In The Cards

Disembodied voices telling you to do stuff is BAD NEWS. Do NOT listen to them, do not offer to do them innocent-sounding favors like fetching their matching set of golden bones or conquering the world for them, and most importantly, do not buy Abysmal Real Estate off of them, unless you're really into sulfur and the screams of the damned. The Ocean View won't be of a water ocean.

Excerpt from 'Ruminations Of A Master Bard'

She felt cold…so cold. Zaerini twisted and turned in her sleep, the dreams chasing her like a pack of baying hounds once again. Hounds? No, kobolds crying out for her blood, their eyes glowing red in the darkness. She ran through dark and endless mine tunnels, ran for her life. Not from the kobolds though. From something else entirely, a dark presence that whispered to her in a voice as sweet as honey, as chilling as a blade. Father…

With a small gasp the half-elf was startled out of sleep. She still felt that chill voice caressing her, calling for her, and though the night was warm and calm the cold lingered. I think someone just walked across my grave, Rini thought. I wonder…if perhaps it was me. With this thought the ground beneath her opened and she was swept into the dark.

It was the mines again, as it had been all night. But this time there were no monsters to be seen. The tunnels were empty, dark and empty. She wasn't sure if she could find her way out again. I'm trapped here, aren't I? Zaerini thought. Trapped by my blood, trapped by my sire's designs.

No, kitten. The only trap is the one in your mind. Softpaws sat in front of her on the floor, almost invisible in the darkness, her green eyes glowing steadily like lanterns guiding a ship home over a dark and stormy sea. A cat walks where she wishes, and no door can bar her way. Look for the cracks. Look… The black cat slipped across the floor, silent as a ghost, until she reached the wall. Then she disappeared.

Softpaws? Where are you? The bard carefully felt the wall, until her questing fingers met empty air. A crack in the wall, one she hadn't seen before. And as she watched it grew, until there was a new corridor that hadn't been there earlier.

You see, Softpaws called from ahead. A cat is not trapped. At least not for long. There are always cracks, even where you would not think to look for them. You simply need to find your way through.

And so it was that the half-elf now ignored the obvious roads, moving through walls and floors alike, descending deeper and deeper, until a bloated figure came into view. Mulahey, in no better shape than she had left him, stood motionless before her.

The half-orc hadn't been exactly attractive in life, but now he was even worse. His flesh was already coming off his bones, as if the decomposition of his body had been accelerated.

I guess Cyric doesn't take kindly to failure, Rini thought. I'll have to remember never to get involved with him if I can help it. Then she saw something she hadn't noticed earlier. In front of Mulahey a dagger hovered, a dagger made out of a single bone, sharp and deadly. She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that it would finish Mulahey once and for all, that it would destroy his soul as she had already destroyed his body. The half-orc said nothing, but his eyes were filled with equal parts hate and despair as he waited for the kill. His eyes were unfocused though, and she knew, somehow she knew that he couldn't see her.

Zaerini hesitated. Killing the half-orc had been satisfying the first time, but destroying his very soul? No. That isn't me. At least…I don't want it to be me. Killing has its place, but this is more than killing, and I will have no part of it. I just want to find Sarevok.

Then ask your questions, kitten, Softpaws said. Ask him in a voice he will heed and he will answer.

And Zaerini felt something twisting deep within her soul, twisting and changing. "My servant Mulahey", she said, and it wasn't her own voice anymore. It was the deep and threatening voice of Sarevok, as she had heard it in her dreams, as she had heard it on the night of Gorion's death. "My servant Mulahey, I have come to release you from your service."

"M-master?", Mulahey gasped. "Is it you? Have you truly come for me?"

"You know me, Mulahey. Do you dare question me?" Real threat in the voice now, and the half-orc trembled.

"No! Master, no!"

"Then prove yourself. Prove that you are no mere phantom but my servant Mulahey. Where would you go if I told you to seek me out?" That should do it, Rini thought. Secret Headquarters, here I come.

"I…I know, not Master", Mulahey moaned. "You never said. Tazok, Tazok knows, but he is with the bandits. Master, I swear I do not know! Tazok contacts me by letter alone." His voice grew more desperate. "Tranzig! He will know! He's in Beregost, Tazok told me! Please, Master! Release me! I have been faithful!"

Zaerini sighed. The half-orc knew no more, she could tell that. Damn. He must have been a low-level hireling, not entrusted with any real secrets. "You are free, my servant", she said, the words sounding very strange when spoken in Sarevok's voice. "I release you." The skeletal blade clattered to the floor, rejected.

Surprised and thankful, the visage of Mulahey hobbled forward passing through the half-elf, off to meet its fate. Zaerini felt something settle deeply within her soul at its passage, something that had been stirred and now came to rest as a part of her. It was a spark of hope that filled a space within her; a dagger-shaped hole she hadn't known was empty.

A cry of rage rose from the depths of the mine, a wrath as powerful and inhuman as a tidal wave. Zaerini knew who it was this time. My Father. No, not my Father. My sire. She knew she ought to keep silent, but her own anger was rising, its flames licking at the edge of her mind.

"Leave me ALONE!" she screamed. "I reject you!" And her voice split, split in two. It was her own voice speaking words of defiance, but there was also the voice of Sarevok, a powerful echo surrounding her with words of acceptance, of the thrills to be found in power, of embracing the blood.

The dagger of bone launched itself though the air, thrown by an invisible hand, Zaerini's heart its target. She awoke just as it should have struck, and the cold sweat that covered her stung her eyes. A disapproving voice lingered long in her ears, though it should have disappeared with the dream. YOU…WILL…LEARN!

