In The Cards Chapter 17, a baldur's gate fanfic

In The Cards 17 – Shadowdance And Sirensong

It is surprising how much you can get away with if you present your suggestions with the right attitude. If you sound confident and arrogant enough many people won't even consider questioning your presence or what you choose to tell them. They will simply assume you have a right to be wherever you are, and so allow you easy access to your target. Of course, the cover has to be a good one, and a backup plan is always necessary.

Excerpt from 'Interview With An Assassin'

Bregen Mandrel swore to himself for about the thousandth time. Being a bandit had seemed like a great thing. Money, power, booze, being able to more or less thumb his nose at the Fist. No way would they ever be able to get at him now about that business with the girl. And he sure liked raiding caravans. Not just because of the money either. It was something about the look in people's eyes when they met his and knew that they were going to die. Sometimes, after a particularly good death, he would dream about the raid at night and wake covered in sweat, a blissful smile on his lips. Particularly when women had been involved. Those dreams were very interesting.

But right now, there were certainly no women around. Neither were there any caravans, any companions or anything else other than trees. Bregen cursed again. How could he have been so stupid? They'd been out on patrol, him and his fellow Black Talons, same as always. Just walking around Peldvale, scouting to make sure no unwanted visitors found their way back to camp. They'd smelt smoke up ahead, smoke that might mean a campfire, and spread out to circle around and surround whoever was there. Bregen had meant to go straight away. It was just that first he'd had to 'go', so to speak. Once he was done, he hurried to obey, but now he couldn't find the campfire. He couldn't find his mates either. He'd heard somebody calling for him ahead, but he couldn't seem to find them. Just trees, trees and more trees, and now whoever had been up ahead had gone silent. It was rapidly getting darker too, and the deep shadows between the trees almost seemed to be alive. Now and then there were noises. Little rustling noises of something passing in the darkness. Bregen shuddered. He was a city boy, and no mistake about it. This was just too…creepy. Inky black shadows lurking closer by the minute, pressing in on him, hiding who knew what dangerous beasts? Bears, possibly. Wolves, almost certainly. The patrol had found wolf tracks only the day before. Bregen made a grimace. Wolves freaked him out, with their bright eyes and ghostly voices, and the way the moved, like gliding ghosts. And there was something really frightening about the precision with which they'd pick one animal out of the herd and drive it apart from the others.

Bregen suddenly became aware of how loud his breath his sounded in the silent darkness. He could hear every beat of his heart as well. And then he knew why. It was quiet. The little noises had stopped. Had he known better; he wouldn't have felt relieved. Had he known better; he wouldn't have laughed out loud at his own stupidity, jumping at shadows. Another man might have correctly interpreted the signs and realized that the smaller woodland creatures had gone quiet as they sensed danger, sensed that a hunt was on. But Bregen didn't. Neither was he aware of exactly how vulnerable he was, a pack animal separated from his herd, without the safety that lay in numbers, a fat deer being trailed by a stalking wolf.

Bregen stopped to take a drink from his water-flask, bending his head backwards to let the sweet water stream down his aching throat. And then he found himself tightly gripped from behind, and there was a biting pain at his throat, sharp as a cold steel tooth, and it wasn't cold water splashing him anymore. It was a hotter liquid, hot and sticky, and in the darkness, it was almost black against the whiteness of his skin. As his heartbeat faded his weakening body was caught and carefully lowered to the ground, his head turned to one side to keep his blood from staining his uniform too badly. Before his sight faded, he met the calm eyes of his killer, and he knew that he was dying. And with a sudden flash of insight he knew, he knew that unlike he would have done, his killer would take no particular pleasure in his death and would never dream about it at night. He wouldn't gloat about it afterwards, any more than the wolf would gloat about the taking of the lone deer, might not even remember it enough to gloat about it. It…was nothing personal.

Dekaras viewed the corpse critically, or rather its uniform. It seemed like a close enough fit. He was silently pleased that the bandits had been foolish enough to fall for the very first trap he'd set and separated into smaller groups. The others were probably still trying to figure out why there had been a small fire in the middle of the forest but no other sign of a campsite. It would take them some time to miss this one, much less go search for him. All the same, the rest of the night's exercises would be better handled elsewhere. The assassin made certain that the wound had stopped bleeding, even going so far as to binding it tightly. He certainly didn't need to leave any tracks as obvious as a trail of blood. There was only a small trickle now that the heart had stopped, but there was no need to take unnecessary chances. After kicking some dirt and leaves over the blood on the ground the assassin dragged the corpse some distance away.

