In The Cards

Things often have two sides, even Murder. For one thing, the raven is a carrion-bird, and often symbolizes death, but in a vision or dream it may also be the bringer of important information, and of memories long forgotten.

Excerpt from ‘Ruminations Of A Master Bard’

Sarevok descended into the dungeon of his father. It was not something he normally did. Killing people who were in your way, that was one thing. But Reiltar enjoyed killing them slowly, making them scream. Like Mother…no. I will not think of that now. He will pay, soon enough. But I must deal with my Sister first.

It seemed that somebody had been through here before him though. Dead and dying guards lay here and there, doors were broken into pieces and there were even holes punched in the walls in places, as if some clumsy giant had rampage by. Perhaps my Sister’s friends aren’t quite as incapacitated as Reiltar believes, Sarevok thought. It certainly does look as if some great warrior has done this. He smiled grimly to himself. Measuring himself against a powerful foe, steel against steel, muscle against muscle, would be immensely satisfying. He had no doubt that he would win of course, but the challenge would be pleasing. In his mind he envisioned a true warrior, tall and strong, with powerful muscles rippling with every balanced move. Perhaps even an enchanted sword. However, none of the people he had seen in his sister’s company seemed to fit that description. Still, people change. Or maybe she had picked up somebody new.

One of the few surviving guards had hurriedly told Sarevok in which cell Zaerini might be found, and now the warrior approached it, cautiously on his guard against an attack. The door was wide open and the cell empty. Sarevok stood absolutely still for a few moments, studying the interior. Narrow space, dark and cold. Dirty straw in scattered heaps on the floor. And there, glistening darkly in the torchlight, blood. Drops of blood on the straw, still wet as he bent to touch it. The trail led into the corridor, where he was able to follow it for a short distance before it gradually disappeared.

My Sister – for every drop of your divine blood that he spilled, Reiltar will lose a thousand, as well as a limb. Before I slay you, I shall take great pleasure in presenting you with his foul head, still staring blindly into the cold and unfeeling night with its dead eyes.

Methodically, Sarevok searched the dungeon corridors and the remaining cells, wanting to make certain that his sibling did not remain somewhere. There was no sign of her however. “So be it then, little sister,” Sarevok said, raising his sword in salute. “You have shown yourself capable, as befitting for one of our kind. Soon we will meet, in a cataclysmic battle, one that will shake the very foundation of the Realms. Soon, once the trail of ichor and destruction we trace across the Sword Coast has grown strong enough, according to our nature. Soon…but not before I have tasted the blood of he who would defile your body and mind, pulled his entrails from his steaming open belly while he still squeals like the swine he is, and stuffed his wilting manhood down his throat. So swears Sarevok!”

Satisfied with this oath, Sarevok nodded proudly to himself, resheathed the Sword of Chaos and walked up the stairs again, his head held high. Even as his body ascended though, his soul kept descending as he contemplated the power and glory awaiting him as the Lord of Murder. It kept descending into the dungeon of his Father, too deeply to see the dwindling light far behind him.

In the dungeon, silence reigned for a few moment. Then Edwin slowly exhaled. “Your brother,” he said, “is a very, very disturbed individual. (Or to put it more simply, stark raving mad. I must say I sympathize with the sentiment expressed about Reiltar however.)”

Zaerini leaned against the wall, trying to collect herself. Her heart still felt as if it was trying to pound its way out of her chest and her legs were trembling. “I don’t want to think about what would have happened if he’d looked behind the door to my ‘empty’ cell,” she said, pushing at said door so that she, Softpaws and Edwin could emerge from their hiding place. “Good thing he’s not much for subtleties. Still, I’m not sure he would have bought it if not for you sacrificing a little blood to make that false trail. Thank you.”

“I…I would sacrifice more than a little blood in order to keep you alive, Hellkitten,” the wizard said, and then made an intense study of the tips of his boots. “Er…that is…naturally I would try to keep you alive, what with all the wealthy monsters and assorted other enemies your presence seems to attract, and besides my contract clearly stipulates that…”

“Edwin?” the bard said, and the wizard broke off in mid sentence, looking very nervous.

“Er…yes?”

“Reiltar…what he did to me…” Rini paused, having to concentrate in order not to let the tears overwhelm her again at the memories. This was not the moment for weeping; that would have to wait for later. I will not tell him the details. It would hurt him too badly. “He hurt me. It won’t go away for a long time, if ever, and he made me feel so dirty. Please…just hold me a moment before we leave this place, and take some of the bad things away. Please?”

She thought she heard the wizard sigh faintly as she stepped into his arms, and then he was holding her tightly, as if he were afraid that she would dissolve into mist if he were to let go. “I…I thought I might lose you,” he whispered.

“You won’t lose me,” the half-elf said, her voice trembling. “I’m right here, see? And I’m not going anywhere.” There was a strange look in his dark eyes then, pleasure and pain in a curious mixture. He said no more, but slowly tilted her chin up, and then she could feel a pair of lips gently touching hers, sparking tender fires in her soul.

