Cards Reshuffled

Falling in love often has a little in common with insanity. Of course, in some cases it has a lot in common with insanity, but that kind sure makes for some great love songs.

Excerpt from ‘Ruminations Of A Master Bard’

Zaerini was sitting in one of the chairs of Keep De’Arnise’s main audience chamber, legs tucked up comfortably under her in a position that would have had Lady Delcia make a few very cutting remarks about un-ladylike behavior, had she seen it. However, that worthy was busy terrorizing the servants who were in the business of cleaning the Keep up after the Troll invasion, and was luckily unlikely to interfere at the moment. The bard sighed, idly fingering her deck of cards within her pocket. She had a strong feeling she should try to do another Reading in not too long, even though there were still a few issues left unresolved. Korgan…that was Rage. And he led me to something all right, just as the Reading said. The stupid Nether Scroll. Which explains Eddie and the Death Card. I guess it was a transformation rather than actual death that was meant. I just hope we can get him back to normal soon. And the Harpers, and Ployer, that came true. But what about Nalia? She is the Page of Cups, she has to be. But there was something else…she was embracing Death. Her father is dead, but she’s alive…unless…oh gods, suppose she’s about to…to hurt herself? She was so unhappy, and no wonder. But she asked us all to come talk to her…she wouldn’t do that if she meant to kill herself, would she?

Her vivid imagination swiftly running away with her, Rini immediately imagined a scenario where Nalia’s corpse would suddenly drop through a trapdoor in the ceiling, hanging by a rope, a suicide note pinned to her chest. No, come on! That’s stupid! I wouldn’t ever write that into a play! On the other hand, stupid things do happen in real life. Just look at Edwina…

At this point, the half-elf’s musings were interrupted as Nalia entered the room, through the door and still alive. There was something different about her though. The young noblewoman was dressed entirely in black mourning clothes, a well-cut but simple black dress, black gloves with the fingers cut off, even a lacy and thin black veil that rested on top of her reddish-blonde hair. She looked rather pale and tired, but if she had been crying earlier she had dried her tears by now. And there was something else as well…not security exactly, but a new determination in her eyes. It was as if she had made her mind up about something and meant to go through with it, despite being scared. I know that look. I saw it in the mirror more than once, after Gorion died.

“Thank you all for coming,” Nalia said after she had briefly greeted the assembled adventurers. “I am in your debt for the help you gave me. Thanks to you the Keep is liberated. My father is slain…but many others have been spared. I know you are eager to return to Athkatla for many reasons and mean to leave soon.” Here she gave Edwina a briefly amused look before continuing. “I will pay you the reward you have earned and wish you the best of luck.” Then she cleared her throat, and looked a little nervous. “Before you leave though…there’s just this one tiny favor I would like to ask you.”

“Uh-Oh, here it comes,” Jan said. The gnome was sitting on top of the long table standing next to the wall, his legs dangling over the edge as he busied himself tinkering with his already outrageously modified crossbow. “That’s just like what my old Godfather, Vito Jansen used to say sometimes. Just a teensy tiny favor, something to make the old man happy, and then before you knew it you’d find yourself robbing some homicidal wizard’s turnip cellar, or fighting a griffin that had insulted the Jansen Family honor, or maybe breaking some annoying cousin out of jail…he was a good old fella actually, but he mumbled a lot. It was the death of him, in the end.”

“I’m probably going to regret asking this,” Nalia said, looking weary, “but how could mumbling possibly have killed him?”

“Well, he wanted one of his sons, young Boffo Jansen, to stuff a rotting old pony head into the bed of a rival named Broca, one who’d been undercutting the turnip market. Only, he told Boffo to ‘Take care of Broca’s pony’s head,” but he mumbled so badly that poor Boffo thought he said ‘Make sure Poppa’s made stone dead.” And Boffo, being a dutiful son, obeyed. Snuck up on Vito when he was having a nice and quiet walk buying tomatoes…”

“Not turnips?”

