sleep…
Chapter 1
Perils in the Palace
Laskar Nesher, a fat nobleman with an illicit logging empire, led his family toward the gate to Piergeiron’s palace. The brown waistcoat he wore was just snug enough to make him look like a bratwurst, and his jowls were red from chafing on his lapels. A slender consort clung to his side. She was half his age, one fifth his bulk, and twice as quick with coin. Behind them trudged a teenaged boy who oozed boredom and fashionable disaffection.
Laskar halted before the gate guard and presented his invitation:
Master and Friend Laskar Nesher. and Heir Kastonoph Nesher:
The honor of your presence is requested at the marriage of Piergeiron Paladinson, Open Lord of Waterdeep, and Eidola of Neverwinter, Descendant of Boarskyr. The wedding will take place the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Days of Eleint, this Year of the Haunting.
Please arrive by third watch on the Seventeenth, an hour before sunset. The feasting will begin at nightfall, the masked ball thereafter, as stomachs allow, and the nuptials at the stroke of midnight on the Eighteenth. Sandrew the Wise, Savant of Oghma at the Font of Knowledge, and Khelben “Blackstaff” Arunsun, High Mage of Waterdeep, will officiate.
“Have you brought any weapons?” the guard asked levelly.
Laskar said, “Of course not We’d not bring”
“I suppose I’d best surrender this,” broke in the youth, handing over a sheathed dagger. “And while you’re peacestringing mine, you might as well do Fathers, too.
Laskar Hushed, even redder than before. He struggled at his belt for a moment and handed over his once-hidden blade.
The guard finished tying the youth’s dagger into its sheath and did the same for the father’s. “Anything else?” Before Laskar could answer, a shadowy figure standing in the gateway said, “No. Nor do they bear any harmful magics.”
Startled. the Neshers turned. They had not noticed the black-robed and greybearded mage. The wizard gave a nod of approval to young Kastonoph.
The lad returned the nod, blood draining from his face. Good evening. Lord Mage Arunsun,” he managed to say.
“Good evening to you,” replied the mage. “For your honesty, you, young Kastonoph, can call me Khelben, or. perhaps, Blackstaff.”
The lad stood a moment longer, gaping in disbelief. His father quickly gathered him in and herded the youth past the hawkeyed wizard and through the open gates.
Beyond lay a hall, high and bright. Slender pillars ran in colonnades along its sides. An elegant fan vault arched overhead. Across the polished floor of marble, silken gowns slid beside worsted robes of state. In one corner of the room, citterns and gitterns and fifes serenaded the guests, who added their happy babble to the music. The place overflowed with the sounds of the best people conversing with their betters.
“Another dull noble wedding.” groaned Kastonophor Noph as he was known to all but his father. His amazement was gone, replaced by a practiced mask of cynicism. “Common lads my age are out smiting dragons, making tragic deals with fiends, and rescuing their ladyloves from warlocks.”
Laskar rarely listened to his discontented offspring. For decades, the man had heeded nothing but the jingle of coins. “Please don’t make your presence at this affair more scandalous than your absence would have been.” Laskar had coined this turn of phrase some five years back. He liked it so well, he used it every chance he got.
Noph made a rude sign as he scratched his cheek.
His father’s consort knew the boy at least as well as she did the man. “Noph, why don’t you take a look about?
There’s no more dangerous company in Undermountain than you’ll find here in the palace tonight.”
Noph blinked at her. Though he hated Stelar for openly squandering his father’s moneyNoph’s own inheritance the woman was perceptive, shrewd, scandalously fun, and at five years his elder, an honest beauty. Noph knew
Chapter 1
Perils in the Palace
Laskar Nesher, a fat nobleman with an illicit logging empire, led his family toward the gate to Piergeiron’s palace. The brown waistcoat he wore was just snug enough to make him look like a bratwurst, and his jowls were red from chafing on his lapels. A slender consort clung to his side. She was half his age, one fifth his bulk, and twice as quick with coin. Behind them trudged a teenaged boy who oozed boredom and fashionable disaffection.
Laskar halted before the gate guard and presented his invitation:
Master and Friend Laskar Nesher. and Heir Kastonoph Nesher:
The honor of your presence is requested at the marriage of Piergeiron Paladinson, Open Lord of Waterdeep, and Eidola of Neverwinter, Descendant of Boarskyr. The wedding will take place the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Days of Eleint, this Year of the Haunting.
Please arrive by third watch on the Seventeenth, an hour before sunset. The feasting will begin at nightfall, the masked ball thereafter, as stomachs allow, and the nuptials at the stroke of midnight on the Eighteenth. Sandrew the Wise, Savant of Oghma at the Font of Knowledge, and Khelben “Blackstaff” Arunsun, High Mage of Waterdeep, will officiate.
“Have you brought any weapons?” the guard asked levelly.
Laskar said, “Of course not We’d not bring”
“I suppose I’d best surrender this,” broke in the youth, handing over a sheathed dagger. “And while you’re peacestringing mine, you might as well do Fathers, too.
Laskar Hushed, even redder than before. He struggled at his belt for a moment and handed over his once-hidden blade.
The guard finished tying the youth’s dagger into its sheath and did the same for the father’s. “Anything else?” Before Laskar could answer, a shadowy figure standing in the gateway said, “No. Nor do they bear any harmful magics.”
Startled. the Neshers turned. They had not noticed the black-robed and greybearded mage. The wizard gave a nod of approval to young Kastonoph.
The lad returned the nod, blood draining from his face. Good evening. Lord Mage Arunsun,” he managed to say.
“Good evening to you,” replied the mage. “For your honesty, you, young Kastonoph, can call me Khelben, or. perhaps, Blackstaff.”
The lad stood a moment longer, gaping in disbelief. His father quickly gathered him in and herded the youth past the hawkeyed wizard and through the open gates.
Beyond lay a hall, high and bright. Slender pillars ran in colonnades along its sides. An elegant fan vault arched overhead. Across the polished floor of marble, silken gowns slid beside worsted robes of state. In one corner of the room, citterns and gitterns and fifes serenaded the guests, who added their happy babble to the music. The place overflowed with the sounds of the best people conversing with their betters.
“Another dull noble wedding.” groaned Kastonophor Noph as he was known to all but his father. His amazement was gone, replaced by a practiced mask of cynicism. “Common lads my age are out smiting dragons, making tragic deals with fiends, and rescuing their ladyloves from warlocks.”
Laskar rarely listened to his discontented offspring. For decades, the man had heeded nothing but the jingle of coins. “Please don’t make your presence at this affair more scandalous than your absence would have been.” Laskar had coined this turn of phrase some five years back. He liked it so well, he used it every chance he got.
Noph made a rude sign as he scratched his cheek.
His father’s consort knew the boy at least as well as she did the man. “Noph, why don’t you take a look about?
There’s no more dangerous company in Undermountain than you’ll find here in the palace tonight.”
Noph blinked at her. Though he hated Stelar for openly squandering his father’s moneyNoph’s own inheritance the woman was perceptive, shrewd, scandalously fun, and at five years his elder, an honest beauty. Noph knew
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