The Soothsayer

Part Two

Tarant had been having the most wonderful dream. He'd been walking through the streets of Athkatla, surrounded by the usual several million people who went to and fro about their business each day like self-important sheep, labouring for hours each day so that they can purchase a rubber door knocker because Mister Delainy just got one and apparently they're all the rage in Neverwinter. Sort of smug, self satisfied Whelks that wore the same clothes and spoke the same way yet still cherished their uniform individuality.

Anyway, in Tarant's dream, the sky was filled with the light of a thousand suns and every last one of them turned into dust. It was beautiful. Every single stupid, boring and annoying person done away with just like that, leaving behind only him and a few other survivors who roamed the post apocalyptic wasteland knowing absolute peace and freedom… and Aerie and Jaheira were holding spears and wearing leather bikini's and were about to wrestle over who would be repopulating the planet first, when Imoen burst in and woke him up. Soon, almost everyone had followed her inside, apart from Edwin. Luckily he'd fallen asleep in a chair with his clothes still on. Still, it wasn't on them all inviting themselves in like that.

However, he found it hard to actually stay angry at her for long, even though she persisted in making him feel most uncomfortable by putting her arms around him and sobbing all down his sleeve whilst explaining that she was destined to be dead by morning.

Tarant felt that maybe he should do something… well, he had already decided he was going to do something, what he meant was to do something right now like pat her on the back and say 'there, there… It's going to be all right'. Years ago, in Candlekeep, she'd come to him like this many times, because the other children had been shouting at her or she'd fallen out of a tree and banged her knee, and those were exactly the kind of things he might have said then. And then he would have broken branches off the tree in question until she felt better. But the boy he was then had been left behind in the keep… she was a grown woman now and he had been witness to and the cause of so much death that 'there, there… It's going to be all right,' somehow didn't feel appropriate. In the end he settled for:

"Don't be bloody ridiculous. You're not going to die. I wish you were, but I'm afraid I'll have to put up with you for a long time yet."

"B-but the coin!" Imoen looked up with red eyes, "the Soothsayer knew exactly how it would land…"

"It was a trick, obviously. They used magic to control how the coin would fall… kind of stuff you see all the time in the Circus. Aerie will tell you."

"W-well," the Avariel cleared her throat with one of the tiniest coughs he'd ever heard. She wasn't wearing a leather bikini but a dress that she must have borrowed from Nalia for the party. Tarant wasn't sure what Aerie spent her share of the loot on but very little of it was on clothing. Probably spell books and novels and encyclopaedias and sketch books and really big paper for painting on… she was one of the paper industries best customers, along with the entire country of Thay.

"I suppose th-there are ways the coin could have been faked," the blonde elf went on, "But… I-I don't think it was done with magic."

"Right," Imoen interrupted, "There was a witch and three mages in the room. If any magic had been used then at least one of us should have felt something."

Tarant didn't know how exactly spell casters could sense when other magic was being used nearby. He'd asked about it once, and Edwin had told him that it was far too difficult to explain in words that were less than three syllables, so he asked Imoen, who told him to ask Aerie, who suggested that magic was like a stream that flowed through everything and any spell or magical device caused ripples. But you couldn't actually see the ripples or the stream so Tarant had left feeling that no one had really answered his question. In any case, he looked at Aerie now, using his eyebrow to tell her that she'd better start being more helpful and he didn't care if she had to lie to be so.

"There are other ways besides magic," she said, "And I… I hope no one thinks it too presumptuous of me, b-but I asked Major Domo to see to it that no one touches anything in the hall or outside it, s-so that we can search for clues."

"Exactly what I would have suggested," Jaheira nodded.

"Good thinking," Tarant commended the druid for her forethought.

"I know," she answered.

"And what about this chest? Black with a golden lock wasn't it?"

"I don't know of anything like that here," Nalia interjected, "But not even I know the exact contents of every room in the castle. There are still several rooms that haven't even been opened since… since the trolls. Anyway, I've told the staff to begin searching at once."

"Good. Well done."

"Well, actually, it was Aerie's idea…"

"Who?" Tarant scratched his head then shook it. "Well never mind about that… we need to find out more about this Soothsayer."

"I suppose I could send runners to nearby towns and villages, see if they can find out were the Soothsayer came from."

