Cards Reshuffled

We all shape the world, in one way or another. The more we know about our subject of choice, the better are we able to do it justice. Of course, some people prefer to use manipulation, and twist others into doing their bidding, shaping the world for them. And some people shape the world without even meaning to, or wanting to. But the main advice I’ll offer on this subject is: Don’t ever use somebody for a nude model without telling them about it, not unless you want to be subjected to enough sarcasm to wither a small forest.

Excerpt from ‘Ruminations Of A Master Bard’

Imoen was humming to herself as she worked, now and then pausing to eye her masterpiece critically. The Statue was coming along very nicely, she thought. Granted, she still couldn’t seem to get rid of the annoyed look in its eyes, but the face in itself looked great. And the body…oh yes, the body was perfect. The pink-haired rogue smiled to herself. True, she knew that her unknowing model was already taken, but there was certainly no harm in looking, was there? She needed something to cheer her up after all, if she was to be locked in this dreary old prison. And what better way to do it than to look at a very hot guy? Now lets see…maybe some more clay here. Yep. And a little sharper angle here…want to bring those muscles out after all. Imoen’s agile fingers worked rapidly, carefully kneading the clay with gentle movements, all the while fantasizing about doing the exact same thing to the model in question. Yummmm…come on, Immy, don’t drool. Bad enough that you’re locked in a nuthouse; you don’t have to look mad. Even if you’ve got your hands on a really hot and yummy guy. Or at least a clay version of him. Hee hee. It would be lots of fun to see his face when he sees it. Wonder if I could make him blush? Mmmm…cute! Really cute! She sighed briefly. I hope I will see him again. Even if he is taken, he’s still a friend.

There were others she wanted to see too, of course, especially one. She missed her Best Friend, missed her terribly, more than anything else. I wonder what Rini’s doing right now. I bet she’s trying really hard to rescue me and all, but it can’t be easy. She’d managed to learn that the asylum was on an island, outside the Amnian coast, and that its location was kept carefully secret to the general populace of Amn. Not to mention that it was guarded by all those Cowled Wizards. Or that there were powerful and deadly wards surrounding it, that would kill any intruder. I hope Rini’s careful. She must be. I want out of here, but not if she gets herself hurt or killed over it. Though what I’d really like would be to escape on my own. A dashing and cunning rogue should be able to get out on her own, shouldn’t she? Of course she should. Hm, I guess digging through the walls is out. There was that book about the guy who was innocently tossed in prison and got out by pretending to be dead and hiding in a sack…but it took twenty years before he managed, didn’t it? I’d be old by then. No way, I want out while I can still enjoy it. Anyway, he was thrown into the sea and there were sharks and things about, so I guess he was really lucky to live, and Adahn says that only a foolish thief trusts luck over good planning. I’ll have to think of something better.

Imoen carefully put her Statue away in the cupboard devoted to the Spellhold inmates’ creative efforts, between Dili’s lumpy clay puppy and Tiax’ disturbing sculpture of Cyric molesting a small sheep, and then wiped her hands. Yep, her masterpiece was almost done now, and it would be good. But right now she needed a break, her fingers were aching and she didn’t want to risk spoiling anything. Good thing the clay was lightly magical, it wouldn’t crack or flake, and it would keep in good shape for a long time. It also wouldn’t fully dry until she was done with it, so she didn’t have to finish too quickly.

That dealt with, the young thief considered her next move. Break time would soon be over, and she would be forced to return to the dreary old cell. She looked around the break room, pondering seeking out the company of any of her fellow inmates. Then she decided against it. The only ones currently around were Tiax and Aphril. Tiax could be fun sometimes, but right now he was writing a list of commandments to implement when he became a god. It already covered a great part of the floor, and whenever anybody passed him he would try to read them out loud. Aphril was sitting in a corner, her arms around her knees, rocking slightly. She was nice, but she did creep Imoen out more than a little, with her talk about the horrible things that only she could see. No, right now she was probably better off on her own.

