In The Cards

In any given situation, there are different ways in which you can act. I certainly don’t claim always to make the right or most morally upstanding choice. All I can strive for is that the choice always be my own, and my own responsibility. And sometimes…the winding road can be immensely more pleasant than the straight one.

Excerpt from ‘Ruminations Of A Master Bard’

There was something deeply rotten about Candlekeep. Zaerini hadn’t noticed it at first, being both pleased and excited about getting to see her childhood home again, as well as tense about confronting Reiltar. She had thought it was simple apprehension that made her jump at shadows. But that was before she encountered one of the monks, a man she had known since childhood, and he didn’t recognize her face. When she confronted him about it, the man’s face had suddenly rippled and…changed. Changed into the gray, anonymous, silver-eyed visage of a doppelganger.

There had been others since then. Familiar faces melting away before her eyes, twisting into alien creatures seeking her life. She had only been back in Candlekeep for a few hours, methodically searching the library for Reiltar and his cohorts, and already she had discovered three doppelgangers. How many more might there be, hidden away for some sinister purpose? She had no way of knowing. All she could do was to go on.

Going on might be more difficult than she had expected though. The business with Sarevok had distracted her. Dear Big Brother. Dangerous and murderous maniac that he is, at least he only wants to kill me in order to become a god. Perfectly straightforward. But Reiltar…

She shuddered. She was coping with what had happened in the dungeon, or so she had told her friends. Oh yes. Coping. Sometimes she could even be almost like her old self. That didn’t mean that the other emotions had left her. Fear. Pain. Humiliation. Utter, devastating and crippling helplessness. That had been the worst part.

Sometimes she still dreamed about it at night, dark and terrible dreams that made her wake up drenched with sweat, her cheeks wet with tears. Sometimes the dreams mimicked the Iron Throne leader’s actions exactly. Sometimes they went further, exploring what would have happened had he not been interrupted. Sometimes she died in those dreams. Sometimes she only wished that she had.

The bard looked at the double doors in front of her, shivering violently. Reiltar was in there, or so she had been told by one of the Keep’s servants, in a meeting with some other strangers.

Kitten, you don’t have to do this, Softpaws said. Let one of the others handle it.

No. I need to see…I need to know that he is really there. I need to see for myself. An invisibility spell hid her from sight as she slowly, hesitantly, pulled the doors open.

There were four men sitting around a large table covered with important-looking documents. Three of them she didn’t recognize. The fourth she recognized only too well. Reiltar Anchev looked every bit the successful businessman, with his expensive and well-cut dark clothes, the golden chain around his throat, the ruby signet ring on his finger. His iron-gray hair was neat, his regular face relaxed. He turned his head to laugh at something one of the other men was saying, and as his eyes swept past the invisible half-elf she marveled at how ordinary he looked. How…normal. But the Devil was there, hidden beneath that pleasant façade. She had seen the cruelty in his eyes, felt his cold and merciless touch. She knew.

But…who would believe me, if I told? He…he looks so respectable. He doesn’t even know I’m here. How dare he look so ordinary, as if he was just like anybody else? How dare he sit there, calmly chatting as if he was a man and not a monster? As if what he did to me made no difference, was of no importance? How DARE HE!

Then Softpaws was there, a steadying presence against her mind. Kitten, not now! Not like this. You need to be calm first, and then you may hunt.

Yes…yes, I know. Besides, an open fight in here would only bring the Watchers. I…I guess I need to talk this over with the others.

A short while later, the adventurers had retreated into a secluded corner of the library and having a quiet argument. “No,” Jaheira adamantly said. “I wish him dead as much as any of the rest of you, but you cannot simply start to kill people in the middle of Candlekeep. The Watchers are diligent, and they are many. They would not tolerate such actions.”

“You can’t mean to simply let him be!” Edwin hissed. “If you are too cowardly to deal with him, Harper, then I will do so myself. I tell you, that man will die. (Preferably slowly, and extremely painfully.)”

“And I tell you, Red Wizard, that I have no wish to see any of us arrested!” Jaheira snarled, anger flashing in her green eyes. “Am I the only one who has some sense here? The solution is simple. We must accuse him before the proper authorities.”

