A Visit to the Palace
After the feeling of disorientation of teleportation faded, Laeral Silverhand found herself in a familiar room with walls of curving stone and a softly glowing pattern engraved on the floor - triangles, whorls, intersecting lines, and runes within a circle. She was back in the Palace, on the teleportation circle she herself crafted after she had been appointed Open Lord of the city. As this was her intention and target, she breathed an inaudible sigh of relief. While experienced in teleportation magic, when using it to get out of a place like Blue Alley, one could never be certain.
She shifted her focus to those she had transported with her. A half-elf, aasimar, drow, and tabaxi. A very unusual group. The spell of thought detection she'd cast in Blue Alley remained in effect, so she sensed their surface thinking. If she tried to pry any deeper in their minds, they might detect it and then seal off their thoughts. No matter. What she sensed now, along with the vouching of Amarune and Arclath, told her this group was probably trustworthy.
The half-elf was focused on her looks, comparing her to a statue of her in his home city of Evereska. Thankfully he felt stone, however well sculpted, could never capture the hue of her sea green eyes in contrast with her silver hair. Which was good, she thought wryly, since even at over seven hundred years in age, she still possessed a healthy, or perhaps unhealthy, amount of vanity. She'd have been disappointed to learn she didn't live up to the expectation set by a statue of her.
Viewing the statue in his mind's eye, she recognized it as a master work of Aris, the stone giant. She'd fought alongside him in the Evereska-phaerimm war and apparently crafted a tribute to her in the city. The giant had captured her likeness very well. Her stone counterpart even possessed a matching little beauty mark high on her left cheek. But the vision also brought unexpected sorrow. Statues of other Chosen of Mystra from the phaerrim war were also present in the half-elf's memories. Sisters Storm and Alustriel had also been sculpted as well as dear Dove, now deceased. Hardest of all to bear for Laeral was the statue of Khelben. Her husband and planned lifemate. But no plan is perfect, even for a Chosen of Mystra, especially for a Chosen of Mystra. Khelben, like Dove, was dead. Laeral lived on without him year after unmerciful year without him, for over a century now and for Mystra knew how much longer.
The aasimar stared at her in open wonder, remembering the silver-fire that had wreathed her when she'd made her entrance into the room where they played goat ball against golems. She also thought that this was one of the seven legendary daughters of Mystra, goddess of magic.
Strange one with such obvious celestial blood herself - night dark hair, pearly skin, and pale blue eyes making her seem the very embodiment of an otherworldly shard of Selune - should be so awed by this knowledge. But then she was very young and hence had not yet learned that all mortals, including ones with celestial heritage, erred their way through life as best as possible, and prayed for divine forgiveness and guidance as needed. Which, in Laeral's case, was frequent and often.
The drow of the group was unusual and clearly of mixed race. Her hair was dark as her skin instead of the expected white or silver and her eyes emerald green rather than the classic red, purple, or silver of most dark elves. Her attitude towards Laeral was similar to her aasimar companion, but for a different reason.
This is the sister of Qilue Veladorn, the drow kept thinking.
Qilue.
Her dark elf sister. Daughter of Mystra but also of Eilistraee, who shared a hand in her birth. And like Khelben, Qilue was now dead for over a hundred years. Killed in the events that had also killed the goddess Eilistraee. What were the chances the thoughts of four strangers would dredge up such painful feelings from the past? Very high, apparently.
To bear the burden of long life, Laeral reflected, was one thing, but to bear it in a lonely existence without those dearest to her was quite another. Here, at least, the Open Lord nursed an improbable wild hope. The Dancing Goddess had returned to the Realms from death to reinvigorating her followers. Why not then Qilue, the greatest champion of that goddess as well? Perhaps, just perhaps, she might be reunited with this sister. The Open Lord had recently sent the moon dancer, Trelasarra, and her Eilstraeens on a quest as the first stage of making this wish, however unlikely, a reality.
The thoughts of the last member of the group, the tabaxi, did not compare her to a stone statue. Nor view her with awe or reverence. She instead, was irritated and cross.
"One more throw!" she said, tail lashing. "One more throw and we would have won! You couldn't have waited for one more throw?"
She stared accusingly at Laeral. It took a moment for the Open Lord to understand. The tabaxi had wanted to finish playing the game of goat ball. A game which Laeral ended with her use of her Ring of the Ram.
"I'm sorry, I…" the Open Lord trailed off.
