In The Cards

Some people say you cannot go home again. They are wrong, of course. People go home all the time. It’s just that the home you remember may be something very different from the one that awaits you when you get there.

Excerpt from ‘Ruminations Of A Master Bard’

“Edwin,” Zaerini said, crossing her arms across her chest and giving the wizard a stern look. “Give it up. We need that book, or we won’t be able to get into Candlekeep.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” the wizard said, not tearing his eyes away from the yellowed pages. “All in good time. I just need to finish this chapter first…”

“That’s what you said two hours ago! Look, I’m really sorry, but we can’t afford to wait any longer, you know that. Give it here.”

“But…but it’s ‘The History Of The Nether Scrolls’!” Edwin said, pure agony in his voice. “Have you any idea how rare that book is? It…it may even hold clues as to where to find those artifacts of incredible power, and instructions on how to use them. Just a single one of those scrolls could make me powerful beyond my wildest dreams! (And my dreams are pretty wild, I assure you.)”

Zaerini looked at the ancient volume, with its yellowed pages and strange, spidery writing that seemed to crawl across the pages like a living creature. There were some pictures as well, very unpleasant pictures. She got the impression that they illustrated some of the things that might happen to the unlucky individual who used one of the Nether Scrolls improperly. The person who seemed to have been turned inside out was especially unpleasant to look at. “And during our weeklong trip here from Baldur’s Gate, how much of the text have you managed to decipher?”

“Er…about half a chapter. But I’m getting there, I’m telling you!”

The gate guard leaning against the tall stone wall surrounding Candlekeep spat in the grass and gave them an impatient look. “Are you going to make up your minds soon?” he drawled.

“What do you care?” Rini snapped. “It’s not as if you’re going anywhere.” She attempted to snatch the book out of Edwin’s hands, but the wizard clung for it for dear life, trying to tug it back. “Give me that!”

“No! I’m not finished yet!”

“You’ll be finished once I’m done with you unless you GIVE ME THAT BOOK!”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“No!”

“Yes!”

This scintillating argument might have gone on for quite some time, if not for Yeslick who deftly managed to pry the book away from both the bard and the wizard, causing them both to make a highly undignified landing in the soft grass. “There ye go,” the dwarf said, handing the book to the gate guard. “One rare tome, as promised.”

Jaheira shook her head despairingly as she watched the two rather embarrassed looking people sitting on the ground. “Children,” she said. “Sometimes I wonder just how old you two really think you are.”

Zaerini gave the druid a crooked grin as she helped Edwin get to his feet. “Oh, come on, Jaheira. Sometimes it’s fun to fight a little. Right, Eddie?”

“Right,” the wizard admitted, still looking with longing at ‘The History Of The Nether Scrolls’. “I’m sure I could have deciphered it all given the proper time. (Well, at least I got some very interesting hints…)”

“Come on you guys!” Imoen impatiently said. “I can’t wait to see how everybody is! Dreppin and Puffguts and Tethoril and…and everybody. Not Ulraunt though.”

Zaerini shared her friends’ sentiment exactly. Candlekeep lay before her, her home for so long, but no longer. Still, every stone, every path, every tree was achingly familiar, calling up a thousand memories of childhood games and pranks. She wished she had come back simply to visit, but the truth was very different. Scar and Lord Elhan, one of the Grand Dukes of Baldur’s Gate, had both been very interested to hear about the Iron Throne’s involvement in the iron crisis, and Elhan had been only too happy to supply the adventurers with the rare book necessary to gain entrance to Candlekeep in order to investigate Reiltar’s and Sarevok’s activities further, and hopefully put a stop to them.

Reiltar…I will kill him for what he did. Preferably painfully. She was feeling better now, at least she didn’t have nightmares every night, and her friends were a great comfort, but still there would be times when the memories would grip her and make her feel that same icy terror she had felt in the dungeon. She had a feeling that she wouldn’t begin to heal properly until the Iron Throne leader lay dead.

But for now, there was Candlekeep. Zaerini walked across the sunlit courtyard. It was strange…it looked the same as it always had, but at the same time…much smaller. Tempted as she was to pay a visit to Winthrop at the inn, and some other people she knew, she decided to head for the library at once. If Sarevok and Reiltar were there, she was certain they were up to no good.

As always, the library filled her with awe. The air was cool after the sunshine outside, and slightly dusty. There was the whispering of quiet voices, and of turning pages, and that special smell of thousands of old books. The large statue of the Prophet Alaundo gazed enigmatically at her from his spot near the front doors. He saw the coming of the Children of Bhaal. He saw me. I wonder…what did he think about it all? It would probably be a good idea to read those prophecies properly, if I get the chance while I’m here.

“This certainly is a fascinating place,” Edwin said, his eyes glowing with excitement at the sight of all the bookshelves dwindling off into the seemingly endless distance. “Under other, more pleasant circumstances, I wouldn’t mind staying here for some time to do a little research.”

“I-it is v-v-very peaceful,” Khalid said, smiling. “I th-think that w-was why Gorion picked it as a g-good spot to raise a child in. I always l-liked it myself.”

“There were other possible places though, weren’t there?” Rini asked, noticing the uncomfortable look that came into Khalid’s eyes as she did so. “I dreamt about it. Many places, and none of them would have me. Like that temple…or the elven city.”

