In The Cards

Control is one of the most important traits to cultivate for the aspiring Assassin. Control, and restraint. If your idea of a successful mission is to walk up to the target, loudly proclaim your intentions and then try to splatter them all over the walls, then I advice you to choose another profession. Either that or get a really good life insurance.

Furthermore, the more natural talent for killing that you have, the more important control becomes. There is a time and a place for everything. When not on an assignment, sometimes your purposes may be better served by not slaughtering your enemies, even if you are a natural born slayer. After all, dead people are incapable of being painfully humiliated and destroyed. This is a common mistake made by our younger and more eager colleagues, and experience usually serves to teach them the wisdom of moderation.

Excerpt from 'Interview With An Assassin'

"You're at the end of your rope I'll wager", the dwarf said with an unpleasant smile. "Not that it's anything personal, you understand, but I'm afraid your time on this here ball of mud is just about done. I'll just collect your head and then my commission." He was wearing heavy chainmail, and wielded a large axe that looked like it could chop a person's legs off with a single blow. Zaerini knew better than to underestimate him simply because he was a great deal shorter than her. She'd read about dwarves, and if old Reevor back at Candlekeep was anything to go by this fellow wouldn't take no for an answer. As a matter of fact, he looked as if in his vocabulary the word 'no', when used by others, simply meant 'Please lop my head off and kick it down the corridor'.

"Er…can't we talk about this?" Zaerini tried. "Make a deal or something? Tell you what. Let's play dice. If I win you have to give me all your money. If you win, you can have my head, if you really want it."

The dwarf snorted. "Yeah, right", he said. "And then I suppose you'll tell me that your neck wasn't included in the bet and that I'm not allowed to damage it. That's an old trick, you know."

Damn. I didn't think he'd know that one.

Well, he is a dwarf, Softpaws said. And it was a dwarf who fell for it the first time, after all. Dwarves have long memories.

"No", the dwarf said, "I think I'll just kill you right now. Nothing personal, as I said. I'm sure you're a great kid, but business is business."

"Y-you shall not harm her", Khalid said, drawing his sword. He had a very determined look in his eyes.

"No", Jaheira agreed. "Boast all you like, but if you value your life you will back away at once."

The dwarf didn't answer. He simply charged the druid, roaring like a raging bear and swinging his axe. The blow would have taken Jaheira's head off, had it hit. As it was, she jumped to the side and the axe got stuck in the door. The dwarf cursed in a loud voice and tried to yank it free. Rini saw Imoen look very impressed with the words he used, obviously filing them away inside her head for future reference. Then the dwarf broke off in mid-swearing as Khalid ran him through. "Bollocks", he grunted as blood spurted from his mouth. "I wish I'd h-had some good, dwarrrrven mail instead." Ironically, as soon as his dead body hit the floor the axe was pulled free. It came crashing down on top of him and neatly lopped his head off.

"Yeeewww!" Imoen said. "That is so disgusting."

"Yes", Jaheira said and turned the body over. "I have never seen a beard with so many different foodstuffs stuck in it before. Now what is this, I wonder?"

The dwarf had been carrying a piece of parchment. The druid read it through once, and then wordlessly handed it to Zaerini.

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.

This offer has been extended to all appropriate guilds.

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

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

"This is getting to be something of a habit", Rini said with a slightly shaky smile, and put the bounty notice inside her pack with the other one. "At least the price has gone up a little. I wonder if Mr Spiky Armor will offer a free cuddly toy along with the money next time? This guy looked grumpy enough to be in bad need of one. Though I don't suppose being an assassin is likely to make you very cheerful. Then again, who am I to know? The ones I've met so far haven't exactly been out to socialize." Then the half-elf felt a firm hand on her shoulder and looked into a pair of slanted green eyes.

"Child, you are babbling", Jaheira said. Her voice was stern, but not unkind. "You are in need of some rest, and I do not think this inn is the best place for it."

"N-n-no, I quite agree", Khalid said and shuddered as he looked at the headless body in the corner. Judging from the sounds of a vicious barfight emerging from the interior of the inn, a fresh corpse wouldn't be a new experience to the proprietor.

"The Burning Wizard is almost next door", Jaheira said. "Let us try that one." Zaerini was too tired to argue. She allowed herself to be gently steered out the door.

Unfortunately the Burning Wizard turned out to be the haunt of a halfling pickpocket. Once she caught him with his hand in his pocket and a feeble excuse on his lips Rini felt ready to explode. She grabbed the little thief by the collar and shook him like a rat.

"I. Just. Want. Some. Rest.", she snarled between clenched teeth. "And if I don't get it soon this town is going to regret it. Now bugger off!" With a final shake she threw the small thief to the ground, and then collected the coins and other small but useful stolen items that had dropped from his pockets. The halfling scurried off, still looking a lot like a frightened rodent.

