In The Cards

Your familiar will offer you helpful advice, advice that should be listened to and taken to heart. However, some of its advice is best set aside. For example, walking up to new acquaintances and sniffing their behinds is exquisitely polite among canines, but is unlikely to give you a favorable reputation among humans. Unless we are talking about very special circles, of course.

Excerpt from 'On Familiars'

The journey back to Nashkel was uneventful, and once they reached the town the adventurers went directly to see the Mayor.

"You have returned!" Mayor Ghastkill beamed at them. He looked even more pleased once he had heard the full story of Mulahey and the mines. "It would seem I was right to trust you. The town thanks you wholeheartedly, and is pleased to give you the proper reward. Please take this 900 gold for your efforts. It is a small fortune by anyone's standards. Thank you again." He winked at them and smoothed his thin hair back. "And that's not all", he said. "The Town Council has decided that whoever cleared up the mystery of the mines would receive the honorary title 'Hero of Nashkel'. Congratulations to you all! The celebration will be held tomorrow night."

"Celebration?" Rini asked. "Will it be a big one?"

"Oh, I guess most of the townspeople and farmers will be coming. You may find yourselves quite the celebrities!" He smiled again. "I suggest you all go get a good night's sleep. Most likely you won't go to bed at all tomorrow night."

Once the party had left the Mayor's house Zaerini noticed that Edwin looked rather pale and upset about something. "Heroes of Nashkel?" he sputtered. "I'm a Red Wizard! Not a 'hero'. (If word of this gets spread around I'll never live it down.)"

"What's wrong with being a hero?" Imoen asked. "I think it sounds wonderful."

"Oh, you do, do you? For your information, 'hero' in Thayvian means 'stupid adventurer likely to work for free, and even likelier to get himself eaten by a dragon.' In other words, 'hero' is not a compliment."

"Oh, quit your griping", Jaheira said. "I worry more about this celebration."

"Come on", Rini said. "How bad could it be? It might be really fun."

Jaheira was just about to respond when she was interrupted by another voice, a strange one. A young man in mostly black clothes was walking swiftly towards them, a very determined look on his pointed and vaguely fox-like face. "I am Death come for thee", he said in a voice that Zaerini thought would have been overly theatrical even on the stage. "Surrender, and thy passage shall be ...quicker."

Really, Zaerini thought, after those ladies we encountered outside the Nashkel Mine I was starting to expect a better class of assassin. This fellow is definitely a step back. Or ten steps back, more likely. Large ones.

Apparently Edwin was of the same opinion. The wizard looked thoroughly disgusted with this sad specimen of assassin-hood. "No, no, NO!" he exclaimed in a frustrated voice. "That is not the way to do this."

"Eh?" Nimbul said, sounding rather confused.

"Listen to me", Edwin said and put his arm around the assassin's shoulder in a gesture of friendship. "I may not be trained in the Profession, but even so I know better than to do what you just did."

"What…"

"You don't walk up and introduce yourself to the target like that. That is a definite no-no. And calling yourself 'Death' is just so…tacky. You are very lucky there is no real craftsman around to see you make such a fool of yourself. (In Thay this idiot wouldn't have survived long enough to even enter his apprenticeship, I'm sure.)"

"But…"

"Instead you try to sneak up to the target, take them by surprise, and then you kill them." The assassin doubled forward with a sudden scream, clutching at his back where the small knife that Edwin normally used for chopping up spell components now was stuck, penetrating a kidney by the looks of it. "Yes", Edwin said, "something like that. (Not bad, even if I do say so myself. I seem to have a natural talent for this sort of thing.)" Before anybody else had the time to react the Red Wizard followed up with a Magic Missile spell. Several glowing missiles struck the unlucky assassin, and it wasn't long before his screaming stopped. "And that", Edwin said in a very satisfied voice, "is how you assassinate someone. (If only there could have been a more…discerning…audience to see this.)" He then seemed to notice the wide-eyed and open-mouthed faces of his companions. "What?" he asked. "I happen to despise incompetent louts like that. Is that so strange?"

"If you say so", Zaerini said once she found her voice again. "I have to admit that was a really clever move. Shall we see what the corpse of this fool can tell us?" The dead assassin turned out to have a couple of moderately interesting items on his person. A ring that would gift the wearer with elven sight, a lightly enchanted short sword, a pair of boots that would help deflect arrows, and a letter. Zaerini eagerly opened the letter and read it out loud.

