I read about these ancient elven devices, but I never thought I'd see one that still worked. Khelben should be safe to heal slowly inside there." Tsarra stooped to pick up the necklace off the floor and place it around her own neck. She sent out tentatively, Khelben? Khelben's mental voice wavered. Need sleep to save my energy. Go to the tower, and both of you talk to Syndra. She knows what's to be done, and Raegar knows who is to blame. Be respectful, but hurry. Know I am sorry for this burden forced upon you. I can no longer carry it alone.
Tsarra flinched despite herself, but with the visions and what she'd learned in the past day, she knew why they had to face the undead.
Stop worrying. You've trained me well enough. Sleep and I'll do what I can in the meantime. "You three and Khelben brought much trouble to my temple." Sandrew the Wise looked sternly at all of them. "I trust that when we meet again that I may have a suitable explanation for this disruption-" he glanced upward toward Oghma's empty fist, deprived of its scroll-"and desecration." On that last word, Raegar's shoulders slumped, and he knelt by the priest, bowing his head for forgiveness.
Sandrew's hand hesitated but settled on the man's head in benediction.
Tsarra, Raegar, and Sandrew realized the circle of angry people had pressed close around them, just outside the glowing hemisphere set by the priest. "Khelben insists on utmost speed, but I'm afraid your priests don't look all to willing to let us go quickly." "What else would you expect, girl?" Sandrew said. "There are many here who wish the guards would clap you both in irons. Run now and get you away so I may cool tempers, but vow before Oghma that you will return and explain all this." "What little I know, Lorekeeper, I'll share with you. I promise that everything you saw today leads to the betterment of the Realms." Tsarra turned to Raegar, and said, "You are going ahead of me, and we're running at best pace to Blackstaff Tower. Try to lose me, and my familiar will be the first to correct you, followed by my spells or arrows." Tsarra jerked her thumb up at Nameless, who bared his teeth. Raegar rolled his eyes and nodded. The three of them darted through the glowing energy. Their movement startled most from their path, and they flew or ran through the temple doors and into the streets. Behind them, Sandrew cleared his throat and snapped his fingers both to dispel the sound-blocking hemisphere and to draw the attention of the crowd. "Oghma wills their secrets remain their own for now, brethren. Return to your lore and lives, and the Binder may or may not reveal what enigmas he sees fit." He whispered to himself,
"And may what magic you work be as good as you claim…"
"That should do it. What say you now, handsome rogue?" Laeral's merry eyes looked into Raegar's from beneath a heavy silver helm, its forehead adorned with three stripes of sapphires. Raegar knew whatever that lich had done bound him no longer. He inhaled, and "Thank you" sounded in both his head and throat. He smiled broadly and stretched his arms and shoulders. "I don't know what you did." Raegar took the heavy helm from his brow and set it on the sidetable next to him. "I don't feel anything crawling around inside my head any more. Thank you, ladies, for that." "Enough. Under whose control were you? Answer me, Stoneblade!" Tsarra had been pacing the room and snapped her head around. Raegar watched the arc of auburn curls more than the angry look on her face. "I never got a name," Raegar said, and Tsarra growled in anger, pacing around the chairs in which he and Laeral sat.
