Instead, it disappeared into a nimbus of purple lights at the apogee of its leap. Tsarra looked down at Khelben again, surprised to find tears of joy rimming both their eyes. Khelben whispered, "You feel it, don't you? Even if you're not fully aware of it all, part of you knows what's to come and rejoices at it. Remember that when things get bleak. It will help you through harder days than this one. Now, prepare to bear the endgame that is upon us. I'm sorry I did not prepare you better-I thought I had more time. So many things undone, unsaid." Tsarra felt a flash of warning in her head along with the loud growl of Nameless as he flew down to protect her. The tressym landed on her left shoulder as the priest and their opponent stepped close to them. His eyes not on them, Sandrew muttered a few words in prayer, and a glow emanated from his hands. He spread his arms in arcs overhead, and the glow settled into a radiant hemisphere around the quintet. "There," said the priest. "Oghma loves to share knowledge, but he also knows when to keep secrets from prying eyes and ears."
"Glad to see that prayer book I gave you for the founding has seen good use," Khelben said then coughed violently, expelling small amounts of blood and smoke from his mouth. Tsarra felt his embarrassment over his seeming weakness, though he seemed to have some concerns toward his continued health. "Lord Arunsun?" Sandrew the Wise asked as he kneeled down opposite Tsarra on the other side of Khelben.
"Thank you for saving my temple from destruction, milord archmage. May I heal your suffering?" Sandrew's cleanshaven face was both young and ancient at the same time, as his unwrinkled brow and umber-colored eyes seemed to hold the insight of ages. "No, thank you, Loremaster High. It looks worse than it is. That matter is well in hand." Khelben nodded, though Tsarra noticed his face had returned to its usual stony facade, revealing no more than absolutely necessary. "The scrolls will unfurl in due time, old friend. For now, introduce us to our erstwhile foe. I believe we all have met briefly, though names were not exchanged." Tsarra found herself unable to look away from the young man who locked eyes with her rather than submit to Khelben's interrogation. While his loose-necked crimson shirt and black leather breeches still bore the marks and stains of a few recent battles, the man himself was clean and whole, his dark brown hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. His youngish face had a close-trimmed full beard.
Tsarra was distracted by his eyes-slate gray with highlights of blue, like eclipsed marble-until he averted them to look at and offer a palm toward Nameless, who had been growling loudly. The tressym sniffed warily, his head bobbing to get a better range of scent about the man, and Tsarra felt her familiar's reactions-an odd stream of emotions from surprise, hatred, curiosity, disgust, amusement, jealousy, contempt, and confusion. Nameless began meowing loudly, which Tsarra understood as "Stinks of longdeadnots and marsh and stone. Didn't smell that before through sparksmell and fearstink. Like his scent, and he knows not to risk scratching my ears. He still goodforyou matefriend maybe? He huntercurious but also smellfury and wantflightfight like me." Tsarra picked up her scimitar and said, "He says you smell of undead, and that makes me distrust you immediately.
Despite your open approach toward him, my friend knows you're furious at something and really want to be elsewhere." "Undead, you say? Thank you, Nameless, for that information." Khelben's irritation was obvious in his snapped query. "Well, boy? Can you account for your actions?
Tell us for whom you work." His voice never wavered, but Tsarra could feel his strength waning, and his breathing grew labored. The man's eyes widened, and he looked frantically at Tsarra, Khelben, and Sandrew, mouthing words mutely. He grimaced and seemed to scream, but no sound came from him other than the rustle and creak of clothing and the rush of air from his mouth. Sandrew's hands glowed as he touched the man on the throat, but an attempt to speak after that only produced a rasp. Sandrew looked down and said, "I'm afraid we can learn precious little, Blackstaff. He has been rendered mute by the forces that turned him against his own church." Tsarra asked, "So he's a lay worshiper of Oghma?" "Aye, lass," Sandrew said. "This is Raegar Stoneblade. He first came to us as a stonecutter during the Font's construction, but he has since joined us as a devout worshiper as well." Khelben asked, "Is that why he's been spying on my tower and students?" Sandrew's eyes widened, and he spun toward Raegar. "Not by my authority, Blackstaff. Betimes the Font will have seekers pry secrets and lore from those unwilling to share openly, but you and yours have always been friends to us. It appears I have not been as diligent as I might have been over loremasters who may have approved such mischief. Is that the case, Raegar?" Raegar nodded and gesticulated wildly, trying to pantomime his point, but Khelben began a violent coughing fit, and his shaking reopened his wound. Blood gushed over the floor, and Tsarra felt Khelben weaken, then go silent.
His eyes fluttered and closed. "Khelben?" she asked, kneeling in the blood and putting her hand to his neck to find no heartbeat beneath her hand. Khelben!
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
29-30 Uktar, the Year of Lightning Storms (1374 DR) Tsarra's heart leaped into her throat as she whispered once more,
"Khelben? You can't be-" Khelben's eyes snapped open, and his body shook with a violent spasm of coughs. More blood poured onto the floor, but silver flames flickered to life and seared the wound shut once more, an acrid stream of smoke rising from Khelben's shattered hip. Eltargrim's Bones, this hurts. Khelben looked at Tsarra with eyes drained of energy, before he said, "Out of time. We need him and what he knows." Khelben's eyes closed for a moment, and Tsarra felt him scream angrily inside, though that emotion never made it to his face.
"Tsarra, take him to the tower. Ask my wife to attend to the boy's tongue. She should mindspider him if she has to, but I hope it won't come to that." Raegar clenched his jaw, and his knuckles whitened but he relaxed when Nameless growled at him and drew attention to him. He nodded to Khelben and Sandrew, but Tsarra noticed his face still blanched. "You'll not punish him, Blackstaff? I sense he has been a pawn and deserves no reprimand beyond helping right what he has wronged," Sandrew said. "I cannot openly acknowledge what he does for my church, but I can vow that his heart is a good one and his skills and actions do not overshadow that." "Punishment is far from my mind, Sandrew," Khelben gasped, "save to let him help us visit it upon the one who wronged all of us. Now, time is short for us all. We must away." "Are you certain you don't want healing?" "Too many gods' magic affects me already to accept one more right now, Lorekeeper. I have my own remedies, thank you. There's no need to carry me, either of you."
Khelben glared at both Tsarra and Raegar who had moved to either side of him. He sent to Tsarra, Back away, as both of us can't use this magic and I need you to be my hands for a while. Look to your intuition for guidance, in case I don't respond for a while. Khelben's blue eyes lit up with silver and gold as he whispered a spell. Gold shimmered in the necklace he wore, a tiny tapered bottle. As he finished, his form dissolved into a golden mist, shrank, and seeped into the bottle. A necklace alone rested on the bloodstained marble floor. Tsarra and more than a few onlookers gasped with his disappearance. Sandrew the Wise smiled and said, "An Anyllan's bottle.
I read about these ancient elven devices, but I never thought I'd see one that still worked. Khelben should be safe to heal slowly inside there." Tsarra stooped to pick up the necklace off the floor and place it around her own neck. She sent out tentatively, Khelben? Khelben's mental voice wavered. Need sleep to save my energy. Go to the tower, and both of you talk to Syndra. She knows what's to be done, and Raegar knows who is to blame. Be respectful, but hurry. Know I am sorry for this burden forced upon you. I can no longer carry it alone.