In The Cards

It is surprising how much you can get away with if you present your suggestions with the right attitude. If you sound confident and arrogant enough, many people won't even consider questioning your presence or what you choose to tell them. They will simply assume you have a right to be wherever you are, and so allow you easy access to your target. Of course, the cover has to be a good one, and a backup plan is always necessary.

Excerpt from 'Interview With An Assassin'

Bregen Mandrel swore to himself for about the thousandth time. Being a bandit had seemed like a great thing. Money, power, booze, being able to more or less thumb his nose at the Fist. No way would they ever be able to get at him now about that business with the girl. And he sure liked raiding caravans. Not just because of the money either. It was something about the look in people's eyes when they met his and knew that they were going to die. Sometimes, after a particularly good death, he would dream about the raid at night and wake covered in sweat, a blissful smile on his lips. Particularly when women had been involved. Those dreams were very interesting.

But right now there were certainly no women around. Neither were there any caravans, any companions or anything else other than trees. Bregen cursed again. How could he have been so stupid? They'd been out on patrol, him and his fellow Black Talons, same as always. Just walking around Peldvale, scouting to make sure no unwanted visitors found their way back to camp. They'd smelt smoke up ahead, smoke that might mean a campfire, and spread out to circle around and surround whoever was there. Bregen had meant to go straight away. It was just that first he'd had to 'go', so to speak. Once he was done he hurried to obey, but now he couldn't find the campfire. He couldn't find his mates either. He'd heard somebody calling for him ahead, but he couldn't seem to find them. Just trees, trees and more trees, and now whoever had been up ahead had gone silent. It was rapidly getting darker too, and the deep shadows between the trees almost seemed to be alive. Now and then there were noises. Little rustling noises of something passing in the darkness. Bregen shuddered. He was a city boy, and no mistake about it. This was just too…creepy. Inky black shadows lurking closer by the minute, pressing in on him, hiding who knew what dangerous beasts? Bears, possibly. Wolves, almost certainly. The patrol had found wolf tracks only the day before. Bregen made a grimace. Wolves freaked him out, with their bright eyes and ghostly voices, and the way the moved, like gliding ghosts. And there was something really frightening about the precision with which they'd pick one animal out of the herd and drive it apart from the others.

Bregen suddenly became aware of how loud his breath his sounded in the silent darkness. He could hear every beat of his heart as well. And then he knew why. It was quiet. The little noises had stopped. Had he known better he wouldn't have felt relieved. Had he known better he wouldn't have laughed out loud at his own stupidity, jumping at shadows. Another man might have correctly interpreted the signs, and realized that the smaller woodland creatures had gone quiet as they sensed danger, sensed that a hunt was on. But Bregen didn't. Neither was he aware of exactly how vulnerable he was, a pack animal separated from his herd, without the safety that lay in numbers, a fat deer being trailed by a stalking wolf.

Bregen stopped to take a drink from his water-flask, bending his head backwards to let the sweet water stream down his aching throat. And then he found himself tightly gripped from behind, and there was a biting pain at his throat, sharp as a cold steel tooth, and it wasn't cold water splashing him anymore. It was a hotter liquid, hot and sticky, and in the darkness it was almost black against the whiteness of his skin. As his heartbeat faded his weakening body was caught and carefully lowered to the ground, his head turned to one side to keep his blood from staining his uniform too badly. Before his sight faded he met the calm eyes of his killer, and he knew that he was dying. And with a sudden flash of insight he knew, he knew that unlike he would have done, his killer would take no particular pleasure in his death and would never dream about it at night. He wouldn't gloat about it afterwards, any more than the wolf would gloat about the taking of the lone deer, might not even remember it enough to gloat about it. It…was nothing personal.

Dekaras viewed the corpse critically, or rather its uniform. It seemed like a close enough fit. He was silently pleased that the bandits had been foolish enough to fall for the very first trap he'd set and separated into smaller groups. The others were probably still trying to figure out why there had been a small fire in the middle of the forest but no other sign of a campsite. It would take them some time to miss this one, much less go search for him. All the same, the rest of the night's exercises would be better handled elsewhere. The assassin made certain that the wound had stopped bleeding, even going so far as to binding it tightly. He certainly didn't need to leave any tracks as obvious as a trail of blood. There was only a small trickle now that the heart had stopped, but there was no need to take unnecessary chances. After kicking some dirt and leaves over the blood on the ground the assassin dragged the corpse some distance away.

For once I could almost wish I'd been a brawny berserker, Dekaras thought a little ruefully. Deadweight really was just that. When he was satisfied that he had gone far enough he stripped the corpse of its uniform. There was some blood on it, but most of it was easily wiped off and the rest wouldn't be out of the ordinary in the bandit camp. Now for the corpse. Not a detail he would ordinarily have to bother with, but he'd prefer it if it was some time before this fellow was discovered. With luck he would be believed to have deserted. And even a few days respite might be enough for scavengers to mangle the body badly enough that the cause of death wouldn't be easily determined. Since he had neither the time nor the means for any extravagant method of corpse disposal Dekaras settled for tucking it inside some dense bushes and spreading some branches over it. At least it wasn't out in the open, and the darkness helped. That done, he tried on his newly acquired uniform. The dark leathers fit well enough and weren't all that different from his own. Most importantly, they allowed him to keep all of his own weapons besides the standard issue sword and bow that all the Black Talon's seemed to carry. They would do.

