Cards Reshuffled

When playing your trump card in a confrontation, try to make sure it actually is a trump card. It can be very inconvenient if you suddenly find out that your opponent has switched it for a worthless one. That could lose you both the game and your life.

Excerpt from ‘Ruminations Of A Master Bard’

In the backroom behind the bar of The One Cup, the former baron Ployer was sitting on a ratty brown couch. A literally ratty couch, for it looked as if rodents had taken to nesting in it, judging by the marks from little teeth and the heaps of droppings. Not that Ployer seemed to mind. He sat there; looking totally relaxed, sipping from a grimy glass containing some form of golden liquid. A bottle stood next to him on a rickety old table, and several more lay scattered here and there on the dirty floor. Ployer himself looked much the same as Zaerini remembered him, with his loose skin and his hard little peppercorn eyes. He also had a highly unpleasant smirk on his face, one that displayed an impressive number of yellowing teeth and more than one gap.

Jaheira stood in the middle of the floor in front of the ex-slaver, leaning on her staff. She was clutching it tight enough that her knuckles were whitening, looking as if she wanted to strike the man in front of her down at once. Yet she did not, and Rini was afraid she could begin to guess why. It seemed that merely being in the same room as Ployer was draining the druid of life energy, making the curse work faster. Her usually so brilliant green eyes were dull and lifeless, her skin papery dry, and strands of white were beginning to appear in her golden-brown hair, like frost devouring the leaves of autumn. The druid’s breathing was heavy, and worryingly irregular, as if it might end at any moment, and she didn’t look strong enough to slay a mouse, much less a man.

“Despicable...despicable wretch!” Jaheira said, coughing. “You knew I would come here?”

Ployer chuckled, a sound resembling bubbles of marsh gas escaping a putrid swamp. His breath added to the resemblance. “Of course! I am your only link to life, so what choice do you have. Come now; grovel for your life before me. I haven't got all day!”

“Jaheira is not one to grovel, Ployer,” Zaerini said, drawing her sword, the one that Renal Bloodscalp had given her. The black blade slid smoothly out of its scabbard, silent as the breath of a ghost. An assassin’s blade, he said. Well, it is fitting. This is one man I would gladly pay to see dead, or kill myself. “Nor are the rest of us. Hand over the lock of hair you used to curse her. Now.”

“Evil little curse man!” Minsc bellowed. “Minsc’s Witch has spoken, and Minsc agrees! Heroes of Goodness don’t grovel, they stand tall, grinding the ugly face of Evil to pulp beneath the big feet of Justice!” Boo squeaked encouragingly, and Rini sneaked a quick glance at Minsc’s feet. They were very big, and she wouldn’t mind seeing them performing the action described.

“Forget the brainless babbling about heroism!” Edwin chimed in. “You, Ployer, are an annoying little pest, with the looks of a maggot and the brains to match. Unlike myself, you are no sinister and terrifying foe wielding masterful magic to shake the earth; you are simply a nuisance, an irritation, and a buyer of inferior curses. (Had it been one of mine, the druid would have been instantly dead of course.) On the scale of life’s annoyances, you aren’t a slavering dragon out to eat us, you are only the equivalent of stepping in a dog turd, and you will be treated as one.”

“Nicely put, Red,” Jan said appreciatively, “and it does make me think of a cousin of mine, Lucretia Jansen, who liked playing around with cursing people. She cursed the mailman with a severe case of fear of dogs, she cursed the grocer to make his apples poisonous, and when her husband’s snoring annoyed her she cursed him by making him sleepless. Then, one day, she tried putting a curse on her own hair, to get rid of the lice, something you may want to try yourself. Sadly, she miscalculated, and the curse made the lice grow to the size of horses, whereupon they promptly bit her head off. The herd of liberated lice still roams wild and free somewhere in Sembia, I think, running as swift as the wind, manes flowing. Anyway, cursing is dangerous business, and shouldn’t be undertaken by amateurs.”

“And if you do not give that hair up, villain,” Anomen concluded, “I will make it a personal quest to make you skull shatter into so many little pieces that Helm himself couldn’t put it back together again.”

Jaheira’s shoulders straightened a little at the support of her companions, and when she spoke her voice was stronger than before, almost normal. “I am...I am not here to grovel, Ployer. You would sooner get that from my corpse!”¨

Ployer’s eyes narrowed with anger. “And I will, unless I get the satisfaction I want now. Come now, I can cure you if you drop your pretense of dignity and get your sickly carcass on its knees! And as for the rest of you, killing me will do no good. Unless I give you that hair of my own free will, the curse will remain after my death.”

That is bad news, Rini thought. He could be lying to save himself of course, but there is no way of knowing for certain. We don’t dare kill him until we know for sure.

“I AM NOT HERE TO GROVEL!” Jaheira shouted. “I may be weak, even dying, but you WON'T get that! I have come to take what is mine! I will be free of you... of your...”

“You are about to collapse,” Ployer sneered, “and cannot even speak. Now, of course, you will have to grovel in pantomime. What could be more degrading than that?” He snorted. “I am finding it most amusing, I might add.”

Zaerini clenched her jaws together, feeling hot anger bubbling inside her, wanting to erupt. Her soul was screaming for the blood of the man in front of her, but she dared not reach out and take it. Kill him. Kill him. KILL HIM! No…Jaheira…I don’t dare. Not yet.

Steady, kitten, Softpaws warned her. Not yet. You mustn’t pounce too soon.

“You’ve forgotten something, Ployer,” the bard said, practically hissing with fury. “If you should succeed and Jaheira dies, you will have lost your hostage. There will be nothing to keep me and my friends from killing you, and believe me when I say that I will be enjoying every single moment of it.”

