Cards Reshuffled

Love will do strange things to you, like having another person take up permanent residence in your soul, that they may be with you no matter how far apart you are. That, and make you wear clothes you would otherwise die rather than be seen wearing in public.

Excerpt from ‘Interview With An Assassin’

It was definitely getting hotter, Dekaras was pleased to notice. Not that Nashkel was that far south of Beregost, but there was still a difference. And of course, after Icewind Dale just about anything would be a marked improvement. No matter what reasons Edwin thought he had for doing what he did, you would imagine he’d be considerate enough to think of a slightly more pleasant location. Then he thought about Edwin’s geographical skills for a moment. On second thought, this is the boy who can barely find Thay on a world map. I suppose it was the only place he could think of off the top of his head. Pity he could think of one. Even in my somewhat disadvantaged state I believe I would have been suspicious if he’d tried to dispatch me to ‘That big country that’s shaped almost like a weasel’. I really ought to get the test paper where he first used that excuse framed or something…

The assassin had made good time on his journey south, and had reached the small town of Nashkel soon before nightfall. Right now he was enjoying a leisurely stroll around the place, not feeling the least bit ready to retire yet. Thinking of Edwin naturally brought him back to the topic of the boy’s whereabouts, and whether he was all right, not something that was likely to make him relax. But he still thought he had done the right thing. He trusted Poppy as much as himself, and she was the one person in the world he’d trust with keeping track of Edwin for him. Well, apart from Elvira of course. And while he was extremely anxious to find the wizard, he at least had no immediate reason to believe him in danger. Imoen, on the other hand…he was really worried about the girl. Zaerini too, certainly, but her he didn’t know quite as well, and didn’t feel the same sense of responsibility for her.

I saved Imoen’s life once, and I took it upon myself to train her. That means I have a duty towards her, as long as she isn’t fully trained. It may not be the exact same duty as to Edwin, but she is my student. More than that, I like her. Smiling a little to himself, Dekaras skirted around the buildings, preferring to keep to the shadows away from the main street. Well, the street, if you wanted to be picky. Staying hidden came almost automatically. And little Imoen may well learn the same one day. She certainly has natural aptitude. That wasn’t the reason for his fondness though, even if it was very pleasant to be able to impart his skills to somebody both eager and capable of absorbing the lessons. No, it was her relentless cheerfulness, her natural kindness and optimism, her almost childlike conviction that everything would turn out all right as long as you were a good person. All of which were qualities quite alien to himself of course, and attractive because of it. Also, she trusted in him and wasn’t at all afraid of him. I would love to introduce her to Poppy some day. I still think she must have some halfling blood. I never would have thought I would put up with something like That Picture from anybody but Poppy.

There was a large tree that seemed to be beckoning him invitingly, and he climbed to a high branch almost without thinking about it, and then lazily settled down, resting his back against the trunk. Yes, it certainly was hotter here. Hesitating only briefly, he pulled his shirt off. Much better. To be sure, it made him a bit more visible, since his naturally pale skin would stand out against the dark tree, but it wasn’t as if he was working anyway. And the smooth and slightly cool tree-bark felt perfectly soothing against his back. Stretching a little in a motion that would have made most people topple off the branch, he allowed himself to relax. Well, almost. There was that one corner of his brain that was almost always awake and alert, scanning for possible threats. Sights, sounds, smells, whatever might be the first warning of some form of attack. It wasn’t that he was expecting one of course. But he knew that the attacks that you weren’t expecting were the ones you really needed to be on guard against. After all, those were the sorts of attacks he’d make himself, given the chance. So, relaxation was a precious luxury, something to be treasured. Even more so when it was enjoyed in the presence of the woman he loved.

Closing his eyes he allowed his mind to drift a little. Oh yes. That Picture. He still felt a little guilty about not having realized sooner that Imoen had developed some sort of insane infatuation with him, the gods help her. Had he done so, he could have saved her some heartache, and them both a good deal of embarrassment. I guess Poppy is right. I really do ‘suck in the emotionally savvy department’ sometimes. Of course, had he snipped the whole thing in the bud, that likely would have meant never getting to know the girl in the first place, and he could admit to himself that he would really have regretted that. Still, the guilt was yet another reason for wanting, no needing to make certain she was well. The chances of that seemed slim however. Vampires. I can guess why vampires would be interested in the blood of a Child of Bhaal. But why take the others as well? And that vampire hinted at somebody else before I killed him. No, there must be more to it than the obvious explanation, and that means there is still a chance they are alive. And if they were alive, he would do what he could. The only thing that would take precedence would be if Poppy should learn of Edwin’s whereabouts, and if the boy should need swift aid. I am certain I can handle both though. Somehow. Hopefully without resorting to overdosing on potions of Haste. Or winding up with an ulcer. For once I almost think it’s a good thing we never had more than one child. Keeping track of one was quite enough of a chore, but I will simply have to manage. Somehow.

