Cards Reshuffled

I admit it, on occasion I really like spooking people, especially the annoying ones. Grossing them out is good too. Funnily enough, turning into an armor-plated lobster monster tends to achieve both of those, but it does get you better service in inns. At least once you’ve finished chasing down the waiters and made them stop screaming.

Excerpt from ‘Ruminations Of A Master Bard’

“The cat ate a Harper…” Jaheira murmured, her voice wooden. She had been repeating the phrase now and then ever since the party returned from the Copper Coronet, as if she still hadn’t quite realized the truth behind the statement. “The cat ate a Harper…” She was sitting with her head leaning against her hands, as if she had a severe headache, and her lips were the only part of her face that was moving.

“Look, I said it was an accident!” Zaerini repeated, not for the first time. “It’s not as if I asked Softy to do it. She just did.” Softpaws, who was sitting in the middle of the table, gave Jaheira a smug look and went on with giving herself a full body-wash. Anomen wasn’t very familiar with cat body-language, but that look spoke volumes. Basically it said: ‘Stop making such a fuss, I enjoyed it and I’m not the least bit sorry.’ “Anyway, “ the bard went on, her face stubborn, “she brought it on herself. Nobody forced her to try to use me as an assassin without asking first.” She reached out to give Edwin a nudge on the shoulder. “Isn’t that right, Eddie?”

“Hmmm?” the wizard said, then startled as he came back to the world around him. He had been deeply immersed in studying the thing he had found beneath the Graveyard, this so-called Nether Scroll that gave Anomen a disturbing crawling feeling along his spine whenever he looked at it. It was pretty obvious that Edwin hadn’t heard a word of the past few minutes of conversation, and he hadn’t even touched his food, pushing it aside to make room for the scroll on the table. “Ah…what was that, my Hellkitten? (I’m almost certain I have seen this rune before…if only I could access the library back home…)”

Anomen felt his stomach give a nasty lurch as he heard the familiarity with which the wizard addressed the bard, and a few seconds later he was surprised to see that he had bent his fork into a strange geometrical shape with more angles than seemed possible. Control your temper…it means nothing. Nothing whatsoever. He has no idea of the proper courtesies involved in courting a lady, that doesn’t mean she approves. But she hasn’t protested yet. Suppose…no! No, no, no, no! Obviously she lets him carry on like that out of pity, as a…as a sort of court jester! Yes, that is it. Embarrassedly he let his ruined fork drop onto the floor, hoping it would go unnoticed.

Zaerini sighed with a sort of fond exasperation and shook her head. “You haven’t been listening to a word, have you? Never mind, I know how you get when you’re preoccupied. I said that that Harper Assassin only had herself to blame. It is a risky profession after all.”

“Of course,” Edwin agreed, nodding. “And one that leaves no room for preposterous bunglers like that one. (Reciting poetry to her target…really! I call that outrageous. Not to mention tacky.)” He sounded almost personally insulted, if such a thing was possible.

“The Harpers will not see things that way!” Jaheira protested. “They will demand an explanation, at the very least!”

Softpaws chose that moment to burp delicately and regurgitate a disgusting little ball of feathers and tiny crushed bones onto Anomen’s plate, right in the middle of the cleric’s mashed potatoes. Anomen could have sworn that the beast gave him a triumphant look before she strolled over to Edwin, lying down in the middle of the scroll he was studying and refusing to budge until the wizard petted her stomach. The cat’s loud purring really grated on Anomen’s nerves and made him long for a silencing spell. The thing lying on his plate didn’t make things better.

“Hm,” Jan said as he viewed the remnants of the Harper Assassin. “I suppose a Resurrection is out of the question, Ano? Pity. Well, at least you can eat it all up, hide the evidence so to speak!”

“That is not amusing,” Anomen said in his coldest voice. “I am a squire of the Order, not a cannibal!”

“But it wouldn’t be cannibalism Ano, she’s certainly not human. Well, at least not at the moment. Say, did I ever tell you about my uncle Hannibal Jansen, the cannibal?”

“No,” Anomen said. “And I don’t want to hear about him either.”

