Cards Reshuffled

I would like to take this opportunity to point out that I was in no way responsible for that ridiculous alias. I don’t employ theatrical code names on par with ‘Greywolf’ or ‘Blood Nose’ or ‘Ravager’. Alas, it seems that certain other people felt the need for some sort of ‘Scary, Evil Name’. That’s enemies for you. If they can’t kill you, they can always embarrass you. Though I suppose it could have been worse, they could have called me ‘Death Angel’ or something.

Excerpt from ‘Interview With An Assassin’

Serenstina Tershar wasn’t a trusting woman by nature. This trait had been further augmented by doing undercover work for two decades, frequently venturing into enemy territory to gather information for her superiors. She knew how to take care of herself, and while she had faced off against more than one dangerous opponent she also had managed to avoid open confrontation with thrice as many, a very important trait in a spy. Of course, she knew that the other side knew who she really was, but that made no difference as long as the individual enemy was unable to identify her. Yes, she was confident in her own abilities. And yet, this mission was…puzzling her.

She had killed in the course of duty, more than once and without question. She had once stolen heavily guarded military plans from within the lair of a highly dangerous Red Wizard, that mission had earned her plenty of praise. Dozens of foes had made attempts at her life, and here she still was. So why had she been sent on this mission, one that seemed ludicrously unimportant?

One of her sisters had disappeared, a young Wychlaran named Dynaheir Rasarion, only recently risen to the rank of a full sister. What the woman had been doing in this godforsaken part of Faerun known as ‘The Sword Coast’ Serenstina did not know, and her cautious questions had been met with cold and terse answers. Dynaheir had been assigned to watch somebody, for reasons Serenstina needn’t know. Only the briefest description of the person in question had been provided her, and a name. Zaerini of Candlekeep. Then, Dynaheir had disappeared without a trace, her target with her, and now the Higher Ups had decided that Serenstina was the perfect woman to go and find her.

She might be dead, for all I know. And she is a nobody, fairly inexperienced. If they knew this was going to be a dangerous mission, why send her? Unless of course they didn’t know, and got a nasty surprise. They don’t like getting surprised, and they would never admit it.

Serenstina sniffed quietly, smoothing her dark green mage robe down as she sat at the table of her room in the Helm and Cloak Inn. True, her superiors were formidable among the Witches of Rasheman, but most of them had little or no field experience. They gave their orders, and expected them to be carried out, having no idea of the difficulties involved, and though she respected them for their power and authority she also felt a little twinge of contempt now and then. None of them had ever faced off against a Thayvian lich, seeing their own death reflected in the red pinpoints of light that made up the creature’s eyes. But she had, and she had lived to tell the tale. None of them had ever woken up to find their partner staring back with empty eyes, sleeping the sleep from which you don’t awaken right there in the bed they both shared. But she had.

In a way, that was even more frightening than the lich. I just went on sleeping, hearing nothing, suspecting nothing, even as that monster slew poor Tasya. She had fled then, certain that she would be dead before the even reached the Thayvian border, but nothing had happened. There had been no sign of the silent killer, the one that she later learned that her superiors had codenamed ‘the Wraith’. Why not me? She had asked her Othlor that question over and over again, until the old woman had finally snapped out an answer. Because you were not important enough to merit killing. Or because his orders did not include your death. Or because leaving you alive would allow you to return home, and your tale would taunt us and have a bad impact on our morale. Or perhaps all three. But whatever the case, you will never speak of this to anybody without express permission, or you will wish the Wraith had killed you. We cannot allow for news of this to get out. Do you understand?

Serenstina understood. By now she had created quite a reputation of her own, and she didn’t doubt that her opponents had hushed down news of her own exploits more than once. It was all part of the Great Game. But now the rules of the game were changing, and that she didn’t like at all. There were…whispers…coming down from the highest reaches of power, the most exalted of her sisters. Whispers of somebody only known as the Oluanna, the Favored One. Favored of whom? Serenstina did not know. The most powerful of the Wychlaran had always played their power games between themselves, all the while pretending that the chieftains of Rasheman were the rulers of the nation in fact as well as in appearance. The truth was far different, as the witches were mistresses of all they surveyed, the absolute rulers of Rasheman, with power over life and death, over every soul within her border. Now, what would make the old biddies wish to share the highest power with some newcomer? What is so special about that one, and what are her plans for Rasheman?