Raegar watched her a moment then looked back at Laeral when he said,
"By the gods. How anyone can get anything accomplished around so much distracting beauty is beyond me." Raegar smiled, winking at Laeral in the opposite chair but watching Tsarra for her reactions. He had never been so close to anyone of Blackstaff Tower in either his recent missions nor in all his years in the City of Splendors. Still, he knew enough about them to expect what would happen next. For his part, he bent over in the chair to touch his toes and stretch out his torso and back. As he anticipated, he rose from the chair to find the point of a glimmering scimitar near his throat. As he smiled and felt a rush of excitement go through him, Raegar heard a complicated growl come from the tressym, who lay nestled among a pile of books on a high shelf over the door frame. Tsarra's gaze snapped to him and she uttered a similar tangle of purrs and growls. The conversation between the woman and her familiar continued for a few moments until Raegar cleared his throat, earning a glare from Tsarra. He raised his hands slowly, smiling his most sincere smile, and tried to push the point of the blade away from his neck by his fingertips. "Ahem. If I'm to duel, I'll need to borrow a blade, milady." Raegar wasn't sure how she would react to his teasing, but he hoped Laeral might aid him. Laeral smirked as she set down her helm and stood. "Tsarra, please. You'll hardly get the lad to answer any questions that way. Besides, Nameless tends to be right about a great many things, whether you want to acknowledge that or not." Laeral's fingers danced and a small silverfish appeared to swim upwards through the air and into the black tom's claws. "This is not the time for jokes, Laeral!" Tsarra snapped back at the taller woman, the point of her scimitar not moving an iota. "Khelben urged me-" "Yes, yes, girl, but allow a moment to revel in irony aplenty." Laeral moved closer to Tsarra, easing her sword arm down and whispering to her as the two women moved away from Raegar. He wasn't sure if Laeral meant him to overhear, but his heart leaped as he caught her whispered comment. "After all, holding him at bladepoint was the first thing I did to my beloved when we first met." Tsarra's reaction was a frustrated growl followed by what Raegar guessed might be a chuckle from the tressym. The auburn-haired half-elf glared at the tressym, Laeral Silverhand, and Raegar as she sheathed her scimitar. After a moment, Raegar saw her catch herself, close her eyes, take three deep breaths, and her shoulders dropped as she relaxed. When she opened her eyes again, Tsarra looked directly into Raegar's eyes, but he couldn't read anything in hers other than impatience. "Well, stonecarver, chisel us some knowledge from that grinning stone face of yours. Who or what was behind your attack on the Font of Knowledge?" Tsarra's tone was brusque and clipped. Raegar had seen her do that with others in the street-cloak off her emotions and keep things strictly on the matter at hand, despite how she felt at the moment. He admired her a little for that. Raegar dropped his smile, and said, "I don't know his name, but he's obviously a lich who killed my friend. I want to see him dead and buried far more than you, woman." "I doubt that. What does it look like?" Laeral said, "Even without their original gender characteristics after death, Tsarra, liches are never 'its.'" "To me, they'll never be more than things that desperately need to be put back into the ground." Tsarra replied.
"Well, Raegar?" Raegar said, "Tsarra, I hate to disagree with you, but the lich was-er, is, er… Blast it! Is it 'is' or 'was?'" Laeral snickered and said, "Keep to the present, Raegar. Liches still obey the identity they bore in life, so give them the benefit of present tense. You are sharper than some give you credit, lad." Raegar smiled at the compliment and continued, "The lich is most definitely a man, Tsarra-sorry to disagree. You can tell by his stance and how he moves, not to mention his swaggering. He wears olive green robes embroidered with gold runes, keeping the hood up. I think that's less for show and more to hide the fact that he's only got a little skin left on his face. Just enough to hold his jaw on and a little around one eye socket." "He could be any one of five liches from that description, three of whom are in the North," Tsarra said. "Did he wear any distinct jewelry?" "He had a ring of cold iron, really rough workmanship except for the silver part placed on top. Its sigil was a sword with a moon for a hilt among a rack of antlers. I thought it seemed familiar but I couldn't place it." Laeral snapped her fingers, drawing both their attentions. "Did it look like this?" she asked, and her hands wove an illusion in mid-air of a dusty shield hanging on a wall. The seal on it was a sword with a crescent moon hilt painted atop a dark stag's head on a midnight blue field. Beneath the shield was a pillow holding a dark iron ring with the silver emblem, just as Raegar had seen earlier. "Yes, exactly. The rings seem identical. What are we looking at, milady?" Laeral sighed and said, "If my husband could copy these items, someone else could too. How is a question for another time, though. This is Raurlor's Ring, which sits under heavy magical protections in Castle Waterdeep. Only a lord of the city can approach within five paces of it, and yet somehow it lies in another's hands. That's equally fascinating and worrisome. Khelben, our plan isn't as secure as hoped." Raegar saw Tsarra's eyes flash with anger, and her jaw tightened, but she looked at nothing in particular. He asked, "Lady Laeral, Lord Arunsun's in that necklace. Why are you talking as if he can hear us?" "Oh, my love could hear me if he stood in far Kozakura and I here, Raegar. Trust me. He's just having a silent chat with our lovely apprentice here." Laeral nodded toward Tsarra as she rose from her chair. "Try and tear your doting eyes off of her, young man, and follow me. We've much to do, and you don't want to find out what the tower likes to do to those without a proper escort." Laeral's fingers trailed across Tsarra's throat and shoulder as she walked by, her index finger touching the glowing necklace.