That little encounter was enough to sour Rini's mood as far as the Burning Wizard was concerned. She slammed the door closed after her on her way out and headed for the Jovial Juggler instead. At least the name sounded promising. However, they had hardly gone inside before a man came walking up to them. He was fairly young, with blond hair and sparkling blue eyes, and his armor was very shiny.

"Hail, friends!" he said. "Have you the time and inclination for a noble quest?"

"I suppose by 'noble' you mean free of charge?" Rini asked, giving him a thin smile. She was really tired by now, and that always made her patience extremely limited. "And the last stranger who called me 'friend' then tried to kill me. I'd choose my words more carefully around me if I were you."

"Fair flower of womanhood, it grieves me that you could possibly confuse me with such an evil miscreant", the man sighed. His eyes took on a vapid expression that Rini recognized all too well from conversations with some of the more fanatical priests she had met in Candlekeep. "For I am the Paladin Bjornin, recuperating here after my encounter with a band of vile half-ogres to the southwest of Beregost. They are setting up camp there, it seems, and they need to be cleared out. Alas, my wounds prevent me exacting justice upon them myself, but if you would do so I would be pleased to reward you."

"Really?" Zaerini asked. There was a certain look in her golden eyes that Gorion would have recognized. She had never been one to take things for granted. "And what is so vile about them? Have they been attacking travellers?"

"Well, not yet", the paladin said.

"How long have they been there?"

"Oh, I don't know. Two or three months."

"I see." Rini found herself gripping her sword very tightly, so hard that her hand hurt. "And don't you think they would have attacked by now, had they intended to? Not all half-breeds are uncivilized, you know."

Bjornin tossed his head back with a gesture calclated to make his golden locks tumble attractively across his forehead. "You have a good and trusting heart, dear lady", he said in a preaching voice that set the half-elf's teeth on edge. "But you are mistaken. They did attack me after all."

"Yes, I'd been wondering about that. How exactly did that happen?"

Bjornin gave a proud laugh. "Why, I challenged them of course", he said. "I walked up to their camp and said 'Have at thee, evil ones. In the name of all that's good and pure I challenge thee to combat." He blushed a little. "And then they all fell upon me at once. Very unsporting."

"Yes", Imoen said. "You'd think they'd stand still and let you beat them up one by one, without defending themselves."

"Oh, yes", Zaerini agreed. "I mean, I'd certainly be happy to let myself get killed as long as a demented tin-can had decided to label me as 'evil'." She felt Jaheira nudge her warningly, but by now she was too angry to care. "Tell me something, dummy", she said. Does it please you to know that by now those half-ogres are probably mad and suspicious enough to try to kill anybody who gets close to them? Did you get extra holiness points with your buddies for that? Boy, it must feel so good to be you. I'm sure the next person to get killed by those half-ogres will remember you in their prayers. Of course, those prayers will probably involve requests for you to be slowly nibbled to death by feral squirrels, but there is a bad side to everything." By now Khalid and Jaheira were pulling her out the door. "And another thing!" Zaerini yelled at the stunned-looking paladin. "Your roots are showing!" She was very pleased to see the man reflexively cover his head with his mailed hands.

"Well", Jaheira said once they were outside, "much as I agree with your sentiments I do not think it would be a good idea to chose that particular inn tonight."

"N-n-no", Khalid said. "We d-don't want any trouble."

"Says who", Rini muttered. "Oh, fine. There's still that other place. Feldepost's Inn. There must be one place to stay in this mad town where there are no jerks hanging about the place."

Feldepost's Inn was at the western edge of Beregost, and it was both larger and more luxurious than the other three inns. At last, Zaerini thought, sighing with anticipation. A nice clean bed, and some peace and quiet. She stepped inside, and immediately faced a large and extremely drunk man. His face was red, his nose purple, and his eyes glared angrily at her.

"'Ere now, get out!", he growled. "I don't like your type in here!"

"Heh, you tell 'em Marl", a second man chuckled from one of the tables.

Oh, just great, Zaerini thought. Another idiot with prejudices against half-elves. Just what I needed right now.

"No, I don't think I will", she said in her most haughty voice. "And exactly what do you mean by 'my type'?"

"You know damn well what I mean!" the man spat. "You 'adventurers'! Armed to the teeth, poking through ruins, and stirring up creatures better left alone! Jokers like you blow through town with monsters in tow, and then out again leaving us locals to clean up the mess!"

"Fine!" Zaerini snarled. "They should be used to it. If you're a typical local, then they're pretty messed up already. Now leave me alone or I'll make you do so!"

The man shifted from deep red to purple. Spittle flew from his mouth as he raised his fists. "You're threatening me!? Practically where I live and you threaten me?! You sure must think you're tough with a blade on your belt! Why don't ya drop that armory you're carrying and put your hide where your mouth is!" Then he rushed at her, grasping for her throat.

