What he spoke was apparently a dialect of Elvish that Tsarra had never heard, as she couldn't understand all that Khelben said. "Ye who have been sukarat a'layr are sinaglar again. Accept nuamil and learn of tuul edemp close at hand." Khelben completed his spell, and his hands suddenly held a crackling globe of purple and azure energies that drifted in the air toward the creature. The sharntaur reared up on its hind legs when a chorus of yells erupted from its right hand side. A handful of wizards, bards, and spellcasting priests burst from the Great Library's doors, weapons drawn and readied. Khelben yelled,
"No!" and waved them off, but two of the bards aimed arrows at the sharntaur. With a feline snarl, Tsarra urged her tressym into action.
"Spoil their shots, now!" Nameless bolted toward them, spraying into the face of the first bard while clamping claws and jaws on the bow hand of the second to make him drop his weapon. For her part, Tsarra pulled up the memory of ice growing on a still pond and the smell of the frosty snap of chilling air. This spun together the magic that put an invisible shield between the archers and their target. The only hint that she had cast a spell at all were the whispered incantations only Khelben could hear. Nameless flew past the swiftly growing group and looped up in the air for another pass when a voice from behind the archers boomed out, "Enough! Stand your ground and do not interrupt them unless they bring direct harm to you!" Tsarra and Khelben both sighed in relief as the temple's founder pushed his way to the front of the group. Sandrew the Wise, lorekeeper high and ranking priest of Oghma here, spread his arms wide then moved toward the fallen thief while keeping an eye on the goings-on in front of him. The man's priestly calling to Oghma demanded he value knowledge and history as well as tending to the aggrieved. He seemed equally fascinated in what Khelben was up to with the sharntaur and horrified at the disturbance of his temple's peace. Tsarra watched him as he began weaving healing spells around the man's arm and head. She thought it odd treatment for a rogue who had defiled a god's temple, but she had never met Sandrew.
For all she knew, he might be among the more compassionate of high priests, unlike the callous Meleghost Starseer of the House of Wonder.
Her initial impression of the Oghman priest was of strength and purpose as he rose and helped the red-shirted rogue to his feet.
Sandrew was clad in white pants and shirt with a golden vest and slippers. The head of the Font of Knowledge stood relatively tall, his shoulders square and strong, unlike many lifelong scholars with stooped and bowed shoulders. Aside from a receding line of graying hair, the priest's age was not apparent. Tsarra realized with a start that the red-shirted thief was the man they'd encountered the previous morning-and the same man whose blade set off the lightning that killed Danthra. Yes, Tsarra, he's entangled with our fates in many ways.
Tsarra returned her attention to matters in front of her, including the injured Blackstaff. Khelben, what happened? I didn't even see the lightning strike-I lost consciousness a moment after the three artifacts reacted to each other. I was lost in your memories for a few breaths, but I learned a lot about our friend here. Good. There's less to explain now. As for my predicament, I intercepted the magic directly and paid the price. Khelben's response shocked Tsarra as it exceeded his typical penchant for understatement. You caught the lightning? Weren't you the one who used to warn me about taking too many risks or asking questions too late after leaping? Good advice, that. We should both listen to that prudent sage. It isn't exactly lightning, though. How can you tell? Because I'm immune to lightning, my dear. Adamar's song, I've not been hurt this badly… since your encounter with the Crown of Horns? Khelben's face darkened, and his eyes blazed into hers for a moment. Through their link, Tsarra felt a roiling upsurge of rage, pain, sadness, horror, and regret. If she had not felt his emotions, she might have missed that look, as it took him less than the blink of an eye's time to restore his features to their normal unreadable state and his emotions under tight rein once again. Sorry, Khelben. It's not easy for me either, sharing your thoughts and memories. No apologies necessary, Tsarra. You're holding up better with this than I might have at thirty-four. I'm simply unused to having someone other than Laeral complete my thoughts so concisely. I am more angry at myself, having counted on a certain invulnerability when I should have heeded my instincts. So why did you throw yourself into its path? You already knew it could affect you since this morning. Khelben's chagrin and resolve were all evident in his response. The lightning would have destroyed the support walls of the temple, collapsing it upon all of us that were within it. Lives would have been lost, as well as that statue- a legacy of Myth Drannor actually crafted by my father. I just didn't expect to take as much of the bolt, given the transfer of energies to the sharn through the globe. As Khelben and Tsarra silently conversed, the sharntaur slowed its rearing and pawing at the air with alternating hooves and its strange tri-arms. It settled down and stared at the globe that hovered in the air before it. Eyes again peppered the creature's surface to reflect the energies of the globe. It reached out, and its skin glowed in response as well. Its claws dissolved as it touched the globe, its tri-arm melting into a normal centaur's hand, albeit obsidian-skinned.
Once both hands embraced the globe, its energy leeched into the sharntaur's skin and body, forming constellations of winking purple and blue stars among the blackness of its shape. Tsarra found herself speaking in concert with Khelben, finally understanding the obscure Elvish dialect as the two said, "Remember and return redeemed and readied. We shall await you at Faertelmiir." Tsarra didn't quite know what she was referring to, but the certainty of it never wavered in her or Khelben's minds. She looked down at her mentor, who she helped settle onto his back, his wound still a massive hollow where his hip and side should be. The only evidence revealing his incredible pain was his shallow and rapid breathing. He smiled at her. Don't miss this, Tsarra. Watch the sharn, not me. The sharntaur, its silhouetted form fully centauran save for its glistening black skin, bowed to Khelben and Tsarra from its waist. It also wove a number of hand signals and gestures as it bowed in Sandrew's direction as well. The priest returned a number of the gestures and bowed. The sharntaur crouched then leaped high into the air, which elicited a chorus of screams and gasps as it appeared to leap for Sandrew and the statue.
Instead, it disappeared into a nimbus of purple lights at the apogee of its leap. Tsarra looked down at Khelben again, surprised to find tears of joy rimming both their eyes. Khelben whispered, "You feel it, don't you? Even if you're not fully aware of it all, part of you knows what's to come and rejoices at it. Remember that when things get bleak. It will help you through harder days than this one. Now, prepare to bear the endgame that is upon us. I'm sorry I did not prepare you better-I thought I had more time. So many things undone, unsaid." Tsarra felt a flash of warning in her head along with the loud growl of Nameless as he flew down to protect her. The tressym landed on her left shoulder as the priest and their opponent stepped close to them. His eyes not on them, Sandrew muttered a few words in prayer, and a glow emanated from his hands. He spread his arms in arcs overhead, and the glow settled into a radiant hemisphere around the quintet. "There," said the priest. "Oghma loves to share knowledge, but he also knows when to keep secrets from prying eyes and ears."