In The Cards

It may be that you find yourself badly wounded one day, with no healing available, and no way of arriving at a temple in time. In that case, pray that there will be somebody around with the strength and courage to grant you the only aid and mercy available.

Excerpt from ‘Ruminations Of A Master Bard’

“Ooooh…” Imoen moaned, green in the face, and then started puking all over the floor of the Baldur’s Gate Thieves’ Guild.

“Weakling,” Edwin said, with an attempt at a haughty sneer. “It…it was a perfectly ordinary teleport spell. Nothing…nothing at all to make such a commotion about.” He was looking pretty pale himself though, and he kept swallowing heavily.

Zaerini bit her lip hard, hoping that the pain would distract her from the nausea. Once Sarevok had disappeared, the Grand Dukes had requested that she and her friends go after him. Since that was what she had intended anyway, she had accepted. When the Grand Dukes had offered to use magic to divine Sarevok’s whereabouts and then teleport the party to a point close to him, it had seemed like an excellent idea. That was, until the spell itself had taken effect, and she had learnt what being teleported felt like. It felt as if her stomach had arrived at a perpendicular to the rest of her body, and possibly inside out. In retrospect, she would rather have walked.

Around them, several thieves stared with surprise and suspicion at the group of armed people that had suddenly materialized in their midst. They all seemed to be armed as well.

“Excuse me?” Yeslick politely asked. “Have you seen any strange people go by here lately?”

“Maybe,” one of the thieves, an attractive dark-skinned woman said. “Would one of them be this really large man with glowing eyes and a very exotic-looking armor?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes. He charged through here like a raging bull, dragging a wizard with him. Almost cut me down. Down the stairs around that corner, but watch out for the traps.”

“Th-thank you!” Khalid said. “S-sorry about the t-trouble.”

“What are you apologizing for?” Jaheira asked as she stalked towards the stairs. “It is not our fault.”

“S-sorry, J-Jaheira…”

“Now you are doing it again…”

Black Lily gave Imoen a sharp look as the pink-haired thief passed by her. “Here, I know you! You were here before. Where did your cute friend get to? I wanted to discuss that picture with him…check out the goods in real life, so to speak.”

“Um…” Imoen said, blushing. “He had stuff to do, you know. Haven’t seen him in a while.”

“Shame. Well, if you do see him, pass the word on would you?”

“Just how many people did you show That Picture to anyway?” Edwin hissed as the adventurers walked down a steep wooden staircase. “Have you no shame? (He should have dealt with her much more harshly for such an outrage. I…I just hope he still may.)”

Imoen sighed loudly. “Give it a rest, why don’t ya?” she said. “I already had this talk with Adahn, and no, he wasn’t pleased. But I don’t see how it’s any of your business.”

The Red Wizard subsided into gloomy silence at that, though he kept occasionally glaring at Imoen. Rini was getting seriously concerned about him. He had seemed positively morose the past few days, and since the Undercellar he had got worse. But despite her careful prodding, he wouldn’t even admit that anything was wrong, so she was unable to do anything whatsoever about it. It could be worry about the impending battle with Sarevok of course – but somehow she got the feeling there was more to it than that. Well, she thought. Always assuming we all survive this day, I should have plenty of time to worm it out of him. Sooner or later he’ll talk. I’ll just have to try again.

It turned out that the stairs led not just to a basement, but to an annoyingly complicated maze, littered with traps, and inhabited with nasty slimes and oozes, not to mention a troupe of exceedingly deadly skeleton warriors. Navigating the maze was both time-consuming and annoying, since the adventurers frequently had to double back when they ran into a dead-end, and they had to move slowly to allow Imoen time to spot the traps. Mazes, Rini thought to herself. How I hate them. Couldn’t Sarevok have found himself a somewhat more accessible Evil Headquarters? Well, I guess that’s kind of the point…I suppose he doesn’t usually come this way. I wonder if he gets sick when teleporting too? Maybe you get used to it after a while. It would be really gross to puke inside that armor…

Kitten, Softpaws said as she silently padded along the wall of the maze, don’t you have more important things to worry about?

Well, sure. But that’s just it. I’m trying not to think about those important things right now, because if I do I may just get too scared to keep on going.

