An Enjoyable Partnership: When Genders Collide
Part Three
It was getting late in the Copper Coronet. Many of its less dedicated patrons had gone to bed. Others had passed out, died of stab wounds, or, in the case of Salvanas the elf, left to visit the rooftop temple of Ilmater and get his burns treated. The priests of that temple were always kept very busy, healing the multitude of ills the Coronet’s trade produced.
Inside, the inn was fairly quiet, even though it was still full. Out of Andorel’s party, Keldorn and Valygar had long since gone to bed, Jan had fallen asleep in his chair, head back and snoring, and Anomen was trying to have a conversation with Minsc and Andorel. Since he was sober, Andorel was drunk, and Minsc was paralytic, this wasn’t easy.
“Sir Ryan Trawl is a great man, you know, it is an honour to serve under him as a full Knight of the Order. I heard that he once slayed a red dragon!”
“Yeah?” replied Andorel. “We did that the other day. That bugger Firkraag.” Andorel snorted, and Anomen shuddered at the sound of phlegmy mucus being shifted around the half-orc’s upper respiratory tract. Andorel took off his horned helmet, hucked the ball of chewey spittle into it, then put it back on his head.
“Do you have to do that?” Anomen asked plaintively.
“Huh?”
“That…spitting business.”
“What’s the matter, I didn’t spit on the floor.” Andorel looked disdainful. “That’d have been dirty.”
A huge and muscular arm grabbed Anomen’s neck from the other direction, half throttling him.
“Oooh, look!” Minsc boomed. “What a beautiful lady!” Anomen and Andorel looked where he was pointing. A woman dressed in a highly embroidered and slightly tasteless red mage robe nodded over a pint of ale. She was tall and willowy, with a face that was handsome rather than pretty, and built for scowling, not smiling. Sitting opposite here was a young, foppish looking man, sitting with his elbows resting on the table, a picture of despondancy.
“You think so?” Anomen asked. “I would say she looks to be…lacking in moral fibre. Women should be sweet and virginal, their eyes wide with innocence…” he eyes glazed over momentarily.
“Nah.” Andorel shook his head, and took another slurp of his drink. “Remember Glunhilt? Now she was a lady.”
“Glunhilt?” Minsc asked. “I remember her, Tazok’s daughter!”
“Uh-huh.” Andorel’s eyes misted over. “She had perfect skin as green as a summer millpond, and delicate tusks as yellow as a freshly cut lemon. Her armour shone and sparkled like, like, stuff. I would have fetched um, sparkly things from the planes for her. Diamonds, that’s it! Or the…What ya doing, Anomen?”
“Nothing!” Anomen said, guiltily putting away his notebook. “So, what happened to this Glunhilt?”
“Oh, I cut her ‘ead off. She was a bandit, after all.” Andorel shook his head, then raised his tankard. After a long gulp, he burped and put it down again. “So, you gonna go and talk to that lady, Minsc? Minsc?” He shook the limp form slumped over a chair by the side of him.
Anomen shook his head. “I’m going to bed.”
“Ah, me too.” Andorel stood up, and staggered sideways. “You think we should drag Minsc upstairs?”
Anomen sighed. “I suppose we should.” They both grabbed an arm, and, grunting and groaning, dragged Minsc upstairs.
On the other side of the room, the woman in the red mage robe tried to watch Andorel and Anomen drag Minsc up the stairs, but it was hard to remember why she watching them, and even harder to focus.
“Ha!” Edwina mumbled, her voice a slow, surly drawl. “Drunk Minsc under the table. Or did he drink me under th’ table? Can’t remember which it is. I won, anyway.”
“Hnn.” Nalian murmured. “’Dwina, gotta ask you something.” His elbow slipped, and he banged his head on the table with a loud thud.
Edwina winced, clutching her chin. “Don’t do that…it hurts!”
“Shhh…shhh…sh. Gotta ask you a question.”
“What? Ask and I shall answer, all my wisdom is open to you, my mighty intellect is, is…what was I saying? Doesn’t matter.” She laid her head down in a pool of beer on the table.
Nalian reached over and shook her shoulder. “’Dwina!”
“Argh!” The Red Wizard woke up with arms and legs flailing, and fell off her chair. “Which idiot designed that chair?” A voice said, from floor level. Nalian grabbed the elaborately embroidered collar and hauled her back into her seat.
“It’s serious.” Nalian said. Edwina instantly adopted a resolutely earnest expression.
“When you were a man…” Nalian started giggling, a high-pitched girly laugh that seemed utterly inappropriate. “Hehe, that sounds so stupid!”
Edwina frowned in puzzlement. “What was the question?”
Nalian looked blank. “Can’t remember. Oh yeah! When you were a man, when you woke up in the mornings, did you find you were often, umm…” Nalian started to blush.
“Often what?”
“Well, you know. Not…relaxed.”