Why had she been so hasty to use the powers of her ring? She thought about it, and decided the truth would best serve.
"I was showing off a bit and acting on a whim, I suppose," she continued, giving voice to her earlier thought. "Vanity and impulsiveness are in my nature and not even seven hundred years have cured me of it."
The tabaxi cocked her head to the side in thought and her tail swished back and forth a few times. Then she shrugged.
"That's alright," she said. "I can be a bit impulsive sometimes."
"Sky can be a bit impulsive sometimes," the drow muttered, with a roll of her eyes. "More like excessively and always."
"And Jhelnae and Aleina are more than a bit vain," the tabaxi, Sky, said, gesturing at the drow and aasimar. "So we understand."
"Hey!" the aasimar, Aleina said. "I'm not vain!"
"Oh, but I am?" the drow, Jhelnae, asked.
"I didn't say that, " Aleina said. "But…"
She held up two fingers to indicate a tiny amount, then slowly started to widen her fingers with a wry smile.
The tabaxi sighed heavily, interrupting the banter of the other two.
"I suppose we'll just have to go back," she said. "Go back and fall down that pit trap again, ride that minecart again, play those golems again, and prove to ourselves we can beat them."
"Yeah, no," the aasimar said, "We are never going back there. Look at what that scything blade trap did to my hair!"
She pointed to a missing section of her bangs.
"Now I have to find a hairdresser in Waterdeep who can do something with this," Aleina said, with a gesture encompassing the entirety of her hair.
"Yes, focus on the hair," the drow said. "Not on how you would have lost your head if Kuhl hadn't pulled you back. And I'm the vain one?"
Laeral laughed and dismissed her spell of thought reading, deciding she liked this group.
"Temple of Beauty in the Sea Ward," The Open Lord said. "Actually, not far from the Blue Alley. The Sunnites know their craft. But they'll probably suggest adding red highlights. The followers of Lady Firehair always do."
"Some red highlights?" the aasimar said, considering. "Why not? Thank you for the recommendation."
"The best places to get hair done is important," the half-elf, Kuhl, said. "But even more important is that we followed some drow. From what you told us, they were in this Blue Alley to meet you. Why?"
There was no accusation in his voice, only curiosity. Reading his surface thoughts earlier had revealed that he thought of her as a hero of the Evereska-phaerimm war, and thus to be trusted. This didn't mean, however, she needed to answer him. She was the Open Lord, after all, and her secrets were the official secrets of the City. They were here at the Palace to answer her questions, not the other way around. But they seemed honest and earnest and also capable, having navigated Blue Alley fine prior to their meeting. Laeral made a habit of using honest, earnest, and capable people when she found them. An Open Lord needed all the trustworthy help she could get in the running of this city.
"Let's walk and talk," she said.
She led them out of the teleportation chamber, the top floor of a turret rarely used, down the stairs and towards her office. It was in the dark early morning hours and most of the Palace was asleep, the halls empty but for the few guards they encountered. These came to attention, saluting the Open Lord, and following the group with curious stares as they passed.
Laeral suddenly realized how they must all look. Her robes were dirty and disheveled from her battles in the Blue Alley, her face smudged with dirt and dust from the same, and her hair wild and tangled. Meanwhile she led a group that consisted of a drow and an aasimar, both wearing matching, form fitting black silk body suits, and a half-elf and tabaxi dressed for work on the docks. But, then again, it probably wasn't the strangest nighttime activity the guards had seen from their Open Lord. It might not even be strange enough to warrant new gossip about her. Might not, but probably was, she thought with an inward sigh.
"As a prosperous city," she said as they made their way. "We have enemies. And because we have enemies, we have spies. One of our spies in Luskan sent me a message that Jarlaxle was in Waterdeep."
"Jarlaxle," Kuhl asked. "We saw his name in the registration book in the Blue Alley. But the name meant nothing to us."
"Except that his house name is Baenre," Jhelnae put in. "The first house of Menzoberranzan."
"He is," Laeral said, nodding. "And also, a rogue and scoundrel. But not the kind who steals a purse. Or even a priceless well-guarded family heirloom. He steals entire cities. Which he did when he became the secret master of Luskan to the north. He is exceptionally dangerous and I, naturally, wanted to know what he was doing in Waterdeep."
She paused in her telling as she led them up the two flights of stairs off the main foyer of the Palace. The office where she conducted meetings and appointments was downstairs, but her working office, where she did all her best thinking, was up here.