“That nay be a bad idea,” Yeslick admitted, nodding. “Much as I would like to slay Reiltar meself, it be far better if we can do things properly.”

“Properly?” Imoen almost screamed. “D’you call what he did to Rini proper? He hurt my sister!”

Khalid was trying to say something, but was stammering so badly that no proper words emerged.

“Please,” Zaerini said in a quiet voice that made her friends settle down. “Don’t fight. This should be my decision, don’t you think?” She thought for a moment. “Jaheira, we will try your way. I will…take this to the proper authorities, as you ask. And if that doesn’t work…then I will make…other arrangements.”

The chambers of Ulraunt, the Keeper of the Tomes and leader of Candlekeep, were large and luxurious, with large windows, beautiful antique furniture and expensive ornaments. Still, they were also cold and unwelcoming, and every chair was so uncomfortable that it was obvious that the owner of the office didn’t wish for any guest to remain seated long – if indeed they were permitted to sit down at all. The desk was a vast expanse of dark and polished wood, and there were no papers whatsoever marring its smooth surface. Ulraunt himself was seated behind the desk, looking down his narrow nose at the half-elf in front of him. He was a tall wizard with impressive-looking snowy white hair and long beard, and a highly proud and aristocratic face. He certainly looked like a powerful wizard ought to.

“And why,” Ulraunt slowly said with a small sneer, “should I believe in you – Bhaalspawn?” He spat out the last word with clearly displayed contempt.

“How about because I’m telling the truth?” Rini asked, pretending a calm she didn’t feel at all. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Yeslick, the one of her companions she had allowed to accompany her, stare at the wizard with outrage painted all over his kind and honest face.

“The truth?” Ulraunt snorted, a disdainful look in his cold eyes. “You? Do not make me laugh. You were always a disruptive element, even as a child. Chaotic. Disorderly. Not surprising, considering your vile nature. That you know the truth of your heritage, as you say, makes what I have to say all the easier. Had Gorion been as wise a man as some people thought him, he would have drowned you himself before you managed to cause his death, and the Realms would have been a far more functional place. This business about doppelgangers and conspiracies is utterly preposterous. You are probably just trying to divert my attention away from watching you and making sure you do not disturb the peace and the books.”

Rini was clenching her fists beneath the seat of her chair, willing her fixed smile to stay on her face, though by now it had become more of a snarl. “And Reiltar?” she said, surprised at how calm her voice sounded, despite the red mist floating in front of her eyes.

“What of him? He is a respectable businessman.” Ulraunt scoffed. “Certainly by far more trustworthy than some…monstrous creature, the foul offspring of Murder. I know you. Always thought yourself too good for everybody else here, didn’t you? Never wanted to fit in!”

“That,” Rini hissed, “was because people like you wouldn’t let me.” The flames were dancing higher in her heart now, she wanted nothing more than to jump across the table and strangle the old wizard to death. If I were as strong as Sarevok, I would. I really would. But I’m not, so I have to do things differently. Besides, he’s not the one I really want.

Yeslick was making small and sputtering sounds deep in his throat by now, and suddenly he leapt to his feet, his face red with fury. “Have ye nay been listening, spell-slinger?” he roared. “That…that sargh calass meant to rape her! He even got as far as…”

Ulraunt sneered again. “Please,” he said. “This really is a pointless discussion. Even if he had done as you say – which I do not believe in the slightest – I am certain he had his reasons.”

“Reasons?”

“Well, surely it cannot have escaped your notice, my good dwarf, that this little Bhaalspawn is not exactly a…a nice and proper girl? Rape doesn’t happen to nice girls, you know. What with the brazen way she swaggers around, constantly defying older and wiser people, proudly putting her body on display? She probably encouraged him. Under such circumstances, it would be only natural for a gentleman to make a small mistake…”

CRACK! Yeslick’s war-hammer came down hard, and Ulraunt sprang back, white-faced, as his lovely desk cracked in two halves. “There be no mistake to speak of,” the dwarf growled. “And though yer speak shows that yer likely t’make that sort o’ mistake yerself, I warn ye against it. I do believe ye long-limbs have laws against molesting lasses, uncivilized as ye be.”