Moments passed. Some more moments passed. Even more moments, and very pleasant moments at that, passed. “That,” Edwin said in reverent voice as he finally had to pull away to breathe, “that…that was…very…very…nice. Yes. Nice.” He paused and cleared his throat. “I must say though, I’m pleased your big brother wasn’t there to watch it.”

And despite everything, Zaerini had to laugh at that.

Leaving the Iron Throne building proved surprisingly easy, and Edwin didn’t even have to use his potions again. The whole place seemed to be in some disarray, with panicky people everywhere.

Due to her hearing, much sharper than that of a human, Rini managed to overhear a few snippets of whispered conversation that sounded very interesting.

“Yes,” one of the serving maids was telling another. “Master Reiltar came by just now, quite furious about something, and muttering about a gnome of all things! Very odd. Seems he’ll be off on some journey almost at once.”

“Where to?”

“Don’t know. But he said that Master Sarevok would be going with him.” She giggled. “Master Sarevok sure is a handsome one, isn’t he?”

“I suppose. Terrible temper though.”

“Yes…but all the same…”

The rest of the walk back to the inn passed without incident. Rini was still exhausted though, both from the aftereffects of the poison and from Reiltar’s attentions, something she was trying very hard not to think about. Not now. Have to be safe first. Time enough then. She was tired enough that she was forced to lean on Edwin already, almost too tired to walk.

“I can always take some more of that strength potion I told you about,” the wizard said, sounding rather worried. “Then I could carry you home.”

“No, no. Softy explained about the side effects. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

Besides, Softpaws said, there’s a better way. The wizard doesn’t have to get stronger, not if you can get lighter instead.

Lighter? What do you…oh. Yes, I see. Yes, my head doesn’t hurt so much now. I think I could do it.

The half-elf concentrated as best she could, and willed her body to obey. It hurt, but eventually the power obeyed her, and she slowly shifted into her other form. The red cat looked up at the suddenly towering wizard, her golden eyes dim with exhaustion. When she felt herself gently picked up and cradled in his arms she was too tired even to purr, as comforting as the hand stroking her soft fur was. Safe. Feels so nice…safe…warm…

The comforting voice of her familiar reached her fading mind. That’s right, kitten. Sleep, you are safe now. Sleep, and heal.

Zaerini slept. In her dreams, the Iron Throne building towered above her, cold and gray as the metal itself, hard and relentless. Then the vision blurred and she wondered how she could have been so mistaken. It was a large building, yes, but not the Iron Throne compound at all. No, this was Candlekeep. Its familiar spires and walls made her heart ache with longing.

Then, a bright flash of light, and she was a child once more, a tiny half-elven girl walking at the side of her foster father, tightly clutching his hand. Yet her adult self was somehow also present, riding in the back of the small girl’s head, watching. This isn’t just a dream, Rini thought. I…I can almost remember this. This happened, or something very much like it did. Funny…I could never remember the day I came to Candlekeep, but I think this must be it.

She looked up at Gorion, lovingly watching that so familiar face. If only I could warn him…but it’s impossible. This has already happened. It was startling to notice how lined the wizard’s face was, how gray his beard. He was old even then…and that was many years ago. How old was he really? He never told me. I loved him so much, but there was so much I didn’t know about him. Not even his last name. Or mine, if I ever had one. My mother would have known…but I never knew my mother either.

Now she was standing outside the doors to the inner keep. Gorion was inside. He was having a very important meeting he had told her, a meeting with Ulraunt, the Keeper of the Tomes. There was shouting coming from behind the closed doors. They always shouted eventually, wherever we stopped. I remember that now. We would move and move, and then we would stop somewhere. There was a castle I think…and a temple…and…and even an elven city, wasn’t there? High up in the treetops, which was very pretty. And then Gorion would go off to talk with somebody. It was different people, but they were all important people. Then the shouting would start.

The half-elf listened to the raised voices as she let the memories wash over her. He was telling them the truth, the truth about me. That’s what all the shouting was about. Nobody ever wanted us around, or at least not me. Gorion would always come back looking sad, or angry, or both. And when I asked him what we would do now he always said that we would go somewhere else. Always somewhere else.

The girl traced intricate patterns in the water of one of the courtyard fountains, tuning out the voices. Will I ever come to a place where they really want me around? Not as a tool, a mercenary, or a ‘hero’ to pull their chestnuts out of the fire? Somewhere where they just want me? Not a Bhaalspawn, not a child of murder. Just me, as I am.

A reflection in the water suddenly attracted her attention. A bird was perched on one of the stone walls behind her, a large raven. Its huge black eyes stared directly into hers, and she kept her gaze on the reflection, not wanting to look directly into those eyes. Its feet were claws, little skeletal claws.

