It is odd, we may look at the person on the other side of the street and think that we couldn't possibly have anything in common with that creature, no chance. And yet, if we could read their minds, perhaps we would learn that they have much the same hopes and fears that we do, and perhaps we would understand each other far better than we had thought to start with. Or perhaps we'd just consider the other one completely insane.
Excerpt from 'Ruminations Of A Master Bard'
Edwin watched as Zaerini slipped into that strange trance that always overcame her whenever she did a Reading, trying not to show his nervousness openly. No matter that he had seen it before, every time he feared that she might not come back to him, that her soul would be lost somewhere in the darkness, unable to find its way back. Or perhaps even worse, that something else might infest her body and come back instead of her. It is useful to know the future, but never at that cost. Without her, there is no future.
The half-elf's eyes were closed, but the eyelids were twitching as she watched something that only she could see. Now and then her lips moved, but if she spoke it was in too quiet a voice for anybody else to hear. Her hands were spread out on the table, fingertips resting lightly against the cards, still for once. When she was awake, they would be in constant motion, gesticulating eagerly, picking pockets with a touch as light as that of a butterfly, fiddling with her hair, gracefully weaving magic. He knew them well in every possible pose. And their touch. Her touch that burns like gentle fire. But right now those slender hands were still, something that made them look oddly vulnerable. She will come back to me, Edwin thought. She has to. I lost her once, I will not lose her again. Never again.
Jaheira had positioned herself next to the younger woman and was watching her carefully, ready to intervene in case it should be necessary. Edwin sincerely doubted that anything she could do would make any difference though. The druid wasn't a bad healer, despite her annoying personality and tendency to interfere, but this would be beyond her, particularly now that she was unwell herself. And certainly beyond that accursed Helmite. If he doesn't stop fawning over my Hellkitten soon I will…
But what could he do? As tempted as he was to kill Anomen, he knew that Zaerini wouldn't forgive him for it, particularly if she had any feelings for the other man. I wish I could kill him though. I'd like to reduce him to a small puddle of molten flesh for daring to try to steal her from me. And then I'd disintegrate the remnants and bury the resulting dust seven feet underground, and heap rocks on top. And put up some warning signs. 'Warning – Angry Tarrasque' ought to be enough to keep anybody from trying to resurrect the pompous fool. Pity about the resulting contamination of the ground, but it's a small price to pay.
The fact that Anomen was watching Zaerini intently, never taking his eyes off her face, didn't make Edwin one bit happier. At least I managed to secure a chair next to her. Minsc was standing right behind Zaerini's chair, presumably guarding against possible attacks. A Rashemite berserker. I cannot believe I'm traveling with a Rashemite berserker, not to mention his stupid hamster. Why did she have to go and promise to be his witch? Now we'll never be rid of him. Well, at least the real Wychlaran managed to go and get herself killed, and good riddance. But still, if Teacher Dekaras finds out, he won't be happy at all…
Then the unpleasant thought came to Edwin that if he ever were to see his mentor again, something that seemed a very remote possibility, then Minsc would be the least of his worries. How can I possibly explain to him why I acted as I did? He…he might even hate me for it, and I couldn't blame him. Unconsciously he reached for the amulet hanging around his throat, stroking it. But…no matter if he wants to kill me for tricking him, I still miss him. I miss him so much. I bet he would be able to get rid of Anomen for me. Or at least give me some good advice. I bet he would never have to put up with somebody trying to steal the one woman he ever cared for away from him.
Edwin's reverie was suddenly interrupted as Zaerini jerked violently, her eyes suddenly startlingly wide and open. "No!" she shouted, and then looked about herself wildly, as if searching for something. Then she grabbed hold of Edwin's robe, clinging desperately to him as she stared into his face.
"What is it?" the wizard asked, trying to sound calm though his heart fluttered as he held onto her. "What is wrong?"
"I…I thought you were dead." The half-elf was shivering as she slowly eased herself back onto her own chair. Softpaws delicately navigated her way past the spread-out cards on the table, then jumped onto her Mistress' lap, and Zaerini stroked her gently, making Edwin wish that he could have been in the cat's position. "I thought you were dead. Or going to die, I'm not sure anymore."
"Child," Jaheira said in a mild voice. "You are safe here. Do you need to rest some? Or can you tell us what you saw?"
