In The Cards

In order to become truly successful within the Profession, you should try to understand people. It isn't enough to know how to eliminate them. You should try to learn what motivates them, what their passions and fears are, and so be able to better estimate their strengths and weaknesses. Of course, in order to do that you should also try to understand yourself, which can be the most frustrating assignment imaginable. And you won't even get paid for it, at least not in money.

Excerpt from 'Interview With An Assassin'

There was a strong eastern wind blowing that day. It tugged playfully at the banners streaming atop the highest tower of the Iron Throne building, making them dance in the air. It crept stealthily into Sarevok's private chambers through the open window, overturning the pages of the diary he was writing in as if it was reading it. The warrior grunted with annoyance. And still the wind kept coming, sneaking around corners, dancing along the rooftops, howling like a gathering pack of wolves.

Sebastian Sorles, the Iron Throne Head Butler, shivered as he crossed the yard in response to the summons from one of his underlings. The younger man hadn't made much sense, but it had sounded like a matter he needed to investigate himself. Frowning heavily he opened the door to the small hallway by the servants' entrance. The stranger waiting inside turned around, inclining his head politely. A tall, lean man with penetrating black eyes in a sharp face, his black hair neatly pulled back, he was wearing the livery used by all servants in the Iron Throne headquarters, dark gray and with the Throne insignia discreetly embroidered over the heart. "Good day to you, sir," he said. "I will be pleased to begin my service immediately, as agreed."

Sorles gave the stranger a confused look. He was sure he hadn't seen the man before. Or had he? Oh no. Suppose…suppose it was the last time I went out for…for a little night on the town? The Head Butler normally carried out his work perfectly. He did have one guilty secret however, being very fond of strong liquor. More often than not he would spend his day off drinking, either in one of the more discreet inns of the city or…down below it. This tended to leave him with holes in his memory large enough that you could drive a cart through them, and the next day he would have a splitting headache. So far he had been able to carry out his work, but it wouldn't do for anybody in authority to find out. It might be taken the wrong way. Especially the fact that he visited the Undercellar not just for the drink but for the female company. A Head Butler needed to maintain a certain image. "And you are?" he asked, making himself sound as haughty as he could.

"You surprise me, sir," the stranger said, arching an eyebrow. "It is, after all, only five days since we made our arrangements. "I trust you will remember the time and place. It was…a bit below street-level, if you see what I mean."

Damn. He knows of the Undercellar. If…if this gets out I'm doomed. Sorles tried to look indifferent, but it was impossible. He had been out on the mentioned day, and he could easily have chatted with the Grand Dukes themselves and not remembered it afterwards, he had been that drunk. But had to pretend he knew what the stranger was talking about, it wouldn't do to let anybody know of his lapses of memory. Well, a couple of his favorite girls at the Undercellar knew already, but they didn't know him by name, so it made no difference. "Yes," he said, attempting to sound as confident as usual. "I…I remember now. It's just that your name escapes me at the moment."

"Perfectly understandable, sir," the stranger said, with no apparent trace of mockery. "My name is Bron. Jacen Bron. At your service. You do remember hiring me as one of the upstairs servants, I trust?"

"Ah…yes. I…I seem to remember now."

"I am happy to hear it, sir," the man who had called himself Bron said, his face impassive. "I would hate to think that you intended to break our contract, now that I have already acquired the livery as you specified. I would have had to take steps. Still, perhaps you might want to take another look at it, as well as at my references."

Sorles accepted a thick wad of papers and leafed through them. As he did, his eyes widened. "These…these are excellent references!" he exclaimed, hardly believing in his own luck. Bron had apparently served with several minor nobles outside Baldur's Gate, and they all praised his skills immensely.

"Yes, sir. I believe in doing my utmost to satisfy my employer."

"So it seems." Sorles now turned to the contract. He could recognize his own signature at the bottom. Everything certainly seemed all right, and the terms Bron wanted weren't unreasonable. A decent salary, not being obliged to stay at the Iron Throne compound and one day off a week. Sorles could definitely live with that if it meant getting his hands on a servant that good. Besides, he had obviously already signed, even if he couldn't remember it. He couldn't break the contract now. Not only would it be against the law, but also there was the small detail of the other man being able to spread the tale of his affiliations with the ladies of the Undercellar and his drunken revels there. "Yes," the Head Butler said. "Everything is in order." He cleared his throat, putting on his sternest face. "When working Upstairs, you will be required to perform with the utmost discretion. The Gentlemen do not wish to be disturbed when working. If you are called upon to wait on them I want you to be more or less invisible and inaudible."

The ghost of a smile flickered across Bron's sharp face. "Certainly, sir," he said, sounding a little amused. "My clients have always found me more than capable of doing just that."

"Good," Sorles said, unsure of why he suddenly felt a little uneasy. "I'll have somebody show you to your quarters and then fill you in on your new duties."

"Thank you, sir," said Bron, his eyes inscrutable. "I am most eager to get started."

About half an hour later Jacen Bron, alias Vadrak Dekaras, was feeling very pleased indeed as he contemplated the morning's achievements. Everything had worked according to his plans so far. He was currently standing in a small chamber on the second floor of the Iron Throne building, a room that would be set aside for his use. While the contract he had had forged stipulated that he was free to spend his nights elsewhere if he so wished, he also needed a private place within the Throne building. It wasn't much, just a bare room with a narrow bed, a small table, a rickety chair and a cabinet, but he didn't really need any luxuries.