The Witch frowned as this thought crossed her mind, rubbing her firm chin. She cared deeply about her country, and wanted to serve to the best of her capability. Right now she was uncertain whether she was doing that or not, and it disturbed her that she did not know where her current orders were coming from. But I have no choice but to go along, and to learn what I can. Disobedience means death, and that rule does not apply to the peasants alone. And the alternative would be even more unthinkable, exiling myself voluntarily from my connection with the spirits of the land. No, I will do as I am bid. I do not have to like it though.

She was getting rather hungry by now, and so it was with great appreciation that she saw her bodyguard Talen enter the room, carrying a tray in one enormous hand. The man had more muscles than he knew what to do with, but that suited her very well. “Put it there,” she said, pointing at the table, and then she waved Talen outside. Flexing her fingers to warm them up she then proceeded to cast a spell to detect poison. Green tendrils of magic spiraled out from her fingertips towards the plate of food and the carafe of fruit juice standing on the tray. The magic pooled around the food, insinuating itself inside it, then dissipated. The color had never changed, and that meant she could eat safely. You cannot be too careful. There are many who would pay dearly to have me dead.

With a contented smile, Serenstina tied a napkin around her throat, feeling her mouth watering as she savored the lovely smell of her dinner. There were thin slices of lamb, freshly baked bread, some boiled vegetables, and a thick red sauce that smelled wonderful. Sweet and spicy all at once. Licking her lips she shoveled a big bite into her mouth. Then she screamed. Or rather, she tried to.

Spontaneous combustion is a rare thing, but it does happen, and at that moment Serenstina felt certain that it was happening to her. Her tongue, her throat, the roof of her mouth, they all felt as if they had suddenly caught fire, and she was certain there was smoke coming out of her ears and that the top of her head was about to fly off, rising on a pillar of flame. “Yarrrrrghhhh…” she gargled, tears streaming down her face. Then she spotted the juice, got to her feet, grabbed the carafe and immediately proceeded to pour its contents down her throat. She had gone half-way before she started to notice that the juice had an odd taste to it, and by then it was too late. She was already feeling pleasantly relaxed, drifting in a pink and fuzzy world of serenity. Giggling, she sat down heavily on her chair, blowing bubbles with her own saliva. She hardly noticed when the door opened and a stranger entered the room.

“Greetings, Wychlaran,” the man said, with a contemptuous bite to his voice. “I trust you found your dinner agreeable? I would hate to have given you less than perfect service, oh Exalted One.”

“Who….” Serenstina muttered, trying to focus her eyes. Her vision seemed extremely blurry, she couldn’t see the stranger’s face properly, and she only got an impression of a tall dark shape towering over her as she sat there. That and the voice, the hypnotically smooth and composed voice. “How…did you…” He was speaking in the tongue of her homeland, but how was that possible?

“Who I am? Please, do give me some credit. I’m not about to introduce myself to you, even if I doubt you’ll remember anything afterwards. As for ‘how’, I suppose I can satisfy your curiosity. Your habits are known to me, Witch. But what you perhaps don’t know is that distilled essence of pepper isn’t a poison as such, and so will not be detected by your spell. The same goes for the extremely rare potion I slipped into your drink, even though that one has a rather nasty taste. Still, I suppose the seasoning I added to your food made you desperate enough not to notice, didn’t it? Despite the fact that I used the entire bottle?” He had pulled out a chair by now and was sitting backwards on it opposite her, resting her arms against the back. His face was still only a blur, but the voice suggested a definite smirk. “And now, let us talk. The potion you drank made you extremely suggestible, as I’m sure you’ve already noticed.” The voice lowered, caressing her ears, sending tendrils of pleasure down her spine. “You are feeling calm, content and relaxed. Everything is in perfect order. Isn’t that so, Serenstina?”

“Yessss…order…calm…”

“And I am your dear and trusted friend, Serenstina. You trust me implicitly. You are very happy that I am here.”

“Happy…so happy…” And she was, she had a wide smile on her face and could hardly contain her tears of joy.

“Good. And you want to share your secrets with me, don’t you?”

Such a lovely, lovely voice… “OH YES! YES!”

“Very good. Go on then. Tell me everything you know about your mission.”

