Go to Part 1

AFTERMATH

A little while later, Pashar and Kora met Vajra at the front door. They briefly explained the situation.

“Is there anything else that needs to be done here?”

Pashar shook his head. “Just dead cultists. Although the woman is still alive if you need to question her.”

“What about the Cassalanter children?”

“We didn’t find them,” Kora said. “But they’re in danger. We need to find them quickly. Before the Festival of Leiruin.”

“You’ve found a solution?”

“After a fashion,” Pashar said.

“We’ll find them,” Vajra promised. “Take Jenks home. You were never here. I’ll take care of it.”

As they left, Kittisoth grabbed Renaer’s hand and gave it a little squeeze. She pulled him after her, and he willingly came.

While the others carefully guided Jenks out of the windmill (Kittisoth covered his eyes with one wing), Pashar lingered with Vajra a little longer to explain what needed to be done once the Cassalanter children were found. “Based off our research, if, when their birthday comes, the parents on whom the blood ritual is attuned and the children are dead with every trace of their original bodies destroyed, then the triggering moment of the ritual will pass. The children could then be returned to life with a true resurrection, and Asmodeus would have no further claim to their souls.”

“That’s very dark,” the Blackstaff said.

“But necessary,” Pashar said, glancing back at the room where they’d left Lady Cassalanter.

A BRIGHTER MORNING

On the ride back to Trollskull, it was clear that Jenks was shattered. The horrific experiences of the last few hours had broken him. When they got back to the Manor, the other kids came rushing out of the maroon dome. There were tears and hugs and endless comforting.

The next morning, Kittisoth woke up in bed with the three kids snuggled around her. One of her wings was protectively draped over the top of them.

Renaer, who had slept in the couch in the front room, was cooking breakfast as they all came staggering out of their rooms. Kittisoth joined him and showed him how to make a pirate’s breakfast. The kids came out a little later, rubbing their eyes. Jenks was clearly still a little shaken by his ordeal, so Renaer made him pancakes in the shapes of various divine symbols and began quizzing him on which gods they belonged to.

After breakfast, Pashar and Edana headed over to Amara’s Bakery and cleaned up the blood. Kittisoth kissed Renaer goodbye and spent the rest of the morning hanging out with the kids. Kora headed to the Market to track down a dragon scale.

“How much for a gold dragon scale?” Kora asked.

“Sixteen hundred gold pieces.”

“… how much for a tin dragon scale?”

Even chromatic scales proved expensive, but they didn’t have time to wait for Zellifarn to fly back from wherever he lived (even if he’d agree to). Kora paid what needed to be paid.

Leaving Pashar to finish up at Amara’s, Edana headed over to Steam and Steel. Embric and Avi were quarreling about which one of them had won their drinking contest the night before.

“Were you drinking at Trollskull?” Edana asked.

“No,” Embric said regretfully. “We went to a friend’s party instead.”

“Oh! So you both lost!” Edana grinned. Embric and Avi laughed heartily.

“What can we do for you?”

Edana wanted two things: A mithril hammer for the vault and a set of Trollskull Manor amulets for the kids: a flask didn’t seem appropriate, but she wanted something they could theoretically cast locate object on in the future.

They could wait a few days for the amulets, but Edana agreed to give them a fistful of free drink tokens for Trollskull Manor if they finished the mithril hammer that same day. Nevertheless, with the cost of the true silver they’d completely tapped out their once substantial cash reserves.

But if everything went well, that wouldn’t be a problem soon enough.

A HARPER TRIAL

As Edana opened the front door of Trollskull Manor, however, she looked down the street and saw Dain storming down the street towards her, accompanied by a pair of men in blue robes. She sighed and went down to the bottom of the stairs to wait for him.

Dain pulled up in front of her, flanked by the other two. One was an albino elf with piercing blue eyes. The other was a dark skinned human male whose eyes were just golden spheres that glowed softly. All three of them wore their Harper pins, openly displayed.

“Where is she?” Dain demanded.

“Not today,” Edana said.

Dain opened his mouth to retort.

“Not. Today.”

“This is Harper business,” Dain said. “Move aside if you honor your oath.”

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” Edana said. “But it can’t be today.

“Are you a Harper or not?!” Dain fumed.

Edana messaged Kora. Dain’s here. He’s pissed. I’m telling him to go away. He’s not listening. Should I convince him?

Inside the Manor, Kora sighed. No. Wait for us.

A few moments later, the others stepped outside. Dain looked up at Kora, who had been the first through the door. “Kora,” he said. “I’m very disappointed.”

“I thought you would be,” Kora admitted.

“You disobeyed orders.”

“I acted with a Harper’s discretion.”

“We’ll see what the High Harper has to say about this,” Dain concluded. “You’ll come with us now. You and your friends.”

“No,” Kora said. “This was my decision. I’ll answer for it alone.”

Dain shook his head. “They’re all Harpers.”

“I’ll come with you,” Kora said. “But I can’t speak for the others.”

“You’re making this worse for yourself.”

Kora sighed. “I can’t make people do things. That’s not how the Harpers are supposed to work.”

“Couldn’t the High Harper come here?” Theren suggested. Kitti laughed from the top of the stairs.

Dain ground his teeth. “For the last time: will you come?”

The others nodded their agreement, but Kora shook her head. “Someone needs to say.” She turned to Dain. “To protect our children.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Please. One of them was kidnapped last night.”

Dain softened. “Yes. Of course.”

It didn’t take them long to conclude that Kittisoth — and her temper — was the best one to leave behind with the kids, and then Dain lead them across the city and deep into the Castle Ward. On Waterdeep Way, west of Castle Waterdeep and east of Piergeron’s Palace, their escorts turned abruptly and vanished into what had appeared to be nothing but a vine-covered wall a moment before. Passing through the nigh-invisible gap there, however, they found themselves climbing up the side of Mt. Waterdeep.

They climbed quite high, in fact. The griffon patrols above the city were flying even with them and the air was getting quit thin when they passed into a crevasse on the side of the mountain. There, inside a kind of cleft, they came suddenly upon a cave.

At every step along the way they had been baffled by their route. They would have never seen the gap in the wall, nor the path beyond it. There were several more turnoffs they didn’t see until they’d taken them. Even the cleft had looked like nothing remarkable until they were already on top it. It seemed as if they were in plain sight on the side of the mountain, and yet they weren’t even certain they would be able to find their way back here if their lives depended on it.

As they entered the cave and worked their way into its depths, they noticed that Dain was touching various places along the wall with clear deliberation. Whatever path he was guiding them along here was warded, and there were numerous other passages they did not take (and perhaps were not designed to be taken).

At last they emerged into the heart of a massive geode. Crystals, glittering in the light, lined the dome of the cavern and had been leveled beneath their feet to form a smooth floor. On the far side of the cavern stood a statue of a man with a bald head and long beard. Edana, Kora, and Pashar recognized this as Lord Aghairon, founder of Waterdeep. The statue was gesturing outwards, as if taking in the whole room as a conclave. In one hand it grasped an actual staff — somehow cleverly worked through a grip of stone. Pashar recognized this and gasped. Leaning over to the others he whispered, “That’s the dragonstaff of Aghairon.” The keystone of the dragonward which kept all dragons out of Waterdeep… unless they had been touched by the staff.

They realized that, as they had been captivated by the statue and staff, a dozen people had stepped forward from the darkness rimming the chamber into the light. They wore hoods low over their faces, masking their faces in shadow and leaving them unrecognizable.

Dain stepped forward. “We have brought those who are to be judged.”

A figure floated through the statue of Aghairon. The translucent blue ghost of a young elven woman, with a Harper pin fastened even upon the clothes she wore in death as a tribute to the faith which held her to this world and its business.

“High Harper,” Dain intoned, “I bring before you Harpshadow Kora and her disciples, who have confessed in writing to disobeying orders and the theft of Harper property.”

The spectral Harper spoken then. “Step aside, Harpsinger, and let them answer the charges in their own voice.” She lowered her gaze to them. “We have been told that you have disobeyed the orders of a Harper given to you in good faith, and that you have betrayed the Harper trust by aiding and abetting our ancient foes the Zhents. You have furthermore stolen a cache of Harper supplies which are to be used in the struggle against all evil and injustice in the world. How answer you?”

Kora took a step forward. “First and foremost, we have stolen nothing. We have secured the cache, intending to keep it safe until it could be relocated. This we have done. Nothing has been despoiled. Nothing has been taken.”

“Where is the cache now?”

Theren spoke up. “I have it here in this bag of holding. I can dump it out here if you would like.”

“Unnecessary,” the High Harper said. “And where did you plan to relocate the cache?”

“The city recently bestowed the abandoned property of Thunderstaff Villa to us, beneath which there are hidden chambers which can be easily secured,” Kora said. “We intended to consult with Dain before placing the cache there, but we think it would make a good location.”

“And how do you answer the charge of being complicit in the plots of the Zhents?”

“We killed Manshoon!” Kora said indignantly. “And, yes, in this effort we allied with the Doom Raiders, who are also of the Zhentarim. In working with them, however, we have learned that they are not evil actors. They seek to shake off the malignancy of Manshoon. Are the Zhents truly the enemies of the Harpers? Or was Manshoon enemy to us both?”

Dain harrumphed from his place off to one side.

“You are young,” the High Harper said. “We have often seen the Zhents mislead those who are young.”

“Perhaps,” Kora said. “But if we have been ‘misled’ in to slaying Manshoon, will this council object?”

Edana stepped forward. “Shedding blood merely because they are living in a specific building seems unnecessary. And unjust.”

Theren agreed. “They have legal ownership of the tower. If we had done what we were ordered to do, we would have been in the wrong.”