It was at precisely this moment that Imoen, who had been scouting ahead, came hurrying back around the corner, looking pale and frantic. “You’ve all gotta come quickly!” she said. “There’s…up ahead…there’s…”

“What?” Jaheira asked sharply. “More skeletons? Slimes?”

“No…no. It’s a person. I think it’s that wizard we saw before, you know, the one who teleported Sarevok away.”

“Damn!” Edwin cursed. “I could sense the power of that one, he is very dangerous. (Not perhaps as dangerous as I, but a formidable opponent all the same.)”

“No, you don’t understand! He’s wounded, I could see the blood. Lots of blood. I think he’s dieing.”

As Zaerini turned the corner, she could see that her friend was right. The huddled human form on the floor lay in a slowly widening pool of blood, next to an open door. Judging by the amount of blood, which already covered the entire space of the narrow corridor, he had been there for some time already. He was so still that for a moment she thought he might be dead already, but then she heard a faint groan. Hurrying forward, the half-elf went to her knees next to the dieing man, oblivious to the blood staining her clothes, as well as her hands when she turned him over. The fact that the wizard was dressed all in black made it a bit more difficult to tell where the blood was coming from, but the gaping wound in his stomach was large enough that it only took her a few seconds to notice anyway. How can he still be alive? the bard wondered, feeling like throwing up for the second time in a short while.

Belly wounds are slow, her familiar told her. It will take him a while to die yet.

He may be an enemy, but I can’t leave him like that. I…just can’t.

“Jaheira?” Zaerini asked. “Yeslick? Can you…is there anything you can do?”

The druid and the dwarven priest were already examining the wounded man, muttering quietly amongst themselves. “I am sorry, child,” Jaheira finally said, shaking her head. “That wound is mortal. It is beyond our skill to heal. We could stop the bleeding for a short while, but it would only prolong his suffering.”

“And I am certain…none of us would…particularly wish for that,” the wounded man suddenly said in a weak voice, opening his eyes. “At least…I hope so. Sadism is…so very unpleasant. Never…got into it myself.” Rini startled, having thought him unconscious. Now she bent closer over him, trying to catch his words. He was middle-aged, with dark hair and a gaunt and tired face, and deeply sunken eyes. They seemed somehow…empty. As if he had seen things that he wished he could forget, but was unable to. For a moment, that sarcastic voice reminded her of Adahn, and briefly she wondered where the rogue had disappeared to. Then she shook her head, trying to concentrate on the present. “I knew you would follow, you know,” the man said, sounding oddly pleased with himself. “You and he…you are of the same blood. You…will not take no for an answer…will you? Hmmm…suppose I should have…drawn the logical conclusions…from that. Sarevok was never…patient. Less so, now.”

“You seem to know him well,” Rini said. “Who are you? And who are you to Sarevok?”

The man barked a short humorless laughter, and then coughed up some blood. It was a few moments before he was able to speak again. “Formal introductions…at a time like this? Very well. Winski Perorate at your service…at least for a few more minutes. I am…I was Sarevok’s mentor. I tutored him in the blackest of rituals.” He frowned. “Or at least…that is what he called it. I called it ‘geometry’…but never mind. I helped him form his plans. That…dark enough for you? To make a mark on the world…to bring the next Lord of Murder to his rightful throne…that was my goal. To…help him achieve his destiny. You must know his plan by now. You have practically followed his every move. Likely you are driven by the same desires as well, though you have channeled them in a different fashion. No, war with Amn was not his true goal; Sarevok is no profiteer. The slaughter was all he wanted, with enough lives lost in the initial battles to ignite the fire in his own divine blood. He thought death on the appropriate scale would cause him to ascend. Perhaps he would have, but who can really say? If you have the arrogance of a god and can kill like a god, who's to say you are not a god?”

“You did not suspect he would turn on you?” Jaheira asked.

“Perhaps…but what did it matter?” For a moment a spark of passion glimmered in the dieing wizard’s eyes. “Sarevok…was special. Ever since he was very young…there was a bond between us. His…his ‘father’ surely did not deserve such a…magnificent son. I…I always thought of him as my own, you see. I would have done anything for him.”

