14 Kython, Evening
Chanting sounded in the woods ahead of us; Shar-Teel ordered me to 'scout ahead and do that shadow-blending rogue's knack', so I hid behind trees and saw them.
"It's four wizards dressed like Red Wizards of Thay," I said. Very odd for them to come so far west, but there was Edwin. "Two men, two women. Are they connect..."
"I hate wizards," Shar-Teel said. "Remember, girl, a wizard always finds it hard to concentrate with a sword in his ribs. First you and I run in and start killing them, then you three pick one target each and fire missile weapons." It wasn't fair; I know I can't be good enough for that.
"I suppose, being Red Wizards, they are evil..." Garrick said.
"If'n the rest of yer're in, I guess I'm in..." Imoen chimed in.
"But what if they're wi..."
"They're probably my supervisors! You are not permitted to kill my supervisors!" Edwin loudly wailed. "(Unless I carefully arrange the assassination. Yes, and attain my own zulkirdom.)"
The chanting abruptly stopped.
"Well, well. One can recognize young Master Odesseiron's dulcet tones from quite some distance. Greetings." A tall man in a red robe stepped down from his stairs to approach us. His colourless eyes rested briefly on each of our group. "I trust you received your updated instructions? I shall not harangue you about the witch's newly-gained renown as a heroine for too long..."
"Yes, Denak. Master Denak. Yes, of course I received your instructions, and that is why I am here in this group," Edwin said. "Naturally I am far, far more successful than the witch thanks to your instructions. Obviously I am following your instructions."
"Good. Zulkir Nevron would be most disappointed if he were to hear that you failed. That is all that really needs to be said."
"As...as a matter of fact, Master Denak..."
"Don't be mean to him, Denny," a matronly-looking wizardess said, her long robes flapping behind her as she approached Edwin. "Now Eddie, these people can't be taking good care of you. Look at those shabby robes!" She dusted him down; Imoen and I exchanged a glance. "Your mother asked me to look in on you, and she would be so disappointed to see you like this. Don't forget to trim that straggling beard of yours now! And not even a hello for your auntie?"
"Hello, Auntie Lasala."
"That's a good boy. Is he eating a proper diet, lots of greens?" she asked me. "Eddie's never been very strong, and his mother and the remainder of his aunts would be so upset if anything happened to the dear boy. Of course cousin Sulia could resurrect him as one of her undead servants, but it just wouldn't be the same." She pinched his cheek. "If I don't see healthy roses on those next time we meet, I'll tell your mother to put you back on the formula she used when you were twelve. Do you remember how you used to try to summon hell-hounds to eat your cabbage?"
Imoen and I giggled.
"Auntie Lasala! I am a mature wizard and...and (And perhaps I ought not to distract myself from the stunning exercise in subterfuge to follow.) Master Denak, your instructions were most...most enlightening. I read them—nay, devoured them—with the greatest of joy. However, I also found them a little...yes, a little subtle. A trifle subtle, as befits your ready wit. Perhaps you could...re-explain them to me in a brief verbal discussion? In private?"
"Humility at last from Master Odesseiron." Denak smiled thinly. "The same Master Odesseiron who swears he can summon Demogorgon from the Abyss and command him to serve his every whim?"
"I was almost completed the summoning circles before grossly interrupted—"
"Master Odesseiron, who widely circulates unflattering sketches and commentary upon the intellectual, sexual and physical inadequacies of his tutors?"
"Many apprenti—fully qualified and widely experienced Red Wizards have the initials E and O."
"Let it be known for the record that I have never overcompensated for anything! Master Odesseiron, so close to 'perfecting a method to preserve my godlike physical form and divine wisdom and intelligence in order to avoid the primitive lichdom of zulkirs I shall replace in due time'?"
"Another project I was most brutally interrupted in—" He looked at us staring at him, and sighed. "Enough! Please, Denak, may we have this private discussion of your oh-so-gracious literary skill?"
"Modesty is praiseworthy. A tragic lack of reading comprehension is not. Come, Edwin. I will explain these...political complexities...as simply as possible."
