Cards Reshuffled

As an assassin, I suppose there was always a possibility of finding myself haunted. I would have expected it to be the ghost of one of the people I’ve killed though, not one of the rare ones I failed to kill. But I guess that’s one of the little ironies that help keep life interesting.

Excerpt from ‘Interview With An Assassin’

“I know what you’re thinking,” said the person standing by the roadside. “I’m about the last person you’d ever expected to see again, aren’t I?”

“Well,” Dekaras said, not taking his eyes off the other for a second, “given that the last I heard you were supposed to be quite permanently dead, I must say it came as a bit of a surprise.”

“You’re not about to tell me that you don’t believe in spooks, are you?”

“On the contrary, Master Perorate. I do believe in spooks. I simply don’t trust them. Now, what is it that you want of me?”

The ghost of Winski Perorate smirked a little at this, then sat down on a fallen log. Well, seemingly sat down. Dekaras couldn’t help but notice that the other man hovered slightly above the surface. Apart from that, and a certain transparent quality, the wizard looked much as he remembered him. Coarse black hair, cut short. A gaunt face, clean-shaven yet still with the shadow of a beard, lines of cynicism and bitterness etched into it. Intelligent, deeply set eyes, currently looking amused. I always did like him, Dekaras thought. Pity there was that small obstacle of us trying to kill each other, or I think we might have become good friends.

“It is a bit complicated,” Winski said, “and it will likely take a while. Won’t you sit down? I know I can’t really get a crick in my neck from looking up at you, since my neck is incorporeal, but it hurts just the same.”

Dekaras shrugged slightly. “By all means,” he said, sitting down on the ground. He made certain to place himself in a position where he could readily reach his weapons though. No reason to take chances. “By the way,” he politely said, “your use of that lightning wand was very skillful. You almost managed to kill me, I was quite impressed.”

Winski startled a little, then inclined his head. “My thanks,” he said. “Conversely, I must congratulate you on your use of that poison…I was out of commission for days, and had I been just a little bit slower in getting to a healer I might well have been done for. As it was, I got to live a short while longer, just long enough to get stabbed by my son instead.” He sighed regretfully.

“Sarevok.”

“Yes…Sarevok.” A shadow seemed to cross the dead wizard’s face, and when next he spoke his voice was solemn. “I fear that I failed him badly. I failed to see the danger he was in, the madness that threatens every Child of Bhaal. Worse, I encouraged him, until it was far too late for him to turn back. Sarevok was consumed by the madness, by the bloodlust, until very little of Sarevok the man remained. In the end…he was as a rabid and hunted animal, certain that everybody was against him. I tried to protect him – and I failed. He cut me down, thinking I had betrayed him.” There was old grief in his voice, and he was staring at the ground.

“I am truly sorry,” Dekaras said, meaning it. “I saw you…and him, there before the end, as you know. I know how you cared for him, and I don’t doubt that you did what you thought best at the time.”

Winski smiled a little. “Thank you,” he said. “Hearing that…means a lot.” He suddenly seemed to remember something. “Incidentally, and I’m sure you will enjoy this one, though the wound Sarevok gave me was indeed fatal it wasn’t my son who actually struck the killing blow, it was yours.”

It was only with great difficulty that Dekaras kept his face under control. “I have no idea what you are talking about,” he finally managed, but even he thought that his voice sounded more than a little wooden.

Winski snorted and made a dismissive gesture. “Oh, please. Don’t underestimate my intelligence, I like that just as little as you do. You told me you had a son, remember? Though of course you were going under a false name then…well so is he, I suppose, though he doesn’t know it. Whatever the case, when I asked for a mercy blow, he offered most graciously, and then I saw the resemblance. The two of you really are quite alike, if you know what to look for. And he did a very fine job of it too, very neat. You would have been proud if you’d been there to see it. I could see that it bothered him though.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Actually, I think I may have reminded him a bit of yourself.”

“I…should hope that that would give him at least a little pause,” Dekaras said, feeling as if the conversation was rapidly spinning out of control. “But I am happy to hear that he was able to help you. I would have done so myself, had I been there.” He paused for a moment, feeling a need to explain himself further. “I never had anything personally against you, you know. Actually, if things had been different, I believe we might have been good friends. What I did, I did in order to try to protect my child.”

“I know,” Winski said, holding his hand out in an ancient peace offering. If wasn’t particularly solid, it was like shaking hands with a breeze, but it was the thought that counted. “So did I, after all. I would have done anything for Sarevok, same as you would have for young Edwin.” He sighed again, a little ruefully. “The things we do for our children, eh? Which brings me to the reason why I’m here.”

“Yes?”

“Sarevok. What else? Don’t tell me you wouldn’t come back from the dead if there was a small possibility it might help Edwin.”