“And we are not mere thugs to be ordered about!” Kora declared. “We are thinking people! We are a powerful group! We have brought demon-worshipping nobles to heel and thwarted Jarlaxle! We have infiltrated Xanathar’s lair! We have killed Manshoon!”

“We are no children to be summoned for scolding,” Edana said.

“We are Harpers,” Pashar said. “We are meant to be just and lenient! We are meant to use not only our initiative, but our judgment! And Dain has shown no judgment at all! Not only were these orders ill thought, but he had previously ignored us when we told him that one of his superiors had been enthralled by Manshoon!”

The spectral Harper seemed taken aback. “What is this?”

Dain snorted. “It’s a ridiculous conspiracy theory! They accused Mirt of being a traitor, but I think the truth of it is that they are the traitors!”

“We told you that Mirt had been compromised and that he needed help!” Theren shouted.

“Help that the Blackstaff is now providing,” Kora stated simply, laying a calming hand on Theren’s shoulder.

“The Blackstaff?”

“Dain wouldn’t do anything,” Theren said. “So we went to Vajra.”

“Surely someone here other than we are close to the Blackstaff and can verify the truth?” Kora asked.

A murmur passed around the chamber.

Edana spoke up. “The point is that you recruited Kora and promoted Kora because she is wise and kind and just. I became a Harper because of her. And if you don’t trust her judgment, then I have been misled about what it means to be a Harper. She is the best of you!”

The High Harper floated back a few paces. At some unspoken signal, two of the gathered Harpers stepped forward. The rest stepped back. The broken circle looked around at each other, there were nods, and then the two who had stepped forward also stepped back, as if to form a concensus.

“I see,” the High Harper said, coming forward again. “You have been found… innocent. And justified in your actions. Here is my judgment upon you: Brightcandle Kora, you will be taking over responsibility for the North Ward.” (“Oh shit,” Kora murmured.) “You will begin your work with your fellow Harpshadows. You have much work to do and we trust your judgement.” She turned to Dain. “Dain, we understand your concerns. But perhaps it will be best if Brightcandle Kora is allowed the… how did you put it, Pashar? The… initiative to follow her own instincts, in the Harper fashion.”

Kora bowed her head, uncertain of what she truly thought or felt, but certain in this: “You will not regret this.”

One of the Harper lords stepped forward from the circle and lowered his hood. It was… Mattrim Three-Strings, the bard from their own tavern. He winked and led them out of the cavern and back to the wall onto Waterdeep Way. “We’ll talk later,” he said, and then vanished in to the crowds.

KISS AND TELL

“Mattrim Three-Strings?!” Kitti shouted. “That’s amazing!”

They had just finished telling her the tale of their trial. Kora still seemed a little shellshocked. Kittisoth pushed a glass of whiskey over to her.

“For an organization founded to undermine authority…” Pashar mused.

“…they get real twitchy whenever somebody questions theirs,” Edana finished his thought.

“I’m just glad they came to the right decision, otherwise–“

There was a knock on the door.

“Ah, fuck,” Kittisoth said and opened the door.

Amara was standing there.

“Oh my god! Come in!” Kitti gestured with her hand, throwing her wings back to open the way.

Amara was clearly a little shaky. There were tears in her eyes. “The Blackstaff told me what you did for me. I can’t thank you enough!”

“Come in! Come in!” Kitti demanded. “And we should be thanking you! Or apologizing! We had no idea that we were putting you in danger.” She led Amara over to the couch and pushed a glass of the whiskey into her hands.

“Thank you,” Amara said again. “The Blackstaff — I still can’t believe that was the Blackstaff! — told me a lot of what happened. I just wanted to come by and say… I’m all right. Yes. I’m all right.”

Jenks, having heard her voice, came running into the room and gave her a big hug. “Amara! Oh, Amara! I thought your were dead!”

“I was,” Amara smiled. “For a little while. It’s all right Jenks.”

Jenks stepped back and wiped a tear form his cheek.

Amara patted him on the shoulder. “I’ll understand if you don’t want to come back to the bakery—”

“No!” Jenks cried. “We’ve got to bake the bread! We need to break the crust!”

Amara grinned. “That’s right, Jenks. You’ve got to break the crust!”

They hugged again. A little while later, Amara said her goodbyes. Kittisoth waved goodbye as she headed down the street and then shut the door. She turned back to look at the rest of the group. Everyone sighed heavily. It had been a long day and—

There was a knock on the door.

“Gods dammit!” Kittisoth exclaimed.

She opened the door. It was Embric, delivering the mithril hammer. “I’ll see you tonight for those drink tokens!” he laughed, heading back down the stairs.

Kittisoth shut the door again. “So who do we leave in charge of the kids while we head back to the City of the Dead?”

“Hasn’t Renaer been hanging out all afternoon?” Edana suggested.

Renaer — who had, in fact, already been playing with their kids in their room — was more than happy to oblige. He leaned in and give Kitti a deep kiss. The others cheered.

“Stop it!” Kittisoth glared at them. Then, with a grin, she went back in for a second helping, raising her wings to afford a little privacy.

Go to Part 6

Go to Part 1

THE STONE OF GOLORR

Blackness.

They were in a void.

Edana still had the Stone in the palm of her hand. They were still all linked in a network of outstretched hands. But all around them was utter nothingness.

Then, abruptly, there was a bloom of light.

Not an explosion. More like the opposite of an implosion. A rapid, organic expansion or unfolding. An entire planet that was bulging and shaping itself into existence before them. Then, as if a hand had swept across the blackness, stars appeared in a vast river that filled the sky. Soft starlight fell across the dark mass of the planet and waters gushed forth, covering its surface in cascading torrents of incomprehensible scale.

And then something went… wrong. The planet seemed to schism, as if their vision were double. Then it ripped. The sound of that washed over them in a horrendous wave. They were seeing impossibilities as the two worlds separated and began phasing back and forth in an impossible superposition.

In the midst of this chaos, there was a bolt of white light; or perhaps something vast and crystalline lancing in from out of the darkness. It plunged into the very heart of the two schisming worlds.

In her head, Edana heard a voice: “Thus I came.”

The planets ripped apart.

… and they found themselves back in the vault, standing atop the sunburst.

The others stumbled back half a step, but Edana could still feel these tendrils of alien thought reaching up along the back of her spine. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Her sensorium was… not overwhelmed, exactly, but shocked by a wash of sensations she had never experienced before: Not sight. Not taste. Not hearing or smell or touch. Impossible, alien sensations. There were etheric harmonies that she could see/feel/smell/taste passing through her. She was sensate to psychic tendrils that linked the world in endless enigmas.

She was attuning to an alien thought pattern that was emanating from the Stone of Golorr. The Stone was trying to find an interface between the way it thought and the way she thought. After an endless moment it began settling down. The mirrored thoughts still sizzled and warped in a fizzing cascade on the edges of brain, but she ultimately understood what the Stone was.

The Stone was in a weakened state from having been blinded by Lord Dagult, but it would grow in strength over time. Edana would be able to call upon that strength to pull out the secrets (so many secrets!) that had been encoded into the Stone. Knowing what secret to request of the Stone would be difficult – since these secrets had, as she knew from Manshoon’s research, literally been stripped out of reality – but in the absence of a specific conception, the Stone would nevertheless provide some random secret, chosen from its depths according to the whims of its alien logic.

“Gods…” Edana murmured.

When she’d had a moment to collect herself, she explained to the others what she now knew at a primal, even instinctual level.

“Can we just ask what Dagult did?” Theren asked.

“We know what he did,” Kora said. “What we need to know is how to get through this door.”

“Do we think it’s a password?”

Edana held forth the Stone. “Tell me how to retrieve the treasure of Lord Dagult Neverember.”

She felt its thoughts percolating and intermixing with her own. She reached out across the strange interface that the Stone had created between them. It took a long time for their thoughts to align — it was like the Stone was trying to pick her while she was trying to pick it — but they came together like two bodies orbiting into a collision, oscillating faster and faster until a tangle of images and words began bubbling up.

Where laid his wife to rest ‘midst bones of son’s blood sealed, there where Anri laid himself to rest, lies that which Open Lord concealed.

Twisted underground tunnels lit by strange lights. An endless field of corpses. Halls of stone. A golden dragon, aging so rapidly that scales shed from its skin; one of those scaled held in perfect focus as it falls. The sound of a silver hammer striking stone. A beam of sunlight in a darkened room. A chisel carving Dathek characters which transform themselves into two words: BRANDATH CRYPTS.

As Edana related what she had been shown, Theren recalled the enigmatic phrase Pashar had found in his research. “In beam of sun, strike dragon’s scale with mithril true upon the anvil sun.”

“We’re on the sun,” Theren said.

Kora nodded. “So we need to bring a dragon scale and a mithril hammer here?”

“There was something else,” Edana said. “A beam of sunlight.”

“I can do that,” Kora said. “With a daylight spell.”

“We know a dragon,” Kittisoth pointed out, thinking of Zellifarn.

“We can do this,” Kora said. “But we can’t do it right now. So we should leave now. Get out of the graveyard before they lock it for the night.”

Kittisoth nodded. “Let’s get home.”

CRISIS AT THE HOMEFRONT

As they returned to Trollskull, they could see that the tavern was rollicking. It was Goldennight and, as they passed by the windows, they could see the patrons inside were pasted with gold dust and encrusted with jewels streaming down their cheeks and arms. By the bar, Rishaal and Lif were looking in a book and laughing together while Lif served drinks. Fala Lefaliir, with her hair coiffed into an elaborate curly-cue topped with the miniature figure of a dragon with its wings spread, had arranged a huge assortment of teas in front of her and was sampling them in turn.

