Under Their Own Names

They reached Waterdeep after dark. Inside the gates, the healers carried Erik away on his stretcher, still unconscious. Rishi watched them go while a guard remained beside him and Maeril. She had hoped to follow the stretcher. Instead, the patrol took them to the Watchful Order.

They gave their statements and waited under guard. By the time they were called upstairs, night was thinning at the windows. Maeril’s leg had stiffened so badly that she had to take the stairs one at a time, with Rishi beside her and one hand on the rail.

The guard opened an office door. Maeril looked from a wall covered in parchment to another crowded with slate, pins, and red string.

“You have far too many maps.”

“I would be pleased to need fewer,” said the man standing beside the largest. He set down his pen. “Rulven Dathar. Senior Magist Protector.”

Ink marked two of his fingers. His formal robe had the creases of a garment slept in, and their confiscated staffs leaned against the wall behind his desk. Maeril looked at hers long enough for him to notice.

“In a moment,” Dathar said. He turned toward the window. “Dawn-Canon Mereth Asterfall, of the Spires of the Morning. I asked her to attend because you arrived as a Lathanderite delegation.”

“Then begin by letting them sit,” Mereth said.

She drew two chairs away from the desk, her worn gold stole slipping forward as she bent. Her gaze went from Maeril’s leg to the hand Rishi held against his flank.

“Have those wounds been bound?”

“At the tower,” Rishi said. “The healers took Erik when we arrived.”

“I will see that word reaches you.”

Maeril lowered herself into a chair and eased her leg forward. Rishi sat beside her, carefully. The guard stayed by the door.

Her statement lay open on the desk, with Rishi’s much shorter account beside it. Beyond the papers was the scrap of ash-gray cloth recovered at the timber camp, where a body should have been.

Dathar sat opposite them and tapped the longer account. “You think a beholder dreamed this creature into existence.”

“It is the best explanation I have.”

“What did you find in the remains?”

“Magic through the flesh and bone. I couldn’t find where a working had been laid over a living body. Whatever made it seemed to be part of it.”

“Does that exclude summoning?”

“Not by itself. And I could not establish its first arrival.”

Dathar added a note in the margin. Maeril watched his pen, then the scrap of cloth beside her statement.

“Could it have been made for a siege?” Dathar asked.

“Capable of one. I cannot tell you whether that was its purpose.”

Rishi leaned forward in his chair. “Could it have killed those people without the beholder knowing?”

“That is possible,” Maeril said. “What I read described creatures born from nightmares. The beholder may have brought one of its own nightmares to life.”

“And Xanathar?” Dathar asked.

“My first suspect if the dream account holds. I found nothing at the camp that identifies it.”

Dathar wrote that down, then drew Rishi’s statement closer. “You engaged the creature while invisible, then pursued it from the air after it struck you.”

“Yes.”

Dathar waited.

Rishi added, “The first part went badly.”

“Your account says bringing down the watchtower was necessary to keep the creature from reaching the road.”

“It was.”

Dathar took out a clean sheet. “I agree. No charges will be brought against you. The use of magic and force was justified by immediate threat to life.”

“And Erik?” Rishi asked.

“Erik too.”

Dathar signed the decision and looked to the guard. “Return their weapons. You may leave us.”

The guard brought their staffs round the desk and withdrew. Maeril settled hers between her knees. Having it within reach eased something the chair had not.

“You are free to go,” Dathar said. “But you remain material witnesses in an aberrant-threat investigation. You must stay in the city until the Trade Way incident has been investigated. The same conditions apply to Erik.”

Maeril glanced at the closed door. “Then we have people waiting for us.”

“Which brings me to your arrival.” Dathar folded his hands. “You came in Lathanderite disguise.”

“It was a good disguise,” Maeril said.

“Your account names Xanathar and the Stone. Were you coming here because of what happened at the Manor?”

Rishi turned to Mereth. “Can someone from the Manor come into your care without being handed over?”

