In The Cards

Strangely enough, when you’re just about to reach a long awaited destination, it often seems that Fate takes great pleasure in throwing annoying obstacles in your path, be they plague, war, famine or simply annoying busybodies…

Excerpt from ‘Ruminations Of A Master Bard’

The bridge leading into Baldur’s Gate proper was large, with several guard towers overlooking it. Zaerini looked up at them with some awe. True, Durlag’s Tower had been very impressive, but that place was long dead. This was a living city, and she was determined to make the most of her stay, Sarevok or no Sarevok. There’ll be intrigue aplenty. And gambling, and nice shops, and music, and beds that are actually comfortable. I can’t wait.

Once the party had gone approximately halfway across the bridge they spotted a Flaming Fist soldier walking towards them, a very serious expression on his face. “Hold!” he said. “I am a member of the Flaming Fist, and require that you identify yourselves.”

“We are Paladins of the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart,” Edwin said with a small sneer on his face. “Here to spread Honor and Righteousness, and to Smite the Wicked. If you care to make a small donation to our cause we will make certain it is distributed to the poor and needy.”

The guard looked hesitant. He took in the stone-faced brunette who looked like she was planning to cut him in two, the nervous looking warrior at her side, the amiably smiling dwarf, the wildly pink-haired girl, the smirking wizard and the mischievously grinning redhead standing close to him. “You…don’t look like paladins,” he hesitantly said.

“That’s because all our armors are being washed,” Zaerini said. “And I’m afraid we left our Holy Radiance at home. Are you going to let us in or what?”

“Um…what is your name?”

“Queenie, Princess of Power.”

“Right. Just let me write that down. What is your quest?”

“To out-magic Elminster, find myself a really nice inn with a soft bed, write a best-seller or two, direct a successful play, find True Love, become an all-powerful goddess and have a little chat with my brother. Not necessarily in that order of preference.”

The guard’s eyes turned somewhat glazed. “Right…er…just one final question. What is your favorite color?”

“What kind of stupid question is that?” Edwin scoffed. “What possible purpose could it serve?”

The guard shrugged apologetically. “Don’t know,” he said. “It’s some sort of new psi-logical ev-al-uation test. Whatever that means. It’s something trendy out of Amn. Lot of foreign muck if you ask me, but the Grand Dukes are all excited about it. So, how about an answer? I can’t let you in without it.”

“Fine,” Rini said. “Favorite color. I rather like red, actually.” She gave Edwin a sidelong look as she said this. He looked a little embarrassed, and that made her heart beat noticeably faster.

“Good, good,” the guard said nervously. “Red. That’s good. Nice color.”

“That’s it?” Imoen asked.

“Well…I lost the answer sheet. So now I don’t know what the different colors are supposed to mean anymore, but I’ve still got to keep asking the question.”

If he’s a typical citizen I’m not sure I want to go to Baldur’s Gate anymore, Rini thought. “Can we go in now?” she asked impatiently.

“Oh, sure.” The guard laughed. “Just you behave and don’t murder any prominent citizens, all right? Ha Ha.”

“Right. Ha Ha.”

The adventurers had hardly started walking again before another soldier approached. This one was clearly higher in command. This was evident not so much from the badge of rank on his shoulder as from his calm and authoritative eyes and his firm chin. He was in his forties or so, with brown and weather-beaten skin and a lined face. “Greetings travelers,” he said, his keen eyes sweeping over the strangers’ faces. “Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Scar, second in command of the Flaming Fist. Though it is not necessary for you to reveal your names, please answer me this: are you the group that was involved in the fiasco at the Nashkel mines? The ones known as the Heroes of Nashkel, Beregost and Gullykin.”

“We have been called that, yes,” Rini said, trying to ignore the way Edwin was grimacing painfully and muttering something about ‘Heroes’ and ‘public humiliation’.

Scar nodded. “I’m glad to hear it,” he said. “Rumors of your exploits have raced before you. I have need of people used to dealing with strange and dangerous situations. I can't really put my finger on a single source, but there have been many strange happenings going on within the city. It's been getting harder and harder for me to put trust in someone. I need outsiders to do some investigations, people with no connections to anyone within the city; would you be interested in working for me in such a capacity?”

Rini thought about this. It would give us a valuable contact within the city. That could be helpful. “All right,” she said. “If it pays well and it’s nothing that will interfere with our interests too much, then sure. What do you want us to do?”

Scar looked relieved. “All right then; what I'm about to tell you must be held in the strictest confidence, do you understand? I need you to begin an investigation of the Seven Suns trading coster. The Seven Suns leadership has been acting strangely of late. They've been selling off valuable assets and neglecting many of their more profitable trading ventures. Considering the importance that the trading coster holds over the economy of the city, the Grand Dukes are noticeably upset. I've gone to talk to the coster's head, Jhasso. He rudely rebuffed me, telling me to mind my own business. I've known Jhasso for many years, and this isn't his usual behavior. I can't start up an official investigation, as there is no real reason for doing so, that's why I need you.”

Should I tell him about the Iron Throne? Zaerini wondered. No. I don’t know if I can trust him yet. “Anything else?” she simply asked.

