In The Cards

I hardly consider myself some kind of wandering paladin, ever ready to strike a blow for ‘goodness’ and ‘righteousness’. All the same, there are a few things that are likely to make me…annoyed. And in those specialized cases I am certainly able and willing to work a little for free.

Excerpt from ‘Interview With An Assassin’

“I wonder what it would be like to become a god,” Zaerini mused as the adventurers started walking back towards the eastern parts of the city. “What do you guys think? Think you’d manage?”

“Oh I c-couldn’t possibly be a god,” Khalid modestly said. “I w-would certainly t-t-trip things up, and can you imagine what k-kind of damage that could cause?”

Yeslick nodded. “I serve Clangeddin,” he said, “it would be very wrong of me to attempt to join him.”

“Oh, I think it would be lots of fun to be a goddess!” Imoen bubbled. “I could make up lots of new animals, and travel everywhere, and make the stars spell out funny jokes and…” Her face suddenly turned solemn. “…and…and make people fall in love with me forever and ever. Though I…I guess that would be wrong of me.”

Rini surreptitiously squeezed her friend’s hand. “Jaheira?” she asked, trying to draw attention away from Imoen. “How about you?”

The druid thought about this for a second. “I suppose I could achieve many worthy things were I a goddess,” she said. Then she smiled at Khalid. “Though it would mean nothing to me in the end, were I to be forced to leave everything behind.”

“I see. Edwin? What do you think?”

The Red Wizard looked dreamy at the prospect of divinity. “I would make a marvelous god of course,” he said. “Powerful, sublime and magnificent.” Then he frowned slightly. “I can see only one drawback, really.”

“And that is?”

“Well, I would be forced to depart my unparalleled mortal body, wouldn’t I? And it would be such a shame to deprive the adoring masses of females of it, criminal almost.” He gave the bard a hopeful look. “Really, it is the very image of perfection, I assure you. I should know, what with all the mirrors I have at home…er…that is…”

Rini grinned at him. “Glad to hear it,” she said. “I certainly wouldn’t want to die from Edwin-deprivation. Sounds like a nasty way to go, and probably really painful.”

The wizard’s eyes lit up. “Well,” he said, “I shouldn’t think there’s any immediate risk of it, but for safety’s sake I’d better supply you with a regular dosage…”

“Thanks, Eddie. You’re all heart…”

The party was passing through the docks district by now, and as they drew nearer to the water they certainly heard a desperate female voice. “Excuse me? Will you help me, please? You look like powerful people, and I am in desperate need.” The person speaking was a rather pretty blonde human woman, but fear and worry made her look older than she probably was. She was carrying a small child, a girl with soft and downy white hair. But what really drew Rini’s attention was that the baby was obviously a half-elf. There were the lightly pointed ears, the eyes that were larger than they would have been in a human child. There was something wrong though. The baby looked ill. Her skin was slightly gray, not rosy as it should have been, she was far too still and quiet and her breath was quick and superficial. “Please,” the strange woman said again, tears rising in her eyes. “It is my baby’s life on the line. Please, help me?”

“Of course we will,” Jaheira said. “The child is ill, I can see that much. I will be happy to heal her.”

The woman sobbed quietly. “No…no you don’t understand. Normal healing spells won’t work, I’ve already tried. The temples can do nothing. This is no simple ailment, this is a magical curse.”

“A curse?” Zaerini asked, feeling deep revulsion. “That’s disgusting! Who would put a curse on a poor baby?”

The woman’s face twisted in bitterness. “My husband, that’s who. The wizard Yago. My name is Brielbara, by the way.” She sobbed again and the child whimpered quietly. “You see…I made a terrible mistake. My husband was never the most attentive of men. He is hard, even cruel. So when a charming elf started courting me I…I was weak.”

Ouch, Rini thought as she watched the half-elven features of the baby. I can see where this is leading.

“Yago was furious when the child was born a half-elf,” the woman said. “He…he left me, but not before he swore that my baby wouldn’t live past her first birthday. He put a curse on her, a terrible curse. My poor, innocent little Namara…”

“And the child’s t-true father?” Khalid asked. “Where is h-he?”

“I don’t know! He’d left long before; I have no idea where he is. To him I was just a…a brief entertainment.”

“Where is Yago now?” Zaerini said.

“Since he left me he has been spending all his time at the Low Lantern. It’s a whorehouse, anchored here at the docks. It’s in an old ship, you see. I was going there right now, to try to talk with him again. Please…I have some magical skill myself. Yago told me that the reversal for the curse is in his spellbook. If you can get that for me, I’m sure I could cure my Namara. Will you try?”

