhere. Ah yes, there. On that tray. Please help yourselves.”
As we thank her and, each in turn, introduce ourselves, the six ghostly figures that shepherded us on our journey through the Tower silently enter the room. They spread out around us, arranging themselves so that they are positioned against the walls of the chamber. They watch quietly.
I hear cheerful squeaking and crunching as Pip and Eliana nibble on cheese and biscuits. I take a grape from the tray but forget to eat it because, at that moment, Vaikner starts to speak.
“Oh Mighty Blackstaff. I cannot adequately express my thanks to you for meeting with me…” He begins portentously.
“Just Vajra is fine.” Vajra breaks in. “No need for formality.”
Vaikner, seemingly perplexed, grows quiet for a moment. It appears that he is undergoing some inner struggle. After an instant he shakes his head slightly, smiles self-deprecatingly, and continues.
“I have been most eager to meet you.” He says, in much more Vaikner-like tones. “I was hoping to obtain your advice. And…and your help.”
I chew my grape absently, my full focus on Vaikner’s inquiry and on Vajra’s response to him. I expected the subject matter would be more arcane but, oddly, Vaikner starts out by apprising the Blackstaff of his precarious position in the Deep. And asking for her help in getting a writ of residency. Vajra is patient and appears sympathetic as Vaikner seeks her advice on this administrative matter.
“I understand that you find yourself in an uncomfortable spot, Vaikner.” She smiles regretfully. “But you see, as Blackstaff, my ability to act within the Deep is limited. Or rather, carefully controlled. There needs to be a balance. If the Blackstaff’s power was not curtailed and constrained within very specific bounds it would be most easy for Waterdeep to become a magocracy. My role is to provide service and protection to the Deep only in matters that relate to the Art. One way that this is accomplished is…well, I can rarely leave my Tower.”
“You are trapped here?” I blurt out, startled.
“No, Elodie.” Vajra laughs. “But here I can be mostly alone in my own mind. Whenever I go outside, I take all of the Blackstaffs that came before me along. In my head. It is not supportable for long, as you can imagine.”
I stare at her, imagining it.
“That’s awful.” Eliana breathes sympathetically. “So you are stuck here if you want privacy. Or you deal with the mental clamor of all those who had your job before you when you leave your Tower? Oof.”
A slightly annoyed murmuring ripples through the assembled spirits.
“Yes.” Vajra, clearly skilled in diplomacy, does not elaborate. “The other limitation on me is that, whether from my Tower or from anywhere else, I am not to interfere in matters of the Deep’s governance that do not involve magic use. So, this makes it difficult for me to assist you directly.”
Vaikner slumps a little.
“Difficult, but not impossible.” Vajra stands and walks over to a table laden with papers and scrolls.
She pushes several books and an empty teacup aside, frowning. Then she tilts her head and her staff floats up to the desk’s untidy surface. After a moment, a letter flies up to hover next to the staff. Vajra takes it, nods, and brings the piece of paper over to us.
“Finding an indirect means to help you obtain what you need, Vaikner: this is doable. If, that is, you are also willing to help me.” Vajra continues. “Here is a petition from the Dungsweepers’ Guild. It is, as you see, addressed to the Open Lord. Here in rather, hmm, colorful language, the Guild Master describes the difficulties the Sweepers are facing. The violence that plagues the Deep, as the gang conflicts escalate, is disproportionately affecting those that make their living in the streets. The Dungsweepers are requesting the Open Lord’s protection against the gangs. So that they can perform their necessary duties in safety.
“Lady Laeral Silverhand finds her City Watch already quite stretched. And has turned this petition over to me. Requesting that some of the Blackstaff’s Gray Hands be deployed to provide the Dungsweepers’ Guild with protection. So, despite this problem not being a magical one, I am now authorized to act in this matter. And I can deputize anyone that I choose to my Gray Hands. I could deputize you, Vaikner.” Vajra smiles.
“I…deputize me?” Vaikner echoes.
“Indeed. On a probationary basis, naturally. Still, even during a trial period, my Hands receive any documentation that they require to perform their duties. Writs of residency, record of probationary deputization…” Vajra explains.
Vaikner is nodding eagerly.
