Free Blackstaff by Steven E. Schend Page B

landed in an arc on the table between them. Tsarra saw that all the badges carried a seal of four roses entwined around three staves—the mark of the elven House Maerdrym.
    Yaereene flipped the badge over in her fingers. “I am hardly the elder or heir of my House, Blackstaff. Why bring this to me?”
    “I have neither the patience nor the time to politic with your uncle in Neverwinter Woods, nor could Malchor Harpell deliver these in my stead. Besides, it was long between meetings for us, as you said.”
    “Even so, I find it odd. If rumors are true, you have a gate to the Fair Isle in your tower, Lord Arunsun. Why not ask these favors of Queen Amlauril?”
    “Evermeet cannot know of our work here until done is done. This matter must be handled discreetly outside the notice of its irresponsibly political noble Houses.”
    “No doubt they think as highly of your approaches to matters of import, Blackstaff.”
    Khelben shrugged off the veiled barb and leveled his stare at Yaereene. “Your own family’s debt came in the Year of the Dusty Shelf, when my parents rescued Ryul Ilbaereth and his followers from ignominy and death on the shores of Lake Eredruie. I trust I need not reveal to Tsarra the secrets that bind our names and honor?”
    Yaereene’s face paled and she gripped her gown in a fierce fist, then she relaxed and cast her eyes down. “No, Lord Blackstaff. I am at your beckons, last Maerdrym. How may my House serve yours?”
    Khelben kneeled by her and put his hands over hers, the elf’s eyes widening at the supplicating gesture. “I need you to assemble a company—yourself included—and travel to
Manth’ehl’nar Malavar
before Selûne is full in the sky in three nights. Relay these same biddings to the Houses on the other badges, an easy task as highly placed scions of all of them frequent your establishment and the City of Splendors. Request their utter discretion and that each family send one or two wizards bearing each of their family’s long-dead or long-dormant moonblades.”
    Tsarra gasped, and Yaereene stood up sharply. “You dare much, archmage, and even more to ask the People to move with such haste. I’ll need more than oaths and honor debts to a nigh-dead House to goad them to action
and
to part with fabled House heirlooms.”
    “None in twenty elven generations have wielded those blades among those Houses. They simply hold them as holy relics, as if they mean more than failure.” Khelben sighed then swept his hair back from his face. “Tell them those heirlooms shall soon bless them with use and honor in the coming days. A great time is upon us, lady, for the People’s redemption. We do not do this work for any mortal partisans. What we dare requires elves and others to work in accord to undo the damage of millennia past. I make the request in the names of Sehanine Moonbow and Corellon Larethian. You know the vows they made when Ivossar’s House strayed from the path of true
tel’quessir
. Hold the badge to your heart if you truly doubt me.”
    Yaereene’s face remained impassive, but she placed the gold badge over her heart, and immediately she whispered,
“Faer’tel’miir?”
Khelben nodded solemnly and tears flowed over the elf woman’s porcelain features. She replied, “Very well,
akhelben
. It shall be done. We shall be honored to share this burden with thee,
ol ahnvae Sehanine
.”
    Setting the badge down on the table, Yaereene stood. Tsarra saw the disk also had the Ilbaereth seal on the other side—a pegasus rearing over six wands, a sun surrounding all from behind. From her studies of elven Houses, she recognized that the mark combined elements of the seals of Houses Ealoeth and Ildacer, suggesting a long-ago marriage created the Ilbaereth line. Tsarra bowed to her aunt as Khelben also rose. Yaereene took Tsarra by the shoulders. A growl resonated from above, but she ignored the tressym warning the elf away from his mistress.
    “A’su’nys
, you are half-blood, and