“Certainly,” Dekaras carefully said, not wanting to upset the ghost unnecessarily. “It is just that Sarevok…well…”

Winski bowed his head again. “He is dead, yes. I know. But I think I am going about this the wrong way. Allow me to backtrack a little bit. I should really start with my death, I suppose.” A wry smile played around the wizard’s lips. “I’m sure I needn’t tell you that it wasn’t pleasant. Neither the process as such, nor what came after it. Once my soul had departed my body, I found myself faced with the things I had done in life, many of which I now regret. But face them I had to, and face them I did, though I likely couldn’t have done so alone.” He tapped ghostly fingers against his knee for a moment, thinking. “You were the one who stole Sarevok’s diary, were you not? Yes, I thought so. Did you read it all?”

“I did, yes. His was a sad story.”

“It was. I loved him as my own, and did what I could, but it was not enough. It might have been, if not for his mother’s murder. After that, I’m afraid I wasn’t much use to him. Quite the contrary, I encouraged his dreams of blood and vengeance.” The wizard’s voice was very quiet and dignified. “I loved her you see. She was my heart and my soul, my everything.” Then his mouth twisted into a grimace. “Unfortunately, she was also married to Sarevok’s foster father, Reiltar the Bastard, and to him she was a possession. A treasured one, but still a possession. I would have wanted to escape, to take her and Sarevok and leave, but she was afraid he would come after us. Perhaps I should have stayed away from her, but I could not. Neither could she. And when he found out…he had her strangled. It was Sarevok and I who found her corpse. I’m sure you can imagine how we reacted to that. I think we both went partially insane that day, and neither of us ever quite recovered.”

“I regret your loss,” Dekaras sincerely said. “And I…know how it is when you have to keep your feelings hidden from the world, with no choice about it unless you want to place the ones you care about in danger.”

“It hurts. And what makes it hurt even more…”

“…is that you cannot let the hurt show.”

Both men, one living, one dead, gave each other a look of mutual understanding. “Yes,” Winski finally said. “Exactly. Always pretending, always keeping appearances up so nobody will suspect the truth. In your case, not even the child in question, am I correct?”

Dekaras felt that familiar tightening in his throat as he thought about it once again. “I dare not,” he said, trying to keep his voice level. “I know I should, he is old enough and he deserves to know, but should it get out we would all be in grave danger. Especially my love. And I’m afraid that Edwin never has been very good at dissembling. I don’t think he would be able to keep up the pretense.”

“I see. Much the same as Sarevok then. He never was any good at spying or subtleties either.” The wizard suddenly looked very amused. “You should have seen him trying to masquerade as ‘Koveras the Humble Monk’. Vastly entertaining that was, you would have appreciated it. But I am getting off the track. I was speaking of my love, wife of my heart. She came to me, afterwards, once I was dead. She had been waiting for me, you see, past the veil. It was she who guided me, she who helped me endure the penance my soul put upon itself, the penance it felt it deserved. I am free now, I have paid for what I have done and can move on.” Once again his gaunt face turned serious. “Not so Sarevok. There is still much hatred and rage in him, keeping him anchored in darkness, keeping him trapped. It even keeps us from reaching him in any way, for at this point he will not allow himself to see us. And it is this that brings me to my errand here today.” Winski’s voice turned a little distant, and he seemed to be choosing his words carefully. “There are many gods who are taking an interest in the whole Bhaalspawn mess,” he said. “They all have their own reasons I suppose, some more benevolent, some less so. None of them may intervene directly, by Ao’s edict, but they may act through agents.”

“And you are one such agent?”

“I am, yes. One of many. I was the one most likely to reach you, and so I was sent.”

“And that brings me back to my original question. What exactly is it that you want?”

“I would like to ask you to do me a favor. It isn’t anything difficult in itself, but it is very important, for the sake of things that need to happen. It also isn’t anything that will in any way harm you or anybody else, I give you my word on that.” The wizard looked a little frustrated. “I would like to explain more, but there are things I cannot mention. Mustn’t mention. Believe me, I would if I could. The thing I ask is that you remember this conversation as closely as possible, and also that I loved Sarevok as much as you love your own child. I still do. And that I forgave him a long time ago.”

“That’s it?” Dekaras asked, feeling incredulous. “That’s all you’re asking?”

“That, and that you share this knowledge with my child, should you ever be in the position to do so.”

“I sincerely hope that isn’t to be taken as an omen of my imminent death,” the assassin said, raising an eyebrow.

“I doubt you would wind up in the same place as Sarevok anyway,” Winski said with an ironic smile. “Your deity would make other arrangements, I’m sure. I must say I was surprised at first when I learnt which one you follow, but it does suit you. In a good way. No, I have no idea when you will slip this mortal coil, and you wouldn’t want to know anyway if you think about it. This is simply a request for the possible distant future, and so far it is only a possibility. Not even the gods know everything that will happen. So, will you do this for me?”

“Certainly. I would be pleased to deliver your message, if I can.”

A warm smile crossed the dead wizard’s face, and for a few seconds he looked almost entirely alive. “I thought that you would,” he said. “I thank you, and though I must go now I hope we will get the chance to speak again sometime. I found it just as pleasurable as I remembered it, and had we been able to do this in life I believe we could have been quite formidable together. Farewell then…my friend.” Gradually his form became even more transparent, until he had faded from sight entirely.

“And fare you well also,” Dekaras quietly said. “My friend.”