It no longer bled or burned with silver fire, but it was an angry wound surrounded by blackened flesh. What worried Tsarra the most was his sickly pallor, but she took her cue from Khelben's emotions and kept a guarded face. "Sacred Alram's Tears, Blackstaff!" Gamalon gasped. Khelben said, "Gamalon, I've endured far worse in our Lady's service. Your faith tells you she demands as much as she grants. Now, tell me of those assembled at Blackstaff Tower." Gamalon flew closer and hovered next to Khelben, while Carolyas zipped over to Maliantor, drawing a vial from her belt as she flew. Tsarra watched Carolyas ease a healing draught down Maliantor's throat, though she couldn't tell if rain or tears fell from her face onto her friend's. All the while, she listened to Gamalon. "Nain still wavers on his role, but Laeral and Kyriani see to him. The three of them await the few stragglers, while nine others have gone on to prepare the Highstar Plains." Gamalon wavered a moment then continued, "Are you entirely sure we'll be able to trust some of these allies of ours?" "They may not know all our plans," Khelben replied, "but what they understand keeps them on the same path as us at least through the Feast of the Moon. Laeral still holds the gnarled staff?" As Gamalon nodded, Carolyas chimed in, "The fact that you've been seen with more than three different blackstaves in as many days has people buzzing, allies and others alike. Even if they know nothing, the streets chatter that their archmage is up to something big." "Indeed," Khelben said with a weak smile. "Stick to our plans, Gamalon. All will turn out for the best, e'e'a'sum. I swear it. Take the boy and the tressym with you and meet us when you can at Malavar's Grasp. Take Syndra, as we'll need her to wield Isyllmyth's Bracer for the second circle after we recover it. Trust me, your excellency. You shall see your wife's vengeance fall from the sky."

Khelben's eyes glanced at Gamalon's staff-an elaborate quarterstaff of polished white beech carved with a gap for his hand to fit inside the staff as a grip. At its top, the staff had a small lanternlike cage, inside of which whirled a large, free-floating green gem sparkling with magic. "That staff shall strike best, methinks," Khelben said then shifted his attention to Carolyas and Maliantor. "Carol, fly Mali to Rivuryn's Mark by the Seaseyes Tower and say 'Maldiglas.' We shall lose no lives today without need." "What are you talking about?"

Carolyas snapped back, her eyes angry with tears. "Who was Rivuryn?"

Raegar stepped near and said, "Open Lord Baeron's dog. There's a marker just south of the trees and set at the base of the western wall." Khelben nodded and said, "Take Maliantor, child, and she will be healed at the Refuge. Now go, before another death is on my head from this storm alone." Gamalon moved to her side and helped her cradle Maliantor into her arms. He kissed Carolyas on the forehead, and said, "Our Lady's blessings will see you safe, niece. I'm sorry we can't tell you more right now, but understand we all do her work tonight. See yourselves safe and back to Blackstaff Tower. Methinks you'll need to help the apprentices keep order from the notables pounding on the door for answers." Carolyas smiled. "Doubtful. Jardwim and others already occupy the courtyard. Harshnag's on the gate, and I've yet to see anyone stare him down. Best of luck, uncle, and stay alive." "From your lips to Mystra's ears, child," Gamalon sighed. "It must be so, as I look forward to the winter for us to catch up on our stories." Gamalon waved her off as she took to the air once again, shuddering as the sharn parted to let her by. Once she flew past, the sharn closed ranks and began once again to drip or simply fall into the massed sharn on the tower. With the sharn slowly expanding to fill the chamber, Raegar scrambled atop the masonry wall, still holding Tsarra in his arms. Khelben stood his ground, not seeming to notice that the sharnstuff touched his right shoulder. He snapped at Raegar,

"Leave her, you lovesick fool. She and I move with the sharn. You and Nameless need to stay with the count." Khelben didn't move, but the sharn continued expanding, and half his right cheek melted into the undulating black sharnstuff. The Blackstaff's voice seemed more hushed and far away "It's all right, Raegar. Put me down. I'll be fine,"

Tsarra said, as she started to flex and finally moved her legs and arms easily. "You and his excellency have to get to Malavar's Grasp on the High Moor." When Nameless hissed at her, she said, "Sorry. Both their excellencies." Nameless, satisfied, now flew over to bat at the top of Gamalon's staff, trying to get at the spinning gem therein.

