Vajra hugged each and every person as they surrounded Vharem's prone form. She then knelt down to whisper a prayer over Vharem's body. "We shall always remember and honor your sacrifice, noble rogue." She wove a spell that cocooned Vharem's body in magical blue-gray energy. "That's the best I can do for you now, but we'll pay homage to you soon."
She rose, brushed off her robes, and said, "It's easier for me to maintain control the closer we get to Blackstaff Tower and the things in which our power flows-like these tunnels. No enemies block our path any longer. These tunnels haven't been traveled by other than spiders and rats in many moons. Most folk forgot about these tunnels once the Blackstaff and the Lords stopped being the most congenial of friends. That's what Khelben used them for- secret meetings with the Lords so they could travel unseen and unmolested." She gestured and the floating eye-lights now merged into the stonework, placing their glows into the mortar.
Vajra headed down the dusty and webbed tunnel, its mortar seams glistening just enough to provide lighting fot the path outside of Azuredge's blue light. Renaer remained frozen, his face impassive in the glow of the magical coffin around his lifelong friend. The others paused, and Renaer could feel their indecision and conflict of staying with Renaer or going with her. In silent answer, a grim-faced Renaer picked up the cocoon and wordlessly walked after Vajra. The three others followed in silence.
The group walked a while before Vajra stopped, reached over, and traced her fingers on the mortared wall. Her finger left a brighter trail of white behind it, and she drew an odd rune along the bricks. Without even a protesting groan or scrape, the wall parted. Vajra stepped through the doorway and torches erupted into life on every wall, their flames flaring wide as they burned up the huge clumps of spiderwebs atop and around them. Renaer and the others followed and they entered a small antechamber with a small desk and chair set into the rock wall. To their left, two tunnels yawned before them, inside of which no torches flickered. Across the room lay a small set of steps leading directly into a blank brick wall.
Vajra stood in the room, confused a moment by the three directions. A brief flash of silver in her eyes, then she nodded. She turned back and said, "Come, friends. All you have to do is step on the stairs, say the word nhurlaen, and you'll be brought to my study, safely."
"You sure we're safe?" Osco asked.
"Doesn't matter, Osco," Meloon chuckled. "Better to be in the home of a friend than at the blade of an enemy, right? Besides, who wants to stay down here in the dark?"
"Are we?" Renaer asked. "Friends, I mean?" His tone was cold and distant, tinged with regret. The ache he'd fought against now filled his chest. Both of his oldest friends lay dead, and all to help this stranger get to this place. Renaet could keep the anger out of his voice no longer. "Are you friend enough to me to be worth the outer* Worth the friends lost?"
Vajra sighed, walked over, and placed one hand on Renaer's cheek, the other over her heart. "I've been nigh-incoherent the past few months because the power granted to me was not properly assimilated. Two others paid with their lives-two debts I can never fully repay, save with lifelong amity to sutviving comrades. I cannot replace your lost friends. Nothing can, Renaer Neverember. Even if you'd not done all you have, ending my torture and saving my life would have made us lifelong comrades."
"Are you sure Ten-Rings ain't already the Blackstaff?" Osco said. "We been one step behind him all the time."
Vajra looked down at the halfling and said, "Blackstaff he is not, little man. The tower would tell me, as it has told me things during our walk here. It guards itself well, even from those with power enough to breach its outer defenses. HoWever, he may yet be a danger to us and the city, given the power that he stole from here."
"Ten-Rings got in here?" Meloon asked. "Or was it the imposter Blackstaff?"
"Aye, both," Vajra said, "but Blackstaff Tower conquered them, rather than the opposite. We shall discuss and attend to their fates later. But for now, please, come-help me to become the Blackstaff for certain, so we may all find our true paths."
Vajra stepped onto the stone platform. Her eyes flashed with energy. The brick wall ahead of her receded. The stones formed a spiral stair ahead of her, and all could see and hear the magical torches flaring to life further up the stairs. Vajra took three steps up and said the word, "Nhurtaen,"'and vanished.
After a pause and a shared look among themselves, Renaer set Vharem's coffin on the chamber's desk, rested his hand on it in silent salute, and said, "Good luck, friends." He then followed Vajra and disappeared. Within a few breaths, Laraelra, Osco, and Meloon repeated the procedure, leaving the chamber empty only with the glow of Vharem's coffin and the torchlight.
The torch flames flickered and sputtered, the only sound until a thin, teedy voice called out, "Father? Have you come for me? The ghosts… they left me in the dark. Help me. I did it all for you. I did it all for you…" The voice fell to sobs as the torches flickered out, restoring the all-encompassing darkness.
CHAPTER 17
Khelben the Elder built that tower like he carried himself-rod-straight like his back, stone as black as his scowl, and bristling with magics unguessed. Only the most foolish would ever attempt to steal into the forbidding tower, let along steal from it.
11 Nightal, Year of the Ageless One (1479 DR)
Osco stepped off the staitwell and gaped. Whatever he'd expected to find inside Blackstaff Tower, it wasn't this. He stood at the top of a staircase opening into a large ten-sided antechamber, corridors leading off in eight different directions, magical green torches flickering every twenty paces or so. The only other feature was a stone statue of a tearing griffon directly opposite the stairwell against a blank wall. At the center of the room stood Vajra, her back to him.
"Vajra?" Osco asked. "Where'd everybody go?" Vajra turned to him, a lone tear running down her cheek. While she looked in his general direction, Osco knew her eyes didn't focus on him. "I'm sorry, friends, for what we now must endure. I thought it safe, but the tower seeks to prove us worthy to walk its halls." Her form shimmered as she sobbed. "I'm sorry… and may Tymora bless you with good luck." As her voice wavered, she faded into a wispy miasma of green mists, leaving Osco alone to contemplate which direction to follow.
"Parharding wizards," Osco swore under his breath. "So… we do this by the numbers, as if it's any other place we're casing." Osco started on the first corridor on his left, scanning carefully for any traps or hidden dangers. After he'd gone thirty paces, he discovered doors on alternating sides of the corridor every six paces beyond the first green torch. Scanning down the seemingly endless corridor, he noted seventeen doors before he stopped counting.
Shaking his head, Osco returned to the original antechamber. He chose the next corridor that arced off in a slightly different direction, and repeated the whole process. His eyebrows rose when he found the exact same dimensions and features in that corridor. He looked, but did not spot any of his own footprints, as these corridors were suspiciously devoid of dust. "Hmph. So much for the easy way of tracking."
Curious, Osco took out a small hunk of chalk and marked the first door on his left with an O beneath the lock. He retraced his steps back to the antechamber and chose the third corridor. All the details remained the same as the first two, though Osco growled when he approached the first door to find no mark on it. Scratching his head and scanning further down the corridor, he spotted his mark on the third door on the right. "So, you want to play games with me, wizard? Send me down the same corridor and shuffle the doors? Fine." Osco rubbed his hands together, then unbuckled his lock picks from the back of his belt, and said, "Let's see what's behind our marked door, then."