Edwin obviously didn't want us following; well, antagonizing five Red Wizards might not be a good idea. Stupid bloodshed, probably mine. I asked about Dynaheir:
"Dy—The witch is a heroine? Is she the one Edwin wanted to kill? Was there any mention of a cleric with her?" Hopefully Branwen had caught up to them.
"The witch is a heroine for her alleged redemption of a madman called Brage," the other male wizard said, so soft-voiced that Imoen and I had to strain to hear him. He was the only one of the four who wore the traditional Thayvian tattoos over a shaven head. "I assume that she had the usual bodyguard complement, but we care nothing for that."
A sudden, strong harp-note rang through the clearing; we looked to Garrick. His small harp was in his hands, but it wasn't him playing; the second wizardess, a blonde woman, stood over him. I hadn't seen her move at all.
"I like music," she said. Her large, violet eyes were the only spot of colour in a thin, almost skeletal face. "Please play something."
Garrick grimaced. "I have...I know very few songs of the Red Wizards, and those are not, well, er..."
"Flattering?" she said gently. "But we like those ones best. They signify our potency." She paused, twirling a stray lock of fair hair between two fingers. "Or you can sing about corpses. I like corpses."
"How about...uh..." One of her arms snaked around his shoulder, her red-painted fingernails quite close to his neck. She rested her chin on his shoulder. "How about a nice lullaby? A...another wizard I met used to like those..."
"All right," she said. I would have gone down and tried to help him, but Lasala laid a hand on my arm.
"Ignore Diana," she said firmly. She sounded so much like the housekeeper who came when I was eight—who ruled the stairs unquestioned with an iron fist and hefty knot of keys—that it was clear she had to be obeyed. Garrick's soft harpsong rung about us while Shar-Teel glowered. "Now, you were saying that you and little Eddie met the evil witch? And thus she lives?"
Lie for Edwin, or face the wrath of his aunt?
"Dynaheir is—" Imoen started indignantly. I made a quick decision in favour of the former.
"Dynaheir was tricked!" I said. "I'm still not sure how he did it, but Edwin's a real smart guy. He tricked that witch and sent her to the dangerous forests near Nashkel, so we could travel in peace!"
"Yup. He really tricked that darn evil witch all right," Imoen said, sounding as though she was experiencing a bad case of lockjaw.
"Then I suppose that's something to go favourably in Eddie's apprenticing reports," Lasala said. "He's so close to finishing, with full honours... He's a talented boy really; the family would never turn out anything less. I have some engravings here, if you are interested..."
"Oh yes," Imoen said firmly.
The wizardess produced a long string of miniatures from some extradimensional storage space. "Here's young Eddie's parents together—his mother's one of my sisters, of course; can you see the resemblance?" There wasn't much similarity between the plump wizardess before us and the tall and hook-nosed woman in casual dress, but we nodded politely; "These two he finds quite embarrassing, but it's good for him really, and they are adorable pieces of art..." In one, a naked, chubby baby splashed in a bath; in the second, he appeared engaged in blowing spit bubbles. "Here's another for his apprenticing-start, one his mother sent me. Not the most flattering expression, but we were all very proud of him." A very pimpled young Edwin glared at the artist, wearing red-edged robes that seemed to swamp him; "And here's my own daughter Bellissima next to him." Bellissima in her apprenticing-portrait was a short, roundly built girl with enormous spectacles that seemed to cover her full face. "She's a full-fledged enchantress now; here's a more recent picture..." She still wore large spectacles, but they did not distract from oversized front teeth and very freckled ears. "Like Edwin, she's done so well—why, her zulkir said to her just the other day..."
I knew the word for her tone of voice: family. Talking about the large number of people she loved to anyone showing interest, boasting about offspring and nephew—like one of our nicer cooks, her first son who was a guard and her second son who worked for a merchant and her daughter studying to be a priestess. For me at home, it was mostly tutors and nurses; everyone else always had their own concerns, my stepmother's socials and Daddy and Eddard's soldiering and business, and mostly I was left in the library. Lucky Edwin.
"...actually, there's been talk of matchmaking between them, but it's better to let the young things have their careers first, and the poor boy's never been fortunate with women. Not as confident as my Belle, sadly. He hasn't been embroiled by any foreign seductresses, has he?"
