In The Cards

A pair of Rogues is an unusual combination in itself, but when one of the cards is inverted it becomes rarer still. The Inverted Rogue is all about openness, brightness and joy. This creates a strange contrast to the normal Rogue card, which stands primarily for shadows, subtlety and secrets. A potent combination of cards, and a chaotic one. When it comes up, expect surprises to come your way.

Excerpt from 'The Chaltar Deck Of Cards - An Introduction'

"…and next we will be going back to Nashkel to get the reward", Edwin finished his tale. "Did I tell you about the Wand of Monster Summoning yet?"

"Yes", Dekaras said. "About…let me think…four times so far. But please feel free to do so once again. The story might have changed in the last five minutes, after all."

"Oh", Edwin said, feeling a little sheepish. "Well, I suppose that's it then."

"Not so fast". The assassin leant forward to give his student a very penetrating look. Edwin squirmed uncomfortably on the pillows where he was sitting, trying to look casual. He suddenly had a terrible flashback from his childhood, and of trying to explain just how come he had been caught trying to get inside the Assassins' Guild, after having been specifically told not ever to go there on his own. There had been that same sensation of those black eyes looking right through him, searing him to the bone. "There is something you neglected to mention during the course of your tale", Dekaras said in an infinitely patient voice. "And what is that, hmmm?"

"Nothing", Edwin said, with no idea of what his teacher was getting at. "Honestly, I can't think of anything I've left out."

"Really. Not even the fact that you've said nothing at all about how your own assignment has been proceeding?"

"Oh. That."

"Yes. That. That tiny and insignificant little detail, too trifling for you to remember among all these monsters, bounty hunters and lost little demons that you seem to have occupied yourself with. That small, humble detail that just might make your superiors among the Red Wizards very upset with you if you don't start paying some attention to it. That detail. The reason why we are both sitting about this filthy establishment of drug-induced entertainment, rather than enjoying a quiet dinner at home. Need I go on?"

"Er…no." Edwin thought about how he should best explain his actions, or rather inaction. "It's just…well…"

"Perhaps I should send out for food", the assassin said in a frosty voice. "I wouldn't want to starve to death while you construct some flimsy pretext for neglecting your duties. Duties that, I might add, you volunteered for."

Edwin's mind raced furiously. Since he didn't quite know himself why he'd been putting off doing what he had to do, explaining his reasons was going to be difficult to say the least. And then inspiration struck him. "I've just been trying to get to know the girl better", he said. "Learn her motivations, so that I will be better equipped to approach her on the subject of Thay. You've always told me that I should plan better and not be so rash, haven't you?" Yes, that's it, he thought. I can't imagine why I haven't realized it myself earlier. I knew there had to be a logical reason for this strange reluctance to carry on with the plan.

"True enough", Dekaras said, his voice less disapproving than before. "Still, there is a difference between planning and procrastinating. You need to learn that difference, and soon." He lowered his voice even further than before. "I don't like to worry you, but you need to know this. A group of Red Wizards passed through Nashkel only three days ago on their way north."

Edwin felt as if he had suddenly received a blow to his stomach. "What?" he gasped. "Are…are you sure?"

"They wore red mage robes and spoke Thayvian. If you have an alternative suggestion I'd be most interested to hear it. Of course the fact that they mentioned you by name would make me rather difficult to convince."

"They were sent to keep tabs on us?" Edwin asked, his voice flat. "The Zulkir doesn't trust me to handle this?"

"Don't feel too bad about it, boy. If he were a trusting person he wouldn't have become Zulkir in the first place." The assassin gave Edwin an extremely serious look. "However, you need to be careful. You can't afford to wait eternally. If they think you have betrayed Thay they will not hesitate to try to kill both of us. Under the right circumstances I would of course be able to handle them, but in an open battle the odds would favor the Wizards. I can, after all, only be in one place at a time." He rose from the pillows in a single, fluid motion, and Edwin hurriedly scrambled to his feet as well. "I should leave", Dekaras said. "While you handle your side of things I think I will look into these bandits you mentioned and see if I can come up with useful information for you. Remember what I have told you, and please, try to be more careful. That stunt you pulled with the ogre earlier was rather unnecessary, don't you think?"

Edwin hauled out the apple he had pocketed earlier. "How come you didn't just throw a knife at him?" he asked.

"It wasn't necessary, and I couldn't very well have walked up to your little friends and asked to have my dagger back, could I? Never waste spells or weapons if you can help it. You should know that by now."

"Teacher Dekaras?" Edwin said. "You trust me, don't you?" He wasn't sure why he had suddenly felt the urge to ask that, but he hadn't been able to help himself. He saw his tutor raise an eyebrow and give him a very strange look, one that hinted at some deeply hidden emotion. Then the assassin put his hand on Edwin's shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly.

"Of course I do", he said soothingly. "While I wouldn't trust you not to blow yourself up with some 'fascinating' magical artifact you happen to stumble across, I do trust you when it comes to other important things." He smiled briefly. "Such as my life, assuming you consider that of some small worth. Now, try not to worry overmuch. Do what you were sent to do, don't be afraid to ask for help if you feel you need it, and everything is going to be all right." He pulled the tattered beggar disguise closer around him, gave Edwin a final nod and walked out of the tent.