For once I could almost wish I'd been a brawny berserker, Dekaras thought a little ruefully. Deadweight really was just that. When he was satisfied that he had gone far enough he stripped the corpse of its uniform. There was some blood on it, but most of it was easily wiped off and the rest wouldn't be out of the ordinary in the bandit camp. Now for the corpse. Not a detail he would ordinarily have to bother with, but he would prefer it if it was some time before this fellow was discovered. With luck he would be believed to have deserted. And even a few days respite might be enough for scavengers to mangle the body badly enough that the cause of death wouldn't be easily determined. Since he had neither the time nor the means for any extravagant method of corpse disposal Dekaras settled for tucking it inside some dense bushes and spreading some branches over it. At least it wasn't out in the open, and the darkness helped. That done, he tried on his newly acquired uniform. The dark leathers fit well enough and weren't all that different from his own. Most importantly, they allowed him to keep all his own weapons besides the standard issue sword and bow that all the Black Talon's seemed to carry. They would do.

Yes, I think that will be enough, Dekaras thought as he inspected himself. Only one more thing that could be done, and I'm not going through that again. Seeing that most of the bandits were northeners, a large part of them were blond. However, the assassin had tried that once, in perfecting another disguise. Blond…just wasn't him. And besides, it didn't look natural unless he changed his eye color as well, and that would take magic.

With a small frown on his face the assassin slipped away through the dark forest, leaving the corpse behind, already half forgotten. He was still thinking about magic, or more specifically about a certain mage. Edwin's attitude was starting to worry him a little. No, more than just a little, he privately admitted to himself. He was so very eager to come on this mission. He almost begged his superiors for a chance to prove himself. A mission that Dekaras himself hadn't been all that enthusiastic about in the first place. Locating this supposed child of Bhaal, Zaerini, was fine. So was attempting to recruit her to further the interests of Thay. Killing her if she refused, now that was another matter entirely, an assignment he never would have accepted himself if he'd had a choice about it. Not that he wouldn't do it if it became necessary. After all, anything to protect the boy's life. And he didn't doubt that that was exactly what was at stake here. The Red Wizards wouldn't tolerate a failure, not in a matter this important.

So why can't that child stop woolgathering and get some work done? Why all the excuses? Dekaras thought about this for a moment. Edwin was certainly intelligent enough to logically understand why he should act as soon as possible, particularly now that Red Wizards had been sighted nearby. But he didn't really have much field experience, and certainly nothing like this. Spying was hardly easy, as he himself well knew. You needed to play your part well enough to fool everybody around you, but without losing yourself in it. Lengthy undercover work was always risky that way. Which is precisely why he must act soon before he loses his nerve. It may well be that he's got cold feet already, despite my attempts to apply some glowing coals to them.

But that brought him to the second, and even more worrying problem. He knows that he's supposed to ask me for help if he finds himself unable to carry out the mission. He knows I will do just about anything to ensure his safety and make things all right, and that I won't blame him for it. True, I have pushed him hard about completing this task, but I've specifically told him that it will be difficult and that there is no need to feel ashamed if he finds himself in too deep. It could be that damnable pride getting in the way of course. He certainly gets enough of that from both his parents.

The assassin shook his head. This was getting him nowhere. Right now, he had something to do, and he had to stay focused. He was approaching the bandit camp, and now he would soon find out if his disguise were good enough. He had tracked a bandit patrol back here previously, and had watched the camp from afar, even done some scouting along the edges. Now it was time to go a little deeper. Hopefully, the infiltration would enable him to provide Edwin with some useful information, something that might facilitate the manipulation of the Bhaalspawn half-elf or at least help her stay alive long enough to actually be manipulated. At the very least it would keep him from getting bored.

Dekaras walked into the bandit camp using what he thought of as the 'tom-cat saunter'. Basically, it was a lazy, confident and slightly insolent walk that screamed arrogant power. It might get him a few challenges among the bandits, but he'd decided that it would be preferable to the 'meek-and-humble' act. That would be equal provocation, and with less satisfactory result as he would not be able to properly defend himself without destroying the cover. The neutral third alternative would have worked but wouldn't get him as far. He wanted to rise somewhat within the ranks, but without provoking the people in charge. Getting close to them was all that was needed.

The bandits he had passed so far hadn't paid much attention to him, but now one was approaching with a rather self-important look on his face. From what Dekaras had been able to gather plenty of new bandits were recruited all the time as the old ones were killed, and the camp was large. The bandits shouldn't react to seeing an unfamiliar face. Of course, there would have to be some trouble-makers. There always were.

