"Valkur, speed his path, fill his sails, and calm his seas. Amaunator, light his way and warm his face. Tymora, grant him the luck to be at his reward before his misdeeds are counted in full. Kelemvor, judge him worthy to pass the veils. Gods above, grant my friend the happiness he found so rarely on Toril out among the stars."
Renaer's eyes welled up, but no tears escaped until he turned his head toward the light touch on his shoulder.
Renaer looked up into the peaceful eyes of Wavetamer Garyn Raventree, whose own prayers had ended moments before. "A good prayer, if a bit random."
"How is she?" Renaer asked.
Garyn shrugged and said, "I've healed her, so she's physically as strong as she can be. But mentally… I don't know. She's under the influence of some magic I've never seen. Given that she's linked to the Blackstaff, that's not surprising."
"So why won't she wake up?"
"I asked for clarity on her cdndition, and all I know is her soul now carries twenty or more lifetimes."
"What does that mean?"
"On that, Valkur puts me on still seas, friend."
"Well, thank you for everything, Garyn. I'll be by within a tenday and we'll talk about my debts to you."
"Consider this but payment for our own debts, for the young Lord Neverember has been a staunch friend of Valkur and his faithful."
Renaer stood up, walked over to his desk, and withdrew a small purse, which he handed to Garyn. "In that case, let me pay fot some prayers to be sung in Faxhal's name."
"Of course. His ship will sail the stars on the waves of our prayers, friend. While he wasn't the best sailor, he was a good comrade to many of our faithful."
The priest bowed and exited the room just as Madrak came in bearing a pair of copper kettles, their contents piping hot. He poured both kettles into a basin by the window, the steam rising in the sunbeams.
"It would seem that only the lady Safahr has slept well since your adventures began yestermorn, milord. Can we not urge you and your friends to sleep? To eat? At least I can insist you not waste the hot water for your morning ablutions."
Madrak had been starting his normal day just as Renaer and his friends returned to Neverember House. Since then, he'd sent runners to Valkur's temple on Sul Street and another down to the palace to hear of any news or gossip and to notify the Watch or the Lords that the Blackstaff was not who he seemed.
"Later, Madrak," Renaer said. "I want to know what the reaction is to our news before I collapse either into bed or a trencher. Who did you send down to the palace to tell about the Black-staff-about the duplicity?"
"Varkel. I gave him the Saddelyn pony to make sure he got there as quickly as possible."
"Good. He'll remember every single word spoken to him and around him. Are the others well?"
"Master Vharem is sullenly distraught, but has remarkably stayed away from the liquor cabinet. Mistress Laraelra has been quietly meditating in one corner, while only Master Meloon shows any sense in eating and catching some sleep. Of course, he has placed his filthy boots up on the tables and ruined the tablecloth, but…"
Renaer had wandered away from Madrak to approach the bed. Vajra looked vastly better, now that she had a clean robe and had all the grime and blood washed out of her hair and face. Renaer just wished she would wake up and give them some answers to help get them out of this mess.
"The fact that you have the Blackstaffs Heir in your care- however her condition-speaks well for your story, Renaer," Madrak said. "No matter how thickly the lies fly, truth is like a sunlit breeze that scatters them."
"Where did you say the others were?" Renaer asked.
"The dining room, master," he replied. "I'll check with the staff to see what other word is on the streets and meet you there. After you've refreshed yourself and dressed."
The two of them pulled the curtains around the bed closed, allowing Vajra even more warmth and silence to help her sleep. Madrak approached a tall cabinet and pulled on a decorative design between the two drawers, producing a small set of steps on which he stood to open the tall wardrobe doors. The butler began pulling out new clothes, while Renaer stripped off his old clothes and threw them to one side. Renaer splashed the hot water on himself, scrubbing himself clean and thoroughly dousing his head and face multiple times before he put the basin on the floor and soaked and cleaned his feet in it. By the time he was done, Madrak had assembled a new set of black leather pants, green muslin shirt, a black ermine-lined vest, and a new wolf-furred cloak. Madrak withdrew to let his master finish dressing.
As the latch-clicked shut on the door, Renaer finished rubbing himself dry with the towel, only to realize he was being watched. Vajra's face stuck out from between the curtains, a mischievous smile on her lips. While Renaer was hardly embarrassed, he was surprised, especially as he watched the woman's eyes shift between normal looking eyes to dark orbs to a pair of mismatched eyes, all as she rambled incoherently. Her facial expressions also constantly shifted, as if she were at war within herself.
"Tasty, just like a good strong lad he carried us all the way wish I could things he needs know protect me is he the Heir can he help something's wrong with the we need help fight Ten-Rings problem is son recover the Dusk owe him pain oh let me play…"
With that final reach and one of the most lascivious looks Renaer had ever received, Vajra fell unconscious again, her head and left arm resting on and over the end of the bed. Renaer pulled on his pants quickly and then got Vajra resettled in bed. Even when he lay beside her to pull up the furs and coverlet, she did not respond at all to his presence.
After he finished dressing, Renaer came down to the dining room. As he entered, Vharem turned toward the sound of the door. Laraelra's eyes also opened and locked on his. Meloon's light snore continued as the tall man's chin rested on his chest, his feet on the table, and his chair precariously tipped beneath him.
Madrak entered the dining room, cleared his throat, and said, "Varkel has returned, master. He-"
A blur pushed the door further open and rushed past Madrak. He ran right up to Renaer, his face red with exertion and wind-burn, his hair slightly frosted from the cold. "Master Renaer!" he shouted, and the noise woke up Meloon, whose sudden start tipped over his chair, and the young blond man fell flat on his back on the floor.
Varkel hardly noticed the crash or Vharem's snickering about it. He started talking very fast. "Master Renaer, they're saying such awful things. I could hardly stand there and listen to them spew such lies about you-what with how well you've been to us all these years. Now mind you, were I not to know that these kind folk were associated with your lordship, I might be inclined to believe-"
"Varkel, slow down," Renaer said. "Take a breath and simply tell me what's news on the streets. What happened when you told them about the Blackstaff?"
"I weren't never getting the chance to, master," Varkel said. "The crowds were so thick, and when they gave the pronouncements, I figured I should highstep it back here right soon!"
"What did they say?" Meloon asked.
The sandy-haired halfling took a deep breath and began speaking very quickly. "Rashemel Steeldrover, the Watchlord of the North Towers, she gave the pronouncements from the steps of the palace, which seemed odd, considering-"
"Varkel! Focus!" Madrak and Renaer said simultaneously.
"There are warrants out for the arrests or information leading to the arrest of Renaer Neverember and any present associates, including Ararna, Pellarm, Vharem Kuthcutter, and Faxhal Xoram, for having allegedly conspired against the Lords' Rule, having knowingly undermined and interfered with the guild business of the Watchful Order of Magists and Protectors, having trespassed upon private property and caused extensive damage thereupon, having caused grave harm to be visited upon the Watch and other persons, and other sundry charges to be visited upon those so warranted at the time of their arrest and summoning for trial."