Edwin remained standing for a moment, trying to make sense of his thoughts. He should have felt better, and in a way he did. So why did he also feel as if he was standing on top of a widening gulf in the ground, unable to choose which way to jump? With a deep sigh the Red Wizard exited the tent. He couldn't afford to remain much longer, he should return to Zaerini before the bard began to wonder where he was. Sorting out his thoughts would simply have to wait for later.

Imoen, meanwhile, was getting a little annoyed. The shooting range consisted of several different games, all of them trying to attract customers by tempting them with different prizes. But there was only one thing Imoen really wanted to win, and sadly enough she didn't seem to be able to do so, no matter how she tried. The item in question was the big prize of the 'Bouncy Balls' game, where you had to throw balls at piles of wooden blocks and knock them down. Imoen tried her best, but she never was able to knock over every single block, and that's what it took to win the grand prize. True, she'd won some candy and fake jewels, but that was small consolation. Eventually she decided to give it a rest and go back to find Rini. The half-elf should have been able to have cleaned out the house by now.

Imoen made her way slowly across they fairground, busily counting her 'treasures'. So busily, in fact, that she failed to notice that she had entered an area where there were hardly any people around at all, and where it was very dark between the tents. Suddenly she saw a bright flash of color in front of her and was startled to see somebody approach. It was a man attired in clothes of so many clashing colors that he resembled a peacock more than anything else. He had a narrow, haughty face with close-set eyes, and he gave Imoen an extremely disdainful look. "Oh, how dreadfully unposh you are! I mean, honestly, this is a carnival, not a gladiator's ring..."

Imoen thought this rather rude, but she decided to give the man a chance. Perhaps those clothes had given him a headache or something. "My name's Imoen", she told him with a friendly smile. "What's yours?"

The man simply sneered at this. "Mon namen est Imoooeeen", he said in a ridiculous piping voice, "vott iss yorse?"

Imoen was starting to get angry. This mean jerk was making fun of her, for no reason at all. Just like Abduh. "Okay, now that's enough!" she said, trying her best to sound intimidating. It came out as more of a frustrated squeak and the man didn't seem very impressed.

"Hokey-dokey", he piped, "like dat's enuff now, eh?"

That did it. "You big meanie!" Imoen cried out. "I'll…I'll…I'll give you such a spanking, see if I don't!" She rushed at the man, fully prepared to hit him in the face and hopefully wipe that smirk off it at the same time. But as she did she felt him grasp her about the waist and yank her purse loose, before giving her a shove that made her land on the ground. Then he laughed, a loud and shrill laughter that reminded Imoen of a donkey, and he ran off.

I can't believe I fell for that! Imoen told herself as she hurriedly got to her feet and sprinted off after the man. How could I have been so stupid? I'm supposed to be a thief, aren't I? The man obviously wasn't a good enough pick-pocket to sneak up on his victims, and so must have developed this strategy to make them drop their guard. Imoen wasn't going to stand for losing her money however. Those clothes were practically glowing in the dark, and she finally spotted the pick-pocket again. He had slowed his pace and walked casually along, heading off behind one of the larger tents into yet another secluded area. Probably he was already seeking another victim. Imoen slowly followed, careful not to be spotted. As she turned around the corner of the tent she could see the colorful clothes again. The man was standing with his back to her, and he seemed to be talking to somebody who she couldn't quite make out in the shadows.

"You need a new tailor", he said, "your clothes are absolutely dreadful!"

"And you need a new brain", was the contemptuous reply, "but you don't see me making personal remarks about it, do you?"

The buffoon faltered a little at this, but he promptly rallied. "What a fahbulous carnival, dahling!" he said. "Except for all the scum. Away with you, beggar!"

If the pick-pocket had expected this to enrage his would-be victim into a rash attack it appeared he was mistaken. There were a few seconds of absolute silence, during which Imoen could hear nothing except for her own racing heart. Her breath sounded unnaturally loud as well. Then that other voice spoke again, with a familiar calm finality that reminded Imoen of the lid of a coffin slamming shut. "I find your lack of brains…disturbing."

There was a swift movement in the shadows, and then a thunking sound followed by a wet and bubbling strangled moan. Then the colorful pickpocket was in a heap on the ground, coughing and choking to death on his own blood that spurted from the fatal stab that had just punctured his lung. His killer pulled off the torn cloak he had been wearing and threw it on the ground next to the corpse, showing himself to be wearing well-fitting black leathers beneath. "Unbelievable", he said to himself in a disgusted voice. "I spend hours perfecting that cloak and some fool has to go and bleed all over it. Well, I suppose I won't be needing it right now anyway." Then he turned his head. "Are you going to stand there much longer?" he asked. "If you don't come out I'm going to start charging admission."

Imoen fairly bounced out from her hiding-place, a big smile on her face. "Mr Black!" she exclaimed, causing the other rogue to wince slightly. "Boy, am I ever glad to see you! See, this creep came up and started being nasty to me, for no good reason at all, and then I was gonna knock him silly, but he sort of stole my purse instead, which was so jerky of him, I mean I'm a thief, he shouldn't steal from me, and then I ran after him and…" Her torrent of words came to a halt as 'Mr Black' knelt by the corpse and extricated a purse from out of the poisonously green tunic.