"You there!" the bandit began. "What…" He didn't get the time to finish.

"You're forgetting yourself", Dekaras told the man in a quiet voice laced with poison. "You are annoying me, and you should know better than to do that." He smiled a lupine smile, one that made a disturbing contrast to the cold glare of his eyes. "Surely your friends have told you what happened to the last person who annoyed me?"

The man was starting to look worried. His friends hadn't told him, but he was getting the distinct feeling that he should have known and that he might come to regret his ignorance very shortly. "Er…no", he said. "They didn't. Sir."

"I see", Dekaras said and allowed the smile to increase. The bandit's eyes were darting worriedly from side to side now. "Then please allow me to enlighten you." He started speaking in a low and calm voice, as if explaining something to a dull-witted child, never looking away from the bandit's eyes. Before he had got halfway through his little explanation the bandit started backing slowly away.

"Er…sorry sir", the man stammered. "My mistake. I'll let all the lads know not to bother you."

"You do that." The assassin raised an eyebrow. "Well? What are you waiting for? Birds to nest in your open food-trap? Or did you want a practical demonstration?" The bandit swallowed heavily, closed his still gaping mouth and rapidly removed himself. Before long Dekaras could see him speaking in a quiet voice to one of his compatriots. The assassin pretended not to notice, but he was smiling inwardly. Before long, the rumor would start spreading, no doubt getting very much exaggerated in the process. Everything was working perfectly so far. He was inside the camp. And now, he thought, for the really interesting part.

The Song of the Morning temple was filled with the sound of sweet chanting. Zaerini drank it in eagerly. She paid little attention to the statue of Lathander with its magical ball of floating light, and less to the sparse but elegant architecture. The song was everything. The song, and the singers. Sirens walked the halls of the temple, beautiful female creatures, with flowing silver hair and green skin. It was their song that whispered in the air, Zaerini knew it, though they were not singing at this moment, their eyes mysterious. The song was distant, an echo. She shuddered to think of how powerful it would be when heard directly.

The priest, Keldath Ormlyr, had thanked the adventurers for their aid in the slaying of the madman Bassilus. He had been sad to hear the tale of young Footy's suffering and had gladly promised to take the boy in. "We will do all we can for him", he said. "The spells will be the easy part, but it will take time before he is fully healed in mind and body. Still, he is young, and the young can be surprisingly strong in these matters."

Zaerini hoped the priest was right. She had felt strongly for the orphan and would have liked to do something more. But there really wasn't anything she could do. She was an orphan herself, a wanderer without a home to offer him. A donation of some money to the temple would help pay for his care, however. Hopefully, that would be enough.

Once done at the temple the party set out once more. Zaerini had decided on their next course of action. They would work their way down south along the coast, trying to find Brage the mad guard-captain. This would earn them even more respect in Nashkel, as well as provide them with some more fighting experience before going after the bandits. So now they found themselves on the literal Sword Coast, some distance west of High Hedge. The sky was gray, heavy clouds rolled by above, driven by the chill and howling wind. There weren't many trees here, mostly hills and bare rock, or at the most grass, dry and hardy. From a distance Rini could hear the sound of crashing waves, and the smell of the sea was strong in her nostrils. "Anybody want to go for a swim?" she asked with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Swim?!" Edwin said, sounding horrified. "In this weather?"

"Oh, this isn't so bad", Imoen said with a grin. "Rini actually went winter-bathing once, did she tell you that?"

"Er…OK Immy, that's enough", the bard tried.

"She didn't actually mean to, of course", the pink-haired thief went on, ignoring her friend's embarrassment. "See, she was telling me all about how elves could supposedly walk on snow without sinking, and that she could too, being half-elf. So naturally I asked her to prove it."

"Immy, I'm warning you…"

"Only there wasn't much snow around, so she decided to walk on day-thin ice instead, at one of the beaches outside Candlekeep, reasoning that it was much the same thing." Imoen's grin was even wider now. "I've never heard her squeal as loudly as she did when the ice cracked beneath her feet and she fell in the water. 'Help me', she screams, 'I'm drowning, help me'."

"I think we've heard quite enough, thank you", Zaerini said a little huffily.

"Then", Imoen went on, "after a minute or so she finally realized that the water only reached to her waist." The thief laughed. "So, I guess the moral of the story is that half-elves may not be able to walk on snow, but they are able to walk on the bottom of the ocean." She smiled a little wistfully. "Boy, was Gorion ever mad at us when we came home. But then he made us hot chocolate and told us stories. Say Rini, do you want to tell us a story?"