“I want you to break into the Seven Suns compound and find out what's wrong. Use stealth in your investigations; I don't want this operation to cause too much fuss. The most important person to watch for is Jhasso. Once you've found out as much as possible, report back to me at the Flaming Fist compound. I'll pay you 2000 gold for this favor. The estate is located on the south-west side of town, I wish all of you the best of luck. Remember, once you're done at the Seven Sun's estate, it's imperative that you meet me at the Flaming Fist barracks, which are just west of the Seven Suns.. “ He gave the party a smart salute and walked off.

“Oh, that will be fun!” Imoen said. “A break-in! Lots of sneakiness and cunning plans! Um…Rini? D’you suppose that we could ask…”

The bard sighed loudly, guessing what her friend was about to say. “Immy, we don’t even know if Adahn is in the city and certainly not where he’s staying. We’re hardly about to simply run into him and trying to find him would be like searching for a needle in a haystack.”

“Besides,” Edwin said haughtily, “even if we did I’m sure he’d be preoccupied with his own affairs and unlikely to simply drop everything for your sake. (No, of course not. And I’m certain that…that horrible Picture was simply coincidental…)”

“Sure he would,” Imoen cheerfully protested. “It’s True Love, remember?”

“Never mind that now,” Jaheira interjected. “We should move on, and not stand about bickering in the middle of the bridge. Anybody might be watching.”

“Really?”

“Except for Adahn, Imoen.”

Zaerini nodded. “Jaheira is right,” she said. “We should move on, and not discuss our plans openly. Let’s go.”

Well over on the other side on the bridge Zaerini thought that there couldn’t possibly be any more interruptions to keep her from finally getting into the city. She was wrong, however. There, at the very gate, she was accosted by a small gnome with a long white beard and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses perched precariously on his nose. He was wearing a black top-hat, that looked strangely squashed. “Walking alone on the Coastway Road?” he said in an annoyingly piping voice. “How smart is this?”

Edwin gave him a long look. “Annoying magnificently powerful wizards, capable of turning you inside-out with a single curse?” he asked. “How smart is that?”

The gnome sniffed. “That is the sort of heinously unintelligent, uncultivated and unbelievably unaesthetic reply I would expect from your low-browed and unutterably stupid kind,” he said.

Zaerini decided that it was probably a good idea to step in before the fireballs started flying. Not that she cared particularly about the gnome, but it wouldn’t be prudent to let Edwin kill him while they were all well in sight of the gate guards. “Who are you?” she coldly asked the gnome. “And what do you want?”

“I am Quayle,” the gnome proudly proclaimed. “The smartest gnome you ever met or ever will meet. Feel my amazing brain! Go on, touch it!”

“Oh, I’d love to,” Edwin muttered. “Just let me fetch a saw.”

“Ha! You are obviously envious of my devastatingly superior brain, knowing that I could humiliate you easily in any intellectual contest.”

Edwin was actually gritting his teeth by now. “Compete with you?” he said. “I wouldn’t lower myself to do that, seeing that your mental faculties clearly would be outclassed by those of a scarecrow – before the hay is stuffed into it. “

“Good gnome,” Yeslick said, clearly anxious to defuse the situation. “Was there something we could do for you?”

“Isn’t it obvious, you stupid dwarf?” Quayle sighed with exasperation. “I want you to serve as my loyal guards. My amazing brain, your muscles. I’ll make certain you get paid afterwards, with these lovely gems…” He held out a handful of small and glittering objects.

“Those are all fake,” Imoen said. “They’re just glass. I can tell the difference, I’m not that stupid.”

“Ah,” Quayle said, his eyes shifting nervously. “Oh. Oh dear. An…unfortunate accident. A traveling adventurer such as myself, wild and free of spirit, unfettered by ties to clan or kin, cannot be expected to keep track of every little thing…”

“Your clan,” Rini said. “Do they live around these parts?”

“Why, no! Far from it. When they encouraged me to set out on this epic journey to expand my vast intellect even more, they thought I should go far away from them, so as to really widen my horizons.”

“I should have guessed as much,” the bard said with an ominous smile. “Then I don’t think they’ll mind when I do this.” She quickly yanked the gnome’s top-hat down over his head, ripping the top off and fettering his arms to his sides. “Oh, look!” she brightly said. “Seems your head is a little too big for your hat. What a shame.”

As the adventurers walked off, laughing among themselves at the irritating gnome’s plight, they could hear him whining loudly behind them. “Come on, you grunts! Let me out! You can’t leave me like this!”

“Why ever not?” Edwin asked. “With your ‘amazing brain’ you should certainly be able to think yourself out of your predicament. Think of it as a challenge… (I would have preferred one involving him, a pit of cobras and a blindfold, but one can’t have everything.)

Finally, Baldur’s Gate. Zaerini actually took a couple of dance steps as she passed through the city gate. Her feeling of euphoria quickly crashed to the ground however, at the sound of the voice that immediately greeted her. It was an old and penetrating voice, and it sounded immensely pleased with itself. “Ah, Zaerini!” it said. “Good day to thee, young one!”

The bard turned around, dreading what she was about to see. Sure enough, there was the puffing pipe, the bobbing white beard, the self-satisfied old face and the grotesque and enormously pointy hat. Elminster, she thought. Such fun. If it didn’t sound so paranoid I’d swear he was following me around because he gets some sort of perverted kicks out of it…