The Table Holds

Renaer’s footsteps faded down the stairs. Rishi drew his chair closer to the hearth while Elisa put the visitor’s cup aside. Firemind set the open reliquary on the empty chair. Chime settled into it while he unfolded the reports.

Maeril turned her cup between both hands. “Abolethic memory in a beholder’s paranoia. A library fire in a room full of oil.”

Elisa gathered the papers closer. “The money belongs to Waterdeep.”

“I stand by what I told him,” Firemind said.

Maeril did not agree at once. Neither did Rishi.

“And who would take delivery?” Maeril asked.

Elisa said, “The Palace and Lords may administer the city. That does not make the theft theirs to inherit.”

“Nor does distrusting them make the gold ours,” Firemind replied.

Rishi remembered Erik bracing himself against the doorframe to see them off. “Erik would buy Rivenbeam. He would rebuild it around the workers. No one cutting late because an owner wants one more load. No crew sent where protection costs too much. Families paid in more than apologies.”

Firemind’s fingers stopped on the edge of the report. “Do you think it is your decision?”

The edge in his voice made Rishi look up.

Rishi met his gaze. “No.”

For a moment he had pictured Erik in charge of the yard as if the choice were already made. He let that picture go.

“I still know what some of the money could repair,” Rishi said.

Elisa touched her pendant. “Lantern Hall could use better beds.”

Everyone turned toward her.

“What?” Elisa asked. “Rishi and Maeril need them.”

Maeril set down her cup with grave care. “My old back endorses this allocation. The bed should be broad, firm, warm, and resistant to a man who sleeps as if furniture may attack.”

Rishi tried not to smile.

“You benefit too,” she told him. “Do not pretend otherwise.”

Elisa’s cheeks colored. “I did not mean only one bed.”

Rishi said, “The Hall needs an infirmary. Roof repairs, medicine, kitchen space, wages, safe rooms, and legal help for the people the city consumes.”

Firemind looked at him. “Another answer.”

“An idea. Not authority.”

Maeril refilled Firemind’s empty cup. “That is what gold breeds: good intentions faster than mold in a wet cellar.”

Elisa looked down at her hands. “If we decide for Waterdeep because we trust our wisdom more than its laws, how are we different from Dagult?”

The table went still.

“We would be clean thieves,” Firemind said.

“Is clean thieving different from dirty thieving?” Chime asked.

“Paperwork,” Maeril said.

Elisa gave her a look.

“And moral injury,” Maeril added. “Priests insist on complete accounting.”

Maeril considered the four cups. “Divide it, then. A share to each of us. Elisa buys beds and dawnlit rooms. Rishi purchases enough bandages to restrain a tyrant. Firemind builds escape routes with moral anxiety. I acquire the protest bed.”

“No,” Rishi said.

The refusal came at once. Rishi let the silence stand before continuing.

“I do not know what division would be wise. I know it would give each of us a private answer large enough to mistake for righteousness.”

Firemind looked away.

Rishi asked, “Are we doing this together? Or are our ideas already dividing us?”

The hearth settled with a soft crack.

Firemind rubbed one hand across his shaved scalp. “The easy answer is still to return all of it. But Renaer is right. Once it enters the Palace, hands decide. Lords, guilds, temples, people in clean rooms.”

“You hate clean rooms,” Maeril said. “So do I.”

Elisa leaned forward. “Then perhaps the first promise is not how we spend it. Perhaps we promise it will not become another secret.”

Firemind looked at her.

She continued, “Dagult hid the theft. The Stone hid the path. Secrecy lets every faction kill for a fortune the city cannot see. Whatever happens, Waterdeep must know.”

“A public claim,” Firemind said.

“A public witness,” Rishi corrected. “A claim asks who owns the gold. A witness asks who was harmed.”

Maeril nodded slowly. “Better.”

“Half a million dragons unveiled before Waterdeep,” Firemind said. “That should be calm.”

“No,” Rishi said. “It may still be right.”

Elisa took a blank sheet from the shelf. “The wealth can return to Waterdeep without disappearing into Waterdeep.”

“Write that down before a magistrate improves it,” Maeril said.

Her faint smile made the room breathe again.

Maeril lifted the empty teapot and regarded it as a personal betrayal.

Firemind rose, took the kettle from the hearth, and added hot water without being asked.

Elisa watched him. “No more ghosts.”

His hand paused above the pot. “No more ghosts.”

Rishi drew the two reports together. “The gold can wait until we live long enough to face it. First we separate the Stone and the Key.”

“And free Lysaerra,” Firemind added.

“Her name first,” Elisa said.

Maeril nodded.

Rishi placed one hand on the table. “We will know more when we reach the choice.”

“That sounds like faith,” Firemind said.

“Practice.”

Chime’s eyes brightened from the open box. “Practice is doing the hard song again until the heart remembers the next note.”

Outside, Waterdeep held monsters, laws, old allies, missing memories, and enough gold to ruin better people. Inside, the four cups filled again, and for the moment the table held.