The bard straightened up a little, clearly trying to regain control of herself. "I don't have the time to rest. We need to break your curse, and I got at least a few clues that may help us do it." She sighed loudly. "Not that I understand very much of what I saw. I won't speak of it all at this time, only of what seems relevant at the moment." She then went on to describe the Four of Coins and One of Cups, Rage, The Harp and Justice Inverted, The Archmage and Death, The Page of Cups and Death. "Of the final two cards I will say no more right now," she said, and a haunted look crept into her golden eyes. "Let us think of the others instead. The Four of Coins 'came to Ployer from Ployer', Ployer 'sleeps against his bosom every night' and as for the Ace of Cups, 'it has gone sour, the cup is empty, but it is still there'. Both the cards claimed that they would lead me to Ployer."
Anomen frowned. "This man Ployer…was he a drunkard by any chance, Lady Jaheira?" he asked. "I…have seen such base behavior before, in one ravaged by drink."
Edwin gave him a curious look. The cleric sounded as if what he was saying held some deeper meaning. Let's hope so. If it is something really unpleasant, perhaps it will help give me the upper hand. Not that I need any aid of course but…but what if she has started to care for him? I was gone for quite some time, and she was hurt, and…and I'll scoop his eyes out with a spoon if he doesn't stop giving her those ingratiating puppy eyes soon!
Calm yourself, wizard! The voice that spoke inside his mind made Edwin startle a little, and as he turned his head he saw Softpaws watching him calmly, green eyes glowing. The cat had spoken to him before, in a time when Zaerini was in great danger, but he knew that she usually didn't address others than her mistress, and that she had only been communicating with him due to his affinity for magic.
Did you hear me?
No. I only hear you if you speak to me directly, though it is easier now than before. That other time you needed to speak out loud, remember? Now your mind has grown more powerful, and so you can talk to me directly. A blind mouse could have recognized the look on your face. You must control your temper, or my Kitten will not be pleased with you at all. The cat wrinkled her nose in an oddly human gesture. I am on your side, you know. You are a tom, it is natural that you wish to fight and draw blood to win the right to mate, but my Kitten doesn't quite understand this. So you must not attack the other male, or you may lose her. Softpaws cocked her head to one side. You really should get a familiar of your own you know. Then you wouldn't be this helpless when it comes to mating. But since you haven't got one, I will help you. I will talk to you later. Then she closed her eyes and settled down again on Zaerini's lap to have her tummy rubbed, looking very content. The whole conversation had only lasted a few seconds.
"Ployer was not a drunkard when I knew him," Jaheira said. The druid was looking very tired. Her skin was ashen, her eyes sunken into their sockets, her hair listless, and now and then she coughed heavily. "I cannot say what happened to him afterwards of course."
"That's true," Jan agreed. "People do change. Why, my cousin George once tried to change himself into a female. He always was a bit different, old George, but he looked very fetching in a dress."
"Did it work?" Zaerini asked.
"Yes and no. You see, he didn't become a female gnome, he became a female griffin, and then none of his dresses would fit him any longer, something that made him very upset. He tried to blame it on the manufacturers changing the sizes and ate two seamstresses before the third one stabbed him to death with a darning needle. Brave lass that, and she made a lovely boa out of his wing feathers. So instead of enjoying high fashion George became it, you might say."
"Enough!" Edwin snapped. "Stop your annoying chatter before we all die of old age. (I wonder if his tongue would run on its own if it was removed from his head? It is a very tempting thought…)"
"Why Eddie, dear boy! I think you would look quite charming in a boa, something in red naturally…"
"That'll do," Zaerini said. "Now, I have an idea of my own. The Four of Coins implies money, more specifically an inheritance, or a gift. A will, perhaps. And Amnians like to have such things properly documented. Anomen, you would know. Would it be possible for us to track down Ployer's holdings, or what remains of them, and see if he ever received any important inheritance?"
"Certainly!" Anomen said, smiling. "And may I say that it was very clever of you to think of it, my Lady!"
No, you may not. And stop grinning at her like a stunned donkey.
"All right," Zaerini said, smiling back at the cleric. "It seems another trip to the Government District is in order then. As for the Ace of Cups, it means 'plenty' or something 'bountiful'. It is a good card, one of pleasure. But it could also be something more literal. We'll have to keep our eyes open. Now, about the rest of the Reading…Jaheira, the Harp coupled with Inverted Justice is a bad sign. What do you know of the Harpers of Athkatla?"
"Belgrade was the one I knew best," Jaheira said, "and it has been long since I had contact with any of them, but they were good people, some of them good friends. I had planned to make contact with them, to see if they could help us, but now I do not know where they may be found, not with Belgrade dead."
"That may be for the best. I trust you, but I don't trust them, and now less than ever. The Rage card and the Page of Cups are both people we should look out for apparently and try to get on our side. I'd like you all to let me know if you see somebody you think might fit the bill." Then the bard turned to Edwin, and he felt his mouth go dry as her eyes met his. "Eddie…you will be careful, won't you? Death may not mean literally death, but I know you too well not to worry. I…don't want you to get hurt because of me."