Outside Trollskull, they could see the Zhentarim, a silent perimeter. Ziraj was standing in the alley, watching the rear of the building. They found Yagra and two other zhents at the bottom of their stairs.

“It’s good to see you, Yagra,” Edana smiled.

“I heard you had cause to worry,” Yagra said. “

“Thank you,” Edana said. “Any problems?”

Yagra shook her head. “All quiet. But we’ll keep a watch through the night. We’ve got another shift coming to relieve us later.”

“Come in for a drink when you’re done!” Kittisoth said.

They headed up the stairs and through their front door, breathing a sigh of relief to finally be home. From the next room over, they could see the reassuring maroon glow of the tiny hut Pashar had created for the kids.

And sitting on the couch was Jarlaxle.

“Good evening.” The dark elf smiled.

“Son of a bitch,” Kora muttered.

“So you take children?” Edana said, her voice dripping with venom.

“Not plural,” Jarlaxle reassured her. “And only when necessary. Honestly, the child is probably safer with me than with his parents. Please! Sit!”

Some of them sat. Others refused.

Jarlaxle nodded. “So it would seem you’re acting as agents for the Gralhunds. I seem to remember suggesting that you’d be better off not getting involved with them.”

“What are you looking for?” Kora asked, cutting to the chase.

“The Stone of Golorr,” Jarlaxle said frankly.

“Why?”

“My understanding is that the Stone contains certain secrets that Lord Dagult wished to keep from the city. I want to see those secrets rightfully restored to Waterdeep.”

“To what end?” Theren asked.

“I’ve made no secret of my agenda. I want to see Luskan risen to its proper place in the Lords’ Alliance. It will be good for Luskan. It will be good for the entire Sword Coast to have that kind of unity in the face of a dark and turbulent sea.” Their faces were stony. Jarlaxle smiled again. “Now, I believe that the Gralhunds have the Stone, based on the information you so kindly gave me when we met under other guises, and I have what they want. It should be an easy arrangement to make. And as you’re acting as their agents, I’m sure you reached out to me to make those arrangements.”

“We heard you were busy tonight,” Edana said.

Jarlaxle’s smile faltered… just a fraction, but it was there. “Those plans were, unfortunately, not as successful as I might have hoped. I’m certain we’ll have better luck here.”

“So you want the Stone, and in exchange you’ll give us the child,” Kora said.

“Yes.”

“There’s a problem,” Theren said. “They don’t have the Stone.”

Jarlaxle laughed. “And yet they did! What do they say happened to it?”

“You could have just tried asking them,” Kittisoth snapped, anger at the stolen child roiling her gut. “Why didn’t you just approach them and ask?”

“I did approach them,” Jarlaxle said. “From a position of strength. Have we not opened negotiations?”

“You could have talked to them first! Before stealing their child!”

“My experience,” Jarlaxle said, “and I think you’ll agree with me from your own experience, that if you don’t warn the people whose houses you’re breaking into and then sinking, that you’re more likely to meet with success.

“Well, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Kittisoth said, arching an eyebrow.

Edana, meanwhile, had gone over to the tiny hut and poked her head inside to check on the orphans. Nat and Squiddly were inside. “Where’s Jenks?”

“He headed over to bakery for his apprenticeship!’

“Everything all right?” Pashar asked as she came back into the room.

“Yes,” Edana said. “The kids are fine. Jenks is over at the bakery.”

But Theren’s eyes grew wide. They’d made a mistake. He dashed out the door.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Jarlaxle said, standing up. “The Gralhunds have told you that they don’t have the Stone. This is an obvious ploy. Tell them that this should be a simple arrangement. Bring the Stone to the theater tomorrow. The boy will go home. Waterdeep will be given what is its right. Everyone will be satisfied.”

“And what if they really don’t have the Stone?” Pashar asked. “Or if they’ve secured it somewhere that it will take a great deal of time to retrieve it from?”

“Then send me word and I’ll keep their child safe,” Jarlaxle said. “It’s probably for the best. As Kittisoth said, they don’t seem to keep their own home very well protected.” He opened the door and stepped out. From outside they heard Yagra yell, “What in the Nine Hells?!”

BLOOD AT THE BAKERY

Theren, meanwhile, had run around the tavern and into Trollskull Alley. Racing over to Amara’s bakery, he threw open the door.

Amara was laying in a pool of blood in the center of the floor. She had been stabbed several times. She was dead.

“Jenks?!” Theren screamed.

There was no answer.

Acting on instinct, Theren grabbed Amara’s body and began hauling it across the alley back to Trollskull Manor. He managed to slip past the Goldennight revelers without raising an alarm. As he reached the base of their stairs, Yagra gasped. “What happened? Is everything all right?”

“No,” Theren said coldly. “It isn’t.”

He went up the stairs and into the sitting room. The others gasped as he threw Amara’s body down. Blood stained one side of his clothes.

Pashar rushed to Amara’s side and cast a simple rite that would preserve her body for later revival. As he worked the rite, he found a note pinned inside her clothes and passed it to Edana. She read it out loud.

No one spoke for a long moment.

Then there were a dozen plans swirling: Edana asked Yagra to come in and help clean up the mess. Others were trying to figure out where Amara’s body could be moved so it wouldn’t alarm the kids when they came out. “What do we tell them?” Kora asked. Was there some place they could be moved where they would be safer? Kittisoth headed for the balcony, ready to fly to straight to Renear and demand that he keep them in his secret manse.

Kora cut through the chaos by sending a telepathic message to Vajra: “Ammalia Cassalanter murdered neighbor. Kidnapped our child. Threatening to kill. We are responding in force shortly. Please come to Trollskull. This must end.”

Coming now.

“She’s coming,” Kora said.

“I’m going to tell the children,” Edana said. “They have to know what’s going on.”

Before Edana could even leave the room, however, Vajra and Renaer appeared in the middle of it. Renaer rushed over to Kittisoth to embrace her and–

“Don’t touch me,” Kittisoth said. Her eyes boiled with rage.

“It’s not you,” Kora said.

“I understand,” Renaer said, taking a step back.

Kittisoth turned to Vajra. “What are you going to do? You promised us that you would clean this up.”

“I understand that you’re upset,” Vajra said. “Who is dead?”

Edana peeled back the sheet she had placed over Amara. “A baker who worked on the far side of the alley. Our boy, Jenks, was apprenticed to her.”

“I’m very sorry,” Vajra said. “You should know that Renaer and I have been working very hard. Over the past two days we’d gathered the evidence to take proper legal action. We raided the Cassalanter villa this afternoon to arrest Ammalia, but she had vanished. We don’t know where she is. We’ve impounded the mansion and were investigating both all of its contents and the temple beneath it.”

“What about other locations?” Pashar asked.

“There’s only one I can think of,” Renaer said. “An old windmill on Coachlamp Lane. Although it belongs to someone named Seffia Naelryke, it was originally paid for by the Cassalanters. It’s a thin lead, but…”

“It’s good enough,” Kora said.

Things moved quickly now, but with purpose: Edana went to the children. There were tears and anger and pain, but she talked them through it. Theren, meanwhile, went out to speak with the Zhentarim: they pulled the big guns, with Ziraj and Yagra coming inside to keep a close guard on the tiny hut while they were gone. Vajra told Yagra that she would have people coming to collect Amara for resurrection shortly.

Then they went down the front stairs. With a wave of her hand, Vajra summoned spectral steeds pulling a carriage. “Mount,” she said, and then lifted off into the sky, flying above them as they tore through the streets of Waterdeep to the Southern Ward. As they drew near Coachlamp Lane, Vajra swooped down to speak with them through the window of the coach.

“I’m detecting strong wards,” she said. “Abjurations designed to warn against the approach of strong magic. Lady Ammalia knows I’m the one who’s been pursuing the investigation her. I’ll need to hold back, but I’ll come quickly when needed.”

“Is everything arranged for her arrest either alive or dead?” Pashar asked.

“Do what you need to do,” Vajra said. “We’ll clean it up later.” She swooped back up into the sky.

They rode on. The windmill was easy to spot — a round tower two storeys tall, with some sort of blocky later addition thrust out awkwardly to one side.

They moved quickly but carefully. Edana slipped through the shadows, efficiently checking the perimeter of the building. There was a dark-haired woman in an upper window, looking out over the street, but no sign of Ammalia herself. Edana chose one of the entrances on the opposite side of the building, a door leading into the annex.

There were bedrooms back there. They checked them one by one until they found an occupied bed: Hope surged for a moment that it might be Jenks, but it was a man with a beard and short, dirty-blonde hair. Theren and Edana bracketed the bed to either side, and Kittisoth’s demonic shadow, cast from where she filled the door, fell across the man as they rudely awoke him and thrust the point of poniard against his throat.

“Scream and you die,” Edana said. “Is Ammalia here?”

The man nodded. His eyes wide with fear.

“Does she have the boy?”

He nodded again.

“Is he alive?” Theren asked and then, after another nod, “Where?”

“Upstairs,” the man whispered hoarsely.

“Where is she?” Edana asked.

“Asmodeus will have your souls,” the man said, still in a hoarse whisper.

Edana drove the poniard up into his skull. Blood gushed out across the white sheets. She stood up, dragging a blanket up with her to wipe her blade.

Edana, coming out of the room, put a hand on Pashar’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” Kittisoth said. “No apologies. She took our son. She’s planning to sacrifice him. No more mercy.” She turned to Renaer. “She’s dead. You understand?”

Renaer nodded. “Yes she is.”

They went down the hallway, leaving the annex and entering the first floor of the windmill. Coming to the first door, Edana listened.

Creak. Creak. Creak.

A rocking chair.

