I also noticed a few measures taken to facilitate my rehabilitation. A cool compress was on my forehead, and my arms and legs were tied down, evidently to keep me from further damaging myself; at least I hoped so.

"I've learned my lesson," I said groggily. "No sudden moves for me. Now will someone please tell me who I am?"

My de facto nurse looked at her male companion as if seeking approval, and then back to me before saying, in the innocent tone of the truly naive or the extremely deceitful, "Excuse me?"

I blinked. She couldn't be lying. Even though I didn't know my name, I knew I had a knack for judging a person's character. I decided to change my tack.

"You can untie me," I assured her. "I have no desire to do myself or anyone else any harm. I just want to know what's going on."

She looked at me, and then at him.

He nodded. She started to untie me.

The proximity of her body tempted me with its earthy aroma: I was already well on the mend. Perhaps the preceding hours of unconsciousness had done me good.

Her burly companion stepped within bashing distance, should I try anything. She helped me into a sitting position.

"Thanks," I said absently, then added, " I hope I haven't been too much trouble, Miss…?"

"Scheiron," she replied. "Nymara Scheiron, but you can call me 'Kitten.'"

"I shall," I answered, and turned my attention to her companion. "And the same goes for you, my good man."

The fellow looked at me, then at Kitten, harrumphed, turned, and left me alone with my nurse. The sounds of his weighty footsteps echoed long after his hulking bulk had already left the room.

"Quite the conversationalist, isn't he?" I gibed.

Kitten's face became quite serious.

"I wouldn't talk that way about someone who had just saved my life," she scolded. "If he hadn't fished you out of the harbor, you would have been brigand bait for sure."

"The harbor?" I queried.

"That's right," she insisted. "He brought you back here himself, undressed you, and nursed you back to health, only leaving long enough to tend important business. Even then, he left me to watch over you."

He was my nurse. He rescued me, tended my wounds, undressed me…

I quickly snatched the blanket that had previously covered me and fixed it in place.

Kitten giggled. She stood up, saying, "Nothing that I haven't seen before, so don't trouble yourself."

Looking down, I realized my cover was unnecessary since I still wore pantaloons. I joined her laugh.

"Did I have a purse when he brought me in?"

"No," she replied, "and Lothar would surely have returned it to you if you had."

I slowly tried to stand, but was quickly discouraged by a forceful yet delicate hand that pressed me back to the cot.

''Later," she cooed. "You need your strength."

I reached out to bring her closer to me, but she quickly dodged my grasp.

"I guess you are feeling better," she replied.

"Where am I?"

"You were right with your first guess," she answered. "Waterdeep, the Dock Ward, Lothar's crib."

"And you are Kitten, Lothar's-"

"Friend," she interrupted, "and sometime business associate."

"Business?"

"There's plenty of time for that later."

For Kitten, later was a response to many things.

"How do you feel?" she asked, not quite as tenderly as before.

"Better," I replied. "No worse than if I had been dragged from Undermountain to Skullport by the hair of my head."

She smiled again.

I ran my hand over the top of my noggin, to make sure I wasn't bald, and said, "I just can't remember who I am, where I'm from, or what I'm doing here."

"What you are doing here is easy," Kitten replied. "You're getting your strength back. Perhaps you hit your head and fell overboard from one of the ships in the harbor. A blow like that can cause memory loss."

"So I've heard," I replied, and quickly realized something. "Funny that," I observed, "I didn't lose all of my memory."

"How so?" she queried, her expression again turning serious.

"I can't remember my name, but I recognized I was probably in the Waterdeep Dock Ward. I also knew about memory loss from a blow to the head, and all sorts of other stuff."

"What's the farthest back you can remember?"

"Waking up," I answered, quickly adding, "and seeing your angelic face."

She smiled.

I shrugged. "Well, it's a start."

A rapid thumping