Garavin, she said simply. Go back to him. Dig holes and make tunnels. It's hardening work, work you'll need. In a year or two you'll be fighting goblins. Dig holes, make tunnels. .. She paused. And come to see me, at the boulder.
"Why?" Kall asked, confused. In the dark and the mist her profile wasn't easy to discern, but he knew she was looking at him.
You helped me, she said. The words clearly came hard to her. I can help you.
They didn't speak again. She took him back to the boulder between the trees, so he would know how to find it again.
They found Morgan and Laerin leaning against the rock, arguing.
"If he'd've been some frock-heavy, perfumed Waterdhavian snotling, you wouldn't've thought twice about keeping them!" Morgan accused.
"Yet clearly he's not," came Laerin's gentler reply. He noticed Kall and Cesira, and smiled. "Nor is he quite a boy, after what he's been through. Well met, Kall."
Kall nodded to the half-elf. Cesira climbed the boulder and sat cross-legged atop it.
You're both late, she said.
"Our fault completely," said Laerin. "We lost Kall's trail thanks to your superior forest skills .. . and Morgan dropped the emeralds."
"Found 'em again, didn't I!" Morgan huffed. He reached inside a pouch and pulled something out in his fist. He hurled the object—a small, dirt-encrusted bundle of linen—at Kall.
Kall recognized it at once. It was the same bundle he'd unearthed with his father's sword from the cemetery in Esmeltaran. One end was torn open. Kall could see twin points of green glittering against the white linen: two more emeralds—flawless stones matching the gem in his father's sword.
"You stole them?" he asked incredulously.
Don't let their doltish appearances fool you, said Cesira. These louts are well known—and wanted—burglars in the finer districts of Waterdeep, Arabel, and gods know where else.
"Those baubles would have kept us comfortable for several winters," Morgan complained.
"He's right," Kall said, fingering the stones. He fought down his instinctive anger at Morgan's theft and instead looked at Laerin. "Why didn't you keep them?"
"Because you're going to need them," Laerin said. He nodded at Cesira. "They speak, much like your lady's stones."
Kall felt his neck grow warm, but he refused to be distracted by the half-elf's teasing. "Show me."
Laerin took one of the emeralds back, fisting it in the palm of his hand. "Morel," he said aloud. He waited a beat, then raised the stone to his mouth and spoke a handful of words in Elvish. Kall did not understand any of them. A breath later, Kall looked down at his sword in surprise. The emerald in the hilt glowed, luminous against the platinum veins.
"Touch the stone in your sword and speak your family name," Laerin instructed him.
Curious, Kall did as he said and felt the emerald grow warm. He heard Laerin's Elvish speech coming from the stone, a perfect echo of what the half-elf had said. An instant later, the words repeated, this time in Common.
Friends in the dark.
Kall lowered his weapon. "I had no idea the stones were linked."
"No matter the language, the gems will translate. They have another power," Laerin said. He dropped the second emerald in Kall's open hand. "Anyone who possesses one of the emeralds can locate the other two at any time, no matter the distance."
"Been tracking you since you left the hut," said Morgan.
"What does the message mean?" Kall asked, still watching the half-elf. "Friends in the dark?"
"Means diggers," Laerin said. He winked at Kall.
"Nothing wrong with digging," Morgan agreed.
Kall looked up at the boulder, but Cesira had gone.
"She's rejoined the druids," Laerin explained. "But she'll be back." He pushed off the rock. "We should go. Garavin will be waiting."
Kall held the sparkling emeralds in his hand. The forest was eerily quiet, tense and uncertain in the wake of the goblin battle. In the distance, fires still burned.
It would take a long time, Kall thought, but eventually the forest would look as it had before. Maybe it would be stronger for all the damage it had suffered. Kall wondered if he would see the mist stags again.
Turning, he followed Morgan and Laerin back to Garavin's hut.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Esmeltaran, Amn
2 Eleint, the Year of the Banner (1368 DR)
Three years later, the house looked exactly as he remembered it.
Kall expected to meet the bulk of the resistance at the door, but there was only one guard, a skinny, tired-looking man who stood by the window, with a fist stuck in his mouth to stifle a yawn.
Kall slid around the side of the house, beneath the windows facing the front hedgerows. He came up behind the guard and clipped him on the back of the head with the pommel of his sword. The guard crumpled; Kall caught him under the armpits and dragged him into the shadows behind the bushes.
Returning to the door, he took out the set of lockpicks Laerin had given him and set to work. He hadn't nearly the half-elf's skill, but what he lacked in grace he made up for with persistence. The lock gave way with a click.
Inside the entry hall, lanterns were dimmed for sleep, but Kall knew his house well enough to feel his way. He listened for signs that someone had detected his presence, but he heard nothing.
One inept guard at the door and no stirring in the house—it was too easy for Kall's comfort. His father would never have permitted such a breach of his private space. A sinking unease filled Kall's chest.
He stepped forward, passing between two twisted columns. He heard the second click a heartbeat too late.
Kall ducked, on the off chance the trap was aimed at his head, but the danger came from below. Metal spikes burst from camouflaged gaps in the marble floor, ringing him in a field of razors. If he'd been standing directly on top of one of them, Kall was certain he'd have lost a foot. A spike caught him in the calf, shearing away his boot like so much meat off the bone.
Kall resisted the urge to jump back, lest he should trigger more of the deadly spikes. Regaining his balance, he began moving forward again, watching the floor for holes. He made it to the other side of the hall without encountering any further traps.
In the shadows beneath the main staircase, Kall paused to listen again. He'd never known his father kept such deadly traps in his own home. Dhairr had always feared assassins—Kall had grown up with nightmares from listening to his father's tales about shadowy, hidden foes—but this? It made his father seem a prisoner in his own home. What other secrets had Dhairr kept from him?
He pushed the thoughts away. He had to find Balram. Someone was sure to have heard the trap go off. He was running out of time.
The back wall by the staircase had only one door. It opened onto the garden between the main house and the towers. He could conceal himself better in the garden than the hall.
Kall listened at the door, hearing a faint scraping sound coming from the other side. He tested the lock, but it was open. Slowly, he eased the door inward a crack.