Throne of Cards 46 – Amkethran

The best thing about having a tight knit group of close friends and fellow adventurers is that no matter how we divide the tasks between us, I know I can count on maximum mayhem.

Excerpt from 'Ruminations Of A Master Bard'

"…and Rule 34, Appendix V says that ' Any and all interactions with djinn, djann,, efreet, marid or iblis is strictly prohibited under punishment of death by mice.'" Zaerini paused as she pondered this. "I wonder how that even works? And what has Balthazar got against djinn anyway?"

"Was that the end of the thousand and one rules, at last?" Viconia said with a bored sigh. She pointed at the last pile of papers on the table. The pile in question was about as thick as a hand is wide and looked ready to topple at any moment. "This human is possibly even fonder of laws and regulations than the matron mothers of the Underdark, if less creative about them."

"The gist of it is fairly standard though," Dekaras said. His lips twitched into a thin smile. "I believe it can best be summarized as 'Do whatever Balthazar and his monks tell you, don't ask any questions and pretend not to notice anything's the matter if somebody goes missing.'"

"Charming place," Rini said. She wrinkled her nose. "And a curfew too 'for public safety'. Of course there'd be a curfew. And what of 'No entry into the Cave of The Dead'? Wonder what that means?"

"Oh, I think I know," Viconia replied. Her red eyes twinkled. "The monk is dull enough to be at least part corpse, and stiff enough to already have at least a ten-foot pole implanted inside his 'cave'."

"Ew, thanks for that mental image!"

"You're welcome, abbil."

"Well, I find this highly offensive!" Edwin huffed. "Utterly despicable, deplorable and depraved!"

Rini blinked as she reached out to touch her lover's arm. "Eddie, are you all right? It's not like you to be that delicate."

"What? No! I was referring to Rule 56!" The irate wizard waved the offending sheet of paper in the air even as he crumbled it in his fist. "How dare he! 'Civilians are permitted domesticated animals after approval has been granted, but only for working purposes. Beasts kept for mere amusement are a waste of resources and if found will be terminated in an orderly and humane manner.' The fiend!" Next to him, Insufferable chittered angrily from his perch on top of the stack of 'Official Amkethran Visas' and then proceeded to relieve himself on them.

So, are we getting on with it then? Softpaws asked, stretching out across Zaerini's lap. The bard automatically stroked her familiar's fluffy stomach.

Getting on with what?

Terminating the wasteful beast. You know where his lair is, when do we hunt?

When the time is right. Until then, don't get out of my sight, all right?

Pfft, I will be fine, Kitten. But I will stay close to make sure you are safe, as well as the foolish monkey.

"Good thing we're not planning on hanging around the place for very long," Rini told her friends. "I just want to get a feel for it, for now at least."

"Ugh, that Balthazar gives me the creeps," Imoen said. "The sound of his voice was enough to make it feel like I had spiders crawling up my spine."

"I know," Rini said, nodding as she remembered her own impression of the monastery's enigmatic leader. "It wasn't just the effect of his sparkling personality you felt though. Balthazar is definitely a Bhaalspawn, I'm sure of it now. I think he's a strong one too."

"Then his angle seems to be obvious," Sarevok said. "He wishes for you to eliminate his competition, and then intends to seize the Throne for himself. He will betray you as soon as you've served your purposes."

"Counting on it, Big Brother." She smiled. "Good thing I've got friends to watch my back. But if you're right, he won't try anything just yet, unless we provoke him too much. I think we should take that opportunity to spend a day or two in town, look around and learn what we can. Any information could come in useful later."

"I agree," Dekaras said. "As you intend for our stay to be a short one and suspect no immediate attack, may I suggest we split into smaller groups to save some time?"

"Sounds good. How about you and Sarry have a look around the north side of town and the side of the canyon, I'll take Eddie and Minsc with me and poke around the south side and Immy and Vic can investigate the outskirts, including that other small oasis we saw as we came into town." She looked around her circle of friends. "Any objections? No? Great, then…"

"Minsc just has one question, Little Rini."

"Yes?"

"Will Boo get a Visa of his own or will he be listed on Misnc's?"

"You know, I'm so tempted to ask Balthazar about that just to see his face. For now, let's not show Boo off to the monks, please? I'm sure we can avoid fighting them for just one or two days if we all try really, really hard."

"Remind me to never ever again underestimate our capacity for random violence," Zaerini said as she wiped a few flecks of blood off her face. There were four corpses on the ground before her, muscular men with shaven heads wearing saffron robes. She kicked the last one off her sword and proceeded to clean it.

"They were extremely annoying," Edwin pointed out. "Not to mention repulsive eyesores, I fail to see why anybody gifted with eyes would wear such a colour in broad daylight."