Creak. Creak. Creak.

Edana signaled to Pashar and knocked an arrow. Theren came to kneel beside her, also knocking an arrow. She eased the door open. Ammalia Cassalanter was in the rocking chair, reading by the light of a fire.

Creak. Creak. Cre–

Pashar dropped a silence spell over the room. Edana shot.

Ammalia was already rising from the chair, raising her hand as if to cast, only for her eyes to grow wide as she realized she had no voice. Edana’s shot grazed her, but then Theren rapidly shot multiple arrows that struck her in the shoulder and then center mass. Edana shot again, her arrow joining the other blooming in Ammalia’s chest.

Kittisoth pulsed her wings, raw rage made manifest as she flew through the door above Edana and Theren’s heads. Electricity sparked from her eyes and raced down her arms, crackling across the head of her axe as she fell upon Lady Cassalanter. Blood sprayed across the wall, dancing in the flickering firelight. Ammalia reached up one plaintive hand to ward off the blow, but then Theren was there, having cast his bow aside, and his sword swept out and chopped off her hand, sending it spinning across the floor.

Lightning leapt from Kittisoth, burning silent, forked trails in the rug as it scorched Ammalia. Lady Cassalanter screamed silently, her mouth gaped in a rictus of terror and pain, and collapsed back in a hacked and ruined heap into her chair.

Pashar was horrified. They’d unleashed death before, but not like this. Not in visceral rage, nor so clearly in violation of the Code Legal. “I’m still sorry, Pashar,” Edana said. “But this was necessary.”

Revenge was done, but the work was not complete. They raced up the nearby stairs and found three doors. Behind one of them Edana was fairly certain they would find the silent watcher she had seen from outside. Avoiding that one, they quickly checked the others. The first room contained ritual paraphernalia arranged around a pentagram of blood upon the floor. Rage crackled behind Kittisoth’s eyes as a sick dread bubbled in her stomach, but behind the next door they found — in a crumpled pile on the ground, bound and gagged — they found Jenks.

Breathing.

He was alive.

Theren kicked open the other door and Edana used a sleep spell to dispatch the woman behind it. Kittisoth rushed to Jenks’ side and began undoing the bonds. He jerked awake in terror.

Now Edana was there, too. “It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Tears filled Jenks’ eyes. He sobbed. And then again. Uncontrollably. “Mommy!”

Kittisoth wrapped her wings around him.

And slowly, far too slowly, the sobbing eased.

And, at long last, stopped.

Go to Part 5

Go to Part 1

RETURN TO THE SEVEN MASKS THEATER

They didn’t have a lot of time to do everything they suddenly needed to take care of before infiltrating Xanathar’s that night, so they grabbed a carriage and rode to the Seven Masks Theater.

Arriving at the theater, they found it under guard. Suspicious looking thugs were watching the front door from across the street, and a couple more were loitering around the side entrance. The thugs looked human, but… They shrugged and headed down the alley, passing by posters still advertising performances of Sapphiria’s Booty and identifying themselves to the thugs. “We’re here to meet with Rongquan. Is he in?”

The thugs knocked on the side entrance. A moment later Rongquan cracked open the door and peeked out. He broke into a big grin. “Big five!”

The Trollskulls, recognizing the anti-doppelganger code they had set up with him, answered with smiles of their own as they were ushered into his office.

“How can I help you?” Rongquan asked. “Can I get you a drink?”

“That’s all right,” Kittisoth demurred. “What’s with all the guys outside?”

Rongquan, having grabbed a drink of his own, flirtatiously laid his hand over Kittisoth’s own. Kittisoth resisted the urge to roll her eyes out of her head… mostly. “To tell you the truth… it’s a cover story!”

“Really?!” Kittisoth said with faux adulation and naivete. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not really sure,” Rongquan said. “Some very secretive business with the investors. I’m not even allowed to leave my office!”

“Could we speak with the investors?” Kittisoth said, batting her eyes. (The others barely concealed their laughter.)

“Well… I suppose!” Rongquan knocked on the inner door of his office and spoke with some people on the other side. A few minutes later another knock came, Rongquan excused himself, and a dark elf entered. They were surprised to see it wasn’t Jarlaxle.

“Is Mr. J here?” Theren asked.

“No,” the dark elf said. “No he’s not.” He flopped down into a chair and kicked his boots up onto Rongquan’s desk. “Elves,” he muttered. “It’s always elves…”

Theren frowned. “You are an elf.”

“Don’t insult me,” the dark elf said.

“We need to speak with him,” Edana said.

“He has plans this evening,” the dark elf said. “But you could leave a message for him.”

“Where are his plans taking him this evening?”

“If I told you that, I don’t think ‘Mr. J’ would be very happy with me.”

“Well, Mister… What was your name?” Pashar asked.

“Soluun.”

“Well, Mister Soluun, give Fel’Rekt our best, and when you hear back from Mr. J, if you could be so kind as to—”

“If you have a message, I’ll take it,” Soluun said bluntly. “And then get out.”

Kittisoth fumed. “Excuse me? Do you have better things to do? Because—”

Edana restrained her. “Just let him know that we have a concern. About a neighborhood matter.”

“All right,” Soluun said. “I’ll pass it along.”

“We don’t have time for this,” Kora said. “We’re here about the kid.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“I’m sure you don’t,” Edana said. “And I’m sure that if any harm comes to that kid, it will not be in Mr. J’s best interests.”

“I don’t know who this kid is,” Soluun said. “But I’m sure he’s somewhere safe.” He gave a little smile… and Edana was certain that he kid was here, in the theater somewhere.

But there didn’t seem to be anything they could do about it. They’d played their little dance, but now the music was coming to an end.  They stalked out of the office and back to their carriage.

THE HARPER CACHE

It wasn’t hard to identify the warehouse Dain had been talking about. It was, in fact, backed directly against Yellowspire Tower. Approaching it from the court north of Turnback Court, they found that its windows were boarded up and there was a big padlock on the front door that Edana made quick work of.

The interior of the warehouse was one big space, with various stacks of crates and boxes here and there. Everything had a thick layer of dust on it. The place was clearly ill-used.

“Everyone take your Harper pins off,” Kora said. She slipped their pins into a bag of holding, removing them from this plane of existence, and then cast locate object and zeroed in on a Harper pin underneath a nearby crate.

With a shrug, Kittisoth lifted the crate out of the way, revealing a trap door with a heavy iron pull ring. Hauling the trap door open revealed stairs down to a small basement room. Kora redistributed their Harper pins as they went down the stairs.

At the bottom, they found an empty room. It only took Edana a few moments, however, to find an illusory patch of the wall concealing a small indentation. Following a hunch, she pressed her Harper pin into the indentation: The wall slid back silently, revealing the supply cache. It was packed with useful stuff. There was a rack of swords, shelves filled with iron rations, a small box of Harper pins, several chains shirts, a number of potions, and fourteen bags, each containing a hundred gold dragons.

They rapidly emptied all of it into a bag of holding and reversed their tracks, replacing the crate and the padlock on the front door as they left.

Now they were out of time. They needed to head to the fights.

THE XANATHAR RAID

It was back to the beginning. They returned to the warehouse where Floon and Renaer had been held by the Zhentarim and slipped through the same sewer grate they had dropped through so many weeks (and what seemed like a lifetime) ago.

The Xanatharians had apparently destroyed the chalk marks which had guided them originally, but Theren remembered the path they had taken through the sewers and led them back to the hideout. As he drew near, he motioned the others to silence and slid up towards the intersection.

He knew there were four arrow slits looking out over this intersection from the last time they’d been here. Observing them carefully now, he ascertained that there were two goblins behind each. He waved Edana up and she cast a spell to put them to sleep.

They hugged the wall of the sewer (metaphorically speaking) and came up to the lair’s secret door. Theren slipped through it first. As he approached the landing leading down into to the chamber with the teleportation totem, however, he heard the distinctive buzz-humming of stirge wings ahead.

Peeking around the corner, he saw a goblin leaning up against the teleportation totem with a pair of stirges buzzing around his head. The goblin absentmindedly reached up and patted one of the stirges affectionately on the head.

Stepping out into landing, Theren put an arrow through the goblin’s skull, sending a spray of blood across the stone floor. The stirges immediately swooped down into the pool and began slurping up the blood, but two more arrows left them dead in the midst of their “feast.”

Edana slid across the landing and through another door into the guard chamber where the other goblins were still snoring. She efficiently slit their throats and then returned to the others, who had gathered around the totem. They clasped each others’ arms and Edana slid the teleportal key into the totem. She twisted the key and…

…they were elsewhere.

They had appeared standing in the middle of a large, fifty-foot long chamber with vaulted ceilings. They were standing between four large stone pillars that ran from the floor to the ceiling. The key was inside a depression in one of the pillars, one of several identical depressions which ran around the circumference of that pillar and the others.

There were several halls and a stairway leading out of the chamber. At the far end of the hall directly in front of them they could see two burly men wearing studded leather armor, thankfully facing away from them and looking out into a crowded hallway. The sounds of a party washed over them — people talking, glassware clinking, merry laughter.

Edana and Theren quickly shoved the others behind one of the pillars, where the guards couldn’t see them. Edana peeked out. They hadn’t been noticed.

Kora took the moment to cast locate object, searching the last of the Eyes. She quickly had a vector: It was on the same level they were, roughly in the direction of the guards (“Of course,” Kittisoth said), but somewhat off to the left.

“Which way do we go?”

They’d prefer not to have to try to sneak past the guards. The staircase, even though it led down, was roughly in the right direction. “There might a way down and around,” Edana suggested. “So that we could come up behind or even right on top of the Eye.”