"Any of your runners have wings?" Imoen crashed onto a sofa and even she forgot that Aerie was in the room. Fortunately the Avariel didn't appear to have been listening so Imoen went on, picking up a wooden carving of a ship and idly twisting it between her hands as she did so. "Because it's at least a days ride to the next nearest village and back, and I have less than seven hours…"

"You should just stop thinking about it and go to sleep. You'll wake up tomorrow and be fine," Tarant said, "And I'll be sure to remind you of what an idiot you were the night before."

"I-I think that's good advice," Aerie said, "You mustn't dwell on it. If you allow yourself to believe everything the Soothsayer said, t-then the prophecy may become self-fulfilling…"

"Are you saying that I'd kill myself?" Imoen blinked in disbelief.

"Well… n-not deliberately…"

"Well anyway, there's no way I'm going to sleep through this. You heard what the Sayer said… even if I lock myself in here there's no way to avoid my fate. How does that work anyway? I mean there's no chest in here and it's hardly likely to pick the lock and come in here on its own…"

"I-I guess if you really were fated to die and were trying to avoid it, t-then fate would just seek another means to kill you and preserve itself…"

"How?"

"I don't know… m-maybe the ceiling will collapse or a freak gust of wind will carry a log through the window…"

"Great… so, not only am I going to die but I'm a danger to everyone and everything around me too. Thanks for that Aerie."

"It doesn't matter, because it's all bull anyway," Tarant reminded everyone and himself. There was no way Imoen would die. He simply wouldn't allow it… not that he actually liked her of course… and anyway there were millions of young women in the world almost exactly like Imoen, all chatty and giggly and wiping noses on sleeves like any really common person. He was just used to seeing her particular face grinning inanely at him each day. The Soothsayer was obviously nothing of the sort, they just had to figure out how and why they had gone to so much trouble just to frighten Imoen. And, on the off chance that they were telling the truth, he needed to get to the bottom of it before sunrise.

"I'm sure you all know what you need to be doing?" He said to the room. Jaheira nodded, Aerie bowed slightly, and they all hurried off towards the hall once more leaving Tarant alone in the room with his sister. He strapped his sword and its sheath around his waist… he hadn't any enemy to fight, yet, but being prepared made him feel a lot better.

"You really think you can change fate?" The red head said quietly. "Bhaal couldn't avoid his fate…"

"Maybe Aerie's right… maybe prophecies and things only come true because people believe they will. Doesn't matter… we'll soon uncover this Soothsayer as a fraud."

"Maybe," the young thief didn't yet sound convinced. "Did you make this?" Imoen asked of the wooden carving she held.

"Yes."

"You used to be really good at all arty stuff… I mean, you still are, but… you're not as passionate as you used to be, at least you don't show it as much… anyway, you should show it to Aerie."

"I know."

"I mean you should it to her because she's really into art and stuff as well… I'm not saying you should go out with her or anything."

"Good."

"She's my best friend, so I wouldn't wish that on her."

"How considerate."

"If you did go out with someone though, I wish it were with someone nice."

"To be honest," Tarant said with a sigh and sat down next to her. They'd had this same conversation countless times before, but tonight for some reason he felt sentimental and decided to go through it for old time's sake. "I've always suspected that you're the one who wants to 'go out' with Aerie."

"What do you mean?"

"Well… you've never had a boyfriend have you? You've never shown any interest in them, but you do spend a lot of time with her…"

"Oh, I get it. So, because I don't rush out to have sex the instant I hit puberty it means I must be gay? I won't… well, I wasn't going to risk getting involved with someone for a while longer."

"Well, don't be in a hurry to tonight. Because you won't die and then you'll regret it. And I'll find out and have to kill the man in question," he said, knowing there was only one man about who would accept such an offer on such short notice. If all that did happen it would prove the Soothsayer was half right.

"Anyway… I have had boyfriends. Remember Jeremy?"

"You were eight years old… and you dumped him after he gave you a half eaten candy for your birthday..." Not that any of Tarant's had ever ended much better though. The last person he thought he was in love with turned out to be a Werewolf and then got torn to pieces by the rest of her pack so that he could escape.