FOOL, it spoke. HAVE YOU LEARNED NOTHING? A CHILD OF MURDER IS WHAT YOU ARE, AND IT IS ALL YOU ARE. NO MATTER HOW YOU TWIST AND TURN, THE BLOOD WILL RULE YOU IN THE END. WITH EVERY STEP YOU WALK YOU APPROACH ME.

“No. That is not true! You lie, ‘Father’!”

DO I? WE SHALL SEE, DAUGHTER. WE SHALL SEE. WAS IT NOT THE THOUGHT OF MURDER THAT RECENTLY SUCCORED YOU, AS YOU FELT YOURSELF BROUGHT LOW? YES, WHAT WAS HIS NAME…REILTAR. YOU HAVE TO HURRY THOUGH, IF YOU WANT TO BEAT YOUR BROTHER TO IT. LITTLE MURDERER…

Then the bird squawked with surprise and disbelief, and clumsily flew off, leaving a few black feathers scattered about. Softpaws stood on the wall where it had been, her eyes glowing with green fire. He lies, kitten, the cat said. You need control, yes. But that does not mean that you need let others trample you into the dust in order not to become like your sire. You have a right to be angry, even to hate, same as everybody else. If you try to shut those feelings out you will never heal.

If I kill Reiltar – will I become like Sarevok?

I do not know that, kitten. You are two separate people, of separate lives. You must decide if it is worth the risk or not. But remember – cats eat birds.

Zaerini nodded. Then she heard a noise behind her. The doors swung open, and Ulraunt stepped outside, his face pale with fury. Gorion was walking slightly behind him, looking grim. The Keeper of the Tomes gave the small redheaded girl a look filled with venom as he stormed past her. “You both can stay,” he sneered over his shoulder to Gorion, “but mark my words. That child will be the death of you.”

Gorion’s image melted and changed, twisting into rotting flesh, dead eyes and showing bones. Then he was Reiltar, the merciless and arrogant face streaked with blood, they eye sockets empty holes.

Zaerini dropped her eyes to the water again. Don’t look at him. If you don’t look, he may go away. In the water she met the eyes of her own reflection, staring back at her. They were black, a solid and uniform black without any white at all around the irises. Alien eyes, inhuman eyes. The eyes of a bird…like a raven.

The reflection opened its mouth in a small and knowing smile, black eyes glittering with malice. “So it is,” it said. “Like father…like child.”

Zaerini opened her eyes with a brief yell, hardly noticing at first that she was back in her own form. As she struggled to draw breath she felt a cool hand on her brow, steadying her.

“Easy, child,” Jaheira said. The druid was sitting on a chair next to the bed where Zaerini was lying, looking very concerned. “You could hurt yourself if you thrash about like that, and I have already used all of my healing spells upon you.”

With a brief shudder the bard subsided back onto the bed. She was in a bedroom, wearing a clean nightdress, and it felt as if her hair and body had been washed as well. Probably by Jaheira. She could almost have believed that it had all been a bad dream, if not for the bruises around one of her wrists, bruises caused by grasping fingers. The spells must not have been enough to remove those yet. “Jaheira?” she asked. “How…how long have I slept?”

“For two days,” the druid said in a very matter-of-fact voice. “It was not merely your body that was in need of healing, it was your mind as well. You needed to retreat for a while.”

“Two days? But…Sarevok…Reiltar…haven’t they come hunting for us yet?”

Jaheira shook her head. “They are gone for now, child. Do not fear them.”

“Gone? Where? And where are the others?”

Jaheira snorted quietly. “Edwin and Imoen are asleep. They both refused to rest until you woke up, like the silly infants they are, and when it took you so long to do so, they actually feel asleep right in here, on your floor. We had to drag them out of here. Khalid is downstairs keeping an eye on Yeslick. Once we were all recovered from that poison and had been told of what happened, the dwarf grabbed his hammer and tried to rush off on his own, to smash Reiltar Anchev’s head in. A worthy cause, but suicidal under the circumstances.” She paused for a moment. “Instead, Khalid, Imoen and Edwin accompanied him, while I stayed here with you. However, once they reached the Iron Throne they faced no opposition. The leaders of the organization have left the city urgently, on business. Both Reiltar and Sarevok are among them. However, in Reiltar’s bedroom Imoen managed to find a couple of notes that indicate that they have gone to…”

“Candlekeep. They have gone to Candlekeep.”

Jaheira blinked with surprise. “Yes. They have. But how did you know?”

“I…I dreamt it.”

The druid nodded, and as she took the hand of her fellow half-elf her eyes were far more tender than usual. “Child…when Edwin brought you here I noticed the state of your clothes…and your body. I do not know what Reiltar did, exactly, but I can guess. You may not wish to speak of it, but if you do, I am right here. I think it would help you to do so.”

Zaerini nodded quietly. Jaheira could handle the ugly truth, she thought, in a way that she wasn’t sure her other friends could. “He hurt me,” she said, “but that wasn’t the worst. The worst was being unable to stop him…” She swallowed hard, and when Jaheira embraced her she allowed herself to cry openly, letting her tears flow along with her words.