"I decided to use the direct approach," she said, taking up the tale again as they moved down the upstairs hallway. "So, I used a sending spell and sent him a message to request a meeting. He insisted on the Blue Alley and then didn't even have the courage to come himself, sending lackeys with a written message in his stead."
She opened the door to her office and gestured for them to enter, then followed them, waving her hand at the fireplace to ignite the logs there and lighting several lamps with another gesture.
"Make yourself comfortable," she said. "Because now I want to hear why you were following Jarlaxle's drow."
It was time to get some answers of her own. But when she looked at them, they just stood in the center of the room, gazing around. She followed their stares.
The only chair to occupy was the one behind her large desk. The chairs in front of it, the armchairs near the fireplace, even the four chairs at the dining table, were all full of stacked parchments and accounting books. The surface of the desk and table were covered as well.
"Sorry," Laeral said. "Working office and tax season. Let me clear out some of this."
She went to the dining table and started transferring things to now larger stacks on the desk, cataloging where she put things to reference later. Despite the apparent disarray, she knew where everything was and would work through all this paperwork quickly when she had a chance to focus on it.
"Why Blue Alley?" Jhelnae asked.
Laeral answered as she worked.
"Obviously because it would be an inconvenience," she said. "But also, I think, as a laugh at my expense. Years ago, shortly after the archmage Keilier created the Blue Alley, I heard he kept his ex-mistress, Nallana, chained in the labyrinth as a feature. A dungeon to lure and test adventurers one thing, imprisoning a woman for wanting to leave you, quite another. I went to Khelben,, who was the Blackstaff at the time, and complained. He said he would work with the Watchful Order of Magists and Protectors and get her released if the rumor was true. I accepted that - for around thirty seconds - then sent a message to my sister to meet me on Ivory Street. Whereupon we raged through Blue Alley, silver-fire flying everywhere, destroying everything in our path, except Nallana, who we rescued."
"Which sister did you do that with?" the drow asked, tone suggesting she knew the answer.
Laeral paused in her reorganizing of paperwork to give Jhelnae her full attention as she answered.
"Qilue."
The drow's emerald eyes brightened, and a slow smile spread across her lips. Even though she had been born long after Qilue's death, it was clear Eilistraeens still told tales of her and held her memory in high esteem.
Good.
Her sister deserved that much. And it was far more than the constantly complaining citizens of Waterdeep would feel after a hundred years should their current Open Lord perish in their service.
"Keilier rebuilt the Blue Alley," Laeral said, resuming her work. "And left a little tribute for me and my sister for our interference. Three stone constructs are glamoured to appear as myself, my sister, and his ex-mistress. They are clad in revealing rags and beg, most piteously and desperately, to be freed. Insinuating they will do anything, anything, their saviors desire in reward. It is all a trap of course. Freeing any of our false selves causes them to attack and also activates the three pillars to which they are chained. These are three more animated statues of the same imitation. Any would-be rescuers end up fighting six stone constructs instead."
She again paused at her task and gestured to her general battered appearance as well as the black and gray dust and rock particles covering herself and her robes.
"You fought animated statues of yourself?" Sky asked, voice excited.
"Myself, my sister, and the ex-mistress Nallana," the Open Lord said. "A pair of each. The drow waited till I came in the room, let me have a good look at the begging statues, threw a scroll tube in a corner, then cut one of the restraining chains, activating the trap. Then they used some sort of teleportation device to leave. If I wanted the scroll they left, I had to fight and destroy them. Jarlaxle's idea of a hilarious joke, no doubt."
"Do you think the wizard Keilier will rebuild them?" the tabaxi asked. "I'd like to see them. Their glamor spell must be really convincing to trick people into freeing them."
"What part of 'we are never going back in there again' did you not understand, Sky?" Aleina said.
"I am sure Keilier will rebuild it all," Laeral said. "He wasn't a young man a hundred years ago and must be a lich by now. Blue Alley has become something of a fixture in Waterdeep. If Keilier didn't restock it, the Masked Lords would probably appoint someone else to and allocate funds from the treasury to make it happen."
She meant it as a joke, but the half-elf took the statement seriously.
"Why is that?" he asked. "Why would the citizens even suffer to have a deadly labyrinth with an entrance off one of the city's streets where anyone might accidentally wander into it?"