“Here is what I would need, Vaikner. Accompany the Dungsweepers on their duties for three shifts during this coming tenday, thus fulfilling my obligation to the Lady Laeral. If you do this, you will have, at least temporarily, the papers that you need to travel safely in and around Waterdeep, to seek gainful employment, and to apply for membership to the Watchful Order of Magists and Protectors. If, by the end of this trial period you have not yet found another means to obtain legitimate status here, and if your performance for the Gray Hands warrants it, your temporary status with us can be turned into a more permanent arrangement.” Vajra concludes.
“Thank you!” Vaikner beams. “This is most helpful. I would be happy to do anything that is needed.”
“And the two of you?” Vajra turns to Eliana and myself. “I know that neither of you requires my help with obtaining officially sanctioned status in the city. Still, would you be willing to join Vaikner in this protective detail for the Guild? Your skills would be useful and both Lady Laeral and I would see your participation as a favor.”
I do not need to consider Vajra’s offer for long. I find it thrilling that I may join an elite fighting force such as the Gray Hands. Even if only on a temporary basis. Their renown has spread far beyond Waterdeep! Furthermore, from what both Volo and Renaer have told me of the historic artifacts in Piergeron’s Palace, I know that I need to inspect these ancient treasures for myself. It would be wise for me to provide whatever good and right service I can for the Lady Laeral Silverhand. If I can show the Deep’s ruler that I am true of heart, an honorable ally, then perhaps I will be permitted to search the Palace collections for the Tears of the Seldarine.
“I will provide protection to the Guild.” I reply.
“Aye. I’m willing also. It’s an important task and we might as well stick it out together.” Eliana nods.
Vajra smiles brightly at us all and returns to her desk. She starts to prepare the documents that Vaikner requires.
“Lady Vajra?” Eliana continues politely. “Do you know an Alric Wends? We are dealing with a haunting at a property that we recently acquired. The spirit of a Hag named Gristlegums. The actual Gristlegums was arrested and executed for her crimes some thirty years ago. One of those involved in her capture was a young Mage named Alric Wends. Given that the Hag’s spirit has returned, we are trying to track down and talk to any who knew the monster in life. We hope to get more information about what happened and how it is that Gristlegums can return and infest the house that she once occupied. We hope to find something that may help us get rid of the Hag for good.”
Vajra listens with interest.
“I am familiar with Alric, certainly.” She says. “These ugly events that you are describing – a lot has happened since then. Alric is a gifted Magist and has steadily risen through the ranks of the Watchful Order. He is now the deputy Guildmaster. You will find it easier to meet with him if I vouch for you. Here, let me write a letter of introduction. This way he is more likely to give you an audience and answer your questions.”
“Thank you very much!” Eliana thanks her, as Vaikner and I bow.
“And what of you, Elodie Skyshard?” I start as Vajra turns to me. “Renaer said that you were eager to meet with me. What answers do you seek?”
Vajra’s voice is kind and there is no reason for me to squirm under her steady gaze. But, now that the time has come for me to speak, I am struggling with uncertainty. Everything about this Tower is so strange and unsettling. Except for Vajra herself. She has impressed me with her intelligence and her fortitude. She bears a great burden of responsibility with grace. The Blackstaff has been frank about what she can offer and what she, in turn, needs. And most generous with the help that she is able to give. I would very much like to talk openly to her.
Yet I cling helplessly to my long-held silence about my true home. And about my true purpose in coming to the Deep. I have guarded my secrets so closely for many weary miles. It is terrifying to be surrounded by those not of my kind – by Humans – and to be contemplating revealing myself to them.
I look to Vaikner for comfort. He does not appear as glad as I expected, given that he has obtained all that he came here for. He seems preoccupied and stares fixedly at Vajra’s staff. I turn to Eliana. She is brushing cheesy crumbs off Pip’s whiskers before allowing him to climb back into his cosy bed in her sleeve. I glance out of the window, drawing strength from my Lady’s sky.
“I am seeking answers.” I begin, forcing my tight voice to rise above a whisper. “I have come a long way. From Pelvuria and Mount Sundabar, on the Great Glacier. I am here as an emissary of the Aerie of the Snow Eagles. I speak for my Mama’s People, the Avariel.”
I swallow nervously. I believe that all about me is still and silent but I cannot be sure. Something that sounds like a howling wind is rushing through my mind and my air whirls in answer.