"True. It's just that I'm fairly sure we've just broken Rule 1, 'Don't kill Balthazar's Monks', and that kind of interferes with my plan of quietly snooping around."

"Do not feel sad, Little Rini!" Minsc boomed. "These were villains firmly in need of a sword to the butt and a boot to the belly, or possibly the other way around." He turned to the lone survivor, a very nervous old priest who had been in the process of being harassed by the monks when the adventurers happened upon him. "All better now, yes?"

The man quivered like a leaf in a storm, trying in vain to wipe the gore off his stained robes. "Ye-yes, thank you, Heroes. They would surely have killed me for resisting their tithe, but the charity money for the temple…I couldn't…only, now I'm covered in blood and there are all these corpses…"

"Mmm, there is that" Rini admitted. "Let's see what we can do about the mess." Thankfully they were on the southern edge of town, and apart from the temple itself there weren't really any other buildings close by. The monks had probably been one of the more far-ranging patrols. "Minsc, would you give us a hand with the tidying?"

"Of course, Little Rini. The sand should be easy to dig in, and Boo says the scavengers will come soon." The large man gathered two corpses under each arm and trotted off into the desert.

"Already better," Rini said, aiming a bright smile at the shaken man before her. "Now, about that blood…"

"Oh, very well," Edwin said. "I had been saving this cantrip for later (And it will be bound to be missed now) but I suppose if it will keep him from drawing attention to us it will be worth it." He whispered a few words, pointed an elegant index finger at the priest, and Rini felt a quick surge of magic. The stains on the trembling man's roes disappeared at once, wiped away as if they had never been there.

"Nice one!" She said with sincere admiration. "That should help a lot."

"Highly convenient when one's traveling companion occasionally comes home covered in blood," Edwin replied with a slight smirk. "Thankfully usually somebody else's rather than his own, but the smell can get fairly atrocious if you let it settle too long."

"Don't I know it. Anyway, all settled now." Zaerini turned back to the still pale and shaken priest, handing him a bag of coins she'd found on one of the corpses, as well as a second one for good measure. "For your temple."

"But…don't you want to know which Divine Being I…"

"Nope, not really. I figure the more friendly or at least neutral gods I've got on my side, the better. It's not Cyric though, is it? I figure he's probably a lost cause. Same goes for Loviatar."

"What? No!"

"All good then." Zaerini stepped closer to the priest, placing a hand on his shoulder to give it a reassuring squeeze. "And now," She said, pouring warmth into her voice and her touch, "Why don't we take a little walk to your temple so you can tell us all you know about Balthazar?"

"I hope that other oasis is nice, if it is we could go for a swim! It feels like I've got sand everywhere, and what about you, isn't this heat making you miserable? It can't be anything like the Underdark, that's for sure."

"True," Viconia admitted. "But then again, I did not exactly leave my former home on the best of terms."

"Sure, I know, but it's still a matter of what you're used to, right? I'm sure the sand is all well and good if you're used to it too." Imoen squinted her eyes, looking ahead. "At least the sun is starting to set I think, so maybe it'll get cooler soon. I think I see water up ahead too."

"Yes. But isn't it more curious what we have not seen?"

"What's that?"

"People following this trail, to fetch water. There ought to be quite a few, and yet it seems deserted." Viconia paused to look behind them. No, nobody there either, the narrow dirt road was entirely empty other than herself and Imoen. "Something is not right about this. We had best be on our guard."

"I could sneak ahead and scout!" Imoen proudly proclaimed. Then her face fell. "Except I'm not sure how best to sneak and hide in an open desert. It's probably part of some advanced training I haven't done yet."

"Never mind," Viconia told her. "We're nearly there anyway." The two women cautiously crossed the final gentle hill leading down into a narrow valley beyond dominated by a crescent shaped body of water. Palm trees provided welcome shade, and bushes with thick green leaves were mixed with a small explosion of flowers ranging from red over orange to purple. It would have been a lovely and welcoming sight indeed, but for the dozens of odd creatures hopping about, resting, leaving droppings and sharpening their horns against the palm trees.

"What…are those?" Viconia knew she had encountered a mere fraction of all the beasts the surface world had to offer, but even so she had done her best to study up and these things didn't look like anything that ought to exist outside of a very deranged mind after a full night of dwarven spirits.

"I'm not sure," Imoen replied, her blue eyes wide. "They…they kind of look like yellow bunnies, but they're far too big, as big as large dogs. Bunnies shouldn't have fangs either."

"What about horns? Should they have horns?"

"Nope, not that I ever heard of. Wow, they're big too, aren't they?"