Behind her, Rini heard a strange sound, like a strangled sob. Turning around, she felt her heart clench painfully. Edwin was leaning against the wall, as white as a sheet, and he was staring at the mortally wounded wizard with tears in his eyes, unable to hide how terribly upset he was. He was staring directly at Winski, but for some reason Rini got the impression that he wasn’t really seeing the wizard at all, but some horrible vision that was visible to him and him alone. “Edwin!” she called out, her distress evident in her voice. “What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing!” the wizard protested, shaking his head violently. “Nothing at all…don’t question me! Not now! Just…just go on.”

“He turned on me, yes,” Winski went on, not paying any attention to the distress of the Red Wizard. “He…struck me down. Upset that I…brought him away from the battle. Miscalculated the spell a little too…tried to bring us straight in…past the annoying maze. Strange…I should have expected it…him turning on me…but it still came as a surprise. If you want him…you will find him through that door. There is an altar…in the Undercity. It was where the final ritual…would have taken place. Now he will…make his last stand there. If you do not go there…he will hunt you down.” He sighed, and some more blood seeped from his mouth. When he spoke again, his voice was even weaker than before. “I…hope he will forgive me one day. If he lives. I…was his guardian. I should have known…that the plan was doomed from the start. This…is no more than I deserve.” He blinked. “Well, what are you waiting for?” he snapped. “I…have nothing more to tell you. Either leave me to die slowly…or grant me the mercy of a swift blade. Your choice…but do not expect me to beg.”

Zaerini nodded, her jaw set in a determined line. “Yes,” she said. “Of course I will grant you a mercy stroke. I would not dream of denying you that.” She got to her feet, reaching for her sword. However, before she could draw it, she felt a hand on her arm, restraining her.

“No,” Edwin said. He still looked as if he had just seen a ghost, but he was once again collected. Frighteningly so. “No. I will do it. It…is my duty. I cannot explain further. (It…is not quite the same of course. I know that. But…but it is close enough. It might as well be…how can I know it isn’t happening right now, elsewhere? The gods so enjoy things like that.)”

“All right,” the half-elf said, not knowing exactly what was going on, but sensing that the matter was very important to the wizard. And once all of this is over, I will make you tell me what is going on, Edwin Odesseiron. I do love you, you know. And I think it’s time we brought that into the open, just as soon as we’re all safe and sound. I’m not about to stand about and watch you torture yourself for much longer. “You do it then, if that is what you wish.”

Edwin nodded, and walked over to stand above the prone wizard. Slowly, he slid the sharp blade out of the end of his staff, placing above Winski’s throat. “I will do this, as swiftly and skillfully as I may,” he said, his voice sounding very serious. “I will grant you the clean death you desire.”

Winski nodded. “I thank you. I…” Then he gave Edwin a sharp and penetrating look, and suddenly seemed to think of something extremely amusing. “Oh…I see. Yes. How…remarkable. And such an odd…symmetry...that it should be you. He told me…but I didn’t see it before. Yes. Yes, I am certain you will do well.”

Edwin looked puzzled for a few seconds, and seemed to want to ask something, but Winski simply shook his head, an odd smile on his face. Finally, the Red Wizard raised his staff, an eerily calm and distant look on his face. He brought it down, the strike swift and true, and Winski died silently, still smiling at something only he could see.

Edwin stood motionless for a few moments, staring at the corpse at his feet. Then he turned his head around, his dark eyes looking frighteningly lost and filled with despair. They reminded Zaerini of a small child who has suddenly found himself separated from his parents, and is unable to find them. “I…had to do it,” he said in a low voice. “It was the only way. I didn’t really wish to hurt him…but I had to. Didn’t I?”

Rini had no idea why he should be so upset, sad as Winski’s fate had been, but it hurt her to the core to see him in such pain, and she felt an urgent need to do something, anything about it. Taking the wizard by the hand, she swiftly dragged him along with her into a secluded corner, signaling for her other friends to stay apart. Then, she held him as closely as possible, trying to give comfort as best she could, whispering soft nothings into his ears. Whatever she could do to help, she would. And as for Sarevok…he will simply have to wait.