Thoughts of Imoen and of That Picture led him trying to envision his lover’s most likely reaction to being exposed to said picture. I wonder which one of us she would attempt to kill first? Probably me. Hopefully me. At least I would be able to dodge, I’m not certain Imoen would. Not that it wasn’t entirely innocent of course, but somehow I doubt Elvira would see it that way. Perhaps it would have been a good idea to burn That Picture after he got hold of it, but he had been paranoid about some mage somehow getting hold of it and reconstructing it. Better to keep it himself, and make very, very certain that Elvira never saw it. True, sometimes it could be a little awkward that the love of his life was likely to put a deadly curse on any woman she thought expressed more than polite interest in him, but he didn’t really mind too much. Well, not most of the time. It was part of her after all, and she was perfect. As perfect as the first time I met her. No, maybe not the first time. I thought she was an annoying brat that time if I recall correctly. Come to think of it, I did that the second time as well. Still, he had loved her then, and even more so now.

The assassin sighed a little, pulling one leg up towards his chest as he stretched the other one out, putting his arms behind his head. Ah, my beloved. So much time we have spent apart now. Too much time. Yet I carry you with me, always. He could almost see her in front of him. That beautiful and regal face, dominated by the flashing dark eyes that seared your soul, and framed by hair the color of midnight. Yet her beauty was only part of what he loved about her. She is one of a kind, a force of nature like a storm or a flood wave. Brilliant, loving, deadly. What more could any man want?

He could almost hear her voice close by his hear, a low and feminine chuckle. Nothing, my Wolf, it said. I should certainly hope so, at least. His imagination provided him with even more impressions, of soft lips pressing against his own, sending hot little tendrils of flame into his brain. Smooth and perfectly manicured fingernails stroking along his jaw line and down along his neck, making his muscles tense automatically wherever they touched. The lips followed suit, and he couldn’t quite suppress a small shiver. Almost, almost, he could feel a deliciously curvaceous body pressing against his own as if she wanted to meld into him. As she had done on the last time they had made love, before he departed Thay. She had always enjoyed driving him out of his mind, making him lose control utterly, and they both took pleasure in that game, but that was not all there was. No, not at all.

It had been a hot night, hotter than this one by far, just a little humid and with a heady smell of jasmine in the air. But no flower could compare with the sweet scent of her hair as he pressed his face against it, breathing in deeply. He was standing behind her, his arms tightly wrapped around her waist, feeling her body firmly pressed against his own. Slowly, with all the finesse normally reserved for disarming a particularly dangerous trap he reached a hand up to slide her delicate white summer dress down a little, baring a lovely shoulder, with soft skin that felt hot to his touch, hot enough to make him burn. Allowing his fingers a quick excursion a little deeper into the dress he was pleased to hear her draw in breath sharply with surprise, and feel her tense at his touch, then give a little delighted laugh.

She turned around in his arms, her eyes even darker than usual with the force of her passion, and she bared her teeth in something that was half smile, half snarl. “It appears I am still able to keep you entertained, my Mistress,” he had told her, taking care to keep his voice entirely calm and composed. “I am pleased that after all this time you have not grown bored with me.”

That was as far as he got before she put her arms about his neck and pulled his face down towards hers, their lips meeting forcefully. There was an indeterminate period of time during which all rational thought fled as he eagerly explored that hot and willing mouth, the taste of her intoxicating him to the point where he was quite ready to give up breathing if only it meant enjoying her a little longer. Eventually they had to come apart for air however, both of them breathing quite heavily. She was still holding onto him, her one hand resting at the nape of his neck, the other caressing his cheek. “On the day I grow bored with you, my Wolf, you may as well order a coffin for me,” she whispered, her voice a little hoarse. “For that would mean I would be dead and beyond all hope of resurrection.” Then she gave his hair a playful little tug. “On the other hand, your touch probably would be enough to wake me from the dead…”

“I suppose there is a certain symmetry to that,” he said, giving her a crooked grin. “Seeing that your beauty will surely slay me one of these days, the helpless victim of a cruel nymph. Then again, I am prepared to take my chances.”

“Oh good,” she murmured as she started unlacing his shirt. “But you must wait a little while…it is my turn.” Then her hands, slim but strong, were sliding across his chest, as if she was trying to memorize the feel of it. “Very nice…very, very nice.” Then her mouth brushed his throat, kissing, licking, biting gently. “Mmmm…better than nice. Maybe I should eat you all up…”

“You…could try, I suppose.” Her hands were going to drive him mad very soon. “Though I rather think…I might stick in your throat.”