Imoen grinned. "Well, yes actually! An, um, exotic blonde necromancer, probably working for some secret evil organization to solve the iron crisis..." I'd told her about the interplay with Xzar, of course.
"She sounds quite delightful. Is there a chance we'll meet her?"
Imoen shook her head. "Alas, it didn't last too long..."
"What a shame! He even finds it difficult to secure concubines' company...strange. He's a darling, sensitive boy deep down. Are you interested in the wizarding arts yourself, dear?" Lasala asked, switching subjects. "Oh, I knew it! Which specialist school?"
"Transmuter. I wanted to cut out necromancy," Imoen said.
Lasala tut-tutted. "Don't let Diana hear you there, my dear. Though transmutation in itself is no bad choice; a handy school for crafting if you've a dextrous hand. 'Twas the path of another of my sisters, Lerella; the poor thing poisoned herself with powdered acid making a magical blade for her zulkir. It acted so fast that cousin Sulia couldn't do a thing with the body... On happier notes, I am an abjurer—most handy protecting against assassins, not that you'll want to know those joys; Diana practices necromancy (how much, don't ask her); Denak is a conjurer like Eddie, of course; and Brendan..."
"Illusion," Brendan said in his soft voice. He was vanished into thin air before he'd finished speaking; Shar-Teel placed her hand on her sword's hilt while Imoen poked the air in front of her. He reappeared behind us out of a pattern of shimmering lights.
"I can't wait to learn that!" Imoen said. "Useful for...y'know, Skie...our sorta stuff." She managed to look shifty.
"And what is your role?" Brendan asked me quietly.
"Sneak through the shadows and stab things," I answered promptly. If Thayvians have to have muscle or rogue to accompany them, in their traditional proverbs they prefer it of very inferior intelligence. "I like stabbing things. Stab stab stab." I waved encouragingly to Garrick, whose notes were starting to falter thanks to Diana draping herself over him. "Shar-Teel does too."
"A fine figure of a woman," Brendan mused, watching her continue to scowl. It was just as well she probably couldn't hear him.
"I think that you would make a very pretty zombie," Diana said to Garrick.
Edwin and Denak returned to us, the former looking very blackly indeed at Imoen and me, still with Lasala's portrait collection in front of us.
"Children, I think you two must stop bothering my aunt immediately and be gone from here forthwith. (Has she shown them those pictures? Why must the fates treat me so unjustly?)"
"Why, they're quire nice young things, Eddie!" Lasala said. "They're not bothering me at all. Do look us up if you ever get to Thay, my dears. And I think that perhaps you will."
Perhaps we will. This is only the first time I've travelled outside home. If there is a civilized way to get to Thay... I'm sure that my spoken Mulhorandi is very rusty, but it would be interesting to see places I've only read about. I said, until the next, the standard Thayvian farewell, in her language.
But Shar-Teel still thinks we should kill all the bandits before we go back home. So, for now... It's just as well they disentangled the necromancer from Garrick to take her away in a teleport.
"That cousin Bellissima of yours, Edwin..." Imoen started.
"Is very talented at her chosen profession (Despite a generally underpowered specialist school) and happens to never appear well in portraits."
"You were once so very cute, Edwin..." I said.
"Be silent! (When I am zulkir I shall fireball those incriminating pictures with the most extreme prejudice possible.)"
"Really gifted at blowing bubbles," Imoen added.
"That is enough prattle! (Perhaps a torturous death for these children would also satisfy.)"
"Enjoying baths."
"Eating cabbage."
"Quiet lest I feed you your words on the end of my boot!"
"We lied for you too," I said.
"Lied? W-whoever said I told any lies back there?"
"Lied for you about Dynaheir," Imoen said. "Said you outsmarted her and that was why you haven't killed her. Of course we won't let you kill her anyway."
"You told Denak something like that, right?" I said.
"Obviously, yes," he said, his nose in the air. "The requirements of a Red Wizard...naturally since the Witch is not here and annoying me I must be given some credit."
"Yup, thought so. Wonder how we guessed the kind of lie you'd tell." Imoen and I exchanged a grin.