“I am certain that one as learned as yourself, Lady Vajra, does not need to hear the tale of the Avariel.” I continue anxiously. “You, I am sure, know our story; tear-washed yet full of valor. You know how, after the Winged Elves, radiant even beyond the splendor of the other Tel’Quessir, left the Feywild in the ancient days, they found near-destruction at the wings and fangs of the monstrous Dragons! How the Avariel were hobbled to the unforgiving earth; silenced and grounded to avoid discovery. I need not speak further of my People’s long search for safety and of the founding of the Aerie. Where, amongst the snowy wastes of the Great Glacier, a Mythal was set in place to preserve the Avariel’s first and only haven. This blessing of our Lady and of our learned Elders has kept our nest warm, green, and blossom-filled despite the blizzards that ravage the peaks nearby. Towers and temples of crystal grow in the Aerie. And the Avariel are able to sing and fly once more.”
I pause. I do not yet have the courage to look up at any of the others around me, but I finally meet Vajra’s eyes as I speak. She is staring at me, surprised.
“All of this I am sure that any learned person knows. But I have distressing news that you likely have not yet heard.” I continue. “Over the years, the Mythal that guards the Aerie has begun to weaken. The Avariel are still protected. We are still able to grow flowers and fruit while snow drifts pile up around our shining walls. The Winged Elves can still soar. And to feel the day’s warm sun caress their feathered wings. But the evenings grow cold. A new fierce bite comes with the dawn air. Our luminous world is changing and we do not know why.
“I, along with others in my home, have searched for an answer. I believe that I have found it – or, at least, I found the promise of hope in an ancient legend. This tale tells of a time when a single tear of each one of our Deities, The Twelve Seldarine, was shed for the Avariel’s suffering. Sanctified and preserved, they became gemstones of great power. These divine gifts were stolen: lost and scattered through the long ages and across the vast distances of these Realms. But, if found and reunited, I believe that their blessed power could be used to bring safety to my People.”
I sigh.
“I know that this task seems insurmountably difficult – both in the great expanse that we must search and in the risks of such distant travel.” I acknowledge. “But the Avariel have long been used to laboring against frighteningly steep odds. There was no lack of those willing to embark on this quest. To travel to the far reaches of our world in search of any clue to the Tears’ location. And to fight, if needed, to regain our blessed gems. I myself had the honor to be sent to the Sword Coast and to the city of Waterdeep.”
My confidence, my pride in my People’s steadfast courage, has risen as I talked about my home. I realize that I am holding myself straight and looking to Vajra with clear-eyed question.
“I came to you seeking wisdom and guidance: do you know of the Tears of the Seldarine?” I ask gravely. “Do you know what may have become of any of these gems? Have you any advice for me in my search?”
“I do not.” She shakes her head. “I fear that you give me too much credit. I know little of the matters that you speak of.”
I regard her calmly but my hair twitches with frustration.
“Fortunately,” Vajra smiles tiredly. “There are others with us who may be able to answer your questions.”
At this, she turns to the ghostly figures of the past Blackstaffs, still ranged all around us, still listening quietly. She inclines her head in invitation and I feel a surge of excitement. Samark, the very first spirit to have greeted us, steps forward.
“I have heard of the Tears of the Seldarine.” He says. “This is an ancient tale, indeed. Uncertainty grows with the ages that pass. But I have heard rumor that one of these gems is held by the Red Wizards of Thay.”
I bow to Samark in silent gratitude. Yet I am disappointed. This tale is known to the Avariel already.
I am abruptly swept up in yearning for my home. I wonder if Altiir has reached Thay yet. At the start of my own journey I was infuriated by my grounded state. I wondered endlessly how much time the delay of such mundane travel – by foot and ship and cart – would cost me. And I was determined to be the first of the Wardens to find a Tear. Now, many tendays later and in the presence of spell-casters of unknowable power, my thoughts are rather different. Mostly, I hope that Altiir is safe. And I wonder whether he is encountering as much that is marvelous and strange on his travels as I am on mine.
“There are two other Tears that I have heard tell of.” Samark continues. “They were said to be held in Aelinthaldaar.”
The spectral Blackstaff looks at me questioningly and I nod. Once again, I know what he speaks of. I have read all that I could find about the ancient Elven city that once flourished where Waterdeep stands now. I know its story, all the way up to its foolish and wasteful end. It has captured my imagination, both waking and dreaming. I have wandered its forlorn halls and flown through its ruined avenues as I slept. While the true-blood Elves in the Aerie sat in meditation, staring into their past with shimmering, unseeing eyes, I visited a place that I have never seen in life…
“Both of those Tears are now, alas, lost to us.” Samark’s mournful voice breaks into my thoughts.
