Cards Reshuffled

Voices in your head are traditionally a sign of insanity. On the other hand, I think that having a lot of voices in your head could drive anybody insane. Particularly when they have very conflicting opinions on what I should do, or even on such banal things as what I should wear. Let’s just say that Bhaal’s taste in clothing rivals my brother’s, and that I don’t want spiky underwear.

Excerpt from ‘Ruminations Of A Master Bard’

“You cannot possibly mean to do this, my lady!” Anomen protested. “Not to do the bidding of that insane necromancer and his zombie!” The cleric was giving Zaerini a look that was something in-between imploring and commanding, and his face was getting flushed. The argument had been going on for several minutes, and the fact that he wasn’t getting anywhere was frustrating him immensely.

“The Helmite is right,” Jaheira agreed. She clutched her staff tightly, and from the way she kept glaring at Xzar it seemed likely that she meant to use it soon. Come to think of it, Rini wasn’t entirely sure that the druid wouldn’t try to use it on her. “We are being asked to go against the Harpers, to choose evil over good, for the sake of some murderous little thief, a raving lunatic and a zombie.”

“Oh, calm down, Jaheira!” Zaerini snapped. She had started out trying to be calm and reasonable, but by how she was getting annoyed. “You’re being overly dramatic, and I should know. All Xzar is asking is for us to find out what’s happened to Montaron, and to get him out of that place in case he’s being held prisoner. It’s not as if we’re about to go on a massive killing spree or something. Besides, we do owe them. They helped us in the fight against Sarevok, remember? If they hadn’t done that, we might well have lost. It’s only fair that we do something in return. If it really bothers you, you can always wait behind.”

“No,” Jaheira said, her accent getting thicker as it always did when she was angry or otherwise upset. “I will go with you. I do not intend to let you infants cause more of a mess than is absolutely necessary.”

“You won’t let me…”

“You know,” Jan hastily said, “this conversation does remind me of my cousin’s daughter, Bianca Jansen. She really wanted to become a Harper, you see. And since she knew that they have a ‘Don’t call on us, we’ll call on you’ policy, she thought she’d better try to impress them. So she set out to do good, in the best way she knew how.”

“What did she do?” Edwin said, sounding curious and exasperated at the same time. “No doubt something utterly ridiculous involving turnips.”

“Not at all, Red, not at all! She took it all very seriously, doing research into Wild Magic affecting random events.”

The Red Wizard looked interested. “Really? And what would be the nature of this research?”

“Well, she looked into how come a piece of toast always lands butter-side down if you drop it. Which was all well and good, apart from the fact that dropping a piece of toast from the third floor can be a bit sticky, especially if the local Harper Herald happens to be walking past right beneath it. Very traumatic experience it was, he had crumbs coming out of his nose for weeks afterwards. And poor Bianca never did get to join the Harpers, even if they are still looking for her. Stuffy people, very prickly. Or crumbly, in this case, but that’s what you get if you walk around with your nose in the air.”

“Harpers are not prickly!” Jaheira practically screeched, angry red blotches appearing in her cheeks.

Jan grinned unconcernedly at the livid druid. “Of course not, Jaheira,” he said. “We all know how mellow you are.”

“Prickly or not,” Zaerini said, “we’re still going to talk to those Harpers, if that is really who they are. But first we’re going to find Korgan’s book. We’ll come back here later.”

“Aye, it be about time!” Korgan said, shuffling impatiently from one foot to the other. “I’ve had it up to me beard with standin’ about. This dwarf wants action!”

“I’m with the dwarf,” Edwin said. “That tome sounds very interesting…”

“What about the poor little Miss Nalia?” Minsc asked, looking anxious. “Minsc promised her that we would be her heroes and use the Broom of Bravery to sweep the halls of her poor castle free of the Dustbunnies of Evil.”

“Aaaaaaahhhh!” Xzar screamed, hiding his tattooed face beneath Abduh’s armpit and trembling. “Don’t mention them…they might hear you! Their eyes…their evil little red eyes…watching! Always watching! Bghzzzrällö! The pods, the pods and the horrible blue cubes of jelly! Some things are best left unknown…”

“Urrrrrghhh!”