Serenstina started talking, going faster and faster, almost tripping over her own words at times. It was of vital importance that she not forget anything whatsoever and that she make a proper presentation. Her beloved friend listened with great interest to everything she was saying, and she felt so proud to be able to captivate him like that. She described how she had tracked the Witch Dynaheir here to Baldur’s Gate, where she had apparently joined up with a group of people credited with having recently saved the city from a terrible fate. Dynaheir’s target, Zaerini, had been their leader, and the rumors about that one had been abundant. Then, the group had left the city, traveling for the library fortress of Candlekeep. “They never got there,” Serenstina said in a monotonous voice. “I followed them, and the tracks ended in the middle of the forest. There were signs of a battle, but no bodies. No blood.”

“Indeed?” her dear friend said, sounding a little worried. “And you have no idea who was involved?”

“No…I am sorry. I did a scrying, but I saw only vague and shadowy shapes. I…I think there may have been undead present. I could only determine that neither Dynaheir nor any of her companions died in that spot, for that would have shown up in the scrying. They were taken though, of that I have no doubt, and so far I have been unable to learn where they went. Except…”

“Yes?”

“There was the magical residue from a portal spell on the site. It was mostly faded, but I believe the captives were taken south.”

“Is that the best you can do? How far south?”

“Not…too far. Definitely across the Amnian border though. I cannot say more than that.”

“Hmmm…” the man said, tapping his fingers against the table. “Very well. The other trail is leading in that direction anyway…do you have anything else of interest to tell me?”

For a moment Serenstina hesitated, as some deeply buried core of her tried to resist. “I…can’t…”

Black eyes bored into hers as her beloved friend bent forwards, his nose almost touching hers. “I beg your pardon?”

“I…I…”

“You wish to help me,” the voice went on, stroking her brain until it quivered with pleasure. “You want that more than anything else in the world. Now speak.”

As if a gate had broken inside her mind, the Witch started babbling again, telling all she knew, all her speculations about the new power arising in Rasheman. She was distressed to see that her beloved friend seemed disturbed by these news. “I had not heard of this before,” he said. “I agree with you, it is extremely worrying. Right now there is little either of us can do about it though.” He smiled pleasantly at her. “You have been most helpful, Wychlaran. I thank you for your aid. And I’m sure you’ll be equally happy to know that you’ll be allowed to go on existing. As tempting as it would be to kill you, your disappearance would draw even more attention from your superiors, and I don’t want their greedy eyes turned this way if I can help it. Consider yourself lucky. The potion will wear off in another hour or so, and you will remember nothing of this conversation or that it even took place. Do you understand?”

“I…will remember…nothing…”

“Just so.” The man rose and walked towards the door. “Oh, and I had to dispose of your bodyguard on the way in, I’m afraid. You’ll find his body hidden under the bed in the adjoining room, in case you should be interested. Good day to you.”

Serenstina smiled happily to herself, toying idly with her fork as the door closed behind the lovely person who had just…wait…what person? There hadn’t been anybody here. Nobody at all. She was being silly, jumping at shadows. After all, she was a powerful Witch, and not even the Wraith would be able to get to her without her noticing.

As he headed out into the dark streets of Baldur’s Gate, Dekaras thought about what the Witch had said. The news were troubling, in more than one way. Over the years he had tried his best to keep track of what was happening in his former homeland, but this new power was the most disturbing thing yet. The Witches were always powerful, but they also always squabbled among themselves, at least to some extent. If there is somebody guiding them all as one force, the consequences could be dire indeed. And a person able to take control of all Rasheman must be extremely dangerous. I do not like to think of what she might be planning.

Then there was that other bit of news. Undead, abducting Zaerini and her friends? He had no way of knowing for exactly what purpose, but it was unlikely to be anything pleasant. At least Edwin wasn’t with them at the time. Shame about the others though, particularly little Imoen. Dekaras sighed briefly. He had really liked that girl, but it didn’t seem as if there was anything he could do for her. Still, you never know. Edwin’s trail is leading south, and it may be that it will take me into Amn. I could always keep my eyes open for the rest of them, but I must locate the boy before I do anything else. And then we need to have a long talk about the keeping of set appointments.

A fleeting smile crossed the assassin’s sharp-featured face as he increased his pace a little. It felt good to have a clear goal again. As the moon passed out from behind the clouds, it illuminated the street he was walking down, glistening in the cobblestones to make it resemble a road of shining moonlight, one that would take him straight to his goal. Find Edwin before anything else, and then we will see what happens. Heading towards the southern gate, he could feel the blood rushing just a little faster through his veins. The hunt was on.