The bard looked at the sleeping child. “Of course we will,” she said, her voice tight with anger. “Only a major creep would even think of cursing a baby.” Then she thought of something. “By the way…would you grieve if Yago were to meet with an accident?”

Brielbara’s eyes turned flinty. “Nothing would please me more,” she said, “except to see my daughter well again. I will be happy to reward you for the task as well.”

“We can talk about that later,” Zaerini said. She could feel the hot flames of rage dancing inside her heart again and had to make a real effort to keep her voice calm. “Right now, I think I want to have a word with this Yago person.”

The Low Lantern was indeed situated in an old ship, a rather entertaining disguise that Rini would probably otherwise have enjoyed. As it was, she was far too angry to pay close attention to her surroundings. She scanned the first floor rapidly, searching for a man to match the description given to her by Brielbara. There was a bar, tables, several drunken customers and a few gamblers. But no Yago. On the second floor below deck she found herself attacked by a pair of vicious madwomen, shouting something about entropy and destruction. They died fairly quickly, slain by steel and magic, and she tapped her foot impatiently while her friends quickly searched the bodies. The pair of enchanted gloves they found should prove very useful at least, as they had the power to gift the wearer with the strength of an angry ogre. Khalid put them on gratefully.

Then the third floor, and now she was inside the brothel proper. Courtesans were sitting about here and there, chatting with their customers, and from the small enclosed booths along the walls she could hear the unmistakable sounds of others hard at work. Gorion would likely faint if he knew I was visiting a place like this. Some brief asking around later she was heading for the cabin Yago was renting. She didn’t know it herself, but her eyes were shining more brightly than usual, and her hair was almost standing on edge as she bared her teeth in a silent snarl. Yago…

Yago turned out to be rather older than his estranged wife, skinny and with white hair that practically reached his waist, as well as a long beard. He was wearing purple mage robes, very expensive-looking ones. “What in the Nine Hells are you doing in my room?” he snarled. “Get out!”

“We’re here for the cure for the curse you placed on Brielbara’s daughter,” Zaerini said in a just barely controlled voice. “Are you going to give it to us?”

“Ha! After the shame my slut of a wife put me through by sleeping with some elvish rogue, and even bearing his mongrel child? I hope the little brat drowns in its own vomit. The answer is an emphatic NO!”

“Good,” the half-elf simply said, and then she wasted no more time with words. The Magic Missiles that flew from her outstretched hand should have stunned the mage into near insensibility. Should…but did not. Yago’s skin crackled and hardened, turning the lifeless gray of a living statue, and the spell didn’t even make him flinch. Khalid’s sword, the sword of the Black King, did no better, but the warrior grimly kept striking at the mage, trying to get past his defenses. By now Yago was launching an attack of his own, and a zombie, green-black and rotting, suddenly lurched towards the adventurers. Seconds later it turned around and lurched back again, repelled by the power Yeslick drew from his god. Edwin tried another Magic Missile, and this time the stone covering cracked slightly. Eventually it could no longer withstand the onslaught, and soon Yago fell, his face still holding a rather surprised look.

The dead wizard had hardly hit the floor before Zaerini was digging through his belongings, putting gold and other assorted valuables aside until she found the spellbook she was searching for. She was still breathing quickly, the fire was still rushing through her veins. She rose, the book in her hand, and she was smiling. “I liked that,” she simply said. And she meant every word.

When Brielbara received the spellbook she was so happy that she was weeping with joy. “I can never thank you enough,” she said. “My Namara is safe, thanks to you. You have certainly earned a reward.”

Rini looked at the woman, taking notice of how threadbare her robe was, and how thin she seemed. “Never mind,” she said. “You don’t have to pay us.” She handed the mage a jingling bag of coins. “In fact, I’d like for you to have this.”

“But I couldn’t…”

“Take it for Namara then.” The half-elf shrugged. “There’s 200 gold in that bag, and it all came from Yago, so I suppose we could call it an inheritance.”

“But,” Edwin began, “Yago only had…” Then he fell silent as the bard gave him a meaningful look. “Oh. Right.”

“Take it”, Zaerini repeated. “I’m sure you’ll find a use for it.”

Brielbara smiled and nodded hesitantly. “I’m sure I will,” she said. “Especially since Namara’s no-good father, Coran, likely won’t ever give her so much as a crust of stale bread, even if he should learn of her existence.”

Rini could practically feel her ears prickling at that. “Coran?” she asked. “Did you say Coran?”

“Yes. Do you know him?”

The half-elf exchanged a long look with Edwin. “Ah…sort of.” If you can count tying somebody up against a tree and smearing them with honey ‘knowing’. Not that he didn’t deserve it.

“Well, if you meet him, let him know he has a daughter. Not that he’s likely to care.” Brielbara then proceeded to give the adventurers her address, though Zaerini privately suspected that she was probably right. Coran likely wouldn’t care, even if he were to find out.