“And those too,” Xzar wailed. “Why do people have teeth, I ask you? IT’S SO THEY WILL FALL OUT WHEN YOU LEAST EXPECT IT! It’s happened in my dreams…and my tongue too…”

Rini sighed loudly. At the moment, she felt like going back to bed and pulling a blanket over her head. Sadly, that option wasn’t available. “Enough!” she said. She hadn’t thought she’d be that loud, but her voice echoed between the tall walls of the alley in a way that reminded her uncomfortably of Sarevok. Well. At least they shut up. Big Bro, I guess you got some things right. “One thing at a time,” she said, making herself sound considerably milder. “First, we go get the book. Then, we talk to those Harpers and see if there’s anything we can do about Montaron. Then, we talk to this Nalia person, I want to meet her for myself. As for the other things people want us to do, they will simply have to wait for a while. We can’t do everything at once. Everybody got that?” There were a few seconds of embarrassed silence. “Good. Then let’s go get that book. Xzar, you just keep around, we’ll get back to you as soon as possible. See ya, Abduh.”

“Urrrrghhh!” The zombie sounded quite cheerful, and his wave seemed pleased. Yep. His personality really did improve after death. Maybe it taught him something. Or maybe it’s just a side-effect of the embalming fluid.

About an hour later the half-elf was rapidly coming to the conclusion that Abduh wasn’t the only person in the world who might benefit from zombie-hood. The adventurers had gone with Korgan to the house where Pimlico, the book-collector lived. The bad feeling Rini got when she noticed that the door was slightly ajar was confirmed when they found Pimlico himself bathing in his blood inside. Apparently, Korgan’s former companions had decided that they wanted both the gold and the book. She had expected the dwarf to be upset about this, but he actually seemed quite cheerful as he explained that he knew exactly where to find them. On the roof of the Copper Coronet, their favorite drinking spot. They would have gone there in order to celebrate before leaving town, apparently it was something of a tradition with the motley crew. Needless to say, Korgan had been very enthusiastic about following them, and there was something very contagious about that enthusiasm. She had a feeling she probably shouldn’t tell Jaheira that she was greatly looking forward to the opportunity to bash somebody’s skull in.

And are you, kitten? Softpaws asked, as they approached the Copper Coronet.

Well…yes and no. Not if they don’t try to do it to me first of course. But…the blood is getting stronger. I can feel it. Part of me wants them to try it, so I can fight. So I can kill. Part of me laughs every time I spill blood. Part of me wants to drink it up, to bathe in it. Part of me is much more dangerous than Korgan.

The cat was silent for a moment. That may be so, she eventually said. But it is still part of you. He…the Hungry One…he did things to you that made that part stronger, but it was there before him. One small part of a whole. I’ve always seen it.

You have?

Of course. When a familiar is called, we get a sense of the person’s mind, so we go to the person that will best suit us. You’re mine and I love you. I always will. Well, as long as you make sure to pet me properly and keep me well fed of course.

Of course. The bard smiled at the black cat walking beside her. I love you too, Softy.

Anyway, kitten, it’s not all bad. A cat should have sharp claws, as I’ve said before, and be able to use them. As long as you don’t start scratching everybody in sight, you’ll be fine.

I’ll try to remember that. Thanks.

You’re welcome. And that’ll be one bowl of fresh cream, for the wise advice.

What?

Yes. When you go all angsty you make my whiskers hurt. You owe me. There was a definite amused edge to the cat’s thoughts though, that hinted that her words were less than serious.

Fine, Rini said, playing along. Say, if they hurt that badly, maybe I should trim them for you? Then she chuckled quietly at the annoyed hiss inside her mind.

