In The Cards

Poison can be a very insidious and cunning way of killing somebody. Yet the most dangerous poison of all is not in the body, but in the mind. That is the poison that twists your soul and would turn you against all you hold dear and believe in. That poison is the voice of my sire, and I know it all too well.

Excerpt from ‘Ruminations Of A Master Bard’

Edwin ran at full speed out the door of the Elfsong Tavern, so anxious that he paid no attention to where he was going and crashed straight into the human shape nervously hovering outside the door. Once the cursing wizard had managed to disentangle himself he saw just whom he had collided with. A skinny youth, his face white beneath his freckles. Lothander. “You!” Edwin snarled, already reaching for his spell components. I’ll peel every square inch of skin from his body and hang it up to dry.

“Aaaagh!” the young assassin screamed. “Please don’t hurt me! I can help you, I swear it!”

Listen to him, Softpaws told Edwin as she glared coldly at Lothander. He may be telling the truth, and if he isn’t we can still kill him.

Edwin had to admit that the cat had a point. “Talk then,” he said. He slid the blade on his staff out and positioned it directly beneath Lothander’s chin, where it pressed slightly into the unprotected skin. Casting a spell would take a few moments, but this would be an instant death. “And for your sake you’d better have something to say that I like hearing.”

“Pleasepleasepleasedon’tkillme!” Lothander said in a very squeaky voice, a few drops of blood trickling down his throat as his Adam’s Apple bobbed up and down along the blade. “I never wanted to be an assassin, honestly!”

“Do I look like a career advisor to you? I’m starting to lose interest in this conversation you know.”

“No, please don’t! I…I couldn’t help it! I mean, I wanted to be an assassin, but not like this! Not being apprenticed to Marek. He works me like a slave, never listens to anything I say. I would run away, but I can’t. He knows I’m good at brewing poisons, and there’s one I made myself that he wants to keep on using, he won’t let me go. He…he put a Geas on me. If I try to leave him, I will sicken and die.”

“My heart bleeds for you,” Edwin said with a sneer. “And speaking of bleeding…”

“You don’t understand! The poison…it’s the one I used on you all, I can help you get an antidote to it if you help me in return. And I can tell you where the redhead is.”

“I can find her on my own if I have to,” Edwin spat. “And I can always take the antidote off your cold dead body.”

“I don’t have it on me. And she’s deep in the Iron Throne dungeon, you’ll never get in without me.”

Edwin hesitated. He wanted nothing more than to see the man’s blood cooling on the ground, but he didn’t want to make a mistake. “Go on.”

“The poison was two-fold,” Lothander explained. “The first part was given with your dessert the other day, and the other last night. It will kill slowly but surely, and magic will not work on it. The antidote is two-fold as well. I have one part, Marek the other, and they must be combined. I made that in case our employers should want to revive you all for interrogation or something. Anyway, there’s a Diviner in the market place. I managed to scrape together enough money to ask him who could help release me from my Geas. He told me that the High Priestess Jalantha Mistmyr of Umberlee has the knowledge, and that you are the one who can help me get it from her. Get the cure for my Geas, and I will give you my part of the antidote, as well as tell you where you can find Marek to get the other half.”

Edwin barely heard him, as he had just realized something horrible. Dessert…they put it in the dessert. And I let Zaerini have my dessert that day…to make her happy. That’s why I was never affected by the poison. But she…she must have got twice as much as the others. And it’s all my fault. “Very well,” he said, his voice so thick that he could barely recognize it himself. “I will do as you ask, but know this. If she should die before I can get her out of there, then you will wish that you had swallowed that poison yourself. Do you understand? (And if she should die, I might as well die myself, so I will have nothing to lose.)”

“Yes,” Lothander whispered. “I understand perfectly.”

Meanwhile, at the Iron Throne compound, Sarevok was having some difficulties of his own. Having received an urgent message from Winski he really was in no mood to deal with visitors, and told the nervous servant approaching him exactly that.

“But…but sir!” the man said. “It…I mean he…said that he had found a certain ‘Zaerini’.”

“Really?” Sarevok said, raising an eyebrow. “Very well. Where is he?”

“In the small waiting room, sir. I took the liberty of serving him some snacks.” The servant shuddered. “It was a terrible thing to watch…”

When Sarevok entered the waiting room he found a very large ogre, almost as tall as he was. The ogre was happily munching on what seemed to be goat eyes, now and then tossing one into the air and catching it in his mouth. “Yeah, me smart ogre,” he muttered. “Remember it all…”

“I am Sarevok,” Sarevok said. “You had something to say to me?”

The ogre turned around and gave Sarevok a look that was obviously intended to be cunning. “Nope, nope, nope!” he said and wagged his meaty finger beneath Sarevok’s nose. “You no be Sarevok.”

This was a new experience for certain. “I’m not?” Sarevok mildly asked. “And who am I then? For that matter, who are you?”

The ogre grinned widely. “Me be Larze, and me be very smart ogre! You no trick Larze, oh no. Me know all the signs.” He nodded at Sarevok and started ticking items off on is fingers. “Spiky armor…check. Glowing spooky eyes…check. Deep and booming voice…check. Really big and tall…check. Yep, you be Zaerini all right, it all fit. You think you smart and fool Larze, but Larze be no fool!”

“Who did you just say I was?” Sarevok said in an ominously calm voice.

“You be Zaerini. Me got description, it all fit. Sorry, but me have to kill you now!”

“I am not Zaerini! What gave you that ridiculous idea?”

The ogre grinned again. “Helpful girl with hair like fire, very nice and helps Larze. She explain so it all make sense.”