It was a good question. The answer was complicated. Should she explain how much commerce, and therefore tax revenue, was generated by adventurers from all over Toril coming to visit Waterdeep? Drawn here by tales of exciting and deadly locales like Blue Alley? How if she were to move to shut the place down permanently, the Fellowship of Innkeepers guild would lay siege to the Palace and demand the head of their Open Lord on a platter? Or should she explain how hard it was to force a willful archmage to bow to the will of another? A labyrinth may pose a danger to the citizenry but a spell battle between powerful practitioners within the city posed a danger for certain. She decided to go with vague and grandiose.
"This is Waterdeep," she said. "A city that sits atop Undermountain, the Dungeon of the Mad Mage, Halaster Blackcloak. We aren't like any other city on Toril."
But now that the half-elf had brought it up, the aasimar it seemed, was now thinking along the same lines, and wasn't convinced.
"Kuhl is right," she said. "You can't have a place like that just sitting there where a child could accidentally wander into it. That is insanely dangerous."
"Kuhl being right about something?" the drow said. "Forget playing goat ball against a bunch of stitched together cadaver parts. Or riding in a minecart on a twisting turning track. Or meeting the Open Lord in a wizard's labyrinth and being teleported to the Palace. This is the weirdest part of the night."
There was a bout of shared chuckling, even from Laeral, who found herself caught up in the spirit of the light teasing banter even if she wasn't part of this group. Having finished cleaning off the dining table and associated chairs, she motioned them all to sit, and dragged over another recently cleared chair from by the desk for herself.
"There are safeguards of course," the Open Lord said. "Forced on Keilier by the Watchful Order Magists and Protectors for exactly the concerns you brought up. Only those seeking the Blue Alley can find it. Then there is the book. Only those who possess the ability to survive the labyrinth are allowed to sign its pages and be granted access. These are powerful enchantments, crafted by Khelben before his death. So, no child is going to accidentally wander into it."
"That is why we couldn't see it at first," Kuhl said. "We were following the drow but didn't see them enter. Since we weren't seeking Blue Alley, we couldn't see it. But Dawnbringer could."
"The spell was not designed to hide the Alley from magical artifacts," the Open Lord agreed. "Only people."
She had intercepted telepathy between sword and bearer with her spell of thought detection back in Blue Alley and knew of the half-elf's sentient blade.
"So, what was the message?" Sky asked. "What did this Jarlaxle write to you?"
Laeral gave an involuntary snort. She hesitated, wondering if she should share. Again, she had brought them here to answer her questions and yet somehow, she had been the one doing most of the talking. Then again, there was nothing to the message and it would feel good to voice some of her frustration and here was a ready and convenient audience.
"Nothing," she said, pulling the scroll tube from a pocket in her robe and tossing it to the tabaxi. "Only jests and innuendo. I am sure he thinks of it as his roguish charm, but it made me want to burn him to ashes."
Sky popped the tube stopper and shook out the scroll inside. She unrolled it and spread it flat on the table. The other members of her group stood and leaned in.
"I can't read this!" the tabaxi said, tail lashing in irritation.
"It is in Elvish," Kuhl said.
He read aloud.
"To Her Ageless Majesty, Laeral Silverhand, the Witch-Queen of Stornanter, Lady of the North, She of the Seven Sisters, Chosen of Mystra, and Open Lord of Waterdeep:
Your spies are to be commended! Rest assured, my presence in your fair city is purely recreational — though if fortune smiles upon me, this visit could benefit us both.
Your predecessor left the City of Splendors in a sorry state, but you have done wonders to lift the spirit of the citizenry during your short time in office. I know how politics offends you, so forgive me for taking this opportunity to point out the obvious. We can make both our cities stronger and strike back at he who robbed Waterdhavians of their wealth and dignity."
The half-elf paused in his reading and looked up at Laeral, a question in his quirked eyebrow. She beckoned him to continue.
"I'm speaking," he read on. "Of course, of that dirty sack of rats, Dagult Neverember. That's the phrase you used to describe him yesterday to the emissary from Mirabar, is it not? Evidently, my spies are also to be commended!"
A slight smile began on the Open Lord's lips at that line, but she made herself keep her face impassive. Jarlaxle thought himself so clever, but she knew the source of that leak and fed it inconsequential or manageable tidbits. That was a secret she would not share with a party of adventurers, however likable.
"Why let Neverember get away with his crimes against Luskan and Waterdeep?" Kuhl kept reading. "Can we be allies, if not friends? These are the questions that haunt my dreams."
