Candlekeep was surrounded by layers of protective spells, and its defensive magic array was formidable. Even a Demigod-level Mage could not open a Dimension Door there. It also had a Silver Dragon who had become a ghost; even if she was killed, she would revive a day later.
Without the Spellplague, those defenses would indeed have been enough to protect the towering castle at the end of the Lion's Way. After all, it also had many Magic Weave Mages around level thirty.
But now those Mages were almost useless... Years of comfort had made them forget how to cast spells without the Magic Weave.
And their enemies would surely be Arcanists.
Hill was certain the survivors of Netheril would make a move on Candlekeep.
If it held only books, those Arcanists might have restrained their greed. But it also held the prophecies the seer Alando had made about Faerûn's future.
The Netherese Arcanists had once scoffed at those prophecies, but reality had taught them a hard lesson. Now that they had another chance to gain power, they would surely want to avoid making the same terrible mistakes.
Liszt solemnly recorded Hill's instructions in his core. He knew the task was not his alone; he also needed to inform Lynn, Laira, and the Tower Spirits assisting them.
Hill sighed softly. He still had to deal with those Elves. "Tell them they can go to Luskan. They may also choose one of the two small islands outside the harbor to garrison.
"But they must promise me they won't cause trouble in Luskan, insult other Gods, or say anything discriminatory about other races, including Half-Elves.
"I can't expect them to be cautious, but the Elves must understand one thing: if they anger me, they will be punished.
"Any Elf who breaks the rules