"Yeah, well… a girl wants to be made a fuss of. That means giving her the whole candy and not just your leftovers. You'll have to learn little things like that if you ever want to have a normal life."

"And what makes you think I want a 'normal' life? Settling down in some home in the country, wife, two kids, going out to work the same spot of land day after day after day… do you really think that's who I am?"

"No, but… you're not really happy the way you are. And you used to be so different… you used to laugh sometimes..."

"People change. That's just life. Besides, I can't settle down. So long as I'm the son of Bhaal I'll have enemies to fight."

"You treat everyone like they're your enemy, but they're really not. You can be nice to people like Aerie, or Jaheira or even Valygar. I'm just saying, since you've so many enemies what's wrong with having some friends?"

"I just… it's not that simple," he said, and saw that Imoen expected him to elaborate. Unfortunately since he couldn't fully explain the reasons to himself he certainly couldn't explain them to her. Sure, there was the fact that almost everyone he cared about seemed to end up dying horribly, and Imoen would probably die tonight if he couldn't stop it. But, he also knew there was more to it than that but he hadn't found the words to explain it. "I just can't."

"Please… Since I might be dead by morning; just try being nice. Just see how it makes you feel, and then come morning you can go back to being as grumpy as you like. Just do this one little thing for me."

"You…" Tarant bit back his tongue. It was no use telling her she wasn't going to die yet again, as they hadn't yet exposed the Soothsayer as a fraud, not definitively. It occurred to him then that if Imoen were to die then he didn't want his last memory of his sister to be of him disappointing her yet again. "Fine, for tonight I will be… nice," he said like it was a strange alien word. "Now let's join the others."

>

"Would you please sign this?" Imoen encountered Edwin as soon as she'd returned to the hall. The farmers had gone home now, but everything else was almost exactly they'd left it. Although a few silver trays were missing. No doubt peasants had taken some, but Imoen suspected that Edwin had also used the opportunity to help himself to some. Placing them in the pockets where they would never be seen again until he removed them. Come to think of it, a few bottles of wine were missing as well… Anyway, now Edwin was waving some sort of document in her face.

"What is it?" Imoen snatched away the parchment. She had no intention of signing anything Edwin gave her without reading it thoroughly first. She once thought about selling her soul to a devil, figuring it didn't really matter since when she died her soul would join that of all the other Bhaalspawn and she would cease to exist, but she decided against it. And Edwin was just as bad as any devil, if not worse. "My last will and testament?"

"I am sure that when you're gone you'll want your possessions to fall into the hands of people who will appreciate them the most…"

"It says I leave everything I own to you… and that I consent to having my body used for magical experiments!"

"It's not as if you'll need it…"

"I don't care, it's my body. I don't want you poking around in it just because I'm not using it."

"(Exactly the kind of wasteful sentiment I'd expect from a grossly ignorant peasant such as her) Ahem… but, think of the progress that could be made from studying you! You're going to die tonight, that's been decided, but your corpse could help save other lives."

"Thanks for the support Eddie… but the answer's still no, I'm not signing this. What would want with all my underwear anyway?"

"Well, since you ask, deservingly or not you have become rather famous up and down the coast here. I am sure I could find some people who would pay large sums for little items of memorabilia…"

"Most of my clothes are still in the laundry room waiting to be washed anyway. Nalia's staff are still a bit overstretched…"

"Oh, they'll be worth more if they haven't been washed. But, since you won't sign I don't suppose it matters," Edwin took his parchment and quill and got lost, leaving Imoen wondering. She decided she had better not do so for long.

"Hey Aerie… kid!" She waved to the Avariel who stood up to greet her. "Whatch'ya doing?"

"Well… I'm looking for clues."

"Like what?"

"Well… a-anything that seems a bit out of place I guess. Anything that might suggest how she did all those tricks…"

"She? You mean the Soothsayer? I was sure it was a fella… but I guess it was hard to tell under all those rags."

"T-that's not really important… is it?"

"Well, it would narrow down who the Soothsayer could be…"

"Uh-huh… t-to only half the population of Faerun?"

"Yeah, alright. No need to be sarcastic… so have you found anything, Little Miss Cleverclogs?"

"No… n-not yet," Aerie hung her head and turned her attention back to the floor, no longer finding any humour anywhere.

