Anthology - Realms of Mystery Part 22

"Again," the patron said without hiding his tone of condescension, "that is not your concern. I a.s.sure you, cool and competent minds will handle the matter."

I nodded to concede the patron's point so that I could expedite the matters at hand and get on with the case, all along knowing that I would not rest until I had personally laid Kitten's killer to rest, no matter who I angered while doing it.

The masked man snapped his fingers and one of the burly boys escorted me back to the surface.

Messages and updates were to be left in the usual clandestine places, and I was to go about fulfilling my a.s.signment as I saw fit. The instructions on leaving the resolution of the matter to others was considered to be more than enough of a warning not to proceed with any plans for vengeance, but I was out for blood.

Kitten deserved no less.

My a.s.signment wasn't by any means an easy one. The creature that had killed and was now posing as Kitten would obviously pick up my thoughts once we made contact. The only one deceived by the thoughts of a mind is it's own possessor.

Tailing her undetected wasn't a problem. The Dock Ward was filled with urchins willing to do anything for a gold piece or two. In the short time of my memory I had recruited a st.u.r.dy stable of cast-off minions whose effectiveness at following orders was only surpa.s.sed by their greed and fear of my displeasure.

Gross and Waters would be perfect for the job. Both were used to doing my background dirty work and neither knew Kitten personally. The two would spell each other and report back to me twice daily at dusk and dawn. Though neither could read or write worth a d.a.m.n, they nevertheless always turned in comprehensive reports on their day's (or night's, as the case may be) observations.

I knew Kitten's usual routine like the back of my hand and hoped that I might observe some discrepancy in my two lads' reports that might lead me to the ident.i.ties of that h.e.l.lion's accomplices.

Newfound friends, secrets, rendezvous, and such would no doubt provide me with an avenue worth pursuing.

Minions dispatched, I decided to spend the rest of the day avoiding the target of their tails, and do a little research on the dastardly dopplegangers myself.

My patron had mentioned a certain Geddarm who broke up the ring that operated out of the Hanging Lantern. I seemed to recall a loutish would-be actor (p.i.s.spot, or some such name) who was always bragging about his great comrade Volo with whom he had shared many an adventure. As I recall, the thespian hung out at an after-hours place frequented by actresses and their patrons. The hostess was a bosomy wench named Blonde! who owed me a favor or two for services rendered. As luck would have it, the actor in question was engaged in a discussion with the lady of the house as I entered the establishment."But Blondie," the rotund fellow persisted, "I a.s.sure you it would be wonderful."

"For who?" Blondel replied with a tolerant grin. She patted his hand firmly before moving on to another patron.

I scanned the rest of the crowd, a scant lot not unusual for the daylight hours, and turned back to take a seat at the bar. A gla.s.s of my midday usual was already in place before mc. I reached in my purse for a silver piece, but my hostess wouldn't hear of it.

"I'm still working off my tab from last week," Blonde! replied with a coy wink. "At this rate I'll be paying it offal! year. I wish you'd consider some of my more expensive services."

"I'm in no hurry," I answered slyly. "I like to take my time."

"I bet you do."

Lowering my voice I asked, "What's the price on information these days?"

"Reasonable."

"What can you tell me about the crowd that used to hang out at the Hanging Lantern?"

Blondel furrowed her brow for a moment. "Not much," she answered. "They did a brisk trade catering to the crowd's wishes. More than a few of their clientele really hated it when they closed down even if it was rumored to be a den of demonic dopplegangers."

"Any word of the survivors regrouping and re-establishing themselves elsewhere in the trade?"

"Not that I've heard. Things have been awfully quiet lately. Word in the alleyways is that the Unseen has left town in favor of greener pastures, and speaking of greener pastures have you considered-"

Blondel's proposition was rudely interrupted by the boisterous boom of the thespian lout p.i.s.spot.

"You want to know about dopplegangers, my good fellow," the bag of wind announced to the world (or at least those who were within earshot in the room around us). "Well, allow me to be of service. A drink for me, wench, and put it on his tab."

Blondel looked at me in gentle amus.e.m.e.nt. I nodded and she went about serving the fellow who had situated himself beside me, giving me a quick and hearty hale-and-well-met pat on the back.

The drink arrived, he drained it, and beckoned for me to draw closer as he intended to speak in a hushed tone. Secrecy is always best maintained by whispering, I thought, especially when you have already announced the subject matter to everyone in the room.

"I am an expert on dopplegangers," he whispered pompously.

I nodded, and said, "So rye heard. You're an a.s.sociate of that Volo fellow. p.i.s.spot's your name."

"That's Pa.s.sepout," he corrected, "son of Idle and Catinflas, circ.u.mtraveler of Toni, and scourge of all dopplegangers. What would you like to know? Do you want to hear about how I uncovered a plot to replace Khelben or how I saved the heir of one of the leading families of Cormyr or how I single-handedly secured the balance of power in the Moonsea region? It's all very hush hush you see."

"What can you tell me about dopplegangers in Waterdeep...lately?" I inquired.

"Another drink?" he requested.