“Hmph. Incorrect.” A much less lofty voice sounds out.
Hair snapping straight out, I see that Khelben has come forward to speak. I hold my breath. Staring at him intently, I see the moment when his ghostly face changes. Stepping towards Vajra, he looked more bored than anything else. Then, his gaze flickers down and suddenly his eyes glow with wrath. The dread I felt on approaching this place, dispelled a little by the pleasant comfort of Vajra’s room, coalesces within me, sickeningly insistent once again. The light dims and cold encroaches on my air. Something is terribly wrong!
I follow Khelben’s angry stare. All that I see is Vaikner, leaning forward, withdrawing a book from the folds of his robe, and placing the tome quietly on a table between us.
“Contain it! Now!” Khelben orders curtly.
Vajra, lips pressed tightly together, stares at the table. In disbelief, I watch as spectral chains erupt from the floor and swiftly bind the book. All of the ghostly figures around us are surging forward now, calling out to Vajra and to each other. The chains snap and tighten. The book and the table that it was laid upon are yanked down, disappearing into the floor. There is an instant where all is quiet. Sleepy sunlight once again filters into the room. Then the Blackstaffs, past and present, turn on Vaikner.
“Explain this!”
“Where did you come by such a thing?”
“Why would you bring this book here, to this Tower?”
“‘What were you thinking?”
Furious voices clamor all about him and Vaikner looks dazed.
“I..I was thinking that this is the best place for it.” He stammers. “I knew that I needed help! This book is the real reason that I have come. It is why I needed to speak to the Blackstaff. I thought this was the only way… I must stop it from happening!”
Vaikner’s words mean little to me. And, now that my shock at the Blackstaffs’ rage and at the explosion of writhing chains is subsiding, I burn with bitter disappointment. Khelben was about to speak to me of the Tears! I am certain that he was going to offer me invaluable help with my task. And now, instead, all is chaos and uncertainty.
Samark and Khelben are arguing and their contempt for one another is crushing. Even though it is not currently aimed at our company, their fury is rather intimidating. I decide that it would be…unwisely impolite to interrupt their discussion. Setting my jaw and glaring at Vaikner, I listen.
“His motives are not important! At least, now is not the time to delve into them! The book is what matters. And he brought it here, to us!”
“You cannot know that he does not yet remain a threat! It would be safest to bind him, along with the tome!”
“Let us focus on the book. That is what is most pressing. Vaikner did the right thing to bring it here. We need to study this!”
“Certainly. The book needs attention.”
“Then we agree. Binding it is what is crucial now.”
“‘Yes, we can agree on that…””
“Fine!”
“Fine!”
My roiling curls loosen slightly to hear Khelben and Samark’s tones grow more measured. My relief does not last however, as they now whip around to face Vaikner once again.
“You will not see this book again.” Samark says grimly.
“Do not think about it any more. Do not follow the dreams that it may send you.” Khelben adds frostily.
Then, without another word of explanation, the spectral Blackstaffs step back. They are leaving Vajra’s room! Miserable, I realize that our meeting, that our entire company, has been tarnished by anger and mistrust. My sole chance to find out what I need to about the Tears is slipping away!
“Please! Blackstaff Khelben, please do not leave!” I plead. “I know nothing of this book and why it has angered you so! And…and I still beg your help to bring safety to my People.”
Khelben’s lucent glare snaps in my direction.
“Be more careful with whom you keep company!” He hisses.
And turns away. I inhale sharply, shamed and hurt. Khelben turns back, his angry eyes meeting the pain in mine.
“The two Tears that you seek were not lost.” He grates out. “At least, not beyond recall. They were taken from ruined Aelinthaldaar by Halaster Blackcloak. The mad mage claimed them and they disappeared with him into Undermountain. One remains trapped in that dark wasteland. But the other…the other may have been brought up, back into the light. And taken by the Lords of Waterdeep. If the gem is still in the city then it is held by the Lady in Piergeron’s Palace. Seek an audience with her if you would know more.”
Khelben’s fury seems to fade a little as he speaks. I too, have gathered my disjointed thoughts. I remember all that I have read about the first Blackstaff. I recall learning of his legendary skill with the Art, his cleverness when dealing with his enemies, his acts of heroism. And, of course, of his great love for the Lady Laeral Silverhand.
“Would you have me pass on any message?” I ask without stopping to consider. “During my audience with the Open Lord, would you have me say anything to her?”