"Yours, I believe?" the tall man said in a faintly ironic voice before tossing the purse to Imoen. "Now, can you please stop carrying on like that before you give me a headache?"

Imoen didn't have time to answer. Yet another fairgoer appeared, and this time it was one she recognized all too well. That silly poet that had harassed her and her friends earlier, the one who was so fond of vampires. The poet took one look at the corpse on the ground in its pool of blood, and at the daunting man in black bending over it, his face slightly dotted with that same red substance, his eyes gleaming with cold fire. "Vampire!" the poet gasped. "Help! Vampire! Undead! Vampire! Guards! Guards! Where are the stakes, the pitchforks, the holy water, the torches? This isn't funny anymoooorrreee…" He died quickly, and with far less pain than he would usually inflict upon his poor unwilling audiences.

"Is there an idiots' convention around here that nobody has cared to inform me of?" said 'Mr Black' as he went over to pull out a sharp throwing dagger from its lodging-place in the dead poet's eye.

"Wow", Imoen said, still staring at the second corpse. "I guess he wasn't all that fond of vampires when it really came down to it… Say, can you teach me to do that?" She gave the other rogue a sweet smile.

"No. I'm extremely busy."

"Awww…", Imoen said, but she immediately brightened again. "Isn't it funny how we keep bumping into each other though? I think that's destiny. Don't you?" She fluttered her eyelashes and made sure to display her dimples prominently.

"No", said 'Mr Black'. "I think that's some god or other displaying a very nasty sense of humor."

"Aw, you like me, you know you do." Imoen grinned and pointed at the two corpses. "After all, I've seen what happens to people you don't like." She playfully waggled her finger at the tall man, causing him to give her a mildly annoyed look. "It's written in the stars I tell you. Two free spirits, defying the forces of law, blazing a trail of unsurpassed daring and skill across the world, and with plenty of cuddling to boot."

By now the man in black had a distinctly hunted look about him, and he seemed on the verge of cutting his way through one of the tents in order to get away from his ardent young admirer. "Cuddling?" he said, as if he couldn't quite believe his own ears. "I don't…"

"Oh yes. And kissing." Imoen sighed dreamily. "I bet you're a great kisser… Hey, maybe you could teach me?"

"NO! Absolutely not! No kissing."

"Well, all right", Imoen said with another bright smile. "It's so sweet and respectful of you to want to wait for the proper moment. That's…that's so romantic! Chivalrous, like something a knight would do!"

A brief spasm passed across the man's face. "Knight?" he said, sounding like he had just choked on something vile. Oblivious to this Imoen went on speaking, feeling as if she were drifting among pink and fluffy clouds.

"Now that we know each other", Imoen said, "I really don't think I should keep calling you 'Mr Black'. That sounds way too formal. I know! I'll just call you 'Blackie' instead! Isn't that much nicer?"

If 'Blackie' thought so it certainly didn't show. Instead he looked as if he had just been hit with a ray of petrification. "You're quite sure you're not part halfling?" he said.

"Well, no. I don't know either of my parents, actually. But I'd be much shorter then, wouldn't I? Oh, and I'm so glad you like it."

"I don't…" Then the tall rogue sighed, obviously resigned to his fate. "Tell you what", he said. "I really do have to leave. Is there something, anything I can do that will persuade you to go back to your friends and refrain from following me?"

"You're on a secret mission?" Imoen asked. "And you don't want me to get in danger?"

"Something like that."

"Well in that case, sure. And it's so nice of you to want to protect me. If you just do me this one teeny favor first I'd be ever so grateful…"

Half an hour later Imoen was jumping up and down with glee, clapping her hands. "Great shot!" she laughed. "Wow Blackie, you're the best!"

"Thank you", 'Blackie' said as he handed the remaining balls back to the stunned-looking proprietor of the 'Bouncy Balls' stand. "Another time you may want to remember that these things are usually rigged to pull slightly to one side. Once you figure out which side, adjusting for it is fairly simple. Now, I believe you were going to pick a prize."

Imoen pointed at the inanimate object of her desire and the stand manager reluctantly deposited it into her eager arms. The other object of her desire gave the prize a mildly disgusted look. "And you are quite sure that…thing…is what you want?" he asked.

"Oh yes", Imoen beamed, eagerly hugging the shockingly pink teddy bear that was easily half her own size. "He's just perfect." Then she thought of something. "Are you sure you don't want to keep him yourself?"

"Quite sure", the other rogue said. Then he turned to walk away.

"I'll see you around!" Imoen said.

'Blackie's' back stiffened visibly at this. "Not if I can help it…", he muttered. "She'll have me picking her flowers next, I shouldn't wonder…" He disappeared into the darkness, still shaking his head.

Imoen started back towards the other side of the fairground where she was supposed to meet her friends. She skipped merrily along, clutching her bear tightly, and she was whistling a happy tune. As far as she was considered this had been the perfect evening.