I nodded to Blondel who quickly accommodated him. The rotund fellow raised the tankard to his lips and replied, "Nothing, I'm afraid, but thanks for the refreshment. You are a gentlemen and a scholar."

As he drained the tankard, Blondel quickly placed another in front of him, which he quaffed in similar fashion and immediately pa.s.sed out.

"That settles that," she announced, and then, pointing at the stout fellow who had just begun to snore, asked the crowd, "Know anyone looking to shanghai a crew member or two? He'll be out for at least a day and a half, more than enough time to get persuasively out to sea."

"I'll send word if I hear of anyone," I replied. "And you do the same if you hear anything new about the matters we discussed. You know how to get hold of me."

I was swiftly back on the street and in search of information, the sound of two bouncers placing a rotund thespian in a holding sack quickly diminishing in the distance.

Word would be out in no time that I was on a doppleganger hunt. The loudmouthed p.i.s.spot had seen to that. If I didn't find them they would find me.

Either way I'd soon be facing Kitten's killers.* * * * *

Things didn't move as swiftly as I had a.s.sumed.

Three days and six reports from my minions later and I was no closer to achieving my objective, and the hunger for vengeance began to consume my belly like day-old Baldur's Gate rotgut.

Gross and Waters had both reported that the thing that was pa.s.sing for Kitten seemed overly wary in her one-on-one encounters, as if she were always on her guard, but other than that nothing suspicious.

(Gross postulated that it could be a "woman thing" and that she was just self-conscious.) As always I didn't comment, just listened.

My patron sent a missive indicating that he and his a.s.sociates were growing impatient, and that the fate of Faerun was probably hanging in the balance. What else was new? I had heard that all before and really didn't care. They would get their information soon enough (and a few corpses as well, if I had my way) even if I had to beat it out of someone who looked like my best friend.

On the fourth day of my quest I almost ran into Kitten but quickly managed to remove myself from her presence before she had a chance to sense me. I'm not really sure how these doppleganger telepathic powers work, but I'm pretty sure I made it away clean. Waters included his observation of my near-miss in his daily report, but as per usual didn't make any query about it.

A good minion doesn't ask questions unless they are told to.

On the fifth day I received a missive from Blonde!. Someone wanted to see me. Concealing various bladed instruments on my person, I quickly set off for the rendezvous that had been arranged for me.

The meeting was set for an after-hours place a block over from the waterfront. Blondel's missive had indicated that a well dressed fellow from the North had asked her about the Hanging Lantern and dopplegangers a night ago. A follower of synchronicity over coincidence, her feminine sixth sense told her that she should put him in touch with me.

The dockyard was my home turf and she knew I could take care of myself. I arrived at the meeting an hour early so as to have the advantage. I was about half an hour too late.

I realized this only when I felt the initial blow of a firm cudgel on the crest of my cranium. My adversaries had already laid claim to the advantage by arriving even earlier.

I came to a while later, lying on some cold and damp cellar floor, my wrists and ankles bound, Blondel and a nondescript gentleman standing over me.

"He's coming around," the unknown figure announced.

"It's about time," the creature that had become Blonde! answered. "Though I guess we really couldn't have asked for a more cooperative opponent, walking right into our clutches and all. I probably would have let you go on living if' you hadn't posed a threat to our other a.s.sociate."

"The one posing as Nymara Scheiron," I replied.

"Exactly. Your queries were getting in the way of her fulfilling her part of our mission, and our master was growing quite impatient. We never really feared that you would uncover the full extent of our plot since you had obviously chosen to settle the matters at hand before carrying out your patron's wishes.

Such arrogance and rage can only get in the way, and for what? A slim chance to avenge the death of a friend? A person of your abilities should have known better. But then again, if memory serves, experiences are the best teachers, and you seem to have forgotten most of yours. At this point I would like to add that it was quite refreshing to read such an uncluttered mind as yours."

"I'm glad I could accommodate you," I replied c.o.c.kily. "Little did I realize that I would have to avenge the deaths of two dear friends."

"Blondel's crime was being in the wrong place at the wrong time," the thing that was pa.s.sing forBlonde! explained. "Your Kitten on the other hand was very necessary for our plot. The new Kitten should be on her way here now. Too bad you won't be around to meet her."

"Why didn't you just kill me and get it over with?" I asked. "It would have saved you the trouble of tying me up and all."

"True," it replied, "but unfortunately my nondescript colleague whose appearance was dictated by an equally unlucky n.o.body applied his cudgel to your skull a little too quickly. I hadn't yet had the chance to leaf through the pages of your mind to make sure that you hadn't informed your unknown patron of our little meeting, and unfortunately such reading of thoughts is more difficult when the subject is out cold."

The thing that had become Blondel looked in my eyes. I sensed hunger in her thoughts.

"You have so many questions inside of your head," it said with a sigh. "I'm afraid I can't answer any of them for you. It's a shame, going to your death without ever knowing your own ident.i.ty, your past, or even your own name."

"You could at least tell me the reason Kitten and Blondel had to die."