The assassin stood by the window, making note of the fact that it faced the inner courtyard, not the street. An imperfect escape route then, if things should ever go that far. He would need to work out some alternate way. At least his future duties didn't seem all that taxing. The official ones, that was. The spying would likely be more demanding.

Yes, everything was going well. The moment he'd learnt through the Thieves Guild of Sebastian Sorles' drinking habits he had suspected the man would be his means of infiltrating the Throne. The perfectly made Iron Throne livery, the masterfully forged contract and references, together with the Head Butler's memory lapses they had all helped to make the lie believable. Dekaras remembered how he'd found out about those memory lapses as he had trailed Sorles through the Undercellar, eavesdropping on his conversation with a pretty blonde courtesan named Aliva.

And to think, the assassin thought to himself, that so many of the nobles and other 'respectable' citizens who frequent that place actually delude themselves into believing that nobody will be able to recognize them as long as they're wearing a tiny black mask that barely covers their eyes. Laughable. The blackmailers of this city must be wealthier than the Grand Dukes themselves. Those foolish nobles are like sheep lining up to be sheared, for anybody who cares to do so. The way a person walks and moves about, their gestures - those things cannot be hidden by little masks. Not to mention those individuals who prance around naked, wearing their masks but neglecting to hide distinctive birthmarks and scars.

Dekaras shrugged and turned his thoughts from blackmail to a more relevant subject. The Thieves Guild of Baldur's Gate wasn't particularly extensive, not like some he'd seen. Still, he'd made a few useful contacts, and he'd been careful to go and see the Guild Leader as soon as he arrived. Ravenscar. What kind of a name is that, I ask you? Oh well. It could be worse, I suppose. He could have been calling himself 'Bloodmaster' or something equally ridiculous.

Still, it would have been a bad mistake to underestimate the man. Much better to have his blessing, such as it were, to operate within the city. The fee had been high, but not unreasonable, and it wasn't as if he didn't have the means to acquire more money. Also, it would have been extremely awkward to be bothered by the Guild while undercover. Much better to buy them off. His real enemies were dangerous enough, he didn't really need to create any new ones at the moment.

The assassin thought briefly about how to go about the rest of the mission. H would try to take things slowly, in order not to get discovered, but he also needed to learn as much as possible before Edwin's eventual arrival to the city. Once he'd settled into his new role and established his position, he'd see what he could learn from the Iron Throne leaders. But more importantly than that, he would need to find out as much as possible about Sarevok, and that mage of his, Winski. Those two were in charge of the schemes within the schemes, he was willing to bet his life on that.

In fact, Dekaras thought with a crooked half-smile, I suppose I've just done so. Well, as long as I stay discreet there shouldn't be a problem. I'd really prefer to avoid an open confrontation, I don't want to move against them until I'm certain I have the upper hand if that's possible. And yet, I would also like to be able to present something substantial once Edwin gets here.

The assassin stared out the window, his black eyes pensive, as he tried to imagine what the wizard might be doing at the moment. I guess they've probably reached the mines by now. I just hope Edwin has the sense not to act without thinking, for once. I have a feeling Sarevok's hirelings at the mine will have been chosen for their fighting abilities, not for their tendency to overlook insults. He sighed quietly and fingered one of his many hidden daggers through the cloth of his sleeve. Given how well he knew Edwin, he estimated that the probability of the wizard doing nothing rash was a very slim one indeed.

And yet I have to trust him, unnerving as it is to let him wander about on his own. At least he knows how to handle his magic reasonably well by now that he shouldn't accidentally blast himself to bits. If only there weren't all those other people all too willing to do it him…I really wish I could split in two and be there for him as well as here. But he isn't entirely alone, and there's nobody else available to handle this side of things. And we need this information, I know it.

Dekaras' face softened as the image of a woman drifted to the forefront of his mind. Her face was both proud and beautiful, and raven tresses flowed like a smooth black waterfall towards white shoulders, with skin as soft as silk. A will of iron she had, his lover, and a temper like wildfire, hot and deadly. It was part of what made her perfect. Promise me, she had said at their last tryst before he left. Promise me that you will keep him safe. That you will both be safe. She had repeated those words, as she had done before, and he had responded in the same manner that he had done before.

I promise, beloved, he had said, over and over again, gently touching her pale cheek. The two of you are the two most important people in the world to me, you know that. I would do anything to keep you both safe. Her kiss had been hungry, forceful, overflowing with hot need. It had been as if she was trying to touch his very soul, and make him leave part of it behind for her to keep. The assassin suspected that he might well have done just that. It certainly felt that way. As he had run his fingers along the small of her back he had felt her tremble with strong emotions and her body arched against his as if she was about to melt into him. That had made it very difficult to concentrate on what they were talking about.

And you had better keep that promise, and stay alive for me, his love had said once she was finally able to breathe properly again. If…if you go and die on me I'll happily kill you myself.

I will keep my promise if I can, my love, Dekaras thought to himself, his mouth set with determination. But I will make my own priorities, as always. I don't care what I have to do, or who has to die, as long as our child remains safe and unharmed. Even if that somebody should happen to be myself. Should it come to a decision, I will not hesitate to do whatever I must. He looked out the window again, at the dancing Iron Throne banners high above on the towers. The eastern wind was still strong. It would likely be some time yet before it turned.