“Hmpf,” Jaheira said. “That just goes to show how wise some of those full elves can be. Full of herself that is what she is, the all mighty Queen Ellesime.”

“Ellesime? She’s the elf queen who’s supposedly a daughter of one of the elven gods, isn’t she?”

Jaheira nodded. “Yes,” she said in a low voice. “Gorion thought that such a benign divine influence might help counteract…the other one.” Her green eyes flared with sudden anger. “But the woman would not hear of it. No tainted child, particularly not a ‘mere half-breed’ could be suffered to live inside her precious city. Gorion was livid.”

Khalid was trying to attract his wife’s attention by tugging at her sleeve. “J-jaheira, she r-really doesn’t n-n-need to know that.”

The druid actually looked chagrined for a moment. “I am sorry, child,” she said. “I did not mean to hurt your feelings by bringing that up.”

Zaerini sighed. “That’s all right,” she said. “It’s not your fault, and I really prefer knowing the truth anyway. At least this way I know I needn’t bother with being polite to the woman if I ever should have the misfortune to meet her. Quite the opposite, in fact. Now, let’s see if we can find…”

At that moment the bard was interrupted by a kindly old voice calling her name. Karan, the old monk who had been her tutor in childhood, came tottering across the floor towards her, a broad smile on his wrinkled face, his plain robe hanging loosely on his stick-like body. He was carrying a number of scrolls beneath one arm. “Karan!” Zaerini called out, embracing the old man. “It’s so good to see you!”

“Dear little Zaerini,” Karan said, fondly ruffling her hair. “It has been far too long. I heard of Gorion, and we all feared the worst. I am so happy to see you alive and well. And little Imoen too – what have you done to your hair, child?”

“Well,” Imoen said, “you see, it all started when I met this really cute guy…”

“We’ll save that for later,” Rini hastily interjected, knowing how Imoen would get when she’d started onto the subject of Adahn’s many positive traits and physical perfection. She hurried to introduce her other friends instead. “And this is Karan,” she concluded. “He was my tutor, I really don’t see how he ever put up with me.”

“With some difficulty I am sure,” Edwin said. “Giving your tendency to deprive other people of their reading material.” He did look a little distant though, as if he had suddenly been unpleasantly reminded of something.

“It was no great chore,” Karan said with a smile. “What mischief she caused was mostly harmless – though Ulraunt saw things differently.”

“Did he ever,” Imoen snorted. “Old stick-in-the-mud that he was. Always nagging about one thing or the other. So what if we accidentally tipped those bookshelves over? Nobody got hurt or anything. And the thing with the beetles was fun!”

“Tell me Karan,” Zaerini said, “has there been anything odd happening at the library recently. Anything out of the ordinary? Anything strange?”

Karan thought for a moment. “Strange? Why yes, that is just the word I would have used for that Koveras fellow. He was right here beside me, taking Alaundo's prophecies from their place on the shelf and reading them. I could hear his voice, recognize the Seer's words upon his quiet breath, but when I turned to steal a glance at him from the corner of my eye, it was the strangest thing...his eyes were closed and he was reciting page after page, as if from memory! He heard your footsteps, it seems, and wandered off... I was just returning the prophecies to their rightful place, here. It might be wise to take a look. If this Koveras is dangerous, though, I'm afraid I'm too old and bookish to be more than a hindrance.”

“I see…” Rini said, her golden eyes glittering with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. “Koveras, is it? Thank you, Karan, you have been a great help.”

The old man nodded kindly and walked off, as the redheaded half-elf took the scrolls he had given her and skimmed through them. She didn’t have the time to read them all through, they were far too lengthy for that, but certain phrases seemed to leap out at her, burning themselves into her mind.

During the days of the Avatars, the Lord of Murder will spawn a score of mortal progeny. These offspring will be aligned good and evil, but chaos will flow through them all. When the Beast's bastard children come of age, they will bring havoc to the lands of the Sword Coast. One of these children must rise above the rest and claim their father's legacy. This inheritor will shape the history of the Sword Coast for centuries to come......

That certainly seemed to fit.

I don’t want to bring havoc to any land, not really. I can’t help who I am. Sarevok…no wonder he’s fascinated by this. He thinks he is the one mentioned in the prophecy, the one fated to rise above the others. The others…how many of us are there? Do I even want to know that?

She kept reading.

The spawn of the Lord of Murder are fated to come into their inheritance through bloodshed and misery. It is the hope of their father that only one shall remain alive to inherit his legacy. I foresee that the children of Bhaal shall kill each other in a bloody massacre.

That didn’t sound very nice either, in fact it was even worse than the first bit.

It certainly explains why Sarevok is so keen on seeing me dead though. He thinks it will help him ascend faster. But somehow I don’t think Bhaal can be trusted to keep his part of the deal.

And here was another interesting bit.

Though their nature is that of destruction and warring amongst each other, there is an alternate path to be taken. When the dead walk the world, and the innocent willingly sacrifice for the guilty, then shall three of the Children stand together, and face the one who would destroy them all.

“Well,” Zaerini said, rolling the scrolls up again. “That was all just about as cryptic as might be expected. But it seems as if there’s somebody hanging around here who might be able to explain it all. And even if not, I’d love to have a word with him.”

“Who?” Yeslick asked.

“Why, a certain ‘Koveras’ of course!” The bard was grinning widely by now. “I can’t believe he seriously didn’t expect anybody to get that one…”