The others agreed and they slipped over to and down the stairs, which curved down to a T-intersection. Edana peeked around the corner: Thirty feet to her left was a door. Fifty feet to her right was another T-intersection. It was a maze down here. And, worse yet, between her and the other T-intersection, hanging down from the ceiling, was a spectral eyestalk.

“I don’t like that,” she muttered and headed back to the others.

Neither Kora nor Pashar had any idea what the ghostly eyestalk might be. “If it’s magic, I could dispel it,” Kora suggested. “But that might just alert Xanathar that we’re down here.”

“What about an illusion?” Theren suggested. “Make it look like the hallway is empty?”

Edana agreed and raised the illusion. Cloaked by the vision of the “empty” hallway, she slipped over to the door at the end of the hall. From the far side of the door she could hear metal clashing against metal… and the smell of something cooking. She came back to the others. “Do you think we can slip through the kitchens?”

“This hall isn’t going the right way,” Theren said. “We’ve gotten twisted around coming down the stairs. I think we should go back up to the main level?”

The others agreed and headed back up the stairs, re-entering the teleportation chamber.

They spread out to check the other hallways, to see if they could figure out a better way of circling around the guards. Unfortunately, the other hallways all went in basically exactly the wrong direction. As they considered their options, however, the sounds of several people shouting came from the direction of the party. Theren darted over to one of the pillars and glanced out. The two guards had turned towards the raised voices… and they were moving away!

“Let’s do it!” Kittisoth declared and stepped forward. But Theren grabbed her and yanked her back behind the pillar. Just moments after the guards vacated their post, three figures — looking back over their shoulders towards the party — had rounded the corner into the hall and were heading their way.

The figures headed towards the stairs. Theren slid to the other side of the pillar and tracked them. As they reached the top of the stairs, a beam of light caught them and he could see their faces plainly: They were drow.

“Jarlaxle’s men,” Kittisoth murmured.

The drow disappeared down the stairs. The Trollskulls darted out, down the hallway the drow had just left, and into the party.

The party filled a grand promenade nearly thirty feet across that curved out of sight to both the right and left. Down the middle of the hall were pillars carved with eyes which seemed to track those who passed nearby. At the moment, those eyes were darting back and forth, as the entire hall was filled with an eclectic, cosmopolitan crowd of ritzy elites rubbing shoulders with scarred gangsters while servants bearing trays of food and drink passed between them.

Off to their left they could still hear the raised voices and confusion of whatever altercation had distracted the guards. Off to their right, they could see other hallways with guards posted on them. Directly ahead, however, a ten-foot-wide circular door led to a smaller passage. The party spilled down this hall and into a larger chamber beyond: That was more or less the direction Kora was detecting the Eye from.

They slid through the crowd. No one seemed to give them a second glance as they passed through the stone door and came to the top of a short flight of stairs led down to the floor of a forty-foot-high dome that was at least eighty feet across. The floor was tiled in black marble, inset with in gold with the circle-and-eyestalk sigil of Xanathar. Jutting from the ceiling was bell-shaped protuberance. On the far side of the dome, directly across from them, an identical set of stairs led up to another open, circular door, this one with two guards flanking it. Off to their left, directly in line with Kora’s vector to the Eye, was another circular door — this one shut, but also with two guards. Small clusters of people were happily chatting here and there throughout the dome.

They walked across the room. Kora pulled out the rod of rulership they had taken from Victoro Cassalanter when they arrested him and discreetly waved it in the direction of the guards. “Would you be so kind as to let me and my friends in?”

The guards came to sharp attention. “Yes, sir!”

They pushed open the stone slab of the door and the Trollskulls strode through it. As they went, Kittisoth glanced nervously over her shoulder to see if anyone was paying undue attention to the exchange. No one was. But at just that moment Jarlaxle walked into the dome, accompanied by two men.

Kittisoth cursed and darted in after the others. It didn’t look like Jarlaxle had noticed them, though. Instead, he seemed to be focusing his attention on the two guards on the other side of the room, albeit while attempting to disguise his interest.

The Trollskulls found themselves in Xanathar’s sanctum. The room was magically lit with a bluish light. Luminous violet particles drifted through the air like mist. A twenty-foot-wide fishbowl dominated the center of the room. Filled with water it also contained a small coral reef, a miniature shipwreck, and a sunken treasure chest. On a small table next to this huge fishbowl they saw a smaller fishbowl, this one containing a single goldfish: Sylgar. On one wall of the room hung a huge mirror with the word XOBLOB carved into its silver frame. In a small chamber beyond an arch in the other wall of the room they could see a huge device of twisted crystal.

“Where is it?” Edana asked.

“There,” Kora said, pointing at the large fishbowl. “In the goddamn treasure chest.”

Kittisoth had fetched up just inside the door and was watching the dome outside. Several Xanatharian guards came rushing out of the door on the far side of the dome — the one Jarlaxle was still keeping one eye constantly fixed on. These guards spoke with a quick but quiet urgency to the two guards stationed there, and then all of the guards there rushed back through the door. No one else in the room seemed to take any note of this, but Jarlaxle, of course, immediately put his drink down and, with his men, beelined to and through the door.

Kittisoth stepped back from the door. “I’m not sure where Jarlaxle is going, but—”

Pashar suddenly dropped to his knees and began babbling incoherently in the Tongue of the Beholders… or at least what he thought was the Tongue of Beholders. It was really just nonsense.

“Dammit,” Edana cursed. “We need to get out of there. Maybe I could use mage hand to try to clear the treasure chest out? It’ll take me forever to sift through it, but I need to see the Eye before I can actually grab it telekinetically, though.”

“I’ll go in,” Kittisoth said. “I’ll just climb up on this table and try to– Wait. I can fly. Devil’s breath, I am so stressed out!” She leapt and flew and dived down to the chest.

Kora, meanwhile, used a quick spell to purge whatever poison had gripped Pashar’s mind.

“I’ve got it!” Kittisoth declared, splashing out of the top of the fishbowl.

Edana snatched it and thrust it into her bag of holding, removing it from the Material Plane.

“Go! Now!”

They walked out of the room. “Close the door, please,” Kora said to the guards. “And kindly escort us to the teleportation pillars?”

“Yes, sir!”

The guards stepped away from the door and took them across the dome, through the door, and into the promenade. The disturbance they had heard earlier had apparently come to an end and they could see that the guards had returned to their posts. But it didn’t matter: Kora’s guards escorted them right through the checkpoint and into the pillar room.

Behind them they heard a gruff voice call out: “Someone has broken into the master’s sanctum! Seal the lair! Find them immediately!”

But they were at the pillar. Edana thrust the teleportation key into the pillar.

They were out.

THE THREE EYES

They would have cheered, but as they reappeared in the sewer hideout, they found four goblins kneeling over the corpse of their dead friend. Reacting instinctively, the Trollskulls lashed out with their swords and cut them down before the goblins even realized they were among them. Then they rushed out through the secret door, back through the sewers, and emerged into the clean, exhilarating air of Waterdeep.

They’d done it!

Kora sent a magical message to the Blackstaff: “We have all of the Eyes and the Stone of Golorr. We believe that the Enigma is located beneath Brandath Crypts. Going there now.”

A moment later, Vajra sent a reply: “Good luck!”

They jumped in a carriage and headed across Waterdeep, racing the sunset to the City of the Dead. Passing through the gates before they were closed for the night, they made their way quickly to the Brandath Crypts, through Lady Alethea’s tomb, into the secret crypts, and down the long, ancient passage to the vault doors.

Standing there, atop the bronze sunburst and facing the dwarven-carved doors of adamantium, Edana drew out the blinded Stone of Golorr and placed it in the palm of her left hand. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the first of the Eyes into the Stone.

A warmth spread through the palm of her hand and she heard a voice murmur in the back of her mind: “Oh… I have returned.”

She took the second Eye and pushed it into its socket.

“You have the Eyes! Unblind me, mortal!”

The voice seemed stronger now.

“Will you give me the knowledge I seek?” Edana said aloud.

“Yes,” replied the voice. “That is my purpose.”

“Wait… what?” Pashar said. Instinctively, he reached out and touched Edana’s shoulder. The other’s, following his example, also reflexively reached out; not certain whether they were warding their friend, seeking to stop her, or volunteering to ride with her into whatever danger she might face. Only knowing that they needed to be together in this moment.

Edana pushed the third Eye in.

Go to Part 4

Go to Part 1

A QUIET MORNING AT TROLLSKULL MANOR

Returning to Trollskull Manor, they found the ghost Lif overseeing the unseen servant mopping the floor of the tavern.

“Welcome home,” Lif said.

“How was everything last night?” Theren asked.

“We had a good crowd,” Lif said. “Master Floon was here and inquired after Kittisoth.”

“The one with the great jawline?” Kitti asked. “Did he say what he wanted?”

“Was his wife with him?” Edana asked.

“She was not,” Lif said. “And he simply said that he regretted missing Kittisoth.”

“Gross,” Kitti said. “I do not regret it. But thank you for telling me.”

They headed upstairs and checked in with the kids. Jenks was still asleep after staying up late working at Amara’s bakery, but Nat and Squiddly both excitedly regaled them with tales of their apprenticeships from the day before.

Theren actually headed over to Amara’s and found a well-sized crowd had gathered. She was just wrapping up a croissant for Fala Lefaliir, the herbalist from farther down Trollskull Alley, as he came in.

“How are things going?” Theren asked. “Do you need anything?”

“No,” Amara declared cheerfully. “We’re having a wonderful morning! And I’ll have the order for Trollskull Manor over in the mid-afternoon.”