Mereth came to stand beside Rishi’s chair. “Yes. Shelter before questions, and doors that open from the inside.”

Maeril looked at Dathar. “And no names in the public notices.”

He turned the statements facedown. “Agreed.”

Rishi removed the plain sunburst pendant from beneath his torn robe and set it on the desk. From his mending kit he took a folded strip of cloth, an offcut from their work on Elisa’s vestments at the Hall. A burn hole had been repaired by hand instead of cut away.

He held the cloth out to Mereth. “Elisa’s. She is alive.”

Mereth took it from him. “Elisa?” Her thumb stopped beside the repaired burn. “She served with me at the Spires. We were told she had died.”

“She lived with us in Baldur’s Gate,” Rishi said. “She came back to Waterdeep with us.”

Mereth looked up from the cloth. For a moment she said nothing. Then she drew a breath and held the scrap carefully between both hands.

“She went ahead with our other companions while we helped at the camp,” Rishi said.

“Where is she?” Mereth asked.

“The Lathanderite house at the edge of the Castle Ward. We agreed to meet there. She is waiting under our cover from Elturel.”

“Does she understand what she is returning to?”

“No.”

“Then I can give her real protection. A retreat transfer, pilgrim documents, a private devotional purpose. Enough truth that the story will stand.”

“A blessed lie,” Maeril said.

“A merciful veil.”

Then she looked at Rishi. “They reported Firemind dead too. Was that wrong as well?”

Rishi met her gaze. “Alive.”

Mereth put one hand on the back of a chair. Dathar went still.

“Firemind is dead,” he said.

“No.”

Outside the office, boots passed in the corridor. A clerk asked someone for a seal.

Dathar looked at Maeril.

“He came with us,” she said. “How do you know Elisa and Firemind so well?”

“Dealing with troublesome adventurers is part of my work,” Dathar said. “Your friends fought the Zhentarim in public. Then Trollskull Manor burned. I had ample reason to learn their names.”

“Right.”

Dathar turned back to Rishi. “Who knows he is alive?”

“Others helped him before us,” Rishi said. “Their names are not mine to give.”

Mereth looked from Rishi to Maeril. “Elisa and I first met him at the Spires. He had collapsed after reaching Waterdeep. A man from Sigil, somehow washed up here.”

“Sigil?” Maeril said. “Oh. That explains the mimir.”

“He said he had been trapped in a labyrinth. Empty streets he recognised from home, except every way out brought him back.”

Maeril sat a little straighter. “Familiar streets, but no one in them?”

“So he told us.”

“That sounds like one of the Lady of Pain’s Mazes. Did he say how he got out?”

“Not to me. Ask the pink mimir.” Mereth refolded Elisa’s cloth. “I will send word to the house that you are here. They can stay there; I will see to it.”

Dathar waited until she had tucked the cloth away. “The temple can keep them out of sight. I would like you two to help me find what is happening in plain view.”

He rose and went to the wall. As he turned, Maeril saw an old burn scar behind his ear. His hand rested against a map of the Dock Ward, its street names crowded by colored pins. Beneath it hung a survey of the sewers.

“For more than two years, the Zhentarim have been killing one another in our streets,” he said. “Old symbols, new orders. Half the time a mark tells us who did the killing. The rest of the time it tells us who they want blamed.”

“And you can tell which?”

“Sometimes. Enough to know Manshoon has returned.”

Mereth’s mouth tightened. Maeril looked from her to the map.

“What identifies him?”

“Spell signatures. Agents removed from locked rooms. Safehouses burned from within. We have more than a name passed between frightened informants.”

He moved his hand to another cluster of pins. “Xanathar’s Guild barely troubles to conceal that its leader is a beholder now. The Stone of Golorr remains the prize. Since Trollskull Manor burned, the war for it has moved closer to the surface.”

“And your people?” Rishi asked.