For a moment I feel like I am falling into the darkening hollows of Khelben’s eyes.
“No. There will be no messages.” He answers quietly. “They have brought her enough pain.”
Head bowed, my hands close into fists as the spectral figures gently fade and disappear from the room. I am alone with my companions. And with Vajra. And I am still reeling with disappointment. Our meeting went so awry! There was surely much more that Khelben would have told me had Vaikner not made him dangerously angry. I turn to the Drow.
“What…” My hair sparks at each cold word. “…was that?”
Vaikner stares at me disconsolately.
“My book?” He whispers.
“Yes.” I continue speaking slowly and deliberately. “What was this book that you presented to the Blackstaffs to such disastrous effect?”
“It is the Henneth Ti Nu Nannen. An ancient text written by a madman.” Vaikner’s voice grows more animated. “It is in old Elvish but I have worked for a long time to translate it. At least, portions of it. I know that it is evil. It summons something that no longer walks in this world! The title is a reference to this. It means the Window…or maybe Portal, or Door, to the Mother. Or, perhaps, to the Creator of Five Points. Something like the Star Mother. The Door to the Star Mother…”
I feel another swoop of nausea as the dread coiled within me shifts at his words. This time however, my own icy anger makes its cold warning easy to ignore. I seethe, caught up in imagining how much precious information Vaikner’s terribly timed and senseless interruption may have cost me!
“Vajra, please!” Vaikner now addresses the Blackstaff urgently. “I beg you, return my book to me! It is my purpose to prevent its summons from coming to pass! I need it back. Or, at the least, I must be involved in its continued study. Let me help you with this!”
“No.” Vajra’s refusal is softened by a kind smile. “No, Vaikner. It is good that the book is here, where it can do no further harm. You need to let it go now.”
“But…” The Drow shakes his head.
“I advise you to complete the task that I assigned to you. Concentrate on this. You have committed to safeguard the Dungsweepers at their work.” Vajra continues steadily.
Eliana, who has been observing what passed avidly while continuing to ingest biscuits, now rises.
“I believe that is a fairly clear hint for us to focus on what we can actually handle.” She smiles wryly.
“No…but…you do not understand! My book, please!” Vaikner remains inconsolable.
“I am sorry for your distress.” Vajra’s voice is gently compassionate. “But do not fear. The book will be taken care of. And your contribution, Vaikner, will be remembered.”
Her comforting words drive Vaikner from despairing pleas to resigned sadness. His mouth works and tears spill from his eyes. I stare stonily at my weeping friend. Eliana turns to me for a moment, sighs, and then steps forward towards Vaikner. She pats him awkwardly on his shaking shoulders. Vajra continues to speak soothingly of the good choice that Vaikner has made in entrusting his cursed book to the Blackstaff. I dislike the uncharitable blankness that I feel inside me at the sight of another’s tears. But I find that I cannot, just now, rise to the level of kindness demonstrated by Vajra and Eliana. I remain silent and unmoving.
The short remainder of our meeting blurs past. Vajra hands Vaikner his documents and the letter of introduction to Alric Wends. We thank her respectfully for her wisdom and generosity as we say farewell. As we depart the Blackstaff’s chamber, Eliana slips back through the door. I am dimly aware of my friend gifting Vajra with one of Flune’s chap books. She herself must have received it as a present from Renaer. Eliana wishes to leave the Blackstaff with a light-hearted adventure tale to entertain Vajra in the confines of her Tower. And, at least for a short time, to distract her from her weighty responsibilities.
I am heart-warmed by this sweet gesture. But only for a moment. Only as long as it takes me to realize, grimacing, that the spectral Blackstaff waiting to guide us downstairs is the ghostly Drow. During our ill-fated meeting I heard Vajra call her Kyriani. As Vaikner passes by her, still trembling in his distress, Kyriani sneers. Abruptly, I grow weary of this entire place. Unruly hair tumbling about me, I sense my control over my temper crumbling.
“And you?” I turn to face Kyriani, my voice unforgivably cruel. “Who ended your life?”
My foolish, fledgling-like attempt to combine taunt with threat falls flat. Kyriani stares at me for a moment, genuine amusement lighting up her face.
“Oh you!” She reaches up with a glittering arm as if to fondly pat my cheek. “I died of old age. In my bed. Surrounded by young men.”
Eliana chortles. Vaikner, sighing leadenly, continues down the steps.