The top of the Copper Coronet wasn’t exactly your regular roof. In fact, it was a maze of small sheds houses built on top of the vast and sprawling inn, in an effort to save space, not to mention the money needed to buy actual land. There was even a small temple of Ilmater up there, with the white hands symbolizing the Crying God displayed outside. Zaerini hoped that the presence of the temple was a happy coincidence, rather than a bad omen. There was also a group of four tough-looking people up on top of the roof, sitting against one wall and drinking. They were also looking at something on the ground, chuckling and guffawing among themselves. It looked like a big, leather-bound book. Presumably it was the book of Kaza. The people hadn’t noticed her or her companions yet, since they had the sun in their eyes and the party was still concealed by the shadows by the staircase leading onto the roof.

Suddenly she startled as she felt somebody nudge her hip and she noticed Korgan smirking up at her. “There they be, lassie!” the dwarf said, his eyes crinkling with amusement, and some other, indeterminate emotion. “Me old crew, with nay an inkling of what be awaitin’ them. Can ye feel it? The rush in the blood, the joy in crushin’ yer foes and feelin’ their blood splatter all over yer face? I think so, so I do. I’ve seen the way ye fight. There’s somethin’ there…and I like it.”

The bard tried not to let her emotions show on her face. For one thing, she wasn’t entirely certain exactly what they were. Korgan is deeper than I thought at first, she thought. He sees it. He sees the part of me that’s Bhaal. That is Murder. Unbidden, the visions from her latest Reading came to her. Murder…everywhere, within and without. Following her, sticking to her like blood. “I know what it is you see,” she said. “And I know what it is you feel. But I cannot trust in it, not like you do.” She looked at the seated men. “Now, did you want that book back or not?”

The fight was short and bloody. After a brief interlude during which Korgan’s ex-party members blustered and threatened, and the dwarf responded in kind, the group on the roof eventually attacked. With the threat of the Cowled Wizards interfering, it was too dangerous to openly use magic, something that irritated Edwin to no end. The wizard kept flinging Thayvian swearwords in time with his sling bullets. The words probably stung more than the stones did. Jan also kept in the back, utilizing his crossbow to great effect, as Jaheira and Anomen headed into the fray, engaging the enemy cleric to keep him from spellcasting. Minsc was having the time of his life, and it seemed that the enemies found the sight of Boo perched on his shoulder almost as frightening as the sword he wielded to great effect.

As for Korgan, he was roaring with gleeful battlerage, and his axe was an almost invisible blur in the air, deductible only by the blood and random body-parts scattered by it. The dwarf had headed straight for Shagbag, the enemy party leader, and it wasn’t long before his axe drove deep into the man’s belly. Shagbag went down with a terrible gurgling sound, soon cut off as his head was cleanly separated from his body.

Zaerini kept mostly to her bow, but eventually she reached the point when one of the foes came to close, and she had to resort to her sword. The dark blade felt so natural in her hand, more so than any other weapon previously had. She wasn’t a trained swordswoman and knew she never would be, but it felt as if this sword bit more deeply than any she had used before. An assassin’s blade should work that way, I guess. And I suppose it’s only fitting that my bite should be worse than my bark. One man in front of her. One man. One man…one…victim…The heat was in her blood again, and she wanted it, she wanted it badly. No, some other part of her urged. Kill if you must, but not like that. Not as he wants you to, tempting as it is. She wasn’t even certain if the ‘he’ was Bhaal, or Irenicus. It didn’t make any difference. I will have things my way.

Yes, the voice said, and now she recognized it. Not in her ears, not in her mind, but deep within her soul it spoke. It was like the thunder, like a raging storm, and it reverberated in her bones. Yes, sister. That is the way. Do not repeat my mistake. You are born to rule, not to be ruled. So RULE!

The voice of her dead brother was a roar within, drenching out the other voice that lived within her, the whispered urgings of Bhaal. Her vision cleared of the red mist that had been obscuring it, and as she drove her sword directly into the armpit of the man she was fighting, neatly avoiding the leather armor he was wearing, she felt eerily at peace. She stood motionless, even as her friends gathered around her, staring at the corpse at her feet, not really noticing it. Sarevok?

It is I, little sister, the voice of her brother spoke. And yet it is not, not fully. You will understand in time.

Thank you – my brother.

And the voice receded further back into her soul, leaving only the faint echo of low laughter behind.