"What? Am I becoming predictable? Well, lackeys, a certain amount of law and order is all too desirable in a society! (Also when it comes to anticipating my wishes. How could servants possibly anticipate my wishes without some degree of consistency? But if they truly anticipated my wishes, I would not be obliged to clean our crockery in the evenings... Ah, drudgery.) So my supervisors are duly pleased with my acts."
"Can...can we please stop talking about it?" Garrick pleaded. Poor Garrick. His ordeal with Diana the Necromancer must have been tough.
"Oh, very well, since you have done me an unwitting service in the matter, bard (The only type of service I imagine you capable of)," Edwin said. "What I should be announcing is this: I have a new purpose for striding across Faerun, one that has none to do with the Witch. (Though it will be most enjoyable to kill her should she find herself in my way.)"
"That's nice," I said.
"I don't suppose you could accompany me to Beregost and relieve me of the remainder of the month?" he said, carefully examining his nails. "There is some degree of time-sensitivity; and it has occurred to me you have acted out of some inexplicable desire to preserve the Witch's life that no longer happens to apply. (Unless she dares interfere, of course.)"
Ruthless, Shar-Teel said.
"No. We'll need your help with the bandits."
He sighed. "Very well. I suppose I may keep my word for a little time longer (after all, I am a wizard and there is penalty in an untrue vow), but I will have no patience with foolishness."
"Yeah, you should stay, Eddie. I haven't finished copying all the spells from your spellbook yet," Imoen said.
"You—you WHAT? Ignorant little imbecile, a wizard's spellbook is sacred, akin to his very soul, precious beyond your imagining! You moronic simian, you have no right to desecrate my property! You know-nothing, repellent, obstreperous, intolerable, asinine, delinquent, thieving, irritating, pea-brained, meddlesome, merely-apprenticing brat! How dare you!"
"...Hey, just kidding. Heh heh," Imoen said. I wasn't sure if that was the truth or not. "Thanks for letting me know, Master Wizard."
"(Master Wizard is it now?) Then if you've no objection to...sharing spellbooks...I should like that fire spell from yours. I can give you the Horror incantation in exchange. (I am sure you are gullible enough.)"
"Hey, I know that's Necromancy, I'll never be able to cast it! I reckon...maybe one of those acid-arrows instead?"
"(I shall get the better of her yet.) Perhaps a nice Grease, then, also from the most superior school of all."
"Already learnt it from Garrick and it's easy." She stuck out her tongue. "C'mon, acid arrows, they seem pretty powerful. Unless you've got some nice lockpicking spells, which I don't think you do..."
"Which you have no reason to know, brat."
"Just guessing. Y'know, that you're too...classy and all to have nice lockpicking spells. Yeah, too superior."
"It is true I do not concern myself with petty theft. A delightful infliction of Blindness?"
I'm sure they would have continued quarreling, but there was screaming ahead of us.
"Help! Help, thieves! Help me!"
He was grey-haired, and wore a pale and dirt-stained tunic over leather armour. I gave him a hand to get back on his feet.
"Thank you, travellers. A band of tasloi assailed me—they ran east in the direction of the ettercaps' lair, where most likely they have been killed. They took a scroll of wisdom that the ettercaps may have stolen for its aura. I shall be wandering here for the next few days. Were you to return my scroll to me, I feel sure it would increase your karma." He looked hopefully at us.
Shar-Teel scowled. "The bandits we seek to kill are to the west," she said. "Why waste our time?"
"Karma," Imoen said, smiling. "We're adventurers, right? Let's find more ettercaps!"
"Idle delays for obviously incompetent druids I do not consider worth my time, but your idle delays are of no importance to me," Edwin said.
"Yes, we'll help," I said.
Edwin let out a sudden squawk. "It's biting me! Help me! Some giant poisonous creature! Aargh!"
There was an odd lump under his clothing. He danced around like he'd suddenly decided to do a tarantella, pulling up his robes to get it out: a very large squirrel fell, several scraps of light red material in its mouth.
"Foul—foul beast! Get away from me!" He kicked at it with his robes still lifted to his thighs, but failed to connect. It scampered away; Imoen giggled.
"It's so kind of you to aid an incompetent druid like myself," Fahrington said.
We set off east.