“’m never relaxed.” Edwina said morosely to her empty tankard. “Slightest sound, have to be ready. Never know, never know when the wizards’ll attack.” She played idly with the chain around her neck. “I need another beer!”
“No, I didn’t mean relaxed as in…oh, never mind.” Nalian said in resignation. “You got anything you, like, wanna ask me? We could be stuck like this a long time, ya know. Over a month?”
“Nothing an ignorant fool like you can tell me I wouldn’t know anyway.” Edwina shook her tankard and tipped it up mournfully, trying to get out the last few drops. “Attack any second, they can. Bastards!”
A passing man suddenly tripped and fell over their table, knocking over Nalian’s pint. He grabbed the man by his shirt front.
“You did that on purpose!” He snarled.
The man spluttered incoherently.
“Low-life peasant! You spilt my beer!”
“Nalian, leave him alone. Was an accident.” Edwina was now sat bolt upright, watching the scene warily.
Nalian kicked his chair back and stood up, jaw clenched. “You think you’re so clever, dontcha?”
“I’m sorry, look, I’ll buy you another beer, anything to make up…” The unfortunate man struggled in Nalian’s grasp.
“Leave him alone, Nalian. Not worth it.”
“Oh yeah?” Nalian snarled. “Oh yeah, now you’re sorry. Pathetic coward!”
“I am not a coward!”
“Oh yeah? Prove it! Prove you’re a real man like…like me!” Nalian pointed unsteadily. “I’ll see you outside.”
“Oh, Gods…” Edwina moaned, and covered her face with her hands. Through her fingers, she could see the man and Nalian making their way to the exit, occasionally shoving each other aggressively. Even when she had been a man, she had never picked fights in bars, well, not deliberately. She was far too mature for that (a quiet voice added And in any contest of fisticuffs you’d get knocked through a wall, wouldn’t you?), but Nalian had had no chance to put up defenses against the vast quantities of testosterone suddenly surging through his veins. Worst of all, though, Edwina was starting to feel very sick.
***
A bright sun shone through the windows of the Isaea’s study in the Roenall estate. Isaea Roenall sat in the hard wooden chair at his desk. The door was locked, as per usual, and the papers he was working on would be returned to the locked and trapped safe once he had finished reading and signing them. There were some things, after all, best hidden from prying eyes, even those of his father’s.
There was a discrete knock on the door. Isaea sighed, stood up, and strode over to the door to open it. One of the servants, Isaea couldn’t remember his name, stood nervously in the doorway.
“Er, sir, there is a gentleman to see you.” The servant quavered.
“Who is he?” Isaea asked.
“I don’t know him, sir. He gave his name as Degardan. He looks like a mage.”
Isaea frowned in puzzlement. He only knew one mage, and that one was a she. “I’ll meet him in the orangery.” He replied.
Sure enough, when he reached the sunlit, sweet scented orangery, a wizard in a revolting purple and orange robe rose from the cane chair and greeted him.
“Isaea Roenal?”
“Yes?”
“Ah, pleased to meet you. I am Degardan, a Diviner for hire.” Degardan held out his hand. Isaea ignored it.
“I’m sorry, I am not interested in hiring a mage at the moment.” He replied stiffly.
“Oh I am not here seeking work, good sir, I already have a very good employer.” Degardan’s eyes unfocussed for a second, and a brief blissful smile crossed his face. “I merely seek information.”
A servant silently glided in with a tray of coffee and freshly baked scones. Isaea took a cup, and motioned for Degardan to sit down. Isaea sank into one of the cane chairs, crossing his long elegant legs.
“Thank you. I am looking for a mage called Edwin Odesseiron. He is a renegade Red Wizard, very dangerous.”
Isaea spat out the mouthful of coffee he had been drinking. “He’s a Thayvian Wizard, a real Bloodcowl? Talona’s tits! Ah, pardon my language.”
“You’ve met him?” Degardan asked excitedly.
“Well, no. I know of him, though.” A spasm of pain passed over his face. “He’s stolen my betrothed.”
“I am sorry for your loss,” Degardan said gravely. “Though I doubt it’ll last.”
Isaea went pale. “You mean…he’d kill her?”
“Er, actually, I just meant that it can’t be long before they have a huge row and break up. Odesseiron isn’t exactly the nicest person. However, who knows what a rogue Red Wizard could do?”
Isaea stood up and started pacing. “Nalia doesn’t really deserve my help after the way she has treated me, but I can’t let this wizard get his evil claws into her.”
“Nalia?” Degardan prompted, taking another sip of the excellent coffee.
“Nalia de’Arnise, of the de’Arnise estate. Our marriage was arranged, but, well, I am fond of her. Lady Delcia, bless her, came over to tell me…to tell me that Nalia now favours this Edwin.” Isaea gritted his teeth in worry.
Degardan finished the cup, and stood up. “The de’Arnise estate? Well, you’ve been very helpful, sir. Don’t worry- now we know where our weasel is hiding, we’ll soon find him.”