"Yes", Rini said. "I'll tell you the story about the girl who had a crush on Drizzt Do'Urden if you like."

"Er…Rini, you don't have to…"

"This girl", the bard interrupted, "was so obsessed with Drizzt that she wanted to become a drow. So, she rubbed coal all over her skin and poured flour in her hair to make it white. Then she walked all around Candlekeep with a gnarly old stick in her hand, telling everybody that it was a tentacle rod. And let's not forget the fact that she told old Karan, our tutor, that he was a mindflayer out to devour her brain."

Edwin's eyes nearly boggled. "What did he do?" he asked, his voice almost reverent.

"Oh, Karan is a very sweet man. He didn't do anything other than inform Gorion. And Gorion made this nameless girl copy out some letters he had, letters where Drizzt described his heroic feats. Horrible letters they were, boastful as anything. After she'd copied them ten times her crush had mysteriously evaporated."

"You know", Edwin said, "I think I would have enjoyed meeting your Gorion."

"Yeah", Zaerini said with a sad smile. "I would have liked you to meet him too…"

There is something strange up ahead, Softpaws said as she came strolling out from behind a rock.

What is it?

A strange female who smells like a fish. I want you to fetch me some fish when we get to the water, by the way.

I'm really not that good at fishing, Softy.

Then what good are you?

Oh, be nice. Let's take a look at this 'strange female' then.

The 'female' turned out to be a woman with blue-green skin and long green hair. It reached all the way to her waist, and there was seaweed entangled in it here and there. Her eyes were green as well, the green of seawater. She looked much like the sirens at the temple had done, in fact. She was sitting on a small rock, combing her hair. When she heard the adventurers approach, she looked up, and her eyes widened in surprise. "Please to help me, will you?" she said. Her voice was sweet and lilting. "I am Shoal. I am alone on this desolate dry-land and who knows what lurks in these woods."

"O-o-of course", Khalid said. "A-a-accompany us and we will make certain you are s-safe."

"Hmpf", Jaheira said. "She is a nereid if I am not mistaken. I am certain she can take care of herself."

"B-but Jaheira I…"

Shoal had risen from her rock, and now she gave Khalid an enchanting smile. "Then might I have a parting kiss? I doubt I'll see you again." Khalid gave her a nervous look. Jaheira said nothing, but her face had suddenly settled into a frozen mask.

"I-i-it is not my p-place to do so", he prudently said. "I h-hardly know you."

A strange glimmer came into the nereid's green eyes. They still reminded Zaerini of the sea, but now it was the sea at her coldest and harshest, the sea who drowns sailors and destroys ships. "I am truly sorry, but I must insist!" She flung her smooth green arms around Khalid's neck, and before he or anybody else could react she had already pressed her cold lips to his. Khalid shuddered violently, his face gray and pained. Then his eyes closed and he fell to the ground. He wasn't breathing.

"Khalid?" Jaheira whispered. "Khalid! No! NOOOO!" The druid rushed at the nereid without any consideration for her own safety, everything else forgotten in her grief and fury. Rini prepared to cast a spell, but there was no need. Jaheira already had the nereid on the ground, and her scimitar was pressing into the sea-woman's perfect skin, just above her left breast.

"And now", Jaheira growled, "you die, for my Khalid."

"No!" Shoal cried out. "This is no longer fun! I cannot die for this! They are my actions, but not my intent! I can but do as I am bid by the master! Please, I can make him rise again!"

"Lies!" Jaheira spat. "You are no cleric, to have such power over the dead. Cease your mockery and die with dignity if you have any."

"I do not lie! He is not dead, not really. My kiss only brings the…how do you land-dwellers call it…the deep sleep of winter? He is only mostly dead, almost alive. Let me up and I can bring him back, but if you kill me, he will be dead all the way."

"Jaheira", Zaerini said, "I think you should do as she asks. She could be telling the truth. We can't afford not to try."

"Suppose she lies?" the druid said. Her green eyes were filled with such a mixture of pain and fury as Rini had never seen there before. It frightened her immensely. Jaheira was…Jaheira. She was always so strong, so contained. It was in that moment that Rini realized just how much that steady presence meant to her in terms of stability, no matter how much the druid might irritate her at times. And she felt proud that Jaheira actually trusted her to make this decision. She wouldn't let her friend down.

