Cards Reshuffled

Weakness is perhaps especially painful for a normally strong person, one used to being in control, to taking charge. It doesn’t merely affect that person’s body; it shakes his or her very sense of self.

Excerpt from ‘Ruminations Of A Master Bard’

Three days. Two such simple little words, and yet they suddenly seemed to have eclipsed her entire world. To have become her entire world. And that world was a very small, and very short-lived one. Jaheira held her quarterstaff in a tight grip as she walked towards the Copper Coronet, wondering how long it would be before she needed it more as a walking aid than as a weapon. Before she became a doddering old woman in her body, too weak to defend herself, too weak to fight, too weak to take care of herself. Damn Ployer! He knew, he knew how that would hurt my pride, and he wanted to make my death humiliating, not simply painful. When I find him I will make him dearly for that. If I find him. If I find him in time. Three days…did I live through Irenicus to have it end like this? Cursed to death by a bitter old slaver?

It was ironic, really. When first she had seen Khalid’s poor body, she had wanted to die herself, to join him once again. But not now. The children. I need to take care of the children. And then…then I need to take my vengeance on Irenicus. Then, if Silvanus wills it, I will not mourn my passing. But not now! And not like this! I will not accept it. If Ployer thinks I will lie down meekly and whimper as I see death approaching, he is sorely mistaken. I will fight. I will fight him, and I will fight death itself as far as I can. I will kick it in the teeth and break its skeletal arms as it grasps for me.

The strange weakness that had momentarily overtaken her as the curse struck seemed to have mostly passed for now. There was just…a feeling of something not being quite right. A slight shortness of breath compared to what she was used to. Odd little twinges in her muscles now and then. It may still be ordinary battle fatigue. I am so focused on checking for signs of evil magic now, I may easily misinterpret the signs my body is sending me. But that was a lie, and she knew it. She was more than a warrior after all; she was a druid, and well versed in the art of healing. She knew her own body intimately, every aspect of it, having studied it to better understand those of others. She knew that something was wrong, and getting slowly worse, though she was still trying to pretend everything was well.

“Jaheira?” Minsc said. “How are you?” The gentle giant’s face was filled with concern as he looked down at her. Boo was riding on his shoulder, and even the hamster looked worried. Perhaps it was reflecting its master’s concern. Or perhaps it was the other way around.

“I am all right,” Jaheira forced herself to say. “I am simply a little tired, that is all.”

“Are you sure? Boo is very worried. As a miniature giant space hamster he knows evil when he sees it and…”

“Yes?”

“And Boo says the thing that came inside you is very evil.” Minsc bit his lip, a strangely childish gesture that still seemed appropriate. “Would you like me to carry you? It would be no trouble?”

“Who do you take me for?” Jaheria snapped. “Aerie?” Then she immediately regretted her words. It is not his fault that I am…unwell. And he certainly was not the only one fooled by that little fiend. “I am sorry, Minsc. I did not mean to hurt your feelings. It is just that…”

To Jaheira’s surprise the large ranger patted her encouragingly on the shoulder. “Minsc does not mind. Boo is proud too, he never wants to admit he’s ill. Minsc knows that you have a heart as brave and stout as that of any hamster and will act as one.”

“I…thank you, I suppose.” As long as he does not expect me to store nuts in my cheeks or run around in a little wheel.

“Ah, that truly is a noble animal, Minscy!” Jan said, eyeing Boo with great excitement. “Such ferociousness, such grandeur, such largesse of spirit!”

Minsc cocked his head curiously to one side. “Boo is the best hamster in the world.”

“Exactly my point! Truly Boo is meant for greatness. And you wouldn’t want to deny him a chance to look his best, would you?”

Minsc gave the gnome a puzzled look. “Minsc would not deny Boo anything, except too many nuts. He must be a lean, mean fighting machine, not a fat fur ball.”

“Ah, but you do, Minscy, you do!” Jan said in a very sly voice. “See, you are so large and magnificent that you dwarf poor Boo, denying him his chance to really shine. But with a poor and humble little insignificant gnome like yours truly, then Boo would be the one everybody would look at, and he would get all the adoration such a worthy hamster deserves!”

“Yes, Minsc wants what’s best for Boo, but…”

“No buts!” Jan struck a heroic pose with his hand across his heart. “You must think of what is best for Boo. Set him…set him free! Let him strike out on his own, to carve a blazing trail of glory and empty eye sockets across the Realms!”

A trail of eye sockets? Jaheira thought. I really do not want to think about that too much.

“Of course,” Jan modestly added, “a great hero such as Boo needs somebody to fetch and carry for him, carry him around, that sort of thing. I’d be happy to take on the job, honored even.”

“Jan…” Jaheira said in a warning voice. “You are pushing your luck here, I hope you know that.”

Minsc was frowning by now. “No,” he firmly declared. “Boo says you are not to be trusted. You just want to steal him from me so you can have him for yourself. But Boo loves me best, and if you try to part me from him I will part your head from your body.”

“But…”

Jaheira sighed. “Jan,” she said, “that cleric gave me three days to live. You are rapidly lowering my life expectancy by several…hours. Leave Boo alone.” Still, she thought, having to put up with Jan and Minsc fighting over Boo’s affections is probably not quite as bad as Anomen and Edwin fighting over Zaerini’s. Probably.