“Whatever for? He grew turnips, he didn’t have to buy them. Anyway, old Vito Jansen was talking a nice walk, buying tomatoes, when up comes his own son Boffo and hits him over the head with a stuffed flamingo. Died instantly, he did, which goes to show how important it is to speak clearly and above all to the point, don’t you all agree?” The gnome gave all his companions an innocent grin as he said the last.

“Right,” Nalia said after a few seconds silence. “About what I wanted to ask you…there is a little bit of a problem with my inheriting the Keep. You see, ages ago my father arranged my betrothal to a young brat of a nobleman named Isaea Roenal.” She made a disgusted grimace. “The Roenals are a powerful family, with a large military force, or my father never would have agreed. They epitomize everything I hate about nobles, everybody is seen as beneath them and they care not at all for those in their service. Father had meant to stall the marriage for as long as he could, hoping we would find a way to get me out of it altogether, but now…”

“This Isaea will attempt to force you into marrying him?” Jaheira asked.

Nalia nodded. “I’m sure he will. And the worst thing is that as my betrothed, he may attempt to wrest control of the Keep from me. Theoretically daughters may inherit the same as sons, but when it really comes down to it, the law tends to favor the man. I need to get around Isaea somehow.”

Rini had been listening to this, and she thought she saw what Nalia was getting at. “Are you saying you want to arrange a marriage of convenience?” she asked. “With…one of us?” She’s a noble, even if she tries to pretend otherwise. She’ll want another noble…and there are only two of us who fit that description. No, wait. Only one at the moment, I doubt she’d pull off introducing Edwina as her husband in high society.

“Not exactly…I know you’ve all got things you need to do. I just wanted to ask you to keep it in mind, in case you think of a likely candidate. Preferably a fighting man, but any noble will do, as long as he will consent to function as a figurehead for me. We don’t have to actually marry, but a lengthy engagement might be enough to get rid of Isaea.”

“Well,” Zaerini said, “we’ll certainly let you know if we find anybody.” Then she looked at the rest of her companions. “Unless one of you guys want to…?”

“I think the Helmite would be an excellent candidate,” Edwina said, smirking. “He’s stiff, wooden, brainless and easily manipulated – the perfect puppet in other words.” She made a show of carefully studying her fingernails and gave the cleric a considering look. “Certainly no other way is open to him if he desires female companionship, but it is a slim possibility regardless, so he would probably be better off seeking out a small chicken to molest. (A very small one if it is to suit him properly.)”

Anomen’s blue eyes turned almost black with rage, and he leapt to his feet, towering over the wizard, his hand raised as if he meant to strike. Then he faltered, and Rini quite correctly guessed that he was unable to bring himself to hit a woman. “At least I am unlikely to be mistaken for a courtesan running away from her brothel,” he snarled. He blushed faintly and gave Rini, Nalia and Jaheira an apologetic look. “Your pardon, ladies. I’m afraid this…creature…makes me forget my good manners.”

“That should be entertaining,” Edwina said in a silky voice, and then her eyes widened as she pointed at Anomen’s hair. “Look! Chicken feathers!” As the priest reflexively clutched at his head the wizard gave a low and throaty chuckle, and as annoyed as Zaerini was with her behavior, she couldn’t deny that the sound sent little shivers of delight down her spine.

“Will you cut it out?” she told Edwina as she hastily pulled the other woman away from Anomen and guided her to a chair. “We have more important things to do than sit around while the two of you fight.”

“I need to improve my mood somehow.”

“Well, try to think of a way that won’t end up with your head bashed in with a flail, all right?”

A few seconds later a gleaming claw of blue-white lightning raked across the sky outside the windows, followed by a deafening clap of thunder. Zaerini clasped her hands across her ears, wincing, and she noticed that Jaheira looked quite pained as well. The sky had darkened, and heavy clouds were swiftly gathering, even as the wind began to howl. Then there were shuffling footsteps outside the door, followed by a loud creak as the door swung open. A thin, elderly man stepped inside, bowing in a way that made him look as if he were about to break in two. “Pardon me, Lady Nalia,” he said. “There are…guests.”