She cares! She really does care! Ha, wallow in envy, Helmite! Look, he's practically green in the face already. "Of course I will be careful," he said in as sincere a voice as he could muster, taking the half-elf's hand in his, something that he was pleased to notice made Anomen literally grind his teeth. "I am always careful, as any truly Great Wizard should be, and at any rate my earth-shattering magical prowess and razor-sharp intellect would see me through any troubles. But I think you are worrying needlessly. You said yourself that Death also means transformation to a higher stage, didn't you? Clearly, I am about to reach even more lofty pinnacles of power than before, and I have a feeling I know just how to go about it." The Nether Scroll! It has to be it! I will find it at last and bedazzle her with my skill! And if I am correct about it, it will also lengthen my natural lifespan. I will not have to grow old and feeble, my unparalleled body will remain young and eager forever, enabling her to enjoy it.
Zaerini didn't seem exactly calmed by these words. "I hope you are right," she said. "Because if you aren't, and you go do something foolish to get yourself killed, I'll…I'll kill you myself, so there!" Then she got up from the table. "Apart from looking for Ployer's paper trail, we should also search the slums, talk to people, see if anybody has seen the man. We'll split into groups again, I think."
"I will come with you," Edwin said, and was very displeased to notice that Anomen spoke up at the same time with the same suggestion.
"No, this time Jaheira and Minsc will go with me, I think. You two and Jan will check out the slums together."
"Jan?" Edwin protested.
"The gnome?" Anomen agreed. "But my lady, surely I would be better…"
"No," Zaerini said in a flinty voice. "I want every member of this group to be able to work with every other member. You two boys will go with Jan, like I told you. And if you see Ployer, don't attack him before the rest of us get there. Just trail him to his hideout and send word. Everybody got it?"
"Minsc is happy that he will get to go with his witch this time!" Minsc beamed. "No evil little paper carrying men will harm her with Minsc and Boo around, no sir!"
"It is well," Jaheira agreed.
Both Edwin and Anomen nodded silently, neither of them looking particularly pleased.
"Oh, this will be fun, won't it!" Jan said with a twisted grin. "The three of us, out on an adventure together…we'll have lots of stories to tell afterwards I'm sure."
Yes, Edwin thought. I'm very much afraid of it.
Elsewhere…
The rabbits were unusually silent today. Normally they would seize the opportunity to scream into his ears when he wasn't paying attention, in order to startle him like the evil little beasts they were. But today they were nothing more than a quiet buzz in the farthest reaches of his mind. Perhaps the Others had eaten them, but it would likely be foolish to hope so. In all the multiverse, there was no force powerful and evil enough to stand against the rabbits, and he knew this perfectly well. Wasn't it they who gave him the headaches after all, the really bad ones? Bad, bad headaches. That was what his family had always used to call it, afterwards. After he first heard the call of the Bunnies. Whenever he…did something…that was what they'd say. Oh, he just gets these troublesome headaches, that is all. And since they were after all wealthy and powerful, as well as equipped with an old and noble family name, the excuse was accepted, at least publicly.
But today the rabbits were silent, only hissing quietly now and then, evil eyes glinting from the clouds, the drainpipes, and the blank eyes of watching beggars. If I tore them out, would the rabbits go away? No, probably not. The rabbits were cunning creatures, they would likely escape. Anyway, he could put up with them today, just barely. Sometimes his thoughts were like the sparkling shards of a smashed vase, whirling everywhere, but today they were gathered together in the form of the original vessel, though some were missing, and the others were spinning in tiny orbits around each other. He could do that, when he really had to, pull the shards together. It hurt terribly, like tiny knives slicing through his brain, but he could do it.
"I guess this time I really do have a headache!" he said in a bright, brittle voice.
"Eh?" his companion asked, frowning. "What are ye babbling about now, wizard?"
Smiling fondly at his small friend the mage pushed his unkempt brown hair out of his eyes and bent down, whispering conspiratorially. "Can you hear them, Monty?" he asked. "Can you hear the RABBITS?"
The halfling sighed loudly. He was a rather unsavory character, with flat eyes and a grumpy face, and the air of somebody who would gladly kill you if you so much as looked at him funny. Considering that, it was rather amazing that he managed to put up with his partner, whose looks shot far past 'funny' and way out into the bizarre landscape of 'raving mad'. "No," he said.
