In The Cards

Can a mage make an effective assassin? That is an intriguing question indeed, and one worthy of a considered answer. Certainly the mage has many useful spells at his disposal. On the other hand, once those spells are exhausted he will be vulnerable. A junior mage thinking of trying his hand at the Profession would do well to remember that.

And he would also do well to remember the first bit of advice I always try to drum into the thick skulls of the dimwitted knuckleheads that make up an all too great part of the student population these days. Never underestimate the target. The smallest and weakest of persons may have some deadly surprise up his sleeve. Or her sleeve, as it were.

Excerpt from 'Interview With An Assassin'

The Friendly Arm Inn had a name that was rather misleading, in Zaerini's opinion. The word 'inn' made her think of a small, rather cozy building. This was a huge stone keep, surrounded by high walls. Not that she minded. It was quite dark by now, and she felt quite certain that those massive walls and the guards that patrolled them would be able to keep all but the fiercest of foes out. Which was something of a relief, considering that near fatal encounter with an ogre.

"Oooh, I'm getting really sleepy," Imoen yawned. "Sure will be nice to rest now."

Zaerini nodded. "I hear it is quite a good inn too," she said.

"It's awfully big for an inn though."

"Oh, it wasn't always an inn," Zaerini explained as they made their way across the courtyard towards the Keep's main entrance. Low buildings, barracks and the like, surrounded the fortress, snuggling up against its walls as if for comfort. "I've read about it. It once belonged to a priest of Bhaal, actually."

"Bhaal?" Imoen shuddered. "The god of Murder? Doesn't sound like a very nice place to stay."

"Bhaal's dead and long gone," Zaerini shrugged. "He's not likely to walk up and bite you. And the priest was defeated by a group of adventurers. Their leader, the gnome Bentley Mirrorshade, cleared the Keep and turned it into an inn instead. Change for the better, I'd say, even if I've heard he overcharges."

Imoen wrinkled her nose. "If you say so," she said. "Let's just hope ol' Bhaal didn't leave any junk lying around. If we're shown to a room with skulls and bones on the decor, and instruments of torture on the walls, I say we split."

"You have my word," Zaerini grinned. "Come on! We're safe for the moment and tonight we'll sleep in a real bed. Race you up the stairs!" Giggling and jostling each other the two girls bounded up the stairs leading into the keep. So intent were they on their game that they almost tripped over the man who stepped out of the shadows in front of them. A fairly young man it was, with mousy brown hair and wearing dark mage robes. He had a placid face that seemed almost dull until you looked him in the eyes. They were intent and watchful.

"Oh, sorry!" Imoen exclaimed as the man took a step aside to avoid being bowled over. "Didn't see you there." The man ignored her, giving Zaerini an interested look.

"Hi friend," he said. "I've not seen you here before today. What brings you to the Friendly Arm?"

Zaerini was about to answer as she remembered the words of that strange old man that they had met on the road. True names can be dangerous on the road, he had told her.

"Nothing much, really," she said, keeping her voice casual. "Just road-worn travelers, looking for a place to rest, maybe some work. Just walking wherever the road takes us, you know."

The man nodded to himself, still looking at her as if he was trying to memorize her features.

"I see, I see," he said. There was an eagerness in his voice now that Zaerini didn't like at all. "Pardon my being too forward, but you've the bearing of someone I've been looking for. About your height, they were. Same style of dress, or thereabouts. I daresay, you seem to be the spitting image of them. Might you have traveled from Candlekeep, by any chance?"

Could this be one of the friends Gorion had told her to find? Khalid and Jaheira… There was no reason they had to be together at all times, certainly, and Gorion hadn't told her what they looked like. But there was something about the man that didn't ring true. His gaze was altogether too unblinking, his voice too earnest. He was lying, or at least not telling the whole truth. Rini was certain of it. She had played enough dice and cards with the guards of Candlekeep to recognize a bluff, at least when it wasn't more skilled than this.

"I may have visited there on occasion," she drawled. "What of it? It seems a right boring place, just books and monks. Nothing interesting ever came out of that place as far as I know."

"Oh, I disagree," the wizard said. He was smiling by now. "I think something interesting has come out of Candlekeep only recently. Or should I say someone? Your name wouldn't be Zaerini by any chance, would it?"

Zaerini snorted. "Silly name," she said. "Never heard it before in my life. Sorry, but you're wasting your time."

"Really?" The man stretched and flexed his fingers. "I would beg to differ. You fit the description, so I think it would be safe to assume you are the one I seek. Red hair, yellow eyes and bratty manners. And a half-elf too. Yes, I really do think you are the one. Don't move. I have something for you." With a swift motion he flung something into the air, then moved his hands in a wide circle as his voice intoned the words of a spell. And then there were suddenly four of him, four identical copies moving as one, indistinguishable from each other.