Confused by Kyriani’s statement and by her unexpected good cheer, I peer suspiciously into her eyes. Reluctantly, I acknowledge that there is something infectious about the warm glee shining back out at me. Something rather likable about Kyriani’s jaunty smile. Perhaps I do not detest her as much as I had previously suspected. Nodding to her in awkward apology, I hesitantly return her smile. The Drow Blackstaff’s hearty laughter is still ringing in my ears as we finally pass out of the Tower. I am delighted to leave its confounding, intriguing, and tragic inhabitants behind us.
As I stare at the busy street before me, my air merging gently with the familiar salt-rich breeze blowing off the water, I find it difficult to believe that we are surrounded by the same hazy afternoon that we left behind. I shake my head, trying to dispel the strange melancholy and dread that my time in the Blackstaff’s Tower imbued me with. The unsettling feelings pass. Leaving behind only anger. I reach for my belt, fingers closing on the handle of one of Embra’s fine daggers.
Vaikner is stumbling just ahead of me, still thoroughly absorbed in his own misery. And he is a Drow – fine-boned and slight of form. It is not difficult for me to either surprise him, or to lift him up. Moving swiftly, I seize his arms, raising him and slamming him up against the dark wall of the Tower. Then, holding him up easily with one hand, I press my knife blade up to his throat with the other.
“How could you do this?” I choke out. “You stole away my only chance to gain wisdom, to find answers! Who are you really?
Vaikner gasps and tries to speak. I am not listening. I am too furious. And too frightened.
I now see that, so gradually that I did not realize it at first, my trust in Vaikner has been subtly worn away. He has been secretive and guarded. He has embarked on solitary explorations of the Deep and the allies he has found are not known to me. The faith that I have been struggling to keep in my friend was completely shaken today. When he produced an artifact of such evil that it caused uproar even amongst the powerful in Blackstaff Tower.
“What is your true purpose?” I continue accusingly. “And what is this book of yours? Where did it come from? Why did you bring it here?”
“Elodie…” Eliana’s calm voice sounds out beside me.
“No!” I am trembling with rage and hurt. “No! I remember all the tales that I have ever heard of the malicious cruelty of the Drow. I have never believed even a small part of such dark gossip! But now? Now I do not know what to think! Except that I am acutely aware that I know nearly nothing at all about you, Vaikner!”
Panic chills me. I know nothing at all about this Elf who, in his turn, now knows all about me and my secret purpose!
“You do not understand!” Vaikner’s eyes blaze with anger; his fury suddenly mirroring mine. “My work, my sacrifice! My cause is just. And I left everything behind to pursue it! And now you would question me? Interfere with my quest?”
“Your quest!” My disbelief bursts from me in harsh laughter. “What about my quest?”
“What quest?” Vaikner asks, blinking.
I growl, tightening my grip on my dagger. He would mock me? Now? With my blade against his throat?
“That’s enough!” Eliana pushes her way unceremoniously into my air. “Listen to me! Listen!”
Caught by the passion in the usually phlegmatic Human’s voice, I turn to her with a scowl.
“I don’t know either of you well.” She continues forcefully. “But I’ve been in these Realms long enough to learn a few things. One of which is to judge those I meet by their deeds. By how they act. And not who they are. Or where they come from. I’ve gotten to spend a fair bit of time with the two of you these past days.”
She sighs as a pained expression flits briefly over her face.
“I’ve seen what both of you have chosen to do!” She goes on, looking at us seriously. “Elodie, all that I’ve seen from Vaikner are selfless acts. And, well, relentless nosiness. Both to the point of rashness. Think about how we met! He was the only one who stepped forward to help you defend that Half-Orc during her brawl!”
“Yaghra.” I say moodily.
“Yaghra.” Eliana nods eagerly. “And he almost died, more than once, during our rescue of Renaer and Floon! And then we both saw his kind concern for Lif! And his care for the orphans…
“Vaikner has shown that the true desire of his heart is for good. He has been a worthy companion. We owe it to him to at least remember this. Even if today has been, um, bizarre. Even if you doubt right now, remember what you have seen Vaikner do. Do not leap to judgement.”
I frown again. But this time it is with distress and shame. I am not sure why Eliana’s words have reached me through my fury when my own struggles to tame the icy rage within me failed. Perhaps it is because she usually says so little. And is not one to speak of good and evil. Or of the chosen purpose of one’s heart…
Whatever the reason, I find myself deeply moved by her entreaty. What she talks of – judging others by their actions rather than their appearance or origins – is at the core of my beliefs also. I am ashamed that I need another to remind me of this. But I admit that it does my heart a healing service to hear her.