Nalia blinked. “Thank you, Podkin,” she said. “These guests…they wouldn’t be the Roenals by any chance?”

The butler coughed delicately. “No, my lady. Not unless their appearances have greatly changed for the worse. Shall I tell them you are not at home?”

“No,” Nalia said. “Let’s see who it is and what they want.”

“Very good, my lady,” the butler said, and then shuffled out the door again. After a while he returned, looking quite disapproving. “The Lady Nalia will see you now,” he said to somebody standing outside the door.

A loud peal of cackling laughter was punctuated by yet another thunderclap. “The lady, the lady!” The voice was cheerful, melodious, and very much familiar to Zaerini, though she certainly hadn’t expected to hear it. “The lady will see us now, but will we see her? Or is she hiding with the invisible bugbears on the dark side of the moon? What do you think, Monty?”

“Just get out of the way, ye ninny,” another voice grunted. “Yer blocking the door.”

“Urrrrgh!” another voice, this one wet and bubbling, added in. “Urrrgh, urrrrgh!”

“See, Monty? Abduh will help you get inside more quickly! Isn’t he a good boy?”

“No! Put me down, ye blasted zombie! No! Nooooooo!”

Thud. Montaron came flying through the air, struck an ancient suit of armor standing in a corner, and then landed heavily on the floor. “What are you doing?” he complained. “Isn’t it enough that I already died once this month?” Then his eyes widened in terror as her looked up to see the old armor beginning to topple dangerously. “Oh no…” The clatter of falling metal almost drenched out the halfling’s grunts of pain.

“Urrrrgh!” Abduh said apologetically as he strode into the room, with his own distinct stench preceding him by several yards. He tentatively started picking the armor up, as Nalia looked on, her eyes as wide as teacups.

“Oh dear,” Xzar said, peeking around the corner of the door. “Really Abduh, you don’t know your own strength…poor Monty could have been hurt! Now make certain he’s all right, and reattach any bits that might have come loose.” The tattooed wizard suddenly broke off, and his breath caught at the sight of Nalia in her black outfit, standing at the other end of the room, illuminated by the lightning bolts flashing by outside. “Oh…” he said. “Oh my!” An enormous smile slowly spread across his face, making him look even more disturbing than normal. “Monty…you have to see this! It is the loveliest lady in the world, as fair of skin as the palest of vampires, as mysterious as an ancient bone guarding the nameless secrets of the Elder Races, with eyes as burning as those of an angry lich…it is enough to make me feel faint!”

Still sporting that disturbing and huge grin, the insane Necromancer crossed the room, walking as if in a trance. “Powerful magic…” he murmured. “I can sense it in her…great potential, and the scent of even greater ambition…you are magnificent, oh lovely one! You could make even the Bunnies turn tail and run, and pick the screaming stars out of the unforgiving sky to adorn your head with unholy light.”

Nalia was watching the wizard, her mouth open with fascination, and Rini noticed that there was an odd gleam in her eyes. “Hello,” she told Xzar, her voice a little faint. “My name…my name is Nalia De’Arnise. My…those tattoos you have are very interesting…I always wanted to get a few myself. They make you look so…so dark and mysteriously dangerous.”

“Nalia…” Xzar whispered, sounding quite besotted as he seized upon the young noblewoman’s outstretched hand and proceeded to rain kisses upon it. “Oh Nalia…you drive me quite sane, you know!” he said between kisses. “I am Xzar, the Great and Terrible, and I will make you very unhappy if you will only let me…”

Nalia actually giggled at this. She didn’t remove her hand either, though she was blushing a little. “I think I might enjoy that…” she said.

Montaron had just managed to get to his feet again, and was looking quite disgusted with the whole spectacle. He kept rubbing his eyes, as if he didn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

“Urrrrrgh…” Abduh skeptically said, and for once Zaerini found herself actually agreeing with the zombie.