"Hey… don't be so sensitive."

"I wasn't… i-it's just, if we don't find anything, then it means…"

"That the Soothsayer might have been telling the truth and I'll be dead by morning. And you'll be lonely," with hindsight, Imoen saw that it had been pretty foolish to have put that thought into Aerie's head. "Look, forget everything I said before. I was wrong to try and force you to do stuff you didn't want to do. Just be yourself and you'll make new friends after I'm gone. I know you will. And the others will still be around."

"It won't be the same… it would be like it was when you were in Spellhold, with Jaheira treating me like a child and everyone else not even knowing I exist until I'm in their way or they want something from me… and all of them making me so nervous that I can hardly breathe. I-I've only felt relaxed since you've been here."

"Aww… now you're just saying that to make me feel special…"

"I-I'm not just saying it… you are…"

For once, Imoen didn't know what to say. Contrary to all reason, Aerie loved her, and Imoen loved the little Avariel too, all in a strictly platonic way of course.

Aerie was like the little sister that Imoen had never wanted, but now that she had she really wanted to be around for her. They were very different in many ways, like Imoen being the playful outgoing type and Aerie being rather quiet and introverted. But they were alike in many more ways, such as their loyalty and their moral ideologies which basically involved just trying your best to be nice to people and not so much of this 'big picture' and 'greater good' stuff favoured by Nalia and Jaheira. Aerie and Imoen both missed their homes too, and their childhoods. But both had come to accept that there was no going back. Even if it were physically possible to go back there, Aerie understood now that Faenya Dail wasn't where she belonged. It probably had never been.

"Really Aerie," Imoen decided to change the subject. Another thing about Aerie was that she was an extremely passionate person. She was the only person Imoen knew who could get genuinely emotional about a tortoise being left on its back. Aerie even cared about Edwin… well, she was the only person who didn't hate the wizard that had actually met him. "What you said before… I thought you believed in fate and destiny and stuff like that…"

"To be honest, I'm never exactly sure what I believe," Aerie admitted, "I once thought that maybe the gods controlled our fate… b-but then I started thinking, if our destinies are already decided, then are evil people really responsible for what they do? And, w-what about chaos and entropy and how if you try to measure something you change the way it behaves…"

"Stop!" Imoen raised her hand in the classic 'stop' sign. Thankfully, Aerie immediately stopped talking. "You… think too much," Imoen sighed, "used to see this happen to a lot of monks in Candlekeep. You start filling your head with too many ideas from books but then you can't contain them and they're running around your head in all directions."

"I'm sorry," Aerie flushed with embarrassment. "But, w-when I thinking about… all of that… I also thought that maybe I'd been taken away from my home and my family because I was meant to help you and Tarant somehow. So you see… t-that's another reason why you can't die. Because… i-if you do, then nothing that's happened to me makes any sense."

"You're a really sweet person Aerie," Imoen decided her friend needed a little hug. "Listen… if I don't make it, then, I'm leaving all my stuff to you."

"A-all of it?"

"Yup… I should probably go and write it down so that it's official, and get a witness so that Edwin doesn't just forge my signature… but it'll all be yours. I mean I know you don't really care much for all the Dwarven drinking songs or the book of lewd limericks, but you can sell stuff like that and give to the money to some temple if you want to," the red head looked over her shoulder and saw that Edwin was still lurking nearby. "I think I'd also like to be cremated."

"D-Don't you want to leave something to your brother?"

"Oh, he hates limericks. And none of my clothes would fit him," Imoen grinned. There was so much she still needed to teach Aerie though, but she had other business to take care of tonight and possibly only a few hours to do it in. She would just have to trust that the Avariel knew enough now that she could learn and adapt on her own. Still, before she went she would have to make sure that the others carried on looking out for her. "I'll see you later kid."

>

"I don't know why you don't just ask her," Imoen yawned.

"Ask who what?" Jaheira answered. Imoen had found the druid outside in the courtyard searching, while Valygar had gone outside the gate to see if he could track the Soothsayer. The air was light and Imoen could see the stars quite clearly… no sign of there having been a storm a short time ago.

"Aerie… ask her if she wants to be a Harper," the Druid shot a look at her, a look that told Imoen she had been right. "I knew that's what you wanted… you've always pushed her a lot harder than you ever pushed me."