Fala thanked Theren for his part in making this happen. “We used to have to walk over to the far side of the High Road for a decent bakery. It’s wonderful to have one right here in the alley.” Theren spent a few minutes chatting with her about his plans to convert the alley into greenspace. The whole alley was excited about that, too.

TEAM RESEARCH

Meanwhile, Pashar and Kora headed out to research more details about the Vault. Kora suggested they go to the Font of Knowledge, a Temple of Oghma, since their queries seemed to be primarily religious in nature. They split up, with Pashar researching the Maroon Brotherhood and Kora focusing on Dumathoin.

Kora learned little she did not already know: Dumathoin was one of the first members of the Mordinsamman, the council of dwarven gods. He was known as the Keeper of the Secrets and was the patron of the shield dwarves. Locally, he had been worshipped by Clan Melairkyn, the dwarves who had first begun excavating under what was now Waterdeep. The earliest portions of Undermountain were, in fact, the Underhalls in which the Melairkyn had made their homes and wrought their mithril-craft. The age of the construction they had found beneath the Brandath Crypts certainly suggested that it was likely built by the Melairkyn.

Kora also dug into the strange association of the holy symbols of Dumathoin, Laduguer, and Ilsensine. Here, however, she found little: A few scraps of legends referred obliquely to even older legends, now lost to the earliest mists of time, that suggested that, in the first days of the Mordinsamman, there was a great and bitter rivalry between Dumathoin and Ilsensine. And another reference to Laduguer “as the once-brother of the Secret Keeper.” But these explained little.

As for Laduguer himself, he had once been a member of the Mordinsamman. But when Moradin discovered that Ladueguer had created the duergar, he was cast out from the council.

Pashar’s research was a little more rewarding: The Maroon Brotherhood were a secret brotherhood, primarily centered in Waterdeep and most likely founded during the 12^th century, although there are many sources suggesting that their true origins lay even earlier in history. In the early 14^th century, the Brotherhood became caught up in the Shadow Thief Affairs: Their members were implicated in an assassination attempt and the group was broken up by then-Open Lord Lhestyn.

Rumors persisted for the better part of a century, however, that the Brotherhood of them Maroon Pin had actually survived the purge and were secretly controlling Waterdeep (or even all of the newly formed Lords’ Alliance). Some even claimed that every single Masked Lord was, in fact, a member of the Brotherhood — or perhaps that the Brotherhood and the Masked Lords were one and the same.

The rituals of the brotherhood largely remained secret even after their precipitous fall — or perhaps because of it. It was clear, however, that they had accumulated any number of ancient rituals, symbols, and the like. These included their namesake alexandrite pins, dwarven compasses (often hidden within works of art, leading many to conclude that any piece of art with a dwarven compass in it must also contain encrypted messages or secret truths of the Brotherhood), a serpent’s forked tongue (representing the telling of secrets), scarab beetles, and the like.

Pashar found one particular example of this sort of thing. Beneath the picture of a broken arrow was an enigmatic phrase: “In beam of sun, strike dragon’s scale with mithril true upon the anvil sun.” Mid-14^th century scholars had exhausted great amounts of work trying to puzzle out what the imagery of “anvil sun” alluded to, with most concluding that it must refer cryptically to a site somewhere within Calimshan, possibly dating back to the lost empire of Coramshan. Debates raged endlessly about exactly which site (or sites) the passage might refer to, until the Maroon Brotherhood conspiracy scholarship slowly faded away by the end of the 14^th century.

SHOPPING AT THE MARKET

A little later in the morning, Edana, Theren, and Kitti headed to the Market. Edana tracked down Nardis, the fish seller Ott Steeltoes had told her about. Nardis was a merman. His entire stall was a pool of water. It took a fair bit of haggling, but Edana was able to convince him to sell her the Sylgar look-a-like he was holding for Ott.

As they walked way, Kitti leaned over. “What’s the plan here, exactly?”

“If we get caught,” Edana said. “We threaten the goldfish.”

“Just pretend it’s actually Sylgar?”

“Exactly.”

Theren, meanwhile, was scouring the stalls looking for a very particular item and, when it proved quite expensive, asked Edana and Kitti, who were just walking up, to pool their money with him to purchase it. Then they returned to Trollskull Manor.

They found Kora and Pashar waiting in their sitting room. Theren walked over to Kora. “Here,” he said. “These are goggles of the night. They’ll grant you darkvision. Just like the rest of us.”

Pashar gasped with glee and then applauded. Kora blushed. “Thank you.

“Now you have a soul,” Pashar said.

“What?”

“Oh, yes,” Pashar said. “Elves believe that only those with souls can see in the absence of light.”

It took them all a moment to notice the small smirk on Pashar’s face and realize he was joking. They collapsed in general merriment.

LETTERS OF THE MORNING

A letter arrived by messenger. It was written in silver ink upon black parchment:

“He’s so nice to us,” Theren said. “I don’t understand. We should buy him a thank you gift.”

“How can we shore up defenses here?” Kittisoth asked. “Especially when we’re gone. She’ll target us here. At home.”

“That makes sense,” Kora said.

“We could send her a letter,” Theren said. “’We’re letting all of our contacts know that doppelgangers have been appearing as us. And, just in case you’ve been had interactions with us, that that was not use.’”

They laughed. But quickly sobered once more.

“We need to hire someone to guard the house,” Edana said. “On short notice.”

“What about the Zhents?” Pashar suggested.

“That’s not a bad idea,” Kora said.

“I thought we told them to stay out of our neighborhood,” Theren objected.

“No, he’s right,” Kittisoth said. “I trust them more than just about anybody else we’ve met in this town.”

They quickly agreed that it was, in fact, their best option. As they were about to leave for Kolat Towers, however, there was another knock on the door. Another letter had arrived.

Kora sighed. Her Harper contact had the worst timing.

They needed to split up, but Kora didn’t want to go entirely by herself, so Theren agreed to accompany here, while Edana and Kittisoth headed to Kolat Towers to negotiate with the Zhents. Pashar would stay at Trollskull to watch over things there.

AN UNHAPPY HARPER

Kora and Theren found Dain in his usual spot at the far end of the narrow, dockside bar.

“Dain,” Kora said.

“I’m glad you could come,” Dain said. “We need a strike team with some muscle behind it that can strike fast, and I knew you already had some history with the Zhents. We have reports that the Zhents are moving into a place called Yellowspire on Turnback Court. I don’t think you’re aware of this, but directly behind the north side of Turnback Court — just beyond Yellowspire Tower — the Harpers have a supply cache. It has magic items and other resources. We believe that the Zhents are moving into Yellowspire in order to make a move on this cache.”

“You want us to attack the Zhents?” Kora said. She couldn’t believe this was happening.

“We need them out of Yellowspire. However you can make that happen.”

“All right,” Theren said. “The good news is that the cache is perfectly safe. The Zhents don’t even know it’s there.”

Dain frowned. “What do you mean?”

Kora sighed. “You remember when I told you that we killed Manshoon? It was the Doom Raider Zhentarim who helped us do that. And in the process of attacking Manshoon, we discovered a magical conduit between Yellowspire and the Zhentarim headquarters. Our allies — the Doom Raiders — now control Yellowspire.”

“Legally,” Theren added. “They have a deed.”

Dain was stone-faced.

“If you’re still concerned, I’d suggest simply moving the cache,” Kora said. “

Dain shook his head. “It would be a security risk, no matter what short term alliances your may have made. And moving the cache would potentially expose it.”

Kora shook her head, too. “We can’t do it.”

Theren was exasperated. “You can’t just attack people in a building they legally own!”

“You’re new to the Harpers, stripling,” Dain said dismissively. “But we do what’s necessary, whether it’s legal or not.”

“I understand that,” Kora said. “But we can say with absolute certainty that they are not there for the cache! There’s no risk to it!”

“Fine,” Dain said. “If your team isn’t up to handling this, then we’ll find someone who can.”

“I don’t think you—”

“It’s fine,” Dain said acidly. “Leave.”

Kora shoved her stool back from the bar and left.

RETURN TO KOLAT TOWERS

Edana and Kittisoth arrived at Kolat Towers. From the edge of the energy field protecting the grounds, they waved to two Zhentarim guards standing at the front door of the towers. One of them jogged over and, with their pass-amulet, ushered them through.

While they waited near the door, one of the Zhents — a man they recognized from their raid on Manshoon’s inner sanctum —ran up the stairs. A few minutes later he returned with Ziraj, who greeted them with a friendly (and toothy) grin. After a few pleasantries, he led them back up the stairs.

“Yes,” he said, responding to a question from Edana. “We staged a raid into the upper levels of the tower yesterday. It looks like Manshoon didn’t go up there very much. We mostly found a bunch of crap belonging to the Kolat brothers who originally owned the tower and a few of their old wards.”

They came to a chamber that was in the middle of being refurbished into an office or operations center or something of the like for Tashlyn Yafeera. She looked up and smiled as they came in.

“It’s good to see you again,” Kittisoth said.

“And you!” Tashlyn said. “What brings you by?”

“We’re having some trouble at Trollskull,” Edana said. “We’ve upset a powerful figure and we have cause to believe they’re going to come in the next few days to attack us. We need someone to guard the manor — and our children — when we can’t be there.”

Tashlyn threw herself back into her chair. “That shouldn’t be a problem. We’d be happy to do you a favor. Istrid should be available and… Ziraj, you’re probably free to head over with a few of your boys tonight, too, right?’

Ziraj nodded.

“Of course, diverting that kind of manpower will slow down our efforts to hunt down the rest of Manshoon’s loyalists. What would help,” Tashlyn said suggestively, “is if we had a powerful spellcaster to call upon. But with Davil out of action… Well, you see the problem. Now, a little birdie on the street has told me—”

“Was it a raven?” Edana asked.