My little sister again! Sarevok thought, certain that steam had to be coming out of his ears by now. As if it isn’t enough that she constantly gets in my way she has to…to tease me about it! It…it isn’t FAIR! I’m the next Lord of Murder, I deserve to be treated with respect!

“You want to hold still so Larze can kill you now?” the ogre asked. “Me will try to do it quickly.”

There was a terrible roar, a squeal of pain and a thump. “That,” Sarevok said as he pulled the Sword of Chaos out of the dead ogre’s body, “is how you kill somebody quickly.” Something I also intend to demonstrate to my annoying little sister once I finally get hold of her.

It was in a very dark mood that Sarevok entered Winski’s chambers, and it wasn’t about to get better. The wizard shouldn’t even be out of bed, still weakened as he was after the other night’s attack, but there he was, sitting at the table. He was staring intently into a crystal ball, not moving a muscle, and his eyes weren’t even blinking. Sarevok couldn’t help noticing that his face looked even gaunter than usual and that his skin was of an unhealthy waxen color that would have belonged on a corpse.

“Close the door,” Winski said, startling Sarevok who had been certain the wizard hadn’t noticed him. “And wipe your sword off, I can smell the blood from here and quite frankly I’m nauseous enough already. Who have you been killing now?”

“Just some ogre,” Sarevok said. “Courtesy of my sister of course.” He hoped he didn’t sound as petulant as he felt, but Winsi’s raised eyebrows didn’t give him much hope of that.

“Indeed,” the mage said. “Well, as it happens you have more pressing concerns than that. You did understand what I told you about what happened the other night, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did. Some assassin got in here, and you dealt with him. No harm is done.”

“Some assassin?” Winski said in a dry voice. “Let me remind you that anybody capable of getting past my wards is very dangerous, and a genuine threat. Had I been asleep when he arrived I doubt I would be alive now. And ‘no harm’? Are you acting like a fool on purpose? I told you about the scrolls he stole. Scrolls that will make you very vulnerable to magic should he decide to use them against you. Don’t you realize what a dangerous situation this is? Or are you so drunk on power that you think yourself invulnerable? You aren’t a god yet, you know.”

“ENOUGH!” Sarevok didn’t realize his hand had gone to the hilt of his sword until his fingers were already grasping it. What am I doing? This is Winski! The rage was getting stronger day by day, more and more difficult to control, and he could still smell the blood of the ogre, enticing him, goading him on.

KILL HIM, MY SON, his sire’s voice said. HE IS IN YOUR WAY; HE WOULD KEEP YOU FROM MY THRONE.

No…not Winski. He wouldn’t do that.

DO YOU DOUBT YOUR FATHER? IN THAT CASE, PERHAPS HE IS RIGHT. PERHAPS YOU ARE TOO WEAK FOR MY PURPOSES.

No…Father, no!

“Sarevok?” Winski said in a very quiet voice. “Are you all right?” The wizard looked apprehensive at the sight of the large warrior clutching his sword and muttering to himself, his golden eyes staring emptily in front of him. “You know, if I was harsh with you it is only because I worry for your safety.”

There was a long moment of silence. “I believe you,” Sarevok finally said. “For now. But you must address me with the proper courtesies from now on, and obey my commands. I am no longer a child, and I need no instruction.”

Winski’s eyes narrowed dangerously and he pressed his lips together as if he was biting back a sarcastic retort. “If you say so,” he eventually said. “I’m sure you know best. I…suppose I hadn’t realized how much you have changed.” He gazed at the Crystal Ball again. “The poison on that trap I walked into is an inconvenience, it makes me rather ill and I don’t trust myself to cast any complex spells until I fully recover. It also seems resistant to magical healing, though it is wearing off gradually. Very interesting. I really wish I could ask Bron – or whatever his real name is – about it. An intriguing person.”

Sarevok could hardly believe his ears. “How can you be so calm about it? The man tried to kill you, why aren’t you furious?”

Winski shrugged. “Why would I be angry? It was obviously a professional thing, nothing personal. And I did my best to try to kill him in return. A shame really, I had been looking forward to more enjoyable conversations with the man.” He peered into the Crystal Ball. “Unfortunately, I’m having problems locating him. It was difficult from the start; I assume he knows how to mask his presence. Still, I found him a few times and sent people to deal with him. Since they haven’t returned I assume he still lives, and now I can’t locate him at all anymore. He may have moved out of range.”

“He could be dead.”

“Perhaps…but you shouldn’t put your trust in that. As I said, he is a dangerous person, and I really don’t like the idea of him being at large with a weapon that can be used against you.” Winski sighed. “It may be that you do not trust my judgment any more, but once again I would implore you to be careful. He’s not likely to give up, you know.”

“What makes you say that?”

Winski was silent for a moment. “Because I did converse with him. I believe he and I have a great deal in common…and in that situation I wouldn’t give up. Not if I thought it was important enough. I really wish you would trust me on this.”

“Ha!” Sarevok said. “You need not worry. Am I not the greatest warrior who ever lived, Sarevok who tramples his foes beneath his feet, Sarevok who conquers all, Sarevok who bathes in the blood of his enemies and laughs at their dying wails?”

“You,” Winski said, “are Sarevok who has started speaking of himself in third person. Please refrain from doing so in my presence, I find it more than a little unsettling.”

“Oh. All right.” Sarevok smiled proudly at his old mentor. “It will all work out, Winski, you will see. Soon, very soon, vengeance will be mine, and then…the Throne.”

Winski nodded. “I hope so,” he said. “I really do.” He didn’t sound all that confident though, and as he turned back to his scrying he had a very worried frown on his face.