Air Through the Lies

By early afternoon, birds were flying between the Kolat Towers.

Maeril watched one cross the space where Duhlark’s invisible barrier had divided the sky. It passed unharmed, circled the eastern tower, and settled on a cracked sill. Sunlight reached the broken windows. Wind moved the curtains and carried out the smell of damp stone and old smoke.

Watch cordons blocked both ends of the street. Two junior magists stood beside the gate beneath a placard.

AUTHORIZED ENTRY ONLY. ARCANE HAZARD. DO NOT TOUCH THE WALLS.

Maeril read it twice. “I feel this was written for me.”

“Do not touch the walls,” Rishi said.

“That is why I resent it.”

They showed their papers and entered.

Chalk circles enclosed magical stains. Sealed crates stood beside the stair, and a scribe worked at the dining-room table where the guards had played cards. Maeril passed a door with a warning tied across its handle and another whose lock had been removed entirely.

At the summoning chamber, she stopped.

The blood circle was gone. Order mages had scraped the stone until the surface changed color. She could still place the young wizards around it, and the barlgura they had released among them to clear the way upward.

Rishi came to stand beside her. His hand tightened once around his staff.

Maeril kept her eyes on the scraped floor until footsteps sounded on the stair above them. Then she adjusted her satchel. “Come. Reflection may make me unbearable.”

He looked at her.

“More unbearable,” she added.

“I depend on your precision.”

They climbed, Maeril using the rail and Rishi keeping pace beside her.

Lady Gondafrey crouched on the highest parapet, her wings folded along her back. Maeril emerged onto the roof and paused to let the ache in her leg ease before joining her.

Smoke rose beyond the roofs. Work carts crowded the broader streets, stopping where fresh barriers forced them to turn. Gondafrey followed one with her stone eyes until it passed out of sight.

“Greenward. Rishishura,” Gondafrey said.

Rishi bowed his head.

“You selected the best view,” Maeril said. “And the most dramatic place to brood.”

“I am keeping watch.”

“Brooding with purpose.”

One corner of Gondafrey’s mouth moved. “It is quieter up here. The Order has brought three transmuters to see me since morning. The temples have sent proposals of their own.”

“For returning you to your body?” Rishi asked.

“For returning me to flesh. They have been careful about what they can promise.”

She opened a clawed hand against the daylight. “I will remain as I am.”

Maeril turned fully toward her.

“I hated this body when Duhlark forced it on me,” Gondafrey continued. “I hate what it remembers. Neither truth has changed.”

The wind pressed against her folded wings. She opened them a little, settling her weight on the parapet. “But I can fly. Time touches me differently. I can wait by day until those I watch forget that stone can listen. At night, I can cross roofs no Watch patrol can reach.”

She looked toward the harbor. “Waterdeep has hands enough. It needs eyes above them.”

“And if you decide differently later?” Maeril asked.

“I have kept the proposals. They know I may ask again.”

Rishi rested his hands on the parapet, leaving space beside hers. “Then you have time to choose.”

“I intend to use it.”

Below them, a cart wheel struck loose paving. Gondafrey leaned forward until she could see the men steadying its load. She waited for them to move before drawing back. “Duhlark is waiting for you.”

“Has he improved with confinement?” Maeril asked.

“He called one magist a robe filled with boiled flour.”

Maeril considered this. “Was he correct?”

“Partly.”

She descended with them.

Duhlark Kolat occupied a room with one door and seven locks.

Maeril examined the two abjuration seals above the frame while the guard opened it. Powdered silver crossed the threshold. Inside, Duhlark’s flameskull floated in a glass-and-brass case fixed to a waist-high stand.

Someone had added carrying handles. She approved.

“You left me with clerks,” Duhlark said.

“You survived Manshoon, undeath, and your own judgment. I thought you could endure an inventory.”

Duhlark rotated within the glass. “They speak of advisory custody. Apparently I am to answer questions from inside this case.”

Maeril approached the glass. “You wanted your tower returned. You now occupy one of its most secure cabinets.”

Duhlark stared at her, then laughed. The sound cracked against the case.

Maeril reached into her satchel and drew out the spellbook. She folded back the worn outer cover, exposing the finer binding beneath.

Duhlark flared against the glass. “My spellbook. You thieving green catastrophe.”

Behind her, Gondafrey made a sound that might have been stone settling.

Maeril held the book where he could see it. “I will copy what I need. Material that belongs with the tower records will come back.”

“When, precisely?”

“Eventually.”

She put the book away. “I expect to have questions for you when I return.”

Duhlark turned toward Gondafrey. “Will you be here each morning to count the locks?”

“The Order is keeping you. I have a city to watch.”

She stepped closer, green fire reflecting in her stone eyes. “I will visit when I choose.”

Duhlark held her gaze. For once, he offered no insult.

Maeril waited until Gondafrey turned toward the door, then followed her out. The guard closed the door behind them and began working through the locks.

Grim waited across the street when Maeril and Rishi emerged from the towers. His clothes were cleaner than when she had last seen him. She chose not to ask where he had acquired them.

He straightened and looked them over. “You both lived.”

“Provisionally,” Maeril said.

His shoulders lowered a little. Then he held out one hand. “My book, before you reconsider.”

Maeril made him wait while she searched her satchel. She brought out the signed copy of Volo’s Guide to Monsters.

He accepted it with both hands and opened the cover.

“I resisted adding corrections,” Maeril said.

Grim looked up sharply.

“I said resisted,” she repeated.

He checked the inscription anyway.

Maeril drew out the second book she had collected before leaving Blackstaff Tower. Vajra had told her that this duplicate did not need to come back. Worn blue leather covered it, with silver corners and a title that left little room for anything else.

A Practical Coward’s Guide to Surviving Sigil, the Outlands, and Other Places That Should Have Stayed Rumors, by Imra Latchkey.

Grim read it twice. “What am I meant to do with this?”

“Consider an invitation.”

“To somewhere the title advises against?”

“The author lived long enough to write the book.”

Grim weighed the two volumes.

Maeril drew him a little farther from the gate before lowering her voice. “Firemind opened a passage to save Elisa. Chime followed her. We have what remains of the wand, and we think it led toward Sigil.”

Grim closed the guide. “Think?”

“We are investigating. If we find a way, we will go after them.”

“And you want me along.”

“You may find Waterdeep less hospitable once Manshoon’s people have finished counting who is missing.”

He looked toward the Watch cordon. “Some have already started.”

“Then you have something to consider.”

He turned to Rishi. “What do you think?”

“Read it. Ask what you need to know. Choose for yourself.”

Grim opened the blue book again, this time beyond the title. “Does choosing another city count as choosing better?”

“That will depend on what you do there.”

Grim ran one thick finger along the page, then shut it. “If you find a way, leave word at the west cordon. The sergeant knows where I sleep.”

“We will,” Maeril said. “You can decide when there is an actual journey to object to.”

“If I reach Sigil and die at once, I will blame you.”

“Your complaint will have limited force.”

He tucked both books under his arm and took a step away, then stopped. “Thank you. For the signed one. And the part where I did not die.”

“Cowardice did useful work there.”

“Underrated quality.”

“Only by fools.”

He nodded once and walked toward the corner with the books held close.

Rishi watched him go. “He may still choose badly.”

“I gave him a guide, not a new soul.”

She glanced back at the towers. Gondafrey had returned to the roof. A wing lifted against the afternoon sky as she changed her perch.

Maeril adjusted her satchel, settling the wrapped wand clear of the spellbook’s hard edge. “Come. Vajra expects a reading before evening, and I would like to have more than a suspicion to show her.”

Rishi turned with her toward Blackstaff Tower.