Kittisoth nodded sagely. “Or an owl?”

Tashlyn blinked. “It’s a metaphorical bird.” She took a second to regroup her thoughts. “Let’s say a voice on the wind. A voice on the wind told me that you’ve gotten friendly with the Blackstaff. And I’m sure that the Blackstaff would be able to free Davil.”

Edana thought it over. “I can’t speak on behalf of the Blackstaff. And I’m sure that the Blackstaff herself would want payment for such a service.”

“You can broker a meeting?” Tashlyn said. “That’s enough.” She clapped her hands and stood up. “It’s settled.”

They spent a few more minutes working out the details and then headed home.

THE THIRD LETTER

Back at Trollskull Manor, there was a knock on the door.

Pashar nervously answered it. It was another messenger. With another note. This one from the Gralhunds.

Pashar told the kids to stay in their room and then rushed out to Gralhund Villa. An ashen-faced servant led him upstairs to the Gralhunds’ bedchamber. Entering, Pashar saw that the glass doors leading out to the balcony had been smashed in. Broken glass glittered from the plush rugs.

Lady Yalah was sobbing on the bed. Lord Orond was standing over her trying to comfort her, but seeing Pashar come in her walked over to him. “Pashar! Everything Kora and Edana said! It was true! We weren’t able to protect them! The dark elves came! They took Zartan!”

“And your other son?” Pashar said quickly.

“Greth is in the next room. He’s all right.”

“What happened?”

Lord Orond ran his hand through his disheveled hair. “The dark elves attacked. We weren’t expecting them during the day. They broke in through these doors. They children were in here playing. The guards weren’t able to come quickly enough. They couldn’t get here before… they… They took my boy! They took…” He sobbed.

“Did they leave anything?”

“Yes,” Lady Yalah said, swallowing her own sobs. She held up a slip of black paper. Black paper with silver ink on it.

Pashar gingerly stepped over to her, took the note from her hand, and read.

“We just don’t know what to do,” Lord Orond said.

“Are there any unique objects that we could use to perhaps magically trace Zartan?” Pashar asked.

“He had a stuffed unicorn,” Lord Orond said.

“Did you see which way they went?”

“They crossed the roof,” Orond said. “But they had snipers and they kept us pinned down until they were gone.”

“We’ll do whatever we can,” Pashar reassured them.

“Whatever you can do,” Lady Yalah pleaded. “We’ll do anything! Please! Just save my son!”

Pashar excused himself.

PLANNING BETRAYALS WITH THE BEST INTENTIONS

The others arrived back to find that Pashar was missing.

“He’ll be back,” Kittisoth said with confidence. “What did Dain have to say?”

Kora quickly explained.

“Can we just talk to the Zhents and ask them to leave?” Kittisoth asked.

Edana shook her head. “I don’t think we’ll be able to convince the Zhents to leave when there’s no good reason for them to do so.”

“The Harpers are in the wrong here,” Theren said bluntly.

“I actually agree with you,” Kora said. “They’re valuing property over people because they don’t want to deal with someone finding out their secrets.” She paused and thought about it for a moment. “I think we should move the cache ourselves.”

Kittisoth grinned. “Sure. Why not? We just do it and tell them later. Didn’t they just make you a Harpshadow?”

“That’s right,” Edana said. “You’re empowered to make these kinds of decisions.”

“That’s true,” Kora said. “I’m supposed to use my initiative and my discretion. And using my discretion, we’re going to solve this problem. They’ll thank me later.”

“Where do we put it?”

“I think we can move it to Thunderstaff Manor,” Kora said.

That’s when Pashar walked in. “I have great news! The ruse continues! They have no idea that we were responsible for taking the Stone of Golorr! Also, Jarlaxle has stolen one of their children.”

“Oh my god,” Kittisoth murmured.

“Who?” Kora said.

“The Gralhunds.”

Pashar quickly filled them in on everything he’d learned from the Gralhunds.

“Didn’t we convince them that Jarlaxle had taken the Stone?” Theren said.

“We convinced them that Jarlaxle took their nimblewright,” Edana said. “So, from their perspective, he must not know what he has.”

“Or he’s trying to figure out how to open the nimblewright and access it.” Theren nodded.

“And what does Jarlaxle actually know?” Kittisoth asked. “Does he know we have the Stone?”

“I don’t think so,” Kora said. “Some people might know that Vajra took it, but I think only Vajra — and Renaer — knows that she gave it to us.”

But what now? They could tell Jarlaxle the truth. They could cut a deal to give him credit for helping to recover the stolen gold (if they could convince Vajra and Laeral to go along with it). They could use the Stone, empty the vaults, then pluck the Eyes back out of it and turn the blinded Stone over to him.

The truth was that they sympathized with him. He’d helped them several times despite having every reason not to. “And he’s just trying to gain protection and leverage for his city,” Kora said. “Just like any ruler would for his people. Even if his people are a bunch of pirates.” (“Pirates are not bad,” Kittisoth said. “Well…” Edana said. “What’s that supposed to mean?!”) His motivations seemed honorable.

“But he took a child,” Edana said. “He crossed a line.”

“Either way we need to do something right now,” Pashar said. “The child is already in danger.”

“We just need to reassure him,” Kittisoth said. “We just need enough time to get the third Eye from Xanathar and then access Vault. After that, we’ll have all the leverage. This whole thing can be done by tomorrow morning.”

“All right,” Kora said, “then we need to seek a meeting with Jarlaxle at the Seven Masks Theater. We’ll reassure him that we’re all working for the same ends, and that we just need a little more time to ‘find him what he needs.’”

“Perfect,” Theren said. “Even if he later finds out everything we’ve been up to, we’ll still be able to honestly say that we didn’t lie to him. I think he’ll respect that.”

To be continued…

DRAGON HEIST – SESSION 21
February 21st, 2020

With my recent announcement that my Dragon Heist campaign had come to an end, I’ve had a number of people, including several of my patrons, ask me for a retrospective or post mortem of my experiences. This campaign journal describing the last session of the campaign will be the first installment of that retrospective, with additional discussions to follow.

As noted above, this was Session 21 of the campaign. We primarily ran the campaign in weekend intensives, starting with a session on Friday night and then continuing with day-long sessions on Saturday and Sunday. In the back half of the campaign our Sunday sessions were shortened due to one of the players joining a roller derby league. There was also one month that we missed entirely and another where we were only able to play a single session. In the end, and entirely by coincidence, we ended the campaign exactly one year to the day from our first session.

If you’re looking for the rest of the campaign journals… Unfortunately, they don’t exist. Nor are they likely to exist barring someone deciding to single-handedly sponsor them at great expense or a general outcry of demand from a significant number of my patrons. These journals are not particularly onerous to produce, but they are relatively time-consuming. I think you’ll find that sufficient context has been given here to understand what’s happening and to be entertained by the group’s escapades. If you would like to peek at a few other major events in the campaign, I have written about it previously in two Running the Campaign columns: A Party at Shipwright’s House and The Manshoon Heists.

WHAT’S COME BEFORE

• The Trollskulls have adopted three orphans — Nat, Squiddly, and Jenks — and have recently arranged for their education: All are to be tutored on alternating afternoons by Firedrop (a pixie philosopher) and Nalolir (a podrikev; a dwarven construct with the brain and spinal column of a kobold who escaped from Undermountain a hunded years ago).
• Jenks has been apprenticed to Amara, a baker who only recently left her own apprenticeship when the Trollskulls helped set up a new bakery in what was previously Frewn’s Brews (a competing tavern in Trollskull Alley that the Trollskulls rode out of town on a rail… although, to be fair, Frewn had hired the Shard Shunner wererat gang to attempt to ruin Trollskull Manor).
• Squiddly had been apprenticed to Master Kennadr of the Fellowship of Bowyers and Fletchers. He wanted to one day become an archer, but he would begin by learning the tools of his would-be craft.
• Nat, who could speak only through sign language, had been apprenticed to Ethlando, an elven scholar who had once been a magi, but was cursed with having his magic stripped from him.
• Squiddly and Nat would attend their apprenticeships in the mornings before coming home to be tutored with Jenks. Jenks, however, now slept late after working at the bakery with Amara overnight.
• The Trollskulls have obtained the Stone of Golorr and two of its eyes. Having briefly allied with the Gralhunds, they eventually decided their true allegiance was to the city and they informed Vajra (who had made them members of Force Grey) of all that they knew. Vajra interceded with the Gralhunds, impounded the nimblewright where they were keeping the Stone of Golorr hidden, and then turned the Stone over to the PCs. (Vajra herself, along with Renaer Neverember, are preoccupied trying to rapidly build an airtight, post facto case against Victoro Cassalanter, who the Trollskulls arrested under somewhat unorthodox circumstances, for being an Asmodean cultist.) The Trollskulls then managed to convince the Gralhunds that it couldn’t have been Vajra and must have been Jarlaxle in disguise who stole their nimblewright (and the Stone within)!
• The Trollskulls also know that the notorious crime lord Xanathar has the third eye of the Stone of Golorr. They have befriended Ott Steeltoes, Xanathar’s majordomo, and learned that the one thing Xanathar prizes more than anything else in the world is a goldfish named Sylgar. Ott must routinely replace the goldfish whenever it dies. They also learned (and did business with) the fish dealer Ott gets his Sylgars from. They know that tomorrow night — on the 5^th of Tarsakh — Xanathar will be holding a gladiatorial contest in his headquarters as part of the Goldennight festival celebrations, and they have been given a teleportal key for Xanathar’s teleporter totems that will allow them to access his lair when the time comes…

RETURN TO THE CITY OF THE DEAD

It was mid-afternoon on the 4^th of Tarsakh. Edana was waiting at Trollskull Manor for the others to return from their various errands. Embric stopped by to deliver — in an elegant, velvet-lined box — the flasks he and Avi had modified to bear the tavern’s sigil:

These were the (many) flasks that Edana had taken from Osco Salibuck during their raid on the Cassalanter Villa, and she thought they would make lovely, mismatched mementoes for the Trollskulls. As the others returned and gathered in their upstairs sitting room, she pulled them out to much admiration.