The half-elf paused again, but before the Open Lord could tell him to continue, Jhelnae read the last part aloud.
"As surely as I haunt yours," she said. "Thinks pretty highly of himself, doesn't he?
"He does," Laeral said. "But not without reason. He is the master of a powerful maritime city and he achieved all that with manipulation and trickery. Don't let the condescending bravado deceive you. He is very smart, very subtle, and very dangerous."
"Well I don't like him," the drow said. "He likes to come off as a playful, dashing, rogue, but none of that works when people are getting their heads chopped off. Nothing about that is playful. It is sickening and disgusting and anyone responsible for that, or condoning that, needs to be put down."
The Open Lord leaned forward, put both hands on her desk, and leaned forward.
"Heads being cut off? The DockWard killings? she asked. They had mentioned this in Blue Alley. This was why she brought them to the Palace. "What would Jarlaxle have to do with that?"
"It was the reason we were following the drow," Kuhl said. "We suspect someone on the ships of the Sea Maiden's Faire is responsible for the killings."
"Tell me why you think that," Laeral said.
They did, and she listened. She had already had suspicions of that dock carnival, which seemed to be staying long after it was still profitable to do so. Which was why she sent Mirt to investigate it.
"So, you have no proof," the Open Lord said. "But everything you say fits. My first priority is to put a stop to these murders. Hopefully justice for the victims will follow."
She stood, retrieved a piece of empty parchment, quill and ink from her desk, and then returned to write a reply to Jarlaxle. When she had finished, she blew on the ink to dry it and then rolled it up and put it in the same tube the drow had used.
"As you seem willing to involve yourself already," Laeral said. "Can I recruit you to deliver this message to the Sea Maiden's Faire with and into Jarlaxle's hands? His only, not one of his lieutenants."
"What does it say?" Aleina asked.
"It first says that the bearers of this letter are my agents," the Open Lord said. "And that if anything should happen to them and they don't report back to me, that no pit in the Underdark is deep enough for him to be safe from me. Then it gives my suspicions about links to the Dock Ward killings to the Sea Maiden's Faire and promises that should another killing occur, I will have to personally investigate his ships. If one of his crew is responsible, that will motivate him into finding the one responsible and putting a stop to it. Finally, it says I will consider his offer of alliance between our cities. Not really true, but a carrot to try and lure good behavior from him."
"You are going to let him find his crewmate responsible and put a stop to it?" Jhelnae asked, throwing up her hands. "No! Whoever did that needs to face real justice. Not whatever this Jarlaxle will decide."
"You've brought me no real proof that the Sea Maiden's Faire is linked in any way," Laeral said. "I'm working with what I have to try and stop any more killings. I want justice for the dead as well, but my first priority is to protect the living."
"And nothing stops us from continuing to search for the killer," the half-elf said.
"To that point," the Open Lord said. "I will put officers of the Watch to investigate the lead you've given us as well. Perhaps we can find this killer."
The drow breathed out a frustrated sigh, then scooped up the scroll tube.
"Fine," she said. "We'll deliver this message. But I can't promise I won't punch this Jarlaxle right in his face if he tries to pull his charming rogue act on me. Do you know how hard Eilistraeens like my mother have worked to improve the reputation of drow? This murdering bastard on the ship threatens all of that."
"I do," Laeral said. "My sister, after all, was Qilue Veladorn, and her life's work was the same as your mother's."
The effect of her words on Jhelnae was immediate. She looked up and met the Open Lord's eyes and they shared a slight nod. The drow was still angry, but it was a controlled focused anger, one that would help her focus on her mission rather than possibly ruin it.
"And should you lose your temper and actually punch Jarlaxle in the face," Laeral said, with a grim smile. "Let him know my protection still applies. Because I want to do the same. But as the Open Lord I can't be as impulsive as when I was as the Lady Mage. Let's get that scroll tube sealed in wax and pressed with my signet ring."
I am very intimidated with posting this. I wrote over 1000 words of it in Jhelnae's perspective. But I felt this urge to switch to Laeral's. Presenting a beloved character of the Forgotten Realms is one thing. Getting into her POV? Quite another. Thankfully I don't think I have that many Forgotten Realms fans that actually read this, so I think I am safe from back lash along the lines of, "That isn't Laeral! You totally screwed up her character!"
As much as they might be deserved. She actually is really tough to write!
The lore on the ex-mistress trapped in the dungeon is actually from the 2e version of Blue Alley.