Edwin, too, had been having problems sleeping, though for far more mundane reasons than having his dreams haunted by a dead god. The ground was rocky and uneven, and no matter how he twisted and turned he couldn't seem to get comfortable. The fact that all the others were sleeping, except for Jaheira who was standing watch some distance away, did nothing to improve his mood. How can they put up with these rocks? I swear they are able to move around and find a sensitive body part no matter which way I turn. It's unbearable!

It didn't make matters any better that he could almost hear the voice of his teacher at this point, telling him that if he was going to let a little thing like that bother him he might as well have stayed at home. No, Edwin thought. I can do this. I can. You'll see. I'll secure the girl and make everybody proud of my accomplishments. I just wish it didn't have to be so cursedly painful, that's all.

It was then that Edwin heard a noise, and an entirely unexpected one at that. A half-choked sob, faint but still audible. He sat up and looked around, trying to identify the source of the sound. Probably that miserable elf, he thought. But no, Xan was rolled up in a heap not far away, sleeping quietly, undisturbed by Khalid's gentle snores. Imoen lay sprawled on her back, a delighted grin on her face even as she slept. "A great heap of pink diamonds?" she muttered in her sleep. "For me? Why, you're too kind, Mr Black!" Then she made kissing noises. Edwin shuddered. He was sure he didn't want to know what the silly girl was dreaming about. But that only left…

Zaerini lay on her side, one arm resting beneath her head, her face mostly obscured by her hair. Normally a vivid red, in the darkness it looked almost black. "Trapped…", she murmured, her voice small and lost. "I'm trapped…aren't I?" Edwin rose from his sitting position and silently crossed the campsite to kneel by the sleeping half-elf. Nobody else seemed to have heard her distress, not even Jaheira. But then again, the druid was some distance off, and she was watching for outer disturbances. The others might have been expected to pay some attention though. Her so-called 'good' friends, snoring like pigs. Shows how much they really care, I suppose. Edwin shook his head. What am I doing? he asked himself. She's having a nightmare. So what? It isn't as if I can do anything about that.

But for some reason he couldn't tear himself away, couldn't keep from watching the bard as she sighed and turned over again and again in her sleep, her face a pale enigma with those strange eyes closed. A single tear emerged from beneath her eyelid and trickled across her cheek. Without thinking Edwin reached out a hand to brush it off. Then there was a loud hiss and he hastily yanked his hand back to avoid getting it impaled by a very sharp set of claws. Zaerini's black cat now sat on her breast, looking extremely determined not to let him interfere with her mistress.

"All right, all right", Edwin whispered. "I was only trying to…" His voice trailed off. What exactly had he been trying to do anyway? The cat gave him an extremely condescending look that basically implied that even if he didn't know his own mind she certainly did, but she wasn't about to tell him. Then she gently nudged at her mistress' chest with a paw and licked her cheek, as if she was trying to tell her something. It was all a rather disturbing sight, Edwin thought. Now what made me think that, he wondered. What's wrong with me anyway? What am I doing here? Before he had the time to even begin to answer that question Zaerini suddenly sat up, straight as an arrow, golden eyes staring unseeing in front of her, and he felt her fingers grip his arm like a claw.

"No!", the half-elf snarled. "I will not…will not…"

"Will not what?" Edwin asked. "I hope you meant that you will not tear my arm out of its socket. I find it useful to keep around." He tried his best to sound flippant, but he couldn't help feeling a bit unnerved. For a moment the bard had been speaking in another voice, a male voice, deep and powerful. Deadly, even.

"Edwin?", Rini said, sounding rather confused as her eyes came back into focus. Her voice was her own again though. "Is that you? What are you doing up?"

"No, I'm just Edwin's ghost", the Red Wizard said with a small sneer. "Edwin died because of sleep deprivation, caused by being kept awake by somebody moaning and groaning and…and carrying on all night. Can't you suffer in silence, or does being an artist force you to make an opera out of every little problem?"

The bard quirked an eyebrow at him in a manner that he found extremely annoying. "Whatever you say, Eddie", she said. For a moment her gaze turned inward and then she smiled slightly. "Though Softpaws tells me another version." The cat gave Edwin what he could have sworn was a feline smirk. "She seems to think you were worried about me."

"I most definitely wasn't." Damn that cat. How am I ever going to explain this? "No, I…I was simply trying to wake you. To get you quiet. Yes. That's it. How am I supposed to work my magic if I don't get my eight hours sleep, do you suppose?"

"Well, I'm awake now. I had a rather disturbing dream though." The half-elf suddenly seemed to realize that she was still holding on to his arm and let go of it with a slightly embarrassed cough. "One of those dreams. You know. I'll tell the others later, but I'd really like to go over it with someone right now. It would help me feel better, I think. That is, if you don't mind…?"

Her eyes were serious now, with no trace of mockery or mischief, their fires burning low as she recalled whatever darkness she had just passed through, and she shivered a little, despite the warm night air. Her voice sounded almost pleading.

"No", Edwin said, and he wondered why the thought that she should come to him for support was such a pleasing one. "No, I don't mind that at all." It will help me get closer to her, to achieve my objects. Of course that is a good thing. I am, after all, a Red Wizard. I can be professional about this sort of thing. I have my own duties. My own loyalties. And yet, as he listened to the half-elf unburdening her heart, as the terrible things she had seen became real to his mind, and he tried to apply his brain to make some sense of her vision, a small and hidden part of him said otherwise. That part unconsciously knew that a crack had started to form down the middle of his soul, a crack that would eventually divide his heart and his loyalties in two.