Hark: I'm back. It's been so long that even my faithful readers (if there were any) have forgotten me... Well, if you happen to read this, tell me what you think. Next two chapters should come soon.

Chapter 24: Stories and signs



Carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero. Seize the day for you can't believe in the future. Horatio



It was early in the morning, but the guildhouse of Shadow thieves was already filled with sounds of people. Elenwyd had woken up early and started to read a book written by a friend of his. Chalmira had rushed into his room soon after that, complaining that she was bored. Elenwyd, who was used to his sisters incapability to just be without doing anything, had given her a book, in hope that it would give her something to do.



After few minutes Chalmira put down the book and stared at Elenwyd, starting to twirl a lock of her purple hair around her finger. When this had no effect, she started to tap on the table with her other hand, and after a while Elenwyd put down the book he was reading and gave his sister a tired look.



"Could you stop doing that," he said. "Read your book, write a poem, compose a song. Anything but that infernal tapping."



"I'm bored," Chalmira said, getting up. "We were hired here to help, and we're just... sitting here! Nobody seems to remember that we are here, or they're too busy and have forgotten us."



"Why don't you go and see if they have," Elenwyd said, trying to sound calm. "I want to finish this book and..."



"You're using that 'I'm your brother and I know best' voice again, aren't you," Chalmira said grinning. "I hate it. Honestly. Alright, I'll go," she said when Elenwyd looked like he was going to start to scream. "You stay here with your book. Read mine too, if you want to. I'll go see some real life for a change."



"You do that," Elenwyd said when Chalmira walked out of the room. He hoped that she wouldn't get into trouble this time. Although she was smart and usually made friends easily, Chalmira had a bad habit of annoying some people. There had been many times when Elenwyd had to help her sister out of difficult situations usually caused by her quick wit and sharp tongue.



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Jarlaxle, who had come to have an early breakfast, noticed the purple-haired half-elf watching him with a curious look in her eyes. The woman noticed his stare, and walked to him, sitting on an empty chair next to him.



"Is this seat taken?" she asked, flashing him a charming smile.



"So it would appear," the drow responded, smiling back. "A direct approach, that's a new one around here."



"Well, those other people are glancing at you like you could attack them any moment, or trying to seem overly friendly, probably so that you wouldn't attack them. It's ridiculous. And this is the easiest way to get what I want," Chalmira said, grinning at the surprised expression that flashed in the drow's eyes.



"And that would be..." Jarlaxle said, looking at the woman curiously.



"I know what you're thinking, and you are so wrong. I want a story."



"A story?" Jarlaxle asked, feeling that he had missed something. "What are you talking about?"



"I'm a bard and I... Oh, sorry, I didn't even introduce myself. I'm Chalmira. And as I said, I'm a bard. But these days there are more bards that you could ever wish for, and good stories, original stories, are hard to come by. But I would think that a story heard from a drow would interest even the pickiest of listeners."



"You think so?" Jarlaxle asked, and the woman's eyes narrowed. "Don't make fun of me," she said, still smiling. "Everyone knows that the dark elves feast upon hearts ripped from the chests of their enemies, sacrifice little babies to their dark goddess and kill without mercy. That's what bards tell these days. What I want is a different kind of story from a different kind of drow. More details, something that people could actually believe. They are not stupid, not all of them, and when the ways of the drow are alike the ways of demons, dragons and ogres in every story, usually by the same storyteller, they get bored."



"From a different kind of drow?" Jarlaxle asked smiling. "What makes you say that?"



"Well, you haven't killed me yet, have you? That's one clue. And you're here, not in some cave plotting to destroy all living on earth. And nobody who wears that kind of a hat can be completely evil."



"You must be one of the strangest people I've ever met," Jarlaxle said laughing. "Alright, I'll tell you a story. How much blood, how much truth, how much lie?"



"A good amount of them all," Chalmira said grinning. "Wait here, I'll just go get some paper and ink."



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Entreri noticed the amused looks on the faces of many guild members when he walked to the dining hall. Jarlaxle was talking to some woman, and the assassin headed to get something to eat, almost glad that he had a good reason to avoid talking to the drow.



"So, you had nice time yesterday?" Mirjami was leaning on the wall and the look she gave Entreri was both amused and somehow disappointed.



"What are you talking about?" the assassin asked, although he knew the reason behind the woman's words, as well as behind the stares he had received that morning. It seems, he thought, that nothing stays as a secret here.



"I must say, I don't understand you men," Mirjami said in a conversational tone. "You can't settle with the easiest solution, and the solution that would also be the best for you. No, you must go and do things the hard way, don't you?"



"I don't understand what you're trying to say," Entreri sighed. "I slept with a whore, that's all. I don't see how that is your business."



"It's not, but I'm choosing to interfere anyway," Mirjami said smiling. "Come to the kitchen, I'll make you a cup of tea, and while you're drinking it, I can explain you couple of things about women. Come on," Mirjami said, and the tone of her voice told Entreri that it was a lot easier to do as she said than argue. This was one of the things Entreri had learned in Athkatla.



"So, what were you thinking when you went to bed with Loranna?" Mirjami asked in a conversational tone, pouring water into a small kettle and putting it on a stove. When Entreri gave him a blank look, she grinned at him evilly: "You didn't even know her name," she said, turning to take two cups.



"I didn't need to," Entreri said, surprised of the defensive tone in his voice. "I slept with her, nothing more, and I..."



"Do you even believe yourself?" Mirjami asked, sitting down opposite to the assassin "You didn't sleep with her, not really. You used her, wished that she would be someone else. How long are you going to pretend that nothing is going on?" she asked, leaning closer.



"I could kill you right now," Entreri said slowly. "Trust me, I've killed many others because of such lies." To his surprise, Mirjami started to laugh. "Maybe you have," the woman said, giving Entreri an intelligent look, "but I'm not lying. Would you like some milk and sugar?" she continued, getting up and lifting the kettle.



"No milk, thank you," Entreri said slowly, leaning back in his chair. The woman was right, he couldn't deny it anymore. He looked at Mirjami and realized, almost shocked, that the woman was barely old enough to be his mother. She was probably little over fifty, but not much. He truly was growing old, some time ago he wouldn't have even thought about these things.



"She's a complicate person," Mirjami said, putting a full mug on the table and interrupting Entreri's thoughts. "But I think you're smart enough to be able to deal with her. Just remember that she is much more than what she seems, and never treat her badly."



Entreri couldn't think of anything, so he took a sip of his tea. Mirjami smiled to herself, hoping that something good would come out of this conversation. She didn't usually interfere with Shandara's life, but there was something different with this situation, and she could only trust her senses. Despite of all the things she had heard about Artemis Entreri, she felt that he could be trusted. It was strange, but Mirjami's mother had been a seer and she had some of her mother's talents. Entreri wouldn't bring any harm to them.



Now she could only wish that the bad omens haunting in her mind would prove to be wrong. But she was quite confident of her talents, and if she could sense that Entreri wouldn't be trouble, her feelings of danger wouldn't be wrong either. Dark days were coming, and Mirjami didn't have any idea of how it would all end. Only time can tell, her mother had always said when the signs had been unclear, and Mirjami knew that her mother was never wrong. Only time would tell.