Yes, I think that will be enough, Dekaras thought as he inspected himself. Only one more thing that could be done, and I'm not going through that again. Seeing that most of the bandits were northeners, a large part of them were blond. However, the assassin had tried that once, in perfecting another disguise. Blond…just wasn't him. And besides, it didn't look natural unless he changed his eye color as well, and that would take magic.

With a small frown on his face the assassin slipped away through the dark forest, leaving the corpse behind, already half forgotten. He was still thinking about magic, or more specifically about a certain mage. Edwin's attitude was starting to worry him a little. No, more than just a little, he privately admitted to himself. He was so very eager to come on this mission. He almost begged his superiors for a chance to prove himself. A mission that Dekaras himself hadn't been all that enthusiastic about in the first place. Locating this supposed child of Bhaal, Zaerini, was fine. So was attempting to recruit her to further the interests of Thay. Killing her if she refused, now that was another matter entirely, an assignment he never would have accepted himself if he'd had a choice about it. Not that he wouldn't do it if it became necessary. After all, anything to protect the boy's life. And he didn't doubt that that was exactly what was at stake here. The Red Wizards wouldn't tolerate a failure, not in a matter this important.

So why can't that child stop woolgathering and get some work done? Why all the excuses? Dekaras thought about this for a moment. Edwin was certainly intelligent enough to logically understand why he should act as soon as possible, particularly now that Red Wizards had been sighted nearby. But he didn't really have much field experience, and certainly nothing like this. Spying was hardly easy, as he himself well knew. You needed to play your part well enough to fool everybody around you, but without losing yourself in it. Lengthy undercover work was always risky that way. Which is precisely why he must act soon, before he loses his nerve. It may well be that he's got cold feet already, despite my attempts to apply some 'glowing coals' to them.

But that brought him to the second, and even more worrying problem. He knows that he's supposed to ask me for help if he finds himself unable to carry out the mission. He knows I will do just about anything to ensure his safety and make things all right, and that I won't blame him for it. True, I've pushed him hard about completing this task, but I've specifically told him that it will be difficult and that there is no need to feel ashamed if he finds himself in too deep. It could be that damnable pride getting in the way of course. He certainly gets enough of that from both his parents.

The assassin shook his head. This was getting him nowhere. Right now he had something to do, and he had to stay focused. He was approaching the bandit camp, and now he would soon find out if his disguise was good enough. He had tracked a bandit patrol back here previously, and had watched the camp from afar, even done some scouting along the edges. Now it was time to go a little deeper. Hopefully the infiltration would enable him to provide Edwin with some useful information, something that might facilitate the manipulation of the Bhaalspawn half-elf or at least help her stay alive long enough to actually be manipulated. At the very least it would keep him from getting bored.

Dekaras walked into the bandit camp using what he thought of as the 'tom-cat saunter'. Basically it was a lazy, confident and slightly insolent walk that screamed arrogant power. It might get him a few challenges among the bandits, but he'd decided that it would be preferable to the 'meek-and-humble' act. That would be equal provocation, and with less satisfactory result as he wouldn't be able to properly defend himself without destroying the cover. The neutral third alternative would have worked, but wouldn't get him as far. He wanted to rise somewhat within the ranks, but without provoking the people in charge. Getting close to them was all that was needed.

The bandits he had passed so far hadn't paid much attention to him, but now one was approaching with a rather self-important look on his face. From what Dekaras had been able to gather plenty of new bandits were recruited all the time as the old ones were killed, and the camp was large. The bandits shouldn't react to seeing an unfamiliar face. Of course, there would have to be some trouble-makers. There always were.

"You there!" the bandit began. "What…" He didn't get the time to finish.

"You're forgetting yourself", Dekaras told the man in a quiet voice laced with poison. "You are annoying me, and you should know better than to do that." He smiled a lupine smile, one that made a disturbing contrast to the cold basilisk-glare of his eyes. "Surely your friends have told you what happened to the last person who annoyed me?"

The man was starting to look worried. His friends hadn't told him, but he was getting the distinct feeling that he should have known and that he might come to regret his ignorance very shortly. "Er…no", he said. "They didn't. Sir."

"I see", Dekaras said and allowed the smile to increase. The bandit's eyes were darting worriedly from side to side now. "Then please allow me to enlighten you." He started speaking in a low and calm voice, as if explaining something to a dull-witted child, never looking away from the bandit's eyes. Before he had got halfway through his little explanation the bandit started backing slowly away.

"Er…sorry sir", the man stammered. "My mistake. I'll let all the lads know not to bother you."

"You do that." The assassin raised an eyebrow. "Well? What are you waiting for? Birds to nest in your open food-trap? Or did you want a practical demonstration?" The bandit swallowed heavily, closed his still gaping mouth and rapidly removed himself. Before long Dekaras could see him speaking in a quiet voice to one of his compatriots. The assassin pretended not to notice, but he was smiling inwardly. Before long the rumor would start spreading, no doubt getting very much exaggerated in the process. Everything was working perfectly so far. He was inside the camp. And now, he thought, for the really interesting part.