The kids came running out of their room, their afternoon tutoring complete. “Where are you going?” Edana asked.

“Swordfighting!” Squiddly called back.

“With wooden swords, right?”

“Yes!”

“If I hear metal, you’re in trouble!”

“Okay, mom!”

The kids were gone. Kittisoth couldn’t contain her glee. They’d called Edana mom! For the first time!

After a brief discussion, they confirmed their intention to hit Xanathar’s lair the next night, taking advantage of the confusion around the Goldennight fights. In the meantime, Pashar had a hunch they wanted to follow up on: In their original attempts to figure out why the Zhentarim had been interested in Renaer’s mourning locket for his mother, they had visited the Brandath Crypts with him several weeks earlier. Now they suspected that they might have missed something. They knew that Lord Dagult had hidden his gold somewhere, they knew that he had done significant construction to build his wife’s crypt, and they knew that he had hidden one of the Golorr eyes in his son’s mourning locket. Why? What was the connection?

Passing through the gardened paths of the City of the Dead, they saw any number of picnickers and the like near the north gates. A gaggle of children ran past flying kites. Further south, they were passed themselves by a procession of self-flagellant priests of Ilmater, seeking to bless the burial grounds.

The Brandath Crypts hoved into view. Outside the front gate of the crypts they saw the tall form of the treant Pal’ithil’drassar. Theren, who had actually visited him a few times since their first visit here, greeted him as a friend and they chatted amiably for a while before passing into the crypts themselves.

They passed the grand tombs of porphyry and marble and instead twisted their way into the older tombs, making their way to where Lady Alethea had been interred.

Lady Alethea’s sarcophagus, in the center of the chamber, was clearly newer than the rest of the crypt. A bouquet of wilted roses — left by Renaer when last they’d been here, or perhaps replaced since then — lay atop the sarcophagus. Looking up, Edana saw that the ceiling was covered with a faded and chipped tempura portrait of a nobleman identified, by a painted banner beneath the figure, as LORD ANRI BRANDATH. Fresh script around the perimeter of this portrait read, in four languages, “The beauty of our age, in death, is watched over by the spirits of her ancestors.”

It was clear to Kora that there were three different ages of construction: The crypt itself was the oldest. At some later date, but still quite a long time ago, the painting of Lord Anri had been added to the ceiling above. And then, quite recently, Lady Alethea’s sarcophagus and the new script had been added. (Most likely at the same time, Lord Anri’s remains — which they had previously seen in a cheap, new tomb on the far side of the Brandath Crypts – had been moved.) Kora also noticed that Lord Anri’s portrait depicted him with an alexandrite-tipped pin and holding a distinctive dwarven compass in his left hand, both of which were symbols of the Maroon Brotherhood, an obscure fraternal order that had once been active in Waterdeep but no longer existed.

Kora pulled out her wand of secrets. Standing next to the sarcophagus in the center of the room, she uttered the command word. The wand instantly jerked her hand towards the southern wall. “There,” she said.

Edana closely inspected the wall there. She found four false stones. Pushing them in, she heard bolts retracting and was then able to push open the wall, revealing a staircase heading down. Sconces for torches were placed on the walls, but there were no torches in them. The air was dry. There was a thick coating of dust, but a large amount of fairly recent traffic had disturbed it up and down the stairs.

On the top step, Edana noted scorch marks. “There was a trap here,” she said. “But someone triggered it.”

Pashar stepped closer and looked over her shoulder. “Looks like the remains of a glyph of warding.”

“That’s trouble,” Kora said. “Did someone beat us here?”

Watched over by Lady Alethea’s sarcophagus, they waited for Pashar and Kora to ritually cast comprehend languages and detect magic, respectively. (Kitti couldn’t shake the feeling that Lady Alethea was judging her relationship with Renear. “Whatever. I’m awesome.”) When the rites were done, Edana led the way down the stairs.

At the bottom, they found a twisted passage lined with niches containing ancient sarcophagi, their once-sharp features worn away into featureless lumps be immeasurable age. Coming to a corner, Edana noticed that one of the sconces had been ripped out of the wall. It was laying in the middle of the floor. The hall continued for some little distance, but then ended in a complete collapse of earth and stone.

Edana frowned. She reached down to her belt and opened her bag of holding. A small skull with jewels for eyes came flying out of it. “Mortaunto!” it cried.

Mortaunto swooped over to the broken sconce lying on the ground and telekinetically floated it into the air. “This is fascinating!” He darted back and forth examining it from every angle. “Hmm…”

“Mortaunto,” Edana asked, “do you see this collapse? From your vantage point, can you see a way through it?”

“Yes! Of course!” Mortaunto cried. “Here!” He telekinetically moved the sconce over to the mouth of Edana’s bag and jiggled it suggestively. Edana complied, opening the bag and allowing him to add the sconce to his collection within.

“Mortaunto!” Mortaunto cried and flew down the hallway… and straight through the wall.

“Oh shit,” Edana said.

Mortaunto flew back out of the wall. “It appears to be… an illusion!”

Kitti clapped. “Mortaunto! You’re so good! I love you so much!”

Edana opened her bag and Mortaunto zipped back in to continue his inspection and adoration of his new treasure. Then she led the others to the illusion. Taking a deep breath, she stepped through.

Beyond the illusion there was an archway filled with a heavy door of steel. The keystone of the arch was decorated to appear like a mountain with a purple alexandrite gemstone in the middle of it (Kora recognized this as a depiction of the dwarven god Dumathoin’s holy symbol). The voussoir around the perimeter of the arch had been carved with more symbols of the Maroon Brotherhood in alternation with dwarven runes: A dwarven compass, a serpent’s forked tongue, a scarabraeus, a brain with two tentacles (this was Ilsensine’s holy symbol, god of the illithid), and a broken arrow (holy symbol of Laduguer, god of the dark dwarves).

“This is strange,” Kora said. She couldn’t imagine what connection there would be between these three very disparate gods.

The door was obviously of much more recent construction than the arch, and its installation had actually damaged some of the ancient symbols in the arch. Edana knelt down and took a close look at the lock. “This is like a bank vault, but I’ll se what I can do.”

A few minutes into her efforts, however, she tripped something. Some sort of magical effect.

“What did it do?” Kittisoth asked.

“I’m not sure,” Edana said.

“Probably an alarm,” Kora said.

Edana sighed in frustration. “This is going to take awhile. The sun will have probably set before I can get this door open.”

They briefly discussed their options. In the end, Pashar sent Darkimedes — his familiar — to fly back to Trollskull and let Lif know that they wouldn’t be coming back tonight. Pashar would also be able to create a magical tiny hut for them to respite in, rather than venturing out into the unknown dangers of the City of the Dead at night.

And so, while the others retreated to Lady Alethea’s tomb to relax, Edana redoubled her focus on cracking the complicated lock. It took her nearly two hours, but she eventually felt the last of the interlocked tumblers release and the door swung open.

BENEATH THE CRYPT

Calling out to the others, she stood up and looked down the long, sloping hallway beyond. The others quickly gathered their things and joined her, and then they proceeded down the hallway together.

About fifteen feet past the door, the construction of the stone changed. “This lower portion is dwarven construction,” Edana said, noting the smooth, almost ageless carving. Another fifty feet down they began encountering dwarven graffiti that soon covered both walls — and even the ceiling — in a palimpsest of what turned out to be secrets. Pashar was fascinated, studying the mostly banal confessions and noting down many of them: My beard quivers for Lorlai of the stonecutters. I tasted pixy dust in the third hall. I use rotgrub paste to dye my beard. And so forth.

This continued for several hundred feet before the passage emptied out into a vaulted chamber twenty feet wide and twenty feet high. It seemed to resonate with a silent stillness, suggestive of its great age. The far wall of the chamber was dominated by a massive pair of adamantine doors bearing dwarvish runes taller than a grown man. “All that lies within belongs to the Silent Keeper.”

In the center of the floor there was a bronze bas relief of a stylized sun, six feet across. A Chondathan inscription had been carved into the floor in a circle around the bas relief. They read, “Know ye the hidden truth,” repeated three times.

“There’s magic here,” Kora said. “Ancient abjurations.”

“Placed here by Lord Dagult?” Edana asked.

“Older than that,” Kora said. “Much older.” She set to work studying the abjurations. Some great magical rite of warding linked the adamantine doors to bas relief sun on the floor. Their power was immense. “It requires some sort of rite or passphrase to open the doors. And it would take a wish to bypass these protections.”

Theoretically the Blackstaff or perhaps Laeral would be able to provide such a conjuration, but the cost would be step and probably not to be borne as long as another option remained.

“This must have been what Lord Dagult used the Stone to hide,” Edana said. “The passphrase for entering the vault.”

“So if we get the third eye, we’ll be able to use the Stone to learn the passphrase?” Theren asked. “And then use the passphrase to open the doors?”

“Maybe,” Edana said. “We don’t really understand exactly what the Stone does or how it does it.”

For the moment, at least, it seemed that they had reached an impasse. They went back up the long hall and Pashar evoked his tiny hut. He decided that it should be maroon, in honor of the Brotherhood whose signs they had found here, and they settled in for a secure night’s sleep.

To be continued…