"And sharp. Let's not forget sharp." Indeed, each creature had a single, long horn growing from its forehead, a tapering and slender shape with an edge like a spear.

"I guess this is why the townspeople don't come here for their water. I wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of those things."

"The Al-mi'raj," A strange male voice suddenly said in very put out tones. "Those pests are Al-mi'raj."

Viconia reflexively went into a defensive stance, preparing for battle, and next to her she saw Imoen grasping her bow while her blue eyes darted back and forth in confusion. There was nobody to be seen but the two of them.

"Show yourself, iblith!" Viconia hissed. She cast her spell as quickly as she dared without risking error, and felt the power gathering in her eyes and her mind, showing what was truly there. The creature before them was man-shaped, but it was no man at all. He was a translucent blue with green overtones, his face was liquid and flowing, forming and reforming constantly, but when visible it had a pointed beard and a sharp nose. He had a broad chest and a round belly, as well as powerful arms, but the lower part of his body simply wasn't there at all, it was just a fuzzy blue cloud shape.

"Not an Iblis," He spat, sounding highly offended. "I am a Marid, thank you very much, the most powerful and coveted of Djinn. Iblis are pathetic little bootlickers who enjoy doing the bidding of wizards." His form swelled and he turned a deeper shade of blue as he peered more closely at the two women. "I think the next wizard I encounter will end up squeezed inside a bottle, or possibly an old lamp. Is either of you a wizard?"

"Nope!" Imoen hurriedly said. "Not a wizard, ha ha, good thing I'm not a wizard, isn't it?"

"I also am not a wizard," Viconia said. "Though I advise against threatening us, creature, whatever you are. We will not tolerate insolence."

The Marid's entire form rippled, water streaming off his chest and back. "Hm," He said. "Fearless, aren't you? Possibly powerful. You could be just what I need."

"Oh, that's more like it," Imoen said with a nod. "We're used to quests. So just tell what you want, and what you'll give us for it, and we'll see if we can make a deal, Mr Genie."

"I told you, I am a Marid! A djinn of the waters, powerful and…"

"If you are so very powerful," Viconia interrupted, "I'm sure you can handle whatever it is without our help. We will go now; your conversation is beginning to bore me." She grasped Imoen by the arm and started to gently turn her around, but before they had walked three paces the Marid called out again.

"Wait! I…spoke in haste. There is indeed something, a matter with which I require assistance. If you can aid me, I will be in your debt, and I will give you the most valuable treasure in my possession."

"And what would that be?" Imoen asked. "We're plenty rich already."

"Knowledge, young one. Knowledge of your sworn enemy. Would that appeal to you?"

"It would," Viconia said, careful not to sound too excited. "Provided you can do as you say. What is it you want from us?"

The Marid grinned, a smile that seemed entirely too wide and toothy for his face. "Good," He said. "We can come to an agreement, oh suspicious one. First, I must explain that as vast as my powers are, they are currently curtailed." His smile twisted into a snarl. "I have been bound against my will, enslaved here by one whose name I am unable to speak. We Marids are spirits of water, yes, but we roam freely, we do not…squat in a puddle. Yet, here I am, for my Master wishes for me to be here. My Master bid me summon those…beasts, in order to keep the townspeople away."

"That's pretty mean," Imoen said. "Why would anybody want to keep people from water?"

"Water is a precious commodity in a desert," Viconia replied. "If this source is unavailable, then he who controls it gains in power and influence. It would certainly help if a person wanted to say, rule a town with an iron fist."

"Oh. Oooh. Right, I get it." Imoen looked down at the milling herd of Al-mi'raj and then back at the Marid. "So, you want for us to get rid of the bunnycorns, is that it?"

The Marid winced slightly. "Yes. My Master bid me summon them, but never ordered me to protect them afterwards. They foul my water, and they make these unholy noises, enough to drive one insane. I want the beasts gone, but my binding keeps me from doing it myself. If somebody else were to do it though, I would not be bound to stop them, and I would be very grateful."

"Well," Viconia said, allowing herself a small and satisfied smile. "Let us see what we can do about these unholy bunnies of yours."

"I think the others may have drawn the better lot," Sarevok remarked, scowling at the mostly empty street and its surrounding white buildings with flat roofs. "I've seen more action and excitement in a rotting carcass."

"The day is drawing to a close," Dekaras reminded him. "As uneventful as this little stroll has been so far, it may be that we shall run into something more interesting as this curfew of Balthazar's approaches. Speaking of which, how do you wish to deal with that? I can make my way unseen, but…"

Sarevok pondered this for a moment. "Point taken," He said. "As much as I would enjoy running into a few of those monks with my sword first, my sister did wish for us to be discreet, and I will try to respect her wishes. At any rate, we have some time yet. Hopefully something will turn up before then." He walked in silence for a couple of minutes, then spoke again. "How are you not completely broiled yet? I would have thought wearing black in this heat would be a guaranteed heatstroke."