“O-o-out of here!” the elderly wizard cried, his trembling finger pointing at the door! “Get out! Or I will have you arrested! You will not be allowed to disturb the peace of Candlekeep any further.”

“Aye,” Yeslick said. “We be goin’.” He tossed a bag of gold on the broken piece of furniture. “Fer a new desk. Come along then, lass.”

As Zaerini followed the still violently grumbling dwarf out the door she gave the still twitching Ulraunt a look across her shoulder. “He can be rather hot-tempered at times,” she said. “And you know, I don’t think he likes you very much.” She paused. “Come to think of it, I don’t really like you either.”

A short while later, the conversation that was taking place in Rini’s old room had taken on the nature of a war-council. Having had the important bits of the conversation with Ulraunt repeated back at her, with much swearing on Yeslick’s part, Jaheira had finally been convinced that the Keeper would take no action against Reiltar. “And Tethoril?” she said.

Imoen shook her head. “Tethoril is really sweet and all, but he won’t move against Ulraunt openly to arrest Reiltar. That just won’t happen.”

But it won’t be necessary, Rini thought, a dreamy half-smile on her face. Not necessary at all. I knew Ulraunt would never listen, he despises me far too much. I only did that so Jaheira couldn’t say I hadn’t tried. Well, now I’ve tried. And now…now I will go hunting. “Don’t worry,” she calmly said. “I know exactly what to do, I’ve worked it all out. I will deal with Reiltar myself. None of the rest of you need get involved.” She laughed quietly. “In fact…I’ll hardly even need to get involved myself.”

“P-please,” Khalid pleaded, his brown eyes filled with concern, “don’t d-do anything r-r-reckless. We are your f-friends, we all wish to h-help.”

The bard shook her head violently, making her red curls dance about her face. “No,” she stubbornly stated. “Thanks…but I need to do this alone. I really do.”

Imoen bit her lip. “If…if you really feel that way, sis…then I’m with you. You know that. You do what you have to do.”

“Thanks, Immy.” The redhead smiled faintly. “I won’t tell any of the rest of you guys about it. I don’t want you involved. You just go down in the library, and make sure you keep visible all the time. That way, if anything should go wrong, nobody will be able to say you had anything to do with it. Not that anything will go wrong.”

One long and rather furious debate later, she still hadn’t changed her mind. Even Yeslick had admitted that it didn’t seem likely that Ulraunt would put Reiltar on trial, and the officials in Baldur’s Gate would certainly never do so, considering how powerful both the man himself and the Iron Throne were. “Very well,” Jaheira sighed in defeat. “This is your decision. I will abide by it. I do understand…it is just…”

“I know. You don’t want me to get hurt, and I appreciate that. But I won’t.” No, I won’t, Rini thought. If anything, I’ll get healed.

As the others reluctantly filed out of the room, Edwin lingered behind. “I…need to have a word with you, alone,” he said, looking very serious. Once the door had closed, he took her hand, frowning a little. “Are you really certain about this?” he asked.

Rini nodded. “Yes,” she said. She smiled, and her golden eyes glittered alarmingly in the half-light. “I really am.” She paused, thinking. “You know, I’ve killed often enough in battle. I…I suppose carrying out an assassination isn’t all that different really. It just takes more planning, and a cooler head.” Then she looked momentarily worried. “You…won’t dislike me because of it, will you?”

The Red Wizard got a very strange look on his face then, half pleasure and half pain, and then he took her into his arms. “Hellkitten,” he murmured into her hair, “for a woman reasonably intelligent as compared to all these other chimps, you really can be remarkably ignorant at times. According to Thayvian custom, you are behaving entirely properly. (And…and I dare say that not only I but one whose opinion I greatly respect would salute you for it.)”

“Oh.” The half-elf felt a warm glow spread through her body, and for once she felt strangely at a loss for words. “Thank you…Dread Wizard. That really means a lot.” Then she winked at the wizard. “Want to see what I plan to use?” Without waiting for an answer, she bent to retrieve her pack, and withdrew a single, very ordinary-looking item from it. “Remember when I got this? I think it will work out perfectly, don’t you?”

Edwin’s eyes were alight with admiration. “Oh yes,” he said. “This should prove to be very entertaining.”