Jan grinned widely. “Oh, you don’t have to be modest, it’s no bother at all! So, about Hannibal…”

“No!” Anomen declared, slamming his fist down on the table to make glasses and plates shake. Everybody looked at him, even Minsc. Well, everybody except for Edwin, who was still totally immersed in his reading and didn’t look as if even a charging dragon would be able to attract his attention. “That is enough! I will not listen to tales of man-eating gnomes while we are partaking of our own nourishment! It…it is unseemly!”

The infernal gnome simply winked at him. “But Ano, you have it all wrong! Poor uncle Hannibal didn’t eat anybody else, least not fatally. He only ate himself, the purest form of cannibal there can possibly be. Nails…hair…toe nails…he was very omnivorous really. Then of course one day he decided to take things one step further and start gnawing on other people’s toe nails. There was this big scandal when he was found nibbling the toes of this young paladin who’d only sat down to rest his aching feet for a while and made the sad mistakes of taking off his boots. Especially since the town crier happened to notice. When the pally woke up to find uncle Hannibal sucking on his toe-nails, leering up at him, he screamed like a banshee and ran off into the sunset, and we had to keep uncle Hannibal chained up in the yard afterwards, with a muzzle to keep him from nibbling. Pity I couldn’t introduce you to him Ano, he would have liked you. You wash your feet now and then, don’t you?”

Anomen hesitantly looked around the table. “Is it over?” he pleaded with his companions. “Please tell me it is over!”

“It’s all right,” Zaerini consoled him. “He’s stopped now. Just remember to keep breathing, you’re almost blue in the face. Jaheira? Are you going to start talking to me again soon? As opposed to scolding me? I mean, what’s done is done after all.”

The druid kept staring at the remains on Anomen’s plate. “I promised Gorion I would look after you,” she muttered. “And I care about you myself. I am glad I did not have to explain this to him though.”

“Aw, he would have understood. I think. Probably. If I explained it properly.”

“Minsc feels sorry for the poor little bird,” Minsc solemnly stated. “Boo thinks it would be a good idea to bury it, and maybe Anomen could say the nice words for it that you do when people are getting buried?”

Anomen felt a splitting headache coming on, not an unusual sensation in his present company. “You…want me to hold a memorial service over a dead bird?” he feebly asked. “A dead, mostly digested bird? A bird that is so completely and thoroughly dead that not even that insane necromancer would consider turning it into a zombie?”

Minsc nodded eagerly. “Yes! And with some nice flowers, and maybe some singing. Boo is very good at singing, he will help.”

“I…” Anomen began to protest, but then he met Zaerini’s eyes. The bard was staring straight at him, and she was mouthing ‘Please, just do it’. “I will be happy to do so,” Anomen sighed, feeling his resolve dissolve into a small puddle before those blazing golden eyes. By Helm, I would slay dragons barehanded if she asked me to. A burial of a partial bird is nothing by comparison.

“That was very nice of you,” Zaerini said to him, smiling, and the cleric took some small solace in that.

“Ah…of course, my lady,” he said, smoothing his mustache. “I am ever eager to serve. But perhaps not until after we have finished our meal? And there is that other matter too.”

And so there was. Now that Montaron was resurrected and a grateful Xzar had rewarded them with a reasonable sum of money as well as a few rare spell components and an offer to reanimate the corpse of their choice, Zaerini had decided that they should take a closer look at the offer of work from the elusive Miss Nalia De’Arnise. The woman had promised to meet them here, and in fact was heading towards them this very moment.

Anomen had heard of the De’Arnises, certainly. They were an old family of country nobility, well respected as well as wealthy. While he had never met any of them he had heard many good things spoken of Lord De’Arnise, but of the girl he knew nothing but her name. He had glimpsed her from a distance as he had sought for noble quests in the Copper Coronet, but never spoken to her, and he hadn’t paid much attention to her either. The Lady Nalia was young, he noticed, some years younger than himself and most likely not out of her teens. She was a fairly sturdy young woman with red hair, some blue stones braided into it in what he had a vague idea was a current feminine fashion. He supposed she was comely enough, but she looked…scruffy, as if she had done without a maid for several days. The fact that she carried a bow was also a bit unusual for a young Amnian lady. And she has an arrogant look about her. She should learn to temper that trait, unseemly arrogance is a trait frowned upon by Gods and men alike.