Nimbul,

The money you have received from Tranzig should cover your usual fee. Your assignment is a difficult one, but I'm sure that you are up to the task. There is a group of mercenaries who should be coming through Nashkel in the next few days. They are led by a whelp named Zaerini. You are to kill Zaerini, and all that travel with her. I warn you; they might not look like much, but they are very dangerous. Good hunting!

TAZOK

"Tranzig and Tazok again", Jaheira mused. "I suggest we go on to Beregost as soon as possible to have a little talk with the employer of this so foolhardy assassin."

"We will", Rini agreed. "As soon as this celebration is done. So I'm 'very dangerous' now, am I? Looks my enemies have upped the ante again. Yes, it will be very interesting to meet this Tranzig."

The evening of the celebration rapidly approached. Zaerini stood before the mirror in her room at the Nashkel Inn, trying to decide what to wear. Imoen was already done, outfitted in a pink and black dress she'd bought earlier at the shop and that somehow made her resemble a large piece of licorice confectionery. The young thief was currently lying on her stomach on the bed, writing in her diary. The fact that this was rumpling the dress didn't really seem to bother her. She sucked noisily on her pen, and sometimes she giggled out loud. Rini was sure she didn't want to know what her friend was writing. She'd happened to catch a glance of a page and seen that there were almost as many hearts doodled in the margins as there were actual words.

Cats don't fuss this much, Softpaws remarked. All it takes is to give your fur a good lick, and then you're set. The cat was in fact sitting on the table and was busy cleaning herself. Currently she had managed to get one of her hind legs wrapped around her head and was busily cleaning the inside of her thigh.

Somehow I think that if I adapted your way of dressing people would react unfavorably. Not to mention your way of washing.

Oh, you never know. The right male might just like to see that.

What's that supposed to mean?

The cat just snickered silently and went on with her washing. Rini shook her head, causing her flame-red locks to dance. Sometimes she simply didn't understand her familiar. She sighed and stared at the mirror again. The red dress? Or the black? She'd been unable to choose in the shop, and so had bought both. Unfortunately she still couldn't make up her mind. The black created a nice contrast with her hair, but on the other hand the red was very…striking. And it was only right that she should take this opportunity to look her best. She was supposed to be Hero of Nashkel, after all. "Immy?" she asked. "Which dress do you think I should wear?"

"The pink one", Imoen said absentmindedly.

"Pink one? With my hair? And I don't even have a pink one."

"Uh…sorry", Imoen said with a sheepish grin. "I was thinking about someo…something else. They both look great, you know."

"But which is more likely to make me look divine?" The bard caught herself. "Sorry. Bad choice of words. I mean, which is more likely to…er…enhance my natural attributes to the point of loveliness? Or do they both make me look awful? They do, don't they?" Zaerini suddenly felt utterly and desperately convinced of the fact. "Go on. You can tell me. I look like a scarecrow. An ugly, skinny scarecrow with messed-up hair and really weird eyes. Perhaps if I use a charm spell I can keep at least some of the people from noticing." She suddenly stared wildly into the mirror. "Is that a ZIT? It is, isn't it?"

"Rini, it's just a speck of makeup", Imoen said and proceeded to wipe it off. "You look perfect. Hey, if you don't believe me I'll prove it to you, OK?"

"Prove it? How?"

"You'll see", Imoen said with a sly grin and exited the door. "I'll just have to fetch an impartial judge, won't I? Won't be a sec…"

Edwin, meanwhile, was already finished with his own preparations. A nice long bath, a much needed haircut and a clean set of robes. Simple and practical. No need to fuss. Admittedly, the robes he had chosen happened to be ones that were slightly more extravagant than his usual ones, both in the cut and in the decorations, but was supposed to be a festive occasion after all. So what if they happened to be a little more…well…tight…than the other model? It wasn't as if he was some fat old wizard who couldn't pull it off. Besides, it was the current height of fashion back home, and there was nothing wrong with being fashionable or with trying to look your best, wasted as it would probably be on these peasants. Edwin gave himself a critical glance in the mirror. While admittedly tight almost to the point of suggestiveness around the hips and waist, the robes flared out behind him in a nice and dramatic way. Yes, they should do nicely. A sudden knock on the door interrupted his contemplation.