Imoen sighed and headed out the door. The inmates weren’t confined to a single room, except for when they were shut in their cells. She thought it might be a good idea to walk about a little, get some exercise. After all, a good rogue should try to keep in shape. I wouldn’t want to have a big huge butt when they come to rescue me. I couldn’t climb walls with a big huge butt. Or hide very well. Unless I was hiding in a herd of elephants, I suppose. And then the girl’s train of thought was interrupted, as she noticed the person walking ahead of her in the corridor. Wanev? I wonder where he’s going…

Spellhold’s Coordinator was walking swiftly, and yet somehow furtively. He kept looking nervously left and right, as if he was afraid to let anybody see what he was up to, and Imoen thought she could see anxious wet stains around the armpit regions of his robe. Yeeeeeew! She wrinkled her nose with disgust. But whatever could Wanev be so freaked out about? He’s the Big Boss of this place, right? The Top Man. He doesn’t have to sneak about. Unless…unless he’s doing something he really shouldn’t. And if he is, then maybe that’s something that could be useful to know.

Imoen didn’t pause to think before heading after the Coordinator. The corridor was mostly bare, but there were still spots in which you could hide if you knew how to, and she knew how to move silently. She’d always been good at Hide and Seek, far better than Rini, and her training so far had made her better than she’d ever dreamed of being. Not that it wasn’t possible to achieve even higher levels of mastery of course. And I will. One day, I will. Wanev walked on, oblivious to the girl trailing after him. Then, he stopped before a section of wall that Imoen hadn’t seen before, made a few gestures with his hands and muttered something. A door swung open, and the wizard went inside, the door closing soundlessly behind him. Once it was closed, the wall once again looked entirely unblemished and all in one piece.

Five minutes later, Imoen was standing in front of the hidden door, chewing thoughtfully on a strand of pink hair. Now that she knew it was there, she could just barely glimpse the faint outline of the door. However, there was no handle, and no visible lock. Bad enough trying to pick a lock without my lockpicks, but without a lock? No way. Pooh…there has to be a way, even if I’m not a wizard who can just wave his hands and wish it open. Though I really wish I could. Not be a wizard, but just this once…

And then…then something changed. She’d been standing there, running her hands over the door, wishing as hard as she could, and then it just happened. It was as if a window had suddenly slammed open inside her head, and now light was shining in, and she could see perfectly what to do. Imoen’s eyes glazed over a little as the unexpected power rushed through her, and there was a small smile on her lips as she tapped gently on the door. It immediately opened at her touch, revealing a dark opening, and stairs leading downwards. “Knock knock…who’s there?” Imoen whispered. Then she giggled, and started down the stairs, careful not to lose her balance in the dark. Imoen. Imoen who? Imoen the… She frowned a little. There’d been something there, some thought trying to make itself heard, screaming for attention. But now it was gone again, and she had no idea what all the fuss had been about. Eventually she shrugged and went on downwards. It probably wasn’t anything important anyway.

After a few minutes Imoen felt considerably less triumphant. The stairway was dark, it was completely pitch black. Probably it was built by and for wizards, who could conjure mage light. But she wasn’t one, so she had to edge herself very slowly downwards, one small step at a time in order not to fall. Come on Immy, you can do this. Just have to go slowly. Really slowly. Unfortunately, the slow going meant she had lots of time to think. The first thing on her mind was the problem of exactly how she had opened that door anyway. It had been like…well, like magic really. Only she wasn’t a wizard, she didn’t know a single spell, never had done. So how had she pulled it off? Rini might know. She reads a lot about things like this. Thinking about her friend usually comforted her, but right now it just made her feel more anxious for some reason. Something to do with Zaerini…and with magic. Something that she ought to remember, but her mind didn’t want to let her. How come I can’t remember? Did…did he mess enough with my head to really make me insane?

Imoen shivered, standing quite still, hugging herself. She didn’t trust her legs to go on right now, they were shaking that bad. Irenicus. She tried not to think about him. She’d managed to forget most of what he’d done to her. But now…now she wondered if maybe it’d have been better to remember. Then she would at least have known where the panic was coming from. Briefly, images flashed through her mind. Knives. Chains. A leather mask, lifelike enough to almost be taken for a living face. Almost. Knives. And eyes, icy blue eyes watching her, boring into her brain, into her soul. You do not even know, do you? How interesting. One wonders how much it will take to prod you into embracing your full potential, little one? We will find out. I have devised a series of experiments for you. Do not worry, Imoen. You will learn.