“And remember also, we have signed on to join the Gray Hands.” Eliana sighs again. “We will certainly get to speak to Vajra again. And, through her, to the other Blackstaffs. Today was not your only chance to get the information that you need. There will be other opportunities, Elodie.”
Again, her calm and rational words soothe the turmoil of my heart. Removing the knife pressed against Vaikner’s throat, I step back and let the Drow slide to the weed-strewn ground. He immediately reaches into his robes. For a startled moment, I fear that he is preparing to throw a vengeful spell in my direction. But, even as I tense, Vaikner pulls a pair of outlandishly decorated spectacles from his pocket. I recognize them: these are the glasses embellished to resemble butterfly wings that Vaikner obtained from Uza’s shop! He places them on his elegant nose.
“Ha! Haha. Wonderful. So glad that we were able to sort all this out!” Vaikner gushes manically. “And, may I say, you are looking simply spectacularly stormy today, Elodie! The way that the grim shadow of the Tower casts a slightly grey tint over your blue features. Charming! Haha!”
“Alright. It’s been a day.” Eliana grumbles, taking a step back. “What’s going on with him now?”
“Um. I think…maybe these?” I hesitate, and then pluck the butterfly glasses off Vaikner’s tear-streaked, wildly grinning face.
To our immense relief, Vaikner deflates as soon as the spectacles are removed.
“Right. Well. Those work rather well, I think.” He gasps, leaning back against the Tower wall.
Then, seeing our blank stares, Vaikner continues.
“The Spectacles of the Monarch.” He explains. “One of my acquisitions from Curiosity and Satisfaction. They are charmed to imbue the person wearing them with a sense of peace, well-being, and good-will towards all those that they see through the rosy lenses! I thought that it might help me to calm my angry feelings to try them on. That it would make it easier to be around you, in your wrathful state, Elodie. And I was right! Our quarrel seems to have ended peaceably. Is this not so?”
I grumble briefly under my breath, staring down at the colorful glasses in my hand.
“Has it? Ended peaceably?” Eliana presses me.
I look up at my companions.
“I admire your quick thinking Vaikner. And I am impressed by these useful spectacles.” I bow formally to the Drow. “Also, I apologize for my violent treatment of you. It has been a most trying day and I became a little…overwhelmed by events. It is likely that you are not, in fact, evil.”
Vaikner smiles uncertainly at me. Eliana nods, seemingly satisfied.
“Right, let’s decide what we are going to do next.” She suggests.
An uneasy peace returns to our little company as we agree that, whatever may divide us, we are at least united in the important tasks facing us. We will work together for the next three days in order to defeat Gristlegums’ spirit form and free the manor. We will help Eliana investigate the mysterious moving Scarecrows in Undercliff. And we will honor our promise to Vajra to guard the Dungsweepers in the coming days.
I look out at the light-washed scene before us. Directly ahead, the soaring walls of the Halls of Justice, the Deep’s temple to Tyr, gleam in the westering sun.
“Ushien Stormbringer, who, by the Wazoo’s account, bravely fought the Hag alongside Alric Wends, was a novitiate of the Knights of Samular at the time of their battle” I remind my friends. “These Knights are the militant branch of Tyr’s faith. They serve in the Halls of Justice, bringing law and peace to the North. Perhaps Ushien is still to be found there, at the temple. We wish to speak to her. And we are so close. It is worth a look.”
Eliana and Vaikner agree that, as the Halls of Justice beckon just across the way, it would be wise to visit there now. We start east. Tension shivers through my air but my spirits rise a little as the temple grows closer. I have many questions and here, amongst the stalwart faithful of Tyr, I hope to find guidance.
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I hope that you enjoyed this chronicle of our party’s first meeting with the Blackstaff of Waterdeep and all of the surprises that ensued…I have several songs that play along in my mind for this chapter:
For Ferny and Wilster’s song:
Weep for Manetheren, Hildegard Von Blingin’
For Vajra, Blackstaff of Waterdeep:
This is how it Feels, Inspiral Carpets.
Please also visit my playlist on Spotify. I will be populating this with all of our campaign tunes as we adventure onwards:
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3LMqJPOUCyYblgQyrGPjgb?si=371ac604e7c84c38
Tears of the Seldarine 
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