"What are you two talking about?" Raegar yelled. "We're about to be eaten by monsters, and you two act like it's not even a danger! Not to mention you've got us going a long way on a hunch. How do you know that's where that undead bastard went?" Tsarra muttered, "Strong and dumb. Just how I like 'em." She smiled at Raegar then kissed him impulsively. "You really do need to put me down, please." Khelben sighed, "Strike up a romance later, girl. Raegar, follow the count's orders and we may yet see each other in this lifetime. We are in no danger from the sharn, nor have we been since our encounter at the Font of Knowledge. Tsarra and I will work with them to regain the remainder of the Legacy items. We shall meet again by highsun on the Moor. Apologize to Syndra for me for once again not saying my farewells." With that, Khelben's face and most of his body melted into the sharn, and the rest of him slid in as if he sank into a pool. A black-sheened hand reached out a moment later, and Tsarra took it, smiling at Gamalon and Raegar. "Never a dull moment around the Blackstaff, is there?" With a final purr and smile at Nameless, Tsarra stepped forward into the sharn without a ripple. In less than a breath, the sharn above and around the tower glowed dark blue, sent forth a shower of purple sparks, and vanished with a whisper.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Feast of the Moon, the Year of Lightning Storms (1374 DR) Raegar, Gamalon, and the tressym stood silent. The only noises around them were the wind, pattering rain, and the occasional crack of lightning and thunder. Nameless crept between Raegar's feet in an effort to put something between the rain and him, and Raegar looked down at him. "Five tendays of watching the tower and little beyond the norm happens," Raegar sighed. "The past two days, on the other hand, have had more activity than I've seen in a year. Is this normal?"

Raegar directed his question at the creature at his feet, whose response was simply a bored yawn and what might have been a chuckle, if Raegar knew more about tressym. "Did that blasted mage leave again without tellin' me?" All three males whirled around at the woman's yell, but they didn't see Syndra. A dusk wood rod set with a row of diamonds and sheathed at head and foot in bright-steel floated in the air at the top of the stairs. It swung itself forcefully, dislodging a few loose bricks from where the pyramid had been torn off the tower.

Nearby also hovered an intricately carved silver bracer covered in metallic holly with rubies for berries. "Hrast! We need to-" "-keep our heads, yes, I agree," Gamalon finished her sentence. "On that note, could you become visible?" A copper-colored mist congealed around the rod and solidified into Syndra Wands, the silver bracer on her right forearm. Her face was still stolid but she was a striking half-elf woman with floor-length russet hair, a form-fitting ochre gown flattering her every ample curve. Raegar found himself wondering how Tsarra would look in a gown like that, as Syndra and she were very much alike aside from the arrow-straight hair on the woman before him.

"Your stare flatters, lad, but it's not me ye're seein', is it? It's that livin' girl with the Blackstaff you're lustin' after." Syndra laughed, floating around the red-shirted man. "Oh, for a solid body for just an evenin' with ye…" She leaned in and kissed him, running her hands along his body. Every point of contact felt as if Raegar were rubbing against ice-cold silk. Stranger still, a trail of mist led from her to the rod. Nameless sniffed it and ruffled his feathers in response. "Oh, I know ye don't like its smell, cat. I've just never cleaned it off. Vowed when I first joined with it that I'd only wipe that blood off on the Frostrunt's corpse." Syndra smacked one fist into her palm, and the rod mimicked a swing in response. "So you're in this for revenge alone? What manner of undead are you?"