"Run!" Zaerini just had time to shout before the assassin launched his second spell. The hot rage that had overtaken her when she was attacked back in Candlekeep was struggling to reach the surface of her mind, but before it had time to do more than stir it was extinguished by icy dread. Shaking, shivering with icy fear she could do nothing but stare at the terrifying figures that smiled in certain triumph as they prepared for the kill. Vaguely she perceived Keep guards running towards them, swords at the ready. One of the images went down, then another, but two still remained.

And then the mage screamed with pain as jet after jet of small, magical energy balls struck him, shattering the remaining mirror image and then causing the robes of the man himself to start smoking. Imoen had sprung from behind an empty barrel like a pink fury, wand in hand. The strands of her hair visible beneath her hood twisted like a nest of mating snakes, so charged was she with magical energy, and her cheeks were red with excitement. She moved with what seemed like inhuman speed, and the wizard screamed again as the wand was strained to the limit and pelted him with magic missiles enough to punch more than one charred hole in his chest. Zaerini half expected blood to come spurting forth, but there was none. Probably the wounds had been cauterized. With a final gurgle in the back of his throat the man subsided into a smoking heap.

"Miss? Miss? Are you hurt?" The voice of the guardsman was closer now, filled with concern. Zaerini blinked once and saw a lined face, tanned from the sun. It was watching her with some worry. She wondered how long the spell had kept her shivering like a leaf.

Pitiful, she thought to herself. Just pitiful. Some adventurer I must seem. I don't think I'll be telling this story without a bit of editing, thank you very much.

"I…I'm fine," she said. "Some sort of fear spell. It has passed now."

"Just you be careful now, Miss," the guardsman said. "And mind you don't get into any more trouble."

Zaerini nodded vaguely. Then she turned around to see Imoen. Her friend was watching the wand in her hands. It had charred into an unrecognizable lump of burnt wood, taxed beyond its breaking-point. Imoen herself was as white as a sheet, and now it was she who was trembling.

"I…I guess it was a lucky thing the wand didn't break earlier, huh?" she said, obviously trying to sound brave. She was studiously avoiding looking at the dead mage though.

"Oh, Immy," the half-elf said, moving towards her friend on legs that still felt wobbly. "I'm sorry you had to do that on your own. That spell hit me and I couldn't move, I was that terrified. I feel like such a jerk."

"It's not your fault," Imoen said, sounding astonished at the very thought. "I was just lucky that the spell didn't hit me too, that's all."

"Maybe," Zaerini said, nodding at the ruined wand. "That was more than luck though. You were great, Immy. I've never seen anything like that. How could you be so fast?"

"Oh, I used that potion I had. The one that makes you quicker." She grinned. "That part was really fun, you know," she said. "I felt like I could zip around the Keep in a heartbeat and not run out of breath. And then I figured that if I could just keep him from casting spells we would probably be all right. Didn't have much time to think about it, really." Her grin faded. "It…it's just that I understand what you said about killing, now. I had no idea it would feel like that. First I was all happy and thrilled, but now…" Her lower lip started trembling, and this time it was Zaerini who hurried to approach her friend and hold her until she had calmed herself.

"I think the first time's the worst," she said. "As with everything, I guess."

Imoen nodded silently.

"Speaking of first times," Zaerini said, her eyes thoughtful. "Seems an awful lot of people are out to kill me these days. First those two idiots back in Candlekeep and now a mage. This one was probably working for Gorion's murderer. And we do need to find out more about him…" She moved over to the still smoking corpse and swiftly searched the body, trying to keep from noticing the smell of burnt flesh. The search yielded a few spell scrolls that she eagerly pocketed. After witnessing the power of magic she couldn't wait to learn some herself. Even so, the short letter carefully tucked into one of the man's belt pouches was even more interesting. Zaerini moved over to one of the torches illuminating the courtyard and motioned Imoen closer so that she could read it out while not needing to raise her voice.

BOUNTY NOTICE

Be it known to all those of evil intent, that a bounty has been placed upon the head of Zaerini, the foster child of Gorion.

Last seen in the area of Candlekeep, this person is to be killed in quick order.

Those returning with proof of the deed shall receive no less than two hundred coins of gold.

As always, any that reveal these plans to the forces of law shall join the target in their fate.

"Well now," Zaerini said, drumming a finger against her lip as she thought this over. "This is good news, in a way."

"Good news?" Imoen almost screamed. "Rini, there's a bounty on you! How is that good news?"

"Means I'm important," the half-elf explained. "Not just a nobody. Possibly even dangerous, or why would he bother to pay for my death." The word 'he' she spat out with utter contempt. Then she frowned. "Two hundred seems a little cheap though," she said. "I think I'm definitely worth more than that." The frown melted away as one of her lightning-quick smiles flashed across her face. "Pity I don't have his address, or I would write him a very sharp letter of complaint."