"I push her harder, as you put it, because she needs the extra training. Her physical development has been sadly neglected," Jaheira said, but it wasn't really convincing. Aerie's stamina wasn't great, but Imoen wasn't a whole lot better. And in terms of skill, Aerie was probably ahead of her. "Now, if you do not mind child, I must concentrate and have no time for your fantasies…"

"You really hate it when people figure out the truth about you… I guess because you're used to having to keep your motives secret and don't like being 'found out'. But I've just known you too long Jaheira. Stop me if I'm wrong though, but I think it's like this; obviously I don't know exactly what will happen, soothsayings not my forte, but one way or another the whole Bhaalspawn saga will come to an end, and then what? I mean you're not old yet but you won't be running around saving the world forever. You'll need someone to take over when you're gone. And when it's over Aerie will really have nothing to focus her energies on, but it'll far better if she focuses them on targets that you choose rather than just obliterating every slaver and wrongdoer she comes across, right?"

"Even if any of that were true," Jaheira more or less conceded, "I doubt she would be interested. She clearly does not care for me very much."

"That's not true at all," Imoen told her.

Unfortunately, the relationship between Aerie had Jaheira had got off to a bad start. Aerie had tried several times after they'd first met to establish a genial relationship, but unfortunately it been badly timed. So soon after Khalid's death, revenge had been foremost on Jaheira's mind not making new friends, especially not with someone whose nervous stutter couldn't help but remind her of what she'd lost. Poor Aerie was shot down yet again, and these days the two mostly avoided each other when they weren't training. But Imoen had decided that one of her last acts, maybe, would be to bring her best friend and the woman who had looked after her since the flight from Candlekeep together in friendship. And she knew that if it was Jaheira who offered it then Aerie was bound to accept, after getting over her initial surprise.

"She does respect you," Imoen went on, "she even said once that she wants to be like you. Well, she didn't say it but I read it in her diary. She just doesn't understand why you push her so hard. She thinks there's nothing she can ever do to prove herself to you."

"I just wish she would control her emotions more."

"Maybe, but you don't want her to lose her passion because that's what you're after. It's the one thing the Harper's around here are lacking."

"Perhap's…" Jaheira knelt suddenly and picked something off the ground.

"What? Have you found a clue?"

"Possibly," she answered enigmatically. Imoen scurried closer to take a look. Jaheira held what to the thief's eyes looked to be a bit of dirt, but presumably it wasn't quite like all the other dirt around here. The red head had a suspicion of what would happen next; "You're not going to eat it are you?" The druid looked at her strangely, then promptly placed the mud on her tongue. "That's really disgusting."

"Hmm," Jaheira rolled the dirt around in her mouth then spat it out. "Unusual concentration of iron…"

"Well… maybe one of the villagers who came here was a blacksmith?"

"This is dwarven iron... not typically used for shoeing horses…"

"What does it mean then? And how can you tell what kind of iron it is from the taste?"

"We shall have to ask Nalia and the servants here. They know the land better than we do," Jaheira stood, ignoring the red heads second question. "And Imoen…"

"What?"

"I will think about what you said."

Inside they found that Edwin had also found a clue. Presumably he'd joined in the search after someone, most likely Tarant, had threatened. Anyway, he'd found it in a corner of the hall and frankly Imoen couldn't make any more sense of it than she could of Jaheira's dirt.

"So what is it Eddie?" Tarant asked, "The Soothsayer didn't have a handkerchief?" The group was staring at a rather large glob of green mucus.

"Yes… fortunately I anticipated having to explain what this is to you uneducated barbarians," Edwin looked down his nose, "see, this interesting sample is not the waste product of an infected, but is in fact bona fide, grade A…"

"Ectoplasm…" Aerie finished.

"Yes, quite," the wizard clearly did not appreciate having his thunder stolen but he managed to soldier on.

"Looks like snot to me," Tarant squinted at the object.

"It's ectoplasm!" The wizard insisted, "I mean really, a human couldn't possibly produce this much snot in one blow…"

"I don't know," Imoen thought on it, "one of Nalia's uncles has three noses."