"Partially it is a matter of the proper fabric and cut of the cloth," Dekaras said, hoping the small smugness he felt wasn't too visible. "Thay is a warm country of course, so I am used to compensating for that, and I knew we were heading for even hotter climes, so I took precautions."

"And partially?"

"And partially, I am very well trained in the crafting and proper use of enchanted items, and a simple trinket or amulet to adjust for temperature is easy enough to have made. I try not to travel without them." At least not since that one little involuntary jaunt to Icewind Dale. If I never see snow again in my life, I shan't complain.

"Ah," Sarevok said, sounding amused. "Does Edwin know? He seemed rather heated earlier."

"He knows everything I have taught him, of course. Perhaps the heat will eventually prod his memory enough to do something about it."

"Ha! Well, Winski would certainly have approved of that. It reminds me of the time he caught me trying to teach the Nashkel kobold army how to march in formation."

"That sounds like an exercise in futility," Dekaras remarked as he tried to envision Sarevok loudly lecturing a horde of wide-eyed kobolds. "How did it turn out?"

"Well, I was insane at the time, remember? And about as well as you'd expect. Somebody bumped into somebody else, and before you knew it there was a wild brawl, biting, snarling and yipping. I had to put a few of them down afterwards, and Winski spoke to me at length about using the tools I had been given without smashing them or ramming them up my…"

At that precise moment, the doorway of the house two doors ahead of them exploded with green fire and a boom that could be felt all the way down the spine and into the toes. Dekaras felt himself stagger slightly sideways as the raw and jagged pain rippled through his mind and made him momentarily unable to see anything other than floating spots of light. Powerful magic. Archmage level. Sarevok grasped him by the shoulder and held him upright until he managed to steady himself.

"AND STAY OUT!" A voice boomed as a man landed unceremoniously in the dust before the exploding door. The voice had clearly come from inside the house, and now Dekaras noticed the painted sign by the door that read 'Arcana Archives'. A mage's shop then, but if the pitifully moaning man on the ground was a mage, he made no attempt towards revenge.

"Ooooh…no…please!" He whined. "You must…"

On the door before him, a sign materialized which read 'Closed to Marlowe The Wretch'. The letters were flashing off and on in purple and green, so that the message couldn't be mistaken.

"You would be Marlowe, I presume?" Dekaras asked the man on the ground. He had the look of a rich man fallen on hard times. His blue robe was of high quality with embroideries that might have impressed even Edwin, but the gems had been picked off it, and it fit him badly, as if he had once been a fat man and then lost a lot of weight. His face was sallow and unhealthy-looking, and there was a haunted, desperate look in his eyes.

"Please, noble sirs!" He cried. "Please, help a miserable man desperate for aid!"

"Oh please," Sarevok said. "Go quest for some gold, like the rest of us, that begging is pitiful."

"No, no, it is not gold I want! Gold is as nothing compared to my jewel."

"You can't have our jewels either, so don't even ask."

"No! My Malla, is who I mean. You see, she is in terrible danger. Please, noble heroes, aid me!"

This seemed to give Sarevok some pause. The large man with the shaven head and the glowing eyes pointed first at his own broad chest and then nodded towards Dekaras. The assassin shrugged. "Noble heroes?" Sarevok said. "Do we look like a pair of wandering knights desperate for a damsel in distress? Think carefully how you answer that question unless you wish to offend us."

"Please. I have asked all I could think of, I even tried appealing to Balthazar himself, but the monks wouldn't let me see him. And Lazarus at the Archives, but, well, you saw what happened when I told him about the lich…"

"Lich?" Dekaras sharply interrupted.

"Oh. Right. Yes. Malla is my daughter you see, and the lich will have her soul unless I can find a hero to help me. Please, will you try, good sirs? I beg of you must humbly."

The assassin and the warrior looked at each other. "I suppose," Dekaras eventually said, "We were looking for something interesting to share with the others."

"True," Sarevok said. "Very well, Marlowe. Show us to your home, if you have one. I have a feeling this is a story best spoken in private."

"Oh, of course, of course," Marlowe beamed, and then bowed deeply to them both. "Follow me, good sirs, and I will tell you everything."

That, I highly doubt. But even if you tell us a thousand lies, I will find the one truth among them, and if it is one that relates to Balthazar, then so much the better.

They followed the quickly scurrying Marlowe through the winding streets and alleys, and the last rays of the setting sun dwindled and finally gave way to soothing darkness.