Ployer got to his feet, his eyes gleaming with mad triumph and hatred. “Your threats are nothing. You came expecting an old man in hiding, but I hoped Jaheira would find me because by the time she did she would be utterly crippled! I would enjoy crushing her, but I will settle for you! Meet my hirelings! My last favors paid for them, and they are well worth it!” He spread out his hands in a dramatic pose. “My loyal minions! Kill them!”

Nothing happened. A few seconds passed, and still nothing happened. Zaerini could feel a slow and satisfied smile spreading across her face as she watched the growing desperation in Ployer’s eyes. Looks like Terrece decided to keep his word after all. And now, look at that little rat squirming…

Er...Attack!“ Ployer tried, pointing at the adventurers. “Now!...uh...Now! I command you! Kill them! Where are you?!”

Well, well. Look at the rat running about in frantic circles. Not so brave now, are you, rat? And now, let’s play.

“Looking for somebody?” Rini said in a politely inquiring voice. “Whoever they are, it looks like they’ve decided to stand you up. How sad. Maybe next time you’d better make sure that you are the highest bidder. Or else find yourself a personality that isn’t repulsive enough for your hirelings to run screaming.”

Ployer’s face collapsed visibly, sagging into despair and humiliation, and suddenly he looked far more ill than Jaheira did. “But...no! Damn you, it's happened again! Everyone against me, everyone.”

“How sad,” Edwin said. “Please spare us the one hour sermon on how nobody understands you and how your mother always liked your sister best, my stomach could not take it.”

“HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT MUMMY LIKED SISSY BEST? THAT IS SUPPOSED TO BE SECRET!”

“The lock of hair,” Rini said. “Right now, please.” She raised her sword a little. “Unless you want to find out firsthand about playing with me, and I’d better warn you that when I get excited, I play rough.”

Nice one, kitten, Softpaws said in an approving voice, sending her mistress the image of a soft and furry paw, claws extended, batting a rat about all over the floor.

Thanks. I rather liked it myself.

“Very well,” Ployer spat. “We have a deal. Here, this is the personal item used to curse her. I took it from that fop, Belgrade. She should be fine with it returned. Now get out...get out.” He held out a small object that the bard instantly snatched up, a lock of autumn-colored hair that could only belong to Jaheira. As soon as she had handed it to they druid, an astonishing transformation took place. Jaheira’s back straightened, the white gradually retreated from her hair. Once again her skin took on the glow of health, and her eyes shone with their old fierceness as her muscles regained their old strength.

“It is done!” Jaheira cried out, and her voice was strong once again. “I am healed.”

“Yes, yes,” Ployer muttered. “Now get out. We had a deal, after all. At least I got to Belgrade…”

And Jaheira rounded on the ex-slaver, her face tight with fury. “You murdered him!” she shouted. “You murdered Belgrade, and there will be no deals for a slayer of Harpers, or of my friends!”

Ployer didn’t even have the time to scream. Jaheira’s quarterstaff met his throat with a violent cracking sound, and he dropped to the floor, gurgling, unable to scream. With a broken windpipe it didn’t take him very long to die, but it certainly looked painful enough. Once it was over, Jaheria knelt on the floor, holding the little lock of hair in her hand, her head bowed. “Belgrade…” she said. “You are avenged…my friend. As am I.”

“Jaheira?” Zaerini asked, hurrying over to her friend. “Are you all right? Is the curse truly gone now?”

The druid nodded slowly. “Yes,” she said. “I can sense it…it is gone. I am still weary, but a day’s rest should restore my fully.” She got to her feet, turning to her companions. “And…I thank you. All of you. I will not forget this.”

“’twas nothing,” Anomen said. “Only the basest of villains could stand aside and watch a companion suffer.”

“That’s right!” Jan agreed. “Friends and relatives should stick together, like glue and some more glue! Well, except for Uncle Scratchy, but that’s a different story altogether.”

“Don’t look at me,” Edwin muttered. “I only did it because your death would have been a serious inconvenience and would have upset…er…never mind. And I suppose you did heal me the other day, which should make us even. (It’s not as if I care whether she lives or dies. No, not at all. I’m only fulfilling my obligations. Hmmm…that lock of hair was interesting though. Very interesting. I wonder if perhaps I might…)”

“Minsc is very happy to see Jaheira all better!” Minsc boomed, picking the druid up and squeezing her tightly in his arms. “And Boo is happy too, the happiest hamster in the world! Minsc will make certain Jaherira gets her rest and doesn’t have to wear herself out!” With that, he easily carried the druid out the door, despite her furious protests.

“Put me down, you great lug!” Jaheira said. “I can walk on my own, I am not a helpless infant! Put me down I say! Are you even listening to me?” Her cries receded into the distance.

“She certainly seemed upset,” Anomen said, sounding a little worried.

“Oh, she’ll get over it,” Rini said, shrugging. “Minsc will make sure she rests as she should, and she’ll calm down once she has the time to think about it. And come to think of it, I guess we all could do with a little rest after this.”

“Perhaps,” Edwin said, looking thoughtful. “But in the meantime, there is still a tavern out there, and we never had the time to finish our drinks before. I say we continue what we started. (Perhaps I could buy her a drink or two. It might make her inclined to sit on my lap or something…)”

“Good idea!” Jan agreed. “There’s a turnip beer out there, and it has my name on it! Everybody, let’s PARTY!”

And as Zaerini laughed and followed her gnomish friend, Anomen and Edwin eagerly grasping one of her arms each, it seemed to her that the day was definitely improving.