"If she lies, she dies", Zaerini said and gave the nereid a hard look. She pressed her lightning wand against Shoal's head. "Khalid has always been a good friend to me. Now restore him, Shoal, unless you want to receive a 'kiss' of your own."

Shoal hesitantly got to her feet and bent over Khalid's prone body, whispering something in a language Zaerini couldn't understand. In a few moments the half-elven warrior sat up, looking confused. "W-what h-h-happened?" he asked.

With a small gasp of relief Jaheira rushed to her husband's side, embracing him tightly. "Oh Khalid", she cried out. "I thought you were…" Then she seemed to remember where she was and how many people were watching. "You great big fool!" she scolded. "How could you allow her to simply walk up and kiss you like that? Khalid, I swear that if you ever die on me you…you will never hear the end of it!"

Khalid simply smiled and patted his wife's hand. "I am s-s-sorry, dear", he said. "And such a threat should k-k-keep me alive indefinitely, so you n-needn't worry."

Once she saw that her friends were all right Zaerini turned to Shoal. The nereid was standing there with her arms crossed, looking pouty. "So", Rini said. "Who's this 'master' you mentioned, and what are you doing with him?"

Shoal sighed, and it sounded like the hiss of waves rolling in from the depths. "I would not be here at all, but my shawl is held by Ogre-Droth. It is my essence he commands, so to him I listen. It was a lark for a while, but no longer. I do not want to harm you further, but if he so wills, then I must. It is all I can do."

"She's a slave?" Imoen asked. "That's terrible! Why would anybody want to do a thing like that?"

"Oh, I can imagine a few reasons", Zaerini said, watching the beautiful nereid. "None of them pleasant. Shoal, perhaps I can help you get free."

Shoal looked surprised at the offer. "Oh. Yes, I would like that. Please, do. I will call for him." She raised her head and called out, a single clear note that soared on the wind like a seagull. A few minutes later a loud voice could be heard in the distance. It was grumbling. Clearly the speaker wasn't particularly happy about being called away from whatever he had been doing.

"Please tell me", Edwin said in a conversational voice, "that you thought of some sort of cunning master plan before you volunteered to risk all of our lives over this…this amphibian?"

"Er…" Rini said. "Well…not really. I thought I'd make it up as I go along."

"Wonderful. Please let me know if you get any other heroic impulses, like wanting to go off and save the world. (I'd like to know when to pretend to be ill. A simple heat spell should be able to fool these people into believing I have a temperature.)"

Rini didn't have the time to answer. A large shape came striding towards the adventurers, a large shape with horns on its head and a deep and booming voice. Well, it's not Sarevok, the bard thought. Not that an Ogre Mage is all that much better, mind you.

"What be this trouble Shoal?", the ogre roared. "Why you have not destroyed these small-pinks? You're not to make me angry, water-child!"

Shoal cowered before the ogre, clearly afraid to upset him. "It is not my fault, Ogre-Droth. They are stronger than I."

"Pah! They are meat for larder and gold for purse! Kill them we shall!"

I think that's your cue, kitten, Softpaws said.

Right. Now let me see… "No, great Droth", Zaerini cried out, mimicking Shoal's voice. "Spare your water-child! I am faithful to you!"

"Huh?" the Ogre Mage said. "Pink-thing speak in voice of water-child? How…" He didn't have the time to say anything else before a poisoned arrow hit him in the chest, making him roar with pain. Yes! Zaerini thought. The poison should keep him from getting off his spells.

Don't sheathe your claws just yet, kitten, Softpaws said. He still wants to fight.

And so he did. The Ogre Mage drew a large sword, almost as long as Zaerini was tall, and charged towards her, clearly bent on cleaving her in two.

Ooops. Rini was a good runner, at least over short distances, and most importantly she was agile enough to leap over rocks that the ogre had to go around. Even so he might well have overtaken her if not for Edwin's timely intervention. Zaerini suddenly felt herself virtually flying across the ground, much faster than she could have run on her own. Behind her she could hear the ogre scream with pain as it was struck with several of Imoen's arrows. Then the smell of burning hair as Edwin hit him with a fire spell. She turned to fire another poison arrow and saw Jaheira and Khalid charge the now weakened ogre. It wasn't long before he went down.

"By the waters of home, I am free once more!" Shoal cried out. "You must pardon me for leaving so quick, but I'll not spend another second on this hard-land. It was a fun game, but it is stale now. Thank you, goodbye!"

"Just a second", Zaerini said. "In return for my help, I would like to ask you something."