“Stretched thin. The Watch and the Order both. Informants vanish. Patrol routes change without orders.” Dathar returned to the desk and set a finger beside the ash-gray cloth. “And now a beholder’s nightmare may have killed those people on the Trade Way.”

Maeril looked again at the maps. Killings, disappearances, magical disturbances: different pins, with red string crossing between them.

“You need more than another report.”

“I need someone who can tell me what to look for before the next crew dies.”

Dathar opened a side drawer and laid another document over the statements. “They may use Lathanderite cover. You two will not. You will remain in Waterdeep under your true names, appearances, and affiliations. No false temple office.”

Maeril’s tail stilled beneath her mantle. “Public names in a city where patrol orders change themselves?”

“After yesterday, hiding under false ones will only make you easier to frame. I can put your authority on record.”

She looked down at the document.

“I am offering you temporary appointments,” Dathar said, “as investigative adjuncts of the Watchful Order under my authority. Your scope would cover the Trade Way creature, related magical disturbances, and any reasonable connection to Xanathar’s Guild.”

“And if we refuse?”

“You remain witnesses. You still cannot leave the city, but you would have no investigative duties or authority.”

Maeril read the title twice. “You are deputizing the witch who helped drop your tower.”

“The tower was already condemned.”

“Then I improved compliance.”

“You will have access to incident reports, controlled interviews, residue sites, field notices, and records relevant to the investigation.”

Maeril drew the document closer. “The original statements, or somebody’s conclusions about them?”

“The statements and supporting records. Within the scope on that page.”

Maeril read the next clause. “And no authority over the Watch.”

“You may not command patrols, raid noble houses, or use destructive magic inside the city except against an immediate threat to life. You act under the credentials I issue.”

“If we find where these things are coming from, can you send people with us?” Rishi asked.

“I have no escort to spare you, let alone a raiding party. And with orders being altered, I won’t fill the gaps with men I cannot vouch for.” Dathar tapped the document. “You two can work on the clean side. Let your friends turn over the other face of the coin.”

Clean was a generous word for the city he had described.

Rishi placed one hand on the paper. “Their names remain protected.”

“Until Elisa and Firemind reveal themselves, yes.”

“Firemind is not bait.”

“Agreed.”

“Elisa is not evidence you own.”

Dathar’s jaw tightened before he nodded. “Agreed.”

Mereth said, “I will answer for their shelter.”

Rishi looked at Maeril.

She finished reading before she nodded. “The title is dreadful. But the records may be interesting.”

Dathar took up his pen. “Then we are agreed.”

“Apparently I must put my own clothes back on.”

“You do.”

Rishi’s mouth twitched.

Once the papers were signed, Rishi put his pendant away and Maeril folded their appointments. Mereth took them to the house. Morning light had reached the windows by the time Maeril climbed the entrance steps. Elisa came into the hall to meet them and stopped.

“Mereth.”

Firemind closed the street door. Mereth held out a hand, but Elisa crossed the space between them and embraced her. The priest’s arms closed around her at once.

“I have been trying to believe it since Rishi told me,” Mereth said. “Oh, Elisa. I am so glad to see you alive.”

Elisa held her for a moment before drawing back. “I didn’t know whether I would ever see you again.”

Mereth touched her cheek. “You have a place with us. That hasn’t changed.”

“I have missed the Spires.” Elisa’s voice caught, and she smiled through it. “And you.”

“We will have time to talk. You can stay here as long as you need.”

Elisa looked toward Firemind.

“All of you,” Mereth said. She met his gaze too. “I have already told Dathar.”

“Thank you,” Firemind said.

Elisa pressed Mereth’s hand between hers, then let it go. Chime rose from the open reliquary on the bench, a few clear notes sounding as they turned toward the visitors.

“Chime heard your steps.”

“I imagine half the street did,” Maeril said. Her leg had begun to shake with the effort of standing still.

Elisa looked down at it, then at Rishi’s bloodstained robe. “Sit down. Both of you.”