A couple of silent tears were trickling down Imoen’s cheeks now, and her breath was quick and ragged. Somebody…anybody…please help me. But she knew all too well that she was alone, her friends were all far away. She’d have to do without them for now, somehow. I won’t remember. And I won’t do whatever it is you want me to, Leatherface. No way. If you want me to be a mage, or a sorcerer, or…or whatever, then I won’t. I’ll be me. Imoen the Pink, the dazzling and clever rogue, who can escape any old prison, so there. I know who I am. I won’t let you change me. Steeling herself, she eventually went on downwards. She had come this far already, she still wanted to find out where Wanev had gone, and she hadn’t done that yet. I bet Adahn wouldn’t turn back now. Wouldn’t even think of it. And I won’t either. I want him to be proud of me. All right, he isn’t here right now, but that’s not the point.

After a while, there was a faint and flickering yellow light coming from below, and Imoen slowed her steps even more. It looked like mage light, and that meant she had to be close. Then she heard Wanev’s voice, and pressed herself tightly against the wall, willing her breathing to be completely inaudible. Silent as a mouse. Invisible like a ghost. I can do this. I can.

Wanev sounded very nervous, Imoen thought, his voice was actually trembling. “I d-don’t know about this,” he said. “I am the Coordinator here, after all.”

Then Imoen had to bite back a whimper as a second voice replied. An eerily calm, icy voice. The voice of him. Irenicus. “You certainly are, Coordinator Wanev. You certainly are. And as such, you are the powerful one of us, are you not?”

“I…yes. Yes, of course I am.”

“There you are. I am, after all, your humble prisoner. This cell, these wards, they are strong. All I require is some information in order to alleviate the tedium of my captivity. I believe I already went over the elementary barter system with you, please do not make me repeat myself. I dislike people who don’t pay attention.”

“I…”

“As I said, I require information. If you still wish to probe my mind, then you will give it to me. Tit for tat, Coordinator Wanev, I thought you understood that.” The chilling voice remained as dispassionate as ever. “And you do require my knowledge, Coordinator Wanev. Your subordinates, your superiors…none of them really appreciate you, do they?”

“What…how…how d-do you know that?”

A few seconds silence. “I know many things, Coordinator Wanev. Your ostentatious robe, meant to impress, yet your shoes are so cheap, are they not? Very low quality, I can hear them creak even from inside this cell. You’re really just a simple man, in a position he cannot quite cope with, aren’t you?”

“No! NO! I…I don’t have to listen to this!”

“I can smell your fear, Coordinator Wanev. Your desperation. They intrigue me. Tell me, how does it feel? How does it really feel to know that nobody cares for you, that you could die today and not a single soul would mourn your passing? How does it feel when you wake up late at night, and you cry yourself to sleep in the dark? Please do tell, I am truly curious.”

A brief sob. “All right…you…you win. I will tell you what you wish to know. Just provide me with the knowledge I need. I need it, in order to show them. Insubordinate, all of them! They all try to trip me up, you know! Can’t trust any of them. Will you help me then?”

“Certainly, my dear Coordinator.” Again that brief silence, before the cold voice sounded again. “But first, tell me everything about how my young friend Imoen is getting on. I am eager to hear how she is progressing.”

Imoen wanted to scream out loud when she heard the imprisoned wizard mention her name. Somehow she managed to keep silent, but she could taste blood in her mouth and knew that she had bitten into her tongue. Me? He wants ME? No…please no… It made a terrible sense. Irenicus had been very eager that she be arrested along with him. Oh, he wanted her for something all right; she couldn’t deny it to herself. But I won’t let him. Whatever it is, I won’t let him. And he’s locked in that cell now, with heavy wards shutting him in, isn’t he? And that’s where he’ll stay, won’t he?

Wanev’s nervous voice went on, repeating her every action over the past few days, while Irenicus interrupted now and then, asking questions, probing about the smallest details of her daily life.

Won’t he?