“There you all are!” Nalia exclaimed, sitting down at the table after vigorously dusting off a chair with a lacy handkerchief. “I’ve been waiting simply ages! May I?” Without waiting for an answer she helped herself to a bread roll, spread plenty of butter on it and started munching. “Minsc, you didn’t say you would take so long, and we simply must go soon, I don’t know how much longer my father can hold the Keep.” She spotted the Harper Remnants on Anomen’s plate. “Yuck. Are you really going to eat that? Looks filthy if you ask me, just the sort of thing you can expect in a…place like this. It’ll probably give you indigestion too. What is it, a quail?”

“No,” Zaerini said in an absolutely deadpan voice. “That’s an annoying Ex-Harper. She’s flown off into the sunset, laid her final egg, and is singing a different tune entirely. Funny how often that happens to annoying people. Especially when they’re annoying me. By the way, who are you? You seem to have neglected to mention that.”

Edwin briefly looked up from his scroll, shooting the bard an appreciative look. “Lovely…” he muttered, then went back to his reading. “Subtle, yet with the proper sting…”

“Er…I’m Nalia,” Nalia said, her eyes wide and anxious as she edged a little closer to Minsc, away from the half-elf. “Nalia De’Arnise.” She stared at the Harper Remnants again, here cheeks a little pale. “Um…is that really…”

“And I am Zaerini of Candlekeep,” the bard pleasantly went on. “Pleased to meet you, I’m sure.” She then went on to introduce the others, one by one. “Now then. Perhaps you can give us a few more details about what exactly you want us to do?”

As it happened, Nalia didn’t prove very informative, whether because she had been badly spooked by the Ex-Harper or for some other reason. She explained that her family home had been attacked not long ago, by a small army led by an unknown commander, and that she had been fortunate enough to escape with her life in order to try to bring aid. So far she had been unsuccessful. “I don’t understand it!” she loudly complained. “I’ve always tried to do my best for the lower classes, helping them whenever I could, spending time with them even. And where is their gratitude now? You’d think they’d be eager to assist me in turn. None of this rabble will so much as look at me!”

“Oh really?” Zaerini said, sounding amused as well as annoyed. “How dreadful of them.”

“Yes…Aunty always says that the less fortunate only comprehend direct orders and that pleading for their higher sensibilities is a waste of time, but I don’t want to give up just yet! They are good people, if simple, I thought that if I just explained about my needs…”

The bard looked around at the usual assortment of drunks, fighters and prostitutes to patronize the Copper Coronet. “I see,” she said, smiling a little. “Yes, you would think that, wouldn’t you?”

Jaheira snorted and gave the young noblewoman a disapproving look. “You speak as if unaware of class distinction, and yet your manner exudes it. A sign of immaturity... perhaps adventuring is not the place for you.”

“But I have no choice!” Nalia pleaded. “Please…my father’s life may be at stake here! Will you not help me? If the Keep is saved I will insure you are properly rewarded.”

“My lady?” Anomen asked, turning to the bard. “It is a good cause, I assure you. The De’Arnises are highly regarded.”

Zaerini thought for a moment, then finally nodded. “All right,” she said. “Nalia, I know how it is to lose a father. I’d like to help you save yours, but I have needs of my own. My best friend is in deep trouble, and I need money to save her, so I will expect that reward you offered. We’ll buy the supplies we need, rest tonight, and then set out tomorrow.” A small and enigmatic smile played around her lips, and she murmured something that Anomen thought sounded like ‘Page of Cups accounted for’.

“Hooray!” Minsc cheered. “A quest to slay countless of unknown Evil Monsters, and to help a nice little girl help nice people! Ah, Boo’s whiskers are quivering with anticipation already! But first we must take care of the poor birdie, and Anomen will do a nice mem-or-ial service for it. Boo has thought up a song too, it’s called ‘Broken Wings and Hairballs’…”

Anomen suddenly found himself pulled up from the table by the eager ranger and pulled towards the exit, the Ex-Harper wrapped in his serviette as in a makeshift shroud. Perhaps shoveling horse dung back at the Order would not have been so bad after all, he thought. Then he caught sight of Zaerini smiling apologetically at him. Then again, I suppose there are compensations…