"That's what's so funny…because NEITHER CAN I! What do you suppose it all means, Monty? Will we be turned into flying little pixies by nightfall, or be showered with gold by eager octopuses, or maybe get to speak with the God of Halitosis himself?"
"There ain't no such thing as a 'God of Halitosis'," the halfling, whose name was Montaron, grumbled. "Lest it be yer stinky friend there."
"Now, now, Monty, don't be mean to Abduh. It's not his fault that he can't brush his teeth regularly."
"Urrrrrgh!" the third member of the group agreed. He couldn't speak much more coherently than that, since half his face was missing, including a large portion of his jaw and tongue. The gaping hole in his forehead probably didn't help either. Then again, he hadn't been exactly the epitome of wit while he was alive either. As he pushed his way through the crowds of the Athkatlan docks, most people rapidly got out of his way, even hardened thieves and killers. This could have been due to the fact that he towered over most people and had the muscles to match, or perhaps due to the way he glowered at everybody with his remaining eye. Most likely it was because of the penetrating smell of rot and embalming fluid though. The zombie named Abduh tended to make very lasting olfactory impressions on everybody who passed within a square mile of him.
"Ah, yer utterly hopeless, doting on that smelly thing like ye do. He can't even be taught to not hump people's legs in public. Have ye any idea how embarrassed I was when he did that to that priest of Cyric, howling all the while? And they couldn't even manage to stick the leg back on again; it was worn down to the bone. And the priest had bled to death in the meantime. No wonder we got stuck with this lousy mission spying on lousy Harpers in lousy, stinking Athkatla. We had it made, Xzar! Once Sarevok was dead we could have been stinkin' rich and showered with glory, if yer pet hadn't decided to spoil it all by assaulting the boss' favorite preacher. Bugger it all, we're lucky he didn't pack us off to stinking Icewind Dale!"
"Oh, hush," the wizard named Xzar replied in an airy voice. "Abduh is a very intelligent boy. Didn't you see how smartly he fetched sticks for me when I threw them earlier today?"
"Urrrrgh!" Abduh enthusiastically agreed, panting eagerly.
"Aye, I saw. Right up to the point where he threw himself in the harbor after one. Pity he didn't get left down there."
"Those fishermen were very nice about it all, weren't they? Despite Abduh tearing up their net."
"Petrified, I'd say. That zombie is meaner and uglier than even a slimy hagfish, and that's sayin' a lot."
"URRRRRGHHHH!"
"Don't mind him, Abduh," Xzar said, patting the zombie encouragingly on a muscular arm. "He's just jealous because he can't tear off people's limbs and beat them to death with them. You know you're Daddy's Good Boy, don't you?"
"Urrrrrrgh!" the zombie cooed, rubbing himself against the tattooed necromancer, the sight of which caused Montaron to make a highly disgusted face.
"Well, we're here," the halfing thief eventually said, as the Terrible Trio stopped a short distance away from a large and rather tasteless orange stone building. "Wish me luck. And if this mad scheme gets me killed, I'll haunt ye forever, ye hear that?"
"Good luck, Monty! Abduh, wish Montaron good luck."
"Urrrgh!" Abduh obediently said, picking up the struggling halfling.
"Hey!" Montaron protested. "What the…stop hugging me! With yer smell all over me those Harpers will spot me in seconds!"
"Urrrrgh?"
"Ah, just put me down, ye daft thing. Now what are ye…no! DON'T KISS ME! NOOOOOO!"
Smack.
Five minutes later Montaron had finally stopped retching and staggered off towards the far side of the Athkatlan Harper Stronghold, grumbling all the way.
Xzar's grip on the passage of time was unsteady even under the best of circumstances, but when the sun had set and Montaron hadn't returned yet he began to wonder. And when the sky was completely dark and there still was no sign of the halfling, he was seriously worried. "Abduh?" he asked, clutching the zombie's hand while tears started rising in his eyes. "What if…what if Monty is lost? What if…what if the Rabbits have caught him? What will I do without him? You know I can't manage without Monty."
Abduh whined quietly, an oddly mousy sound coming from such a large zombie.
Xzar felt very much like joining in, but he couldn't. He had to…to do something. He had to hold the cracked shards of his mind together for now, and somehow save Montaron from the Evil Rabbits, or possibly the pink little demons or the ones with faces all over their bodies, whichever had taken him. So, he had to gather the shards together, and push them into shape, and he thought he could do it, at least for a little while. But it hurt. Oh, how it hurt. Feeling more lost and confused than he had in a long time, as he edged dangerously closer to sanity, Xzar hugged his pet zombie tightly as a lonely tear trickled down his tattooed cheek.