"Beyond the simple reason that we had to take their places?" it replied, and shrugged. "Too bad you can't read minds. Oh well, I can't see the harm in it, and besides, Kitten should be here soon. We probably should wait for her."

The thing leaned in close to me, and purred in the manner Blondel used to when she wanted to get me hot and bothered. The knowledge that this wasn't the member of the gentler s.e.x with whom I had shared a few pa.s.sing evenings did little to quell my response to her seductive tones.

"Our master has engineered a new plan to rea.s.sert his influence in the fair city of Waterdeep. He has recognized the necessity of controlling the, how should I say, 'word about town' in order to carry out his plan. The Inn of the Hanging Lantern was brought down quite inadvertently by a busybody hack writer and a know-nothing publisher. Our job was to replace the publisher with one of our own so that such a turn of events wouldn't happen again."

I laughed sardonically at the black humor of it all.

"All of this for one lousy publisher who would probably have been open to a bribe anyway," I said in ironic resignation.

"Indeed," it replied, "but the master didn't want to take that chance. Bribes don't usually instill loyalty, and most publishers seem to relish the idea of renegotiation even after a deal and price have been set provided that the matters at hand seem to be in their favor. It was to be the first cautious step in his great new plan. . . but I am afraid that we can't wait any longer. Kitten or no Kitten."

It withdrew a poisoned black blade dagger from it's bodice and began to place it beneath my chin, ready to insinuate its deadly edge into the fleshy part of my neck.

"Good-bye, man without a past. Give my best to your Blondel. She should be happy to see you, if I recall correctly," it purred.

The poisoned tip of the deadly dagger had furthered its insinuation into my flesh and was about to penetrate and seal my fate when the sound of the whistle of flying steel breezed through the cellar.

The thing that had become Blonde! slumped to the side, quite dead, the poisoned blade barely missing my throat with nary a nick, as her a.s.sociate also crumpled to the floor.

A familiar face stepped out of the shadows pausing momentarily to retrieve her blades from their well aimed destinations deep in the dopplegangers' backs before turning her attention to me.

"Now that wasn't too hard," the familiar voice of Kitten exclaimed. "There's a whining tub of lard in the other room. He's in a large sack labeled 'bad actor for shanghai', but I don't think he'll mind if I tend to you first."

My oldest friend explained the matters at hand as she undid my bonds.

"Sorry that you had to be kept in the dark about all of this," she said, "but it was the will of the Lords. When the doppleganger tried to remove me and take my place, it woefully underestimated me."

"A common mistake. . ." I interjected.

Out of the corner of my eye I discerned a movement from the direction of the supposedly dead doppleganger accomplice of Blondel, and with my recently freed hand extracted a throwing knife from one of my secret harnesses and let it fly in the direction of the noise, hitting home in the forehead of thenow really dead doppleganger. It seems Kitten's dagger had lost most of its killing power when its mortal flight had been interrupted by some well placed chainmail.

"...and common mistakes do have a way of continuing to crop up," I added.

"Point well taken," Kitten conceded.

"I immediately sent word to Khelben Arunsun, who alerted the Lords. It was they who concocted this plot to uncover this latest conspiracy of the Unseen. We needed to know who the others were and what they were doing. Given their exceptional mental powers, the Lords knew I would never be able to pa.s.s myself off as one of them. We therefore needed a reason that I would cease interacting with the others in the plot, namely that I was being followed by one of the Lord's men."

"Me," I offered, mentally making a note that my current patron was one of the Lords, confirming a suspicion that I had been harboring of all of my so-called benefactors, "the perfect blank slate."

"Exactly," she replied. "Your well intentioned quest for vengeance-yes, the Lords knew what you intended to do-made you the perfect judas goat to draw them out while providing me with the perfect cover."

"I was the bait, and you were the trap."

"Exactly."

With her help I stood up and rubbed the circulation back into my wrists and hands. "Blondel is still dead."

"I'm afraid so," Kitten replied, a supportive hand placed on my shoulder, "but her killers are now dead also."

"All to protect a stupid publisher whom the Lords have had numerous problems with."

"Indeed, Justin Tyme is no friend of the Lords," Kitten answered apologetically, "but we didn't know that he was their target at the time. And we could rule out the usual suspects like Khelben, Danilo Thann, Myrt the Moneylender, and others. If we had known, maybe things would have been different.

Maybe we would have taken a different tact."

I secretly made a second note of her use of the word "we."

"Blondel would still be dead. Some things don't change."

Kitten looked down at the toes of her boots as if to avert my stare.

"It's a small consolation, but the Lords' plan worked as well as it needed to. A new Unseen plan nipped in the bud." Kitten raised her head, and looked me in the eye. "Let's get out of here. It's time for you to claim your payment for services rendered. But first we should free the hapless actor . . . unless of course you think we could fetch a good price for him on the seagoing market."

"Not likely," I replied, still distracted by the new revelations at hand. I quickly regained my wits and, not wishing to alert my feminine benefactor to my realization, I added, "It wouldn't be worth the effort."

It took bare minutes to free the terrified p.i.s.spot from the very large sack that imprisoned him and an interminable few minutes more to get him to stop groveling.