"Yes", Shoal said. "I suppose you deserve something for helping. Would you like some pearls? I have some pretty black pearls somewhere…"

"I'm sure they're very nice, but that's not what I was thinking of. I just want you to teach me your cousins' song…"

Once the bard had finished her explanation Shoal nodded. Then she took Zaerini aside and went about her lesson.

That evening the adventurers camped among some high rocks that gave protection from the biting wind. Edwin was having problems sleeping though. There seemed to be voices intruding on his dreams, clear and musical voices singing in the distance. Then he opened his eyes and realized that he still could hear them. He rose silently, looking about the camp. Jaheira and Khalid were sleeping, lying close to each other. Imoen was sitting near the small campfire, writing something in a book. Now and then she giggled to herself. Edwin padded up silently behind her and looked over her shoulder. "Who's 'Blackie'?" he asked curiously.

Imoen yelped and hurriedly shut the book. "Er…nobody", she hurriedly said. "Nobody you know. What's up? And why are you sneaking about like that? I'm the thief here, leave that to me."

"I wasn't sneaking", the Red Wizard said, preparing to make a barbed comment about giggly girls. Then he noticed something. "Where is Zaerini?" he asked.

Imoen shrugged. "She went down to the beach", she said. "Said she had something to do."

"She shouldn't go wandering off on her own in the middle of the night. That could be dangerous."

The pink-haired girl winked at him. "Awww, are ya worried about her? That's sweet, you know."

"I'm not worried! I just do not want her to get killed through some stupid mishap, that's all. (That dreadful druid would find some way to blame me for it, I just know it.)"

"Whatever. Rini hasn't gone far, it's just down that way. You could go after her, I suppose. She might appreciate the company."

Edwin decided to do just that. He couldn't very well carry out his mission if the bard got herself eaten by wolves or drowned by mermen, after all. For some reason Imoen giggled behind his back as he walked off, a very disturbing noise, particularly since he couldn't figure out just what she thought was so funny. The moonlight helped him see well enough, and the sound of the rolling waves led him towards the shoreline. And there was the singing again, closer now. He wondered that Imoen hadn't heard it. Then he came upon the small beach, and all thoughts but a kind of mute wonder fled his mind.

The waves were almost black in the darkness, but the black was crested with silver flecks of moonlight and white foam. They broke upon the white sand of the shore, retreated and attacked again, wearing the scattered rocks round and silky smooth. As beautiful as it was, it wasn't the scenery that had captured the Red Wizard's attention though. Two sirens stood in the water, waves frolicking around their slender green bodies. White hair danced in the wind, eyes the color of moonlight shone with joy as they sang. Wordless song streamed from their throats, notes as enchanting as moonlight, as treacherous as the sea.

Zaerini stood on the edge of the water, answering and meeting the sirens' song. Her arms were stretched out as if she was giving a blessing, and there was a wide smile on her face, one that made her look entirely happy and carefree, for once without the wariness that usually lurked behind her golden eyes. Her voice was the equal of the sirens', Edwin thought, but warmer, not so alien. She was adapting the sirens' song, Edwin realized, remaking it without removing its basic beauty. When she sang, he could still see a sea, but a hot sea, a sea of fire. Waves became flickering flames, playful and exuberant. Yet it was still the same song. He stood transfixed, unable to move or to speak. After some time, the song ended. The bard bowed to the sirens who bent their heads in return before leaping into the waves, heading away from the shore.

"You know", Zaerini said, as she turned around to acknowledge the wizard's presence, "I never properly thanked you for saving my life earlier. That was a very handy spell you used." She blushed slightly. "I hope getting treated to the song of two sirens counts as proper repayment. Shoal taught me well enough that they will count me as a friend now."

"It…was my pleasure", Edwin said. "I…wouldn't have wanted to miss the opportunity of telling you how ridiculously foolhardy you were, after all. But it seems to me that you may have miscounted."

"What do you mean?"

"I didn't see two sirens here tonight. I saw three."

The bard smiled again. "Thank you", she simply said. Then she got a naughty gleam in her eyes. "We'd better get back though. Otherwise Immy will likely tell the others that I'm busy giving you Shoal's Kiss of Death, rather than just singing. She loves to gossip."

"Oh. Yes. Certainly. Not that there's anything to gossip about, of course."

"Of course not. Not that that will stop her."

As they started walking back towards the camp Edwin noticed Zaerini's black cat watching him from atop a large rock, munching on a small fish. There was something disturbingly knowing about the look in its glowing green eyes, as well as about the amused look on its face. If he didn't know better, he could have sworn that the cat was snickering.