Rishi lowered himself onto the bench. Firemind drew a chair up for Maeril and held it steady while she sat.

“I’ve sent word to Renaer,” he said. “Nothing back yet.”

“The Order has released us,” Maeril said. She laid the folded appointment papers on her knee. “Though Dathar found a use for us before we escaped his office.”

Mereth followed Elisa to a cupboard at the end of the hall. Their voices stayed low as they gathered water and clean cloth. Chime drifted closer to Maeril, turning slowly above the arm of her chair. She looked at the delicate gold work, the little window over the musical mechanism, and tried to picture them in those empty streets. Firemind was shifting a stool under her injured leg.

“Chime,” she said. “Mereth told me about the labyrinth. She said I should ask you.”

Chime’s slow turning stopped.

“Those streets from Sigil, with no one in them. Were you in one of the Lady’s Mazes?”

“Chime was there,” they said.

“We both were,” Firemind said. He sat on the end of the bench. “And yes. It was hers.”

Maeril stared at him. “The Lady of Pain mazed you?”

“She did.”

“But you’re here.” Maeril heard herself say it and tried again. “How did you even get out? That’s impossible.”

Firemind rested his forearms on his knees. “I spent a long time agreeing with you.”

Elisa returned with the basin. Mereth brought the cloth and set it beside Rishi, then pulled a chair near the bench. Chime rose a little, level with Firemind’s shoulder.

“I recognised the streets at first,” Firemind said. “I knew where a lane ought to take me. I’d turn into it, follow it, come out beside a doorway I’d already passed. No people. No carts. Nothing to account for but the streets, and I couldn’t make them fit.”

“You tried to map them.”

“Counted steps. Marked corners. Drew every turn. When a route brought me back, I tried the next one.” His thumb moved against the side of his forefinger. “I kept thinking I’d missed something small. A turning I’d mistaken for another. A passage I hadn’t checked properly. There had to be a mistake I could find.”

“Firemind began saying the numbers aloud,” Chime said. “Chime sang between them.”

He glanced at them. “Sometimes during them.”

“Firemind was always counting.”

The corner of his mouth moved. “Yes. I was.”

Maeril tried to imagine starting another map without any means of knowing whether it was better than the last.

“What did you sing?” she asked Chime.

“Songs Chime remembered. Songs Chime made. There were only two voices, and sometimes Firemind stopped using his.”

Firemind looked down at his hands.

“Chime asked questions then. About places with people in them. Firemind knew stories.”

“Most of which you’d heard already,” he said.

“Chime wanted to hear Firemind tell them.”

He lifted his head toward them.

“They kept me sane,” he said. “I could still answer Chime. Even when I couldn’t make sense of a single line I’d drawn.”

Maeril let the question she had been about to ask wait. Across from her, Elisa dipped a cloth into the basin and wrung it out. Rishi sat quietly while she loosened the edge of his bandage.

“And when you finally left?” Maeril asked. “Had you found something you’d missed?”

“I don’t know.”

She waited.

“I can tell you what I tried. I can’t tell you which part mattered, or whether any of it did. I don’t know if I found the way out or if she let me go.”

Maeril looked at Chime.

“Chime remembers leaving with Firemind,” they said. “Chime does not know why we could.”

There were questions Maeril could have asked about the last route, the last turning, what had changed. He must have asked himself all of them. She rested her hands on her staff.

“I believe you,” she said.

Firemind nodded. He reached up, and Chime lowered until the curve of their jaw rested briefly against his fingers.

Rishi drew a sharp breath as Elisa lifted the dressing from his flank. She stopped, waited for his nod, then eased it free. Firemind turned toward him.

“Now tell us what happened to you two. We expected you yesterday.”

Maeril moved the appointment papers from her knee to the space between them on the bench. “There was something at the timber camp. By the time we reached it, people were already dead.”

While Elisa cleaned Rishi’s wound, Maeril told them about the creature, the tower, and what she had found beneath the fallen stone.