Her smile as she raised her face from the hollow of his throat was utterly fiendish, and the look in her eyes as they traveled downwards along his body was extremely suggestive. “Really? Now I shall definitely have to give it a try…”

That did it. Unable to suppress a low growl deep in his throat he took a firm grip on her, making certain to grasp her by a body part eminently well suited for lifting, and he swiftly moved towards the magnificent bed that dominated the dark bedroom, with her laughing contentedly all the way. Once he had her exactly where he wanted her he progressed to get rid of all annoying obstacles, her clothing being the premiere one. As always, he marveled at how in this particular situation female underwear always became more difficult to get past than the trickiest lock he had ever faced. Only deeply ingrained reflexes made him patiently work his way past every little hook and button, rather than simply tearing the gauzy garments off his beloved’s delectable body. Well, that, and stubborn pride. Of course, she did nothing to help, preferring to keep teasing him with her caresses, doing her level best to distract him. Eventually he managed though, and he took a few moments to admire the sight in front of him, the form of a wicked goddess smiling up at him, her eyelids half closed as he stoked her fires with all the skill he was able to muster. Her body was covered with a fine sheen of sweat by now, and it wasn’t all due to the heat either, and now and then she would make little inarticulate noises. Pausing for a moment he tilted his head to one side and gave her a look along the length of his nose. “Are you satisfied yet, beloved?” he asked, giving her just the tiniest feather-light brush of his fingers. Precision. That is the key. Not too soft, not too hard, not too fast and not too slow. “Would you like me to stop? Or to go on? You only have to say the wor…”

And then he realized that he had perhaps pushed her just a little bit too far as his remaining articles of clothing disintegrated clear off his body, leaving only a dissolving cloud of black dust. “Spell trigger,” she hissed as she pulled him down into the bed beside him. “Don’t you just love them? Where were we…oh yes. Please go on. Now.” His final thought as she reached for him was that he was probably about to go insane with pleasure and that he didn’t mind one bit. Then he didn’t think much of anything at all for quite some time as they came together, moving as one. One body, one mind, one heart. It was the dance of ‘now’ of ‘us’ and of ‘always’, and above all it was the dance of joy.

Afterwards they lay together, as closely as possible despite the heat. He wasn’t entirely certain which were his own legs and which were hers, and it didn’t feel as if he had a single solid bone left in his body. Not that he cared. She was nestled in the crook of his arm, her fingers running through his tangled hair. She had always loved to play with it, adoring its thickness. The closeness of her was a quiet bliss, and he tried to lie absolutely still, not daring to move for fear of waking up to find it had all been a dream. “You will go on the morrow,” she eventually said, her voice now tinged with longing. “Both of you.”

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. It was all too true. Edwin’s mission would mean a long journey, and he would go too, doing whatever he could to keep their child from harm. There was never any question of doing otherwise of course, despite the same longing that filled his soul already.

“So far,” she said. “I know it has to be, but it is just…always we have had to hide, to be careful. So much time lost. And now you will be so very far from me…so very far away. It is not fair.”

He shook his head. “Perhaps…but not all things are fair. You know that.”

“I don’t care! I don’t want to lose you. I could never stand it, you know that.”

“Listen,” he said, grasping her hand and placing it across his chest, right above the heart. “You will not lose me. I carry you with me, always. I always will. As I hope you do me.”

There had been a few tears glistening in her eyes, something she would never let anybody else see, but her voice was strong as ever. “I do,” she said. “You know I do. I love you.”

“And I love you.”

“Then rest a while with me beloved. You have a long journey before you, and you need to gather your strength.”

”Then,” he said, smiling, “it is probably already too late. But…I will try my best.” Allowing himself to relax completely he closed his eyes, leaning into her soothing touch. Love. Trust. Safety. Peace. Still smiling, he had let himself fall asleep, the kind of sleep that carried no dark dreams with it.

Present time, and he opened his eyes, a trace of a smile still lingering on his lips as he stared out into the darkness surrounding the tree he had climbed. She felt so close, almost close enough to touch. I will return for you, beloved. I promised you that, and you know I keep my promises. Always.

Odd though…he could almost swear he felt another presence as well, as if somebody was watching, yet he was certain nobody was close by. It felt almost like scrying, yet not quite the same, and it was strangely familiar somehow. After a few moments it disappeared however. Shrugging he climbed down from the tree. There was nothing he could do about it at the moment, except be on his guard. Which I would be anyway, of course. And tomorrow, onwards towards Athkatla.

Back in Spellhold, Imoen blinked as the vision Aphril had summoned faded from sight. She still couldn’t get over the way he had looked at her. Well, not at her, more like through her. He will never look at me that way, she thought, and with a sad certainty she knew it to be true. That is the way he looks at her. Whoever she is. I hope she knows she’s really lucky. Sure, he was still her friend, and that was good, and she had known already that that was all he would ever be to her. Still, for a moment there she had caught a glimpse of what might have been, and while she wasn’t exactly jealous, she still felt longing.