Once the trio reached the Copper Coronet Jaheria had an unpleasant headache. She couldn’t be certain if it was due to the curse though. It could have been caused by Jan’s incessant chattering. By Silvanus, he could even compete with Edwin, and that is saying a lot. She was certainly very relieved when she entered the Coronet, despite the darkness, the rowdy crowd and the strong smells of sour wine and sourer sweat. Over at the bar she could see Bernard’s round and pleasant face. Finally. A chance to speak with somebody for a few minutes who is not obsessed with hamsters. But…why did the distance to the bar seem to increase with every single step she took? It seemed to be receding away from her, dwindling to a tiny spot at the end of a long dark tunnel, and the voices of her companions seemed to be coming from equally far away. Her head was spinning…spinning like a child’s top and her mouth felt so very dry. Then she felt herself stumble and caught herself only just in time. Had she been a little bit slower she would have fallen flat on her face. And we cannot have that, now can we?

Then she gradually became aware that somebody was speaking to her. Somehow she had managed to cross the distance to the bar without noticing, and it was Bernard’s familiar voice speaking to her. “Jaheira?” the bartender said, his voice a little shrill with worry. “Jaheira, no games now, you look like you've seen yer own ghost, or are about to. Young lady, you look about ninety! Are you ill?”

Jaheira laughed, a short sharp bark of a laugh and was surprised at how breathless she sounded. “Ninety,” she said. “Quite the charmer, Bernard. I’m fine. I just need…”

“The hell you are!” Bernard shot back, giving her a stern look. “These louts you traveling with running you ragged? I'll have them fishing for shark in the bay with no net if they...”

“Minsc does not wish to have Jaheira running when she is ill,” Minsc said. “He offered to carry her, but she…”

“You know,” Jan interjected, “my Uncle, Ahab Jansen, he was a shark fisher too. Looked for Sharky, the Great White Shark, so he did. He even caught him once, but the shark got away. Uncle Ahab always swore that he would have got him if he’d used a stronger hook. As it was, Sharky got away with both the hook and the bait, the bait being Uncle Ahab’s turnip sack.”

“Jan!” Jaheria said.

The gnome simply winked at her. “Of course, the shark found them turnips so tasty that he got eager to taste some more of Uncle Ahab. Pursued him everywhere it did. He tried moving to Sembia – the shark followed and ate a whole beach of tourists. He moved to the Moonshae Islands – and the shark followed by smuggling itself into a great traveling aquarium. He moved to Icewind Dale – first thing he sees as he gets off the boat is that great white fin circling in the water. He even moved into the middle of the Calimshite desert. Thought for sure he’d be safe there.”

“And?” Jaheira wearily asked.

“And one day he got lost in the desert, almost thirsted to death. Then he found this tiny oasis and said ‘Boy, aren’t I the luckiest gnome alive!’ And he would have been, if old Sharky hadn’t popped out of the water, chewed down the date tree he climbed into, and then ate him alive. Well, I say alive, but he didn’t stay alive for long afterwards of course. Sharky was very polite about it all though.”

“Polite?”

“Oh yes. He sent us all a condolence card. Turns out that Sharky the White Shark was actually an old wizard with a fondness for diving and a very healthy appetite. Very pleasant man, and he bought that year’s entire turnip crop from the Westfarthing. Said Uncle Ahab had given him quite the taste for it.”

“Right,” Jaheira said. “Pretend that at this point I laugh, cry or make admiring noises, whichever you prefer.” She turned back to Bernard, ignoring the gnome. “Bernard,” she said, “I need some information. I need to find Belgrade.” Then she felt her heart sink as she noticed the dismayed expression on the plump man’s face.

“Jaheira…” Bernard said. “I am sorry to have to tell you this, but Belgrade is…well…he’s…dead.”

Dead. The word fell like a leaden weight into the druid’s heart. “Dead,” she said, hardly hearing how hollow her voice sounded. “Belgrade…dead? How? When?”

“A month or so back, maybe. He fell sickly, just like you, and then…” A look of horror slowly spread across Bernard’s face. “Jaheira…what evil business is this? Some sort of plague that only affects Harp…er…you folks?”

“Perhaps,” Jaheira said. “Perhaps.” A plague by the name of Ployer. Poor Belgrade…my poor friend. He murdered you, did he not? But perhaps you can still help me. “Bernard,” she asked. “Where was Belgrade found? Do you know?”

“In the eastern parts of the slums somewhere. But there was no way of telling if that was where he’d died or if his body had simply been dumped there. Jaheria…when they found him…his body was all dry and withered, like something that had been dead for hundreds, thousands of years. Are you…I mean…”

Jaheira stared in front of her, thinking. Is that what awaits me? No. I do not think so. I do not give up. I will not. There must be something we can do still. Something. “And have you seen Baron Ployer lately?” she asked, ignoring Bernard’s unspoken question.

The bartender shook his head. “He ain’t welcome here. I’m glad you exposed him, Jaheira.” Then his face darkened a little “Though I think that…but I will not speak of it now. When you are feeling better, come talk to me. There is something you should know. Nothing to do with Ployer, but something that might be…business that needs taking care of. And Jaheria?”

“Yes?”

“You take care now,” Bernard said. “You take good care of yourself, and don’t try taking on Ployer alone when you find him.”

“I am hardly an invalid, Bernard, I can…” Jaheria broke off in mid sentence, staring in front of her. Staring at her hands. Her hands around her staff, clutching it tightly. Not ready for battle though. No, not that. She was supporting herself on it, and she hadn’t even noticed. Three days. Three days, at the most…