By a strange coincidence, Coran himself was walking into the city of Baldur’s Gate at that very moment. Of course, some people claim not to believe in coincidence, but if they were to stop and consider more closely they would realize that coincidence is in fact very logical. After all, the gods are able to influence the actions of mortals from time to time, and many gods are known to have fairly nasty senses of humor. This would certainly explain why Coran, who had traveled to Baldur’s Gate at the worst possible time, also was only a few hours away from making the mistake of his life by visiting the worst possible place for him, and saying the worst possible thing to the worst possible person. One might almost be tempted to guess that some god disliked him. Or perhaps more likely, some goddess.

It was twilight when Imoen walked into the Thieves’ Guild, feeling rather nervous. Adahn had promised to meet her there, to give her a few pointers during the burglary she had promised Narlen Darkwalk to perform, not to mention the more important one at Oberon’s Estate. She didn’t doubt that he would keep his promise, and she was certainly looking forward to seeing him again. But all the same she was worried. I messed up the last time I saw him. I just hope this won’t be embarrassing.

Then she spotted the tall and black-clad form of the other rogue walking through the door, and she felt her heart make a little leap within her chest. He still looks just as handsome as ever. But I have to try to forget about that. But…I can’t simply stop feeling the way I feel, can I? Well, no. But it…it won’t ever happen. I just have to go on anyway. At least he’s still my friend. That’s one good thing. “Hi!” she called out, trying to make her voice sound natural. “I’m all ready to go!”

“Good evening”, Adahn said, and the concerned look he gave her told her that he hadn’t been fooled for one instance. “Are you quite sure you feel well enough to do this?”

Imoen nodded vigorously. “Uh-huh. Sure. I’ll…I’ll be fine. I promise.”

“If you say so. Just remember, the things we do can be quite dangerous. I wouldn’t want you to make a fatal mistake because you were…preoccupied with something.”

“No, it’s all right,” Imoen said, smiling. “Honestly. Thanks for asking though.”

The older rogue shrugged his shoulders briefly. “Think nothing of it,” he said. “I cannot help feeling responsible for the whole awkwardness.”

“It wasn’t your fault. I guess…it’s just the sort of thing that happens.” Imoen looked around, eager to change the subject. “So…shall we go then? I’m sure Narlen Darkwalk is waiting by now?”

Adahn smiled briefly, clearly as relieved as she was to be able to speak of something else. “Certainly. Lead on then.” The two rogues moved towards the door. Imoen couldn’t help but notice that by now there were a large number of mostly female thieves paying very close attention to her companion, most of them people she had happened to show That Picture to. He didn’t say anything about it, but he did look slightly hunted and she felt very guilty about that, particularly when she heard some of the eager whispered comments. There was no obvious emotion apparent on his face, but the subtly increased tension in his posture reminded her of a trapped animal prepared to bite.

“Here,” Imoen whispered. “Take my arm! They’ll pull off if they think we’re…you know…a couple. At least most of them.”

The older rogue looked at her as if she’d suddenly sprouted an extra head, but after a second or two he did extend his arm. Imoen took it eagerly, and as they moved on through the crowd she felt a great surge of triumph at the envious looks many of the onlookers were giving her. All right, so maybe he won’t be mine. But pretending a little never hurt anybody, and this is so much fun!

When they were almost at the door it opened, and a person came walking in. A brown-haired elf, with a ready smile and a cocky swagger to his walk. An elf she had never expected to see again. “You!” she cried out at the same time that Coran did. He sounded equal parts angry and disgusted.

Imoen didn’t often get angry, but there were certain notable exceptions, and this was one of them. “You…you nasty old poopyhead!” she cried out, waving her finger beneath Coran’s nose. “How could you act like that!”

“What?” the elf said, sounding very insulted. “It was your little half-breed friend who abused me! Do you know what she did to me?”

“Don’t you dare call her that! And she told me how you treated her, and as far as I’m concerned you deserved it all, even the honey. If it’d been me I’d have done worse for you hurting Rini’s feelings like you did. And what about Brielbara?”

Coran looked as if he was trying to recall something. “Er…who?”

“You don’t even remember her name? OOOH! You…you are such a…and after she bore your baby too, all alone, and then was abandoned by her husband when it was born a half-elf, and then he cursed it to try to kill it, and we had to help her out, and you don’t even remember her name?”

By now Coran looked as if he had been hit between the eyes with a club. “Baby? What baby?”

“Oh,” Imoen said, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed. “I guess you didn’t know about that. Yeah, she had your baby, and her name is Namara, and she’s the cutest little girl you’ll ever see. I expect you’ll want to go see her now?”