"What is it now?" Edwin asked, irritated at being disturbed.

"It's me! Imoen! Can I come in?"

Edwin sighed and went to open the door. It was no use trying to get rid of her, he'd already learnt that much. If ignored she would likely remain on his doorstep talking through the door until she'd worn down his resistance. "Look", he said as he pulled the door open, "I already said I would look into putting a shrinking spell on your stupid toy so you can stuff it in your pack. (If she nags me about it one more time I may just shrink myself, if only to be able to hide.)"

"No, no", Imoen said, grinning at him in a way that made her resemble a pink and black chipmunk. "Though it's real sweet of you to do so. No, I just want you to come look at something. Won't take a minute."

"Look at something?" Edwin asked suspiciously. "Such as what?"

"Oh, Rini can't make up her mind about what to wear. I thought she could model her dresses for you and you can tell her which one is prettier."

At least this was familiar ground, Edwin thought. His own Mother certainly used to take her time making her mind up about what to wear for important parties. "I suppose I could do that", he said. After all, it was such an innocent request, he couldn't see that it could do any harm.

Zaerini was still staring into the mirror. She was currently wearing the black dress, a slick and shiny one that almost seemed to give off a dark light of its own. And it did set off her hair nicely, she had to admit that. But possibly it made her look too pale. No, she would simply have to try the red one on again. With a frustrated groan she started disrobing once more, wondering what could possibly make her feel more awkward than this.

Edwin followed Imoen through the dark hallway of the Nashkel Inn, hoping that the 'modeling' thing wouldn't take too long. On the other hand, if it did they just might miss the party and he would be spared the humiliation of being labeled a 'Hero of Nashkel'. He really didn't want to imagine his teacher's reaction to that.

"Here we are!" Imoen said cheerfully and stopped outside the door to the room the two girls shared. "Ta-Da! Would ya look at that!" She yanked the door open with a flourish and a bow.

Edwin felt his jaw drop halfway to the floor, and he was certain his eyes had just gone as wide as teacups. Zaerini stood in the middle of the floor, head turned in surprise towards the door. She was wearing…not very much actually. A very thin undergarment of some sort, black and sort of lacy. It reached halfway down her thighs, leaving Edwin with a view of pale and shapely legs that reached all the way up to… He quickly yanked his eyes aside, but that wasn't any better, because he wound up staring at her midsection and noticing all sorts of interesting things about her anatomy that had previously been unknown to him, and that garment really didn't conceal much… Shift, Edwin thought wildly, that's what it's called, isn't it? Don't stare, don't stare, don't stare…Must think of something else. Demonlords. That's it. Think about Demogorgon. Think about Demogorgon naked. No, no. Bad idea. Think about monsters. Golems. List all the known kinds of golems, Edwin. One point each. Yes, sir. Iron Golem, Adamantium Golem, Brain Golem, Clay Golem, Stone Golem, Magic Golem, Flesh Golem… AAARGH! Don't think about flesh! Think of something else. The elements. Water, Earth, Air, Fire…Fire…like…her hair…fire…like…her eyes…

And indeed the bard's golden eyes seemed to be on fire, burning with a hot light that matched her flame-red hair. But her face was very pale, except for the two red spots that had flared up in her cheeks, and it looked like it had been frozen into ice. Then she slowly opened her mouth. "IIIMOOOEEEEN!" she screamed, and it sounded like the bloodthirsty screech of a hunting falcon.

"Whooops", Imoen gasped, before she hastily pulled the door shut. Edwin could hear what sounded like a chair hitting it from the other side, along with an enraged shriek. "Don't just stand there looking like a gutted fish", Imoen hissed. "Help me hold the door unless you want her to kill us both."

Zaerini was in fact too angry to make any plan that coherent. Having vented her frustration by throwing what furniture she was strong enough to lift at the door and breaking the mirror with a satisfying shower of Magic Missiles she simply stood there, panting with anger, unable to focus on anything but her burning rage and embarrassment.

See? Softpaws told her from her hiding-place under the bed. Didn't I tell you that the male would appreciate the cat way of dressing?