"Hey!" The noblewoman puffed, "Stop saying my family is inbred. It was just a magical experiment gone awry…"

"Anyway," Edwin waved his arms up in an attempt to draw attention back to himself. "It is Ectoplasm… Which, as I'm sure you are all aware, is often a by product from the use of…"

"Psionics…" Aerie said.

"Will you stop interrupting me!" Edwin instinctively raised a hand to strike the girl, before remembering that this wasn't Thay and he couldn't get away with treating people like animals in his present company. "Anyway, yes… it suggests that certain psionic powers were used here."

"Proving what?" Tarant asked.

"Unfortunately, it doesn't really prove anything. Clairvoyance is an oft reported psychic power. But, it tells us what we're up against and suggests a way they could have manipulated the coin without any of us knowing…"

"Telekenesis…" while everyone else restrained Edwin, one of the maids padded across the hallway to Nalia and whispered something into her lady's ear. The Noblewoman coughed.

"It seems," she smiled, "That we've found the chest."

As Nalia led the party through the castle, Jaheira told everyone about her dirt. Nalia suggested that it may come from a forge several miles north, where a Dwarven clan made big, life like, iron statues and sold them to vain human nobles, before abandoning the operation years ago. The statues were so expensive that even Amn's affluent aristocracy could only afford one or two. The profit margin wasn't enough for the Dwarves to stay in business.

Nalia seemed to find everything going on rather exciting… she wore a smile and a certain spring in her step that Imoen hadn't seen before. Imoen supposed it was understandable… she'd always considered politics to be rather dull, and she'd always enjoyed a good mystery. Since it was her life that had been threatened though, she was rather less inclined to see the fun side. Silly really… her life was being threatened all the time when she had to fight monsters of both the animal and the human variety. But, those fights happened so fast… somehow it was far worse when you had time to think about dying.

Still, they seemed to be making some progress now. That was cause for hope at least.

The chest was exactly as the Soothsayer described. Made of ebony and with a golden lock… more likely gold plated, but she supposed that wasn't important right now. It been in one of the cellars, packed away behind centuries old wines. Aside from its obvious age and the care taken with its construction, there was nothing remarkable about it.

"Any idea where it came from?" Tarant knelt in front of it.

"Afraid not," Nalia shrugged, "it's probably been here far longer than myself or any of the staff. And so many of the records were lost in all that business a year ago."

"What now?" Jaheira asked.

"Well… we don't open it, that's for sure," Imoen said. And yet despite everything, she couldn't help but be curious. It was like the classic big red button with 'Don't Push' written above it. You knew something bad would happen, but you just had to push it find out what… she just wished they had some idea of what was in here. Imoen also noted no key had been found for the chest… considering how delicate the lock seemed to be she was probably the only person in these lands who could open it. But, she believed she could resist the urge to do so.

"We should split up," Tarant decided, "Some of us should check out the forge and the rest should stay here. I've… a feeling, that maybe the Soothsayer wanted us to find this, in which case they'll be back. By the way," he stood up stiffly, "you've… all done good work. Well done."

Imoen smiled. Her brother needed to practice his delivery a bit, but at least he'd made an effort. If nothing else, it showed that a part of him still cared a bit about her.

"Now," he composed himself and went on, "I'll go to the forge with Aerie and Valygar."

"Wait!" Jaheira protested.

"What?"

"I am not staying here with Edwin."

"Why not?!"

"Aside from the facts that he is vain, untrustworthy, and only ever looks out for himself?"

"The world cannot afford to lose my fabulous mind," Edwin reminded everybody.

"He can go with you… Aerie can stay here."

"Fine," Tarant gestured to indicate that he was not interested in arguing about it, "Now let's just go…"

As they'd been discussing it they'd been walking out of the cellar… it was only then they heard the door slam shut behind them. Imoen had been so engrossed in studying the chest that she'd been left inside on her own.

Suddenly panicking, she rushed to the heavy door and pushed and pulled, only to find that she was unable to budge it. The door however, could only be locked from the outside. Since she could hear the rest of the party banging on the other side she could only conclude that she hadn't been locked in by accident.

The red head shut her eyes, turned her back to the door and allowed her self to slide down it onto the floor. When her eyes opened, she already knew what she would see.

"Hello Imoen my dear," the pile of rags that contained the Soothsayer said, "It's time."