Coran’s mouth worked silently for a few moments, but then he seemed to come to a decision. “No,” he said. “I won’t.”

“What? But…why?”

“Look, even if I knew for certain that the child was mine…”

“She’s a half-elf! How many elves do you suppose that Brielbara has been spending time with? And she’s all alone, I’m sure she’d like you to come back to visit the baby.”

“As I said, even if she is mine I still want nothing to do with her.” Coran shook his head with an air of mild disgust. “I just don’t have the time or the inclination to care for a child. I’m sure Briel will manage somehow.”

Imoen could only stare at the elf, too revolted to be able to get a single word out. How…how can he say such a thing? That poor little girl…I hope she never finds out what her father’s like.

At that moment the pink-haired thief heard somebody clearing their throat next to her and started violently as she realized that she’d forgotten all about Adahn. “Excuse me,” he said in a very polite voice as he addressed Coran. “But could I perhaps ask you to clarify a thing or two?” He was smiling, Imoen noticed, but not actually smiling. Somehow she got the impression of bared fangs. Coran must have noticed as well, for he took an involuntary step backwards. “I’m sure I must have misunderstood something here,” Adahn said, still sounding altogether too polite. “You have fathered a child…you have been given the privilege of being able to actually be a father to her rather than just some peripheral influence…and you cannot be bothered to do so, because you haven’t ‘got the time or the inclination’?”

“Uh…” Coran said, “well…yes?”

“Thank you,” Adahn said, and that not-quite-a-smile widened just a little bit. “I just wanted to make certain.” Then his arm shot out, swift as a striking snake. Imoen wasn’t able to see exactly what he did, but there was a loud and hollow sound, and then Coran was lying in an unconscious heap on the floor, while Adahn was sliding a black object into a pocket. “Blackjack,” he laconically told Imoen. “Very useful in certain situations, you should think about getting one.”

“Are…are you going to kill him?” For a moment Imoen almost hoped that he’d say yes.

“Tempting, but I think I’d better not. Dead he’d be no use whatsoever to that child, remember? I have a better idea, if you happen to know where to get in touch with this Brielbara.”

Imoen nodded, beaming brightly. “I sure do!”

“Then, I’d say it’s time this elf underwent a change of attitude.” Adahn picked Coran up, being none too gentle about it. “And they say elves are light…” he muttered. Then he looked a little surprised at the wild smattering of applause that suddenly came from the still watching throng of admiring mostly female thieves, along with a few appreciative suggestions about what to do with Coran. There were some other appreciative suggestions as well, ones that made Imoen blush brightly. Her companion didn’t, but from the slightly stunned look on his face she got the impression that it was only because he willed himself not to. He nodded briefly at the onlookers and then walked out the door, Coran slung across his shoulder. “Let’s go,” he told Imoen. “I think it’s high time we took out the trash.”

When Coran woke up he had a splitting headache. He also found himself blindfolded, gagged, and tied up. “I wouldn’t thrash about if I were you,” a chillingly polite male voice spoke into his left ear. “You’ll only risk injuring yourself.”

“Mmmf!”

“Oh, you’re wondering what’s about to happen to you?” the voice said. “Well, that all depends on you, actually. Right now you have probably already noticed that you are quite helpless and unable to move. What you won’t have noticed is that you happen to be lying on madam Brielbara’s doorstep, where she’ll likely find you first thing in the morning.”

“Mmmf?”

“There’s a letter pinned to your clothes, a letter explaining that you’re fully prepared to take responsibility for your child and do everything within your power to provide her with a good life. Whether that will involve a simple monetary arrangement or the added privilege of being allowed to openly be a father to her will depend entirely on Brielbara.”

“Mmmf.”

“Ah, now you’re wondering what’s preventing you from simply skipping town as soon as you’re untied. Please let me explain.” Coran flinched as he felt something cold and very, very sharp briefly tickling his throat. “If that were to happen, I would find out. Perhaps not the next day, perhaps not the next week. But I would find out. And then I would find you. Are you feeling the urge to be a model father yet?”

“Mmmf! MMMF!!”

“That’s what I thought. Best of luck to you then.”

A second voice, female, giggled loudly. “Aw, I think he looks really sweet like that.”

“If you say so,” the first voice dryly said. “Though I must say I wish you hadn’t insisted on the pink ribbon. But now I think we have better things to do than to waste our time with already delivered mail.”

There was no sound of footsteps moving off, but Coran’s instincts eventually told him that he was alone. He thought about the women, all the lovely women waiting for him out in the world, about the freedom of being totally irresponsible and all the cities he had planned to travel to. He thought about running away. Then he thought about that sincere voice next to his ear, one night when he wouldn’t expect it. And then Coran wept.