As it happened, Xzar the Necromancer wasn't the only one to feel alone and afraid on this night. In the room she had rented at the Mithrest Inn, Nalia De'Arnise sat on her bed, her arms clutching her legs tightly, as she stared out into the empty darkness. It was all going wrong, everything. I thought it was going to be so easy. Just run off to Athkatla, find some heroic adventurers, dash back home and rescue Father and Auntie and the others. And then they'd all thank me, and even Auntie would admit that I'd done something worthwhile. But…it's not going to happen that way, is it? Why won't anyone help me? After everything I've done for the commoners, you'd think they'd be grateful, wouldn't you? Aren't people supposed to be grateful when you do everything you can to improve their lot in life? I just don't understand it.
The invasion of Keep De'Arnise had been swift and terrible, and she still had nightmares about it. Those ugly, beastly trolls…and then those other things, the snake creatures. Where could they have come from? Surely somebody must have put them up to it, I never heard of trolls doing such a thing on their own. But who? Who could hate us that much? Auntie may be a little…overbearing…but Father is a good Lord, everybody knows that. He is fair and just and always tries to do the right thing, and everybody loves him. Don't they?
The young mage absent-mindedly nibbled on a lock of her golden-red hair, frowning. The trolls had come during the night, and it had been apparent from the start that they had the Keep surrounded. There was no way the castle guards could face the entire opposing army, and it was unclear how long they could withstand the siege. True, the Keep had plenty of supplies, and its walls were strong, but its defenders were far fewer than the trolls, and the loss of even a single man would impact the defenders. Without help, Keep De'Arnise would surely fall soon. But if somebody managed to get past the enemy lines, somebody who was better at sneaking about and opening locks than her Father would approve of, and much more familiar with the lower elements of Athkatla than her Auntie would ever tolerate, then perhaps help might still come in time. Father…I'm so sorry. I wish I could have said good-bye, but you would never have allowed me to go. But it was the right thing to do, and you always told me how important it was to do the right thing, especially for a Lord. I remember that I asked you why, and you said that a Lord could do both much more good and much more evil than a common person, and that meant that you had to think very carefully about everything you did and how it would affect those dependent on you. That if you didn't do good with the power you had, you didn't deserve to have it. And now it's my turn to do the right thing. I hope you'll understand that, even if Auntie never will.
So far things weren't going exactly as planned though. She had managed to slip out of the Keep through the old secret passage she had known of since childhood, fortunately without alerting any of the troll sentries, though it had been close a couple of times. Then she had walked all the way to Athkatla. That had certainly been a novel and not too pleasant experience, but there had been no way to sneak out Myrrel, her dear pet stallion, along with her. Named after Myrrel the Mighty, a bandit of old folk songs, famous for frequently stealing from the wealthy nobles and quite possibly distributing part of the loot to poor people occasionally, the swift horse would have taken her to Athkatla much faster. I've wasted too much time already! Why, oh why won't anybody help me?
She had thought it would be so simple. Just pop into the Copper Coronet, inform everybody that she was in need of assistance and wait for the queue of eager heroes to line up. Instead she had found herself greeted with very rude proposals and outright insults and forced to fend off the advances of a very annoying elf named Salvanas. The lack of eager heroes was becoming very worrying indeed. Are there no good and noble people who will help a person in need? No heroes whatsoever in the world?
She had applied for aid at the Order of the Most Radiant Heart, certain that the paladins would help her, but had been told that though it was a worthwhile cause, it would take time before help could be sent, since a great part of the knights were already out on various missions. Father doesn't have time! He needs help now!
In her desperation she had even momentarily considered seeking out the man she had privately named 'The Slime'. Isaea Roenall, her so-called 'betrothed'. If the Roenalls wanted her money and title as badly as they apparently did, surely they would help? And yet…something had held her back. She couldn't say what it was, perhaps only that she didn't want the Roenalls to get within ten miles of Keep De'Arnise. And it's not as if I'm really his betrothed. Just because my mother was friends with his mother while they were both alive doesn't mean I can be forced to marry somebody who treats his servants like slaves and has eyes like a dead fish. I don't care how much Auntie Delcia goes on about what an ancient family he comes from, I still won't do it. And Father agrees with me, he'll not let the Roenalls nag him into it. Father…oh please, let him be safe. Let them all be safe. I…I just want to help them, before it's too late. Why won't anybody help me?
She would have to try her hand at the Copper Coronet again, Salvanas or not. Please, Father. Just hold on a little longer. I can do this, I'll manage to save you somehow. Please hold on. Please…
And in the darkness and solitude of her bedchamber, with no need to keep up appearances, Nalia De'Arnise hugged her pillow close to her chest and wept.