“I hope you do.” Isaea said concernedly. “I wouldn’t want to see little Nalia suffering…and, with Edwin out of the way…” He trailed off thoughtfully.
After he showed Degardan out, he returned to his study, and sat in thought for a while. Nalia may have spurned him time after time, but he couldn’t leave her in danger like this. He needed that alliance, too. Maybe it was time for desperate measures. He needed time to think, an infinity of time. He had a grain of an idea, but it needed to be refined.
Eventually, he decided he had thought about the problem as much as he could, and returned to reading the reports on his company’s mortality levels during their transport of slaves to the markets.
***
Nalian de’Arnise woke up in one of the cheapest rooms the Copper Coronet supplied. At least it wasn’t one of the dormitory rooms, shared by several sleepers and rumoured to contain worse parasites than fleas.
At first, as he woke up, he felt fine, but as he gained consciousness, a headache reported its presence, followed by aching ribs, bruised legs and a stomach that threatened open rebellion. He lay still, hoping to sleep again and avoid these unpleasant sensations a bit longer. No good, though- he was terribly thirsty. Groaning, he hauled himself upright.
Ow. Ow. Trying to bend hurt far too much. What had he been doing last night? It was all a blur of fractured memories. Nalian didn’t normally drink much, but, well, there had been a pint of ale, then a tankard of dark, then that odd sweet sticky drink…He closed his eyes, and decided he didn’t want to remember. Sweet Ilmater, his mouth tasted horrible. He needed some water, but that meant getting out of bed…
Opening his eyes again, he noticed a small bottle, a note, and a jug and glass on the rickety bedside table. Nalian looked at the note, puzzled, and then opened it. There was a short message inside.
Nalian,
With this note, you will find a healing potion and a jug of water. Drink the potion, and then the water. I have found this an excellent sure for hangovers in the past. It should also heal your broken ribs.
Nalian blankly re-read the note. Edwina, being helpful? Was he still drunk, and just imagining this? No, that was definitely Edwina’s careful, excruciatingly neat handwriting, and the excessively loopy underlined signature looked right for her. He shook his head, then closed his eyes at the dull thudding behind his forehead. Ah well. Grunting from the pain in his ribcage, he leant over and picked up the healing potion, then swallowed it in one gulp. He shuddered as it knitted his bones back together, soothed his bruises and reduced his headache. Better, much better. He poured out a glass of water, and took first sipped it, then gulped it back greedily.
Half an hour later, Nalian was slipping on his blue robe. As he put it on over his head, he heard the rasping noise of his unshaven chin brushing against the fabric. Blast! He’d forgotten to shave again. How did men cope with shaving every day? It was such a nuisance! Now, where were they? Razor. Soap. Brush.
Edwina opened the door just as he was passing the cutthroat razor over his larynx. Nalian swallowed, but his arm remained steady. I’m sure she does that just to try and startle me. Payback for the way she leaps into the air every time someone enters the room, I guess.
“Don’t be ridiculous, how was I supposed to know you were shaving?” She snorted. “And I do not ‘leap into the air’ every time a door opens.”
Nalian rolled his eyes. “Of course not.”
“How are you feeling this morning?” Edwina asked.
Nalian put down his razor and wiped the foam off his chin. “Edwina, are you ill? You’re acting, well, concerned. It’s not like you.”
Edwina raised an eyebrow. “If you are hurt, I feel it too. Why should I prolong my own suffering?” Looking closely, Nalian realised that Edwina did look rather pasty, though not nearly as bad as he suspected he looked himself. She looked away guiltily before Nalian could catch her eye.
“Oh. You, um, don’t remember how I got so bruised, do you? I remember drinking…talking to you about something or other. I was sick at one point…”
“Remember?” Edwina exclaimed angrily. “I could hardly forget! You got involved in a common bar-brawl! I had to suffer through every punch and blow.”
“Me? A brawl? I don’t…” Nalian fished through his fractured memory, and realised that, yes, he did remember something about challenging a nondescript man to a fight over a spilt beer. “Oh, Gods…”
“Yes. My dear Nalian, I intend to use all my considerable powers to keep your newly male form as far away from any alcoholic beverages as I possibly can. They seem to have an unfortunate effect upon you.”
There was a knock on the door. Edwina jumped, startled by the sudden noise, then swore fervently in Thayvian as Nalian sniggered smugly.
“Come in!”
Bernard entered, looking flustered. “Look, are you gonna pay for that broken table or not?”
“What broken table?” Nalian asked, then shook his head, wincing at the sudden pounding the action caused. “Never mind. How much?” He said, reaching for his purse.
Edwina smiled sardonically as Nalian handed over the money.
Bernard left the room, shaking his head sadly. Lady Nalia might have been a bit of a pain at times, but she really didn’t deserve to be related to such a wastrel as that drunkard fop and his bad-tempered lady friend. As he quietly closed the door behind him, he heard them starting to argue again. Trash, he thought, utter trash.