Zaerini didn't have the time to think. Her sword was out of its sheath before she knew what she was doing, and defensively held out in front of her. Marl was furious, and also very drunk. He did see the weapon, but as he tried to veer aside he tripped and fell. Zaerini stared at the widening red spot on the drunkard's brown tunic, unable to look away from it. The sword slid out of his chest with a wet sound and he dropped to the floor, dead. The last look in his eyes was one of surprise.

"I…I didn't mean to", Zaerini whispered. "It…just happened." All the customers in the bar were staring at her now, some with anger, others with obvious fear. She wondered what they saw in her face. She was telling the truth, she hadn't meant for the man to die. And yet, there had been that brief rush of satisfaction at the sight of his blood, that inhuman glee that she had felt before. "He…he wouldn't leave me alone! Why won't you all just leave me alone!" Behind her she heard Jaheira and Imoen whispering rapidly with the frightened innkeeper, and then Khalid was assisting her upstairs, helping her into a quiet bedroom and onto the bed. He helped pull her boots off and then held her tightly, allowing her to cry herself out before she fell into an uneasy sleep.

When next Zaerini awoke it was dark outside, but there was a fire in the fireplace. Somebody had put a soft quilt over her. Probably Khalid. He had left while she slept though, and she was alone.

Of course you're not alone. I've been watching you sleep for over an hour. It's getting very dull, and you still haven't bought me that cream you promised. Softpaws came strolling up from the lower half of the bed. The black cat nestled into the crook of her Mistress' arm, her green eyes glowing in the darkness.

Sorry, Zaerini said. I was sort of indisposed.

That is alright. You can do it tomorrow. Right now you'd probably faint and fall down the stairs, and then I still wouldn't get any. There was short pause. Why are you so unhappy? The cat put her front paws on Zaerini's face and stared directly into her eyes. I don't like it when you're unhappy. It feels bad inside of me.

I don't know… Because I'm good at killing, I think. Very good at it, even when I don't really mean to. I don't think I want to be like that.

Why not? Softpaws sounded genuinely surprised. Being good at killing is good. I am good at killing too. Then you can hunt, and defend. Fight for a mate, and protect your kittens. Any cat should try to be as good at killing as possible.

But I'm not a cat.

In a way, you are. You are far too noisy, but otherwise you're not a bad cat. I like the color of your fur, and your movements are not bad. But you're like a kitten swatting at butterflies. A proper cat only unsheathes her claws when she plans to use them. I will teach you to be a proper cat.

Zaerini smiled and stroked her familiar, invoking a satisfied purr. Thank you, Softpaws.

It is the way of cats to teach their kittens, came the pleased response. I will teach you. I still will not let you forget about that cream, though.

Zaerini was just about to respond to that when the door opened and a strange man came inside. He was young, younger than herself, and had a shock of reddish-brown hair falling into his terrified blue eyes. The strangest thing about him was that he was dressed in pink leather.

"You've gotta help me!" he pleaded in a light tenor voice. "Please! I can't get it off!"

"Hold it right there, mister", Rini said, reaching for her sword. "I have no idea who you think you are, but for that sort of help I think you'd be better off trying your luck out on the street. Unless you want to get a broken nose, that is."

"No, you don't understand! It's me! Imoen!" The man was almost in tears. Rini stared at him, wondering if she had heard him correctly. There was a certain resemblance to be sure.

"Imoen?" she asked in an incredulous voice. "What's going on?"

The man in pink closed the door behind him and flopped down on the carpet in a very Imoen-like manner. "It was an accident waiting to happen!" he said in a dejected voice. "I was so bored waiting for you to wake up, and then I thought of those magic belts…"

"You went through my pack, didn't you?"

"Uh-huh. And then I thought, why not try one of them on? I know you said not to, but I figured it would be alright. Except well…" Imoen vaguely gestured at her now male form. "And then I couldn't get the belt off. Still can't." Her eyes were filling with tears again. "Rini, what am I gonna do? I'll never meet any cute boys looking like this. Or if I did, they'd be the sort to be interested in other boys, and then what would they say when I changed back, if I ever do change back and then…" She…or rather he was rapidly getting hysterical.

"Immy, it will be alright", Zaerini promised. She hoped she sounded reassuring. "Maybe Jaheira can fix this. If she can't, then we'll find another way. Maybe ask at the Beregost Temple or something. Don't you worry. We'll get you back to normal."

Or so I certainly hope, Zaerini thought. Poor Immy. This situation is just too weird. And she looks so outlandish, I don't suppose I'll ever see a stranger sight in my entire life. Then again, who knows? If Beregost is filled with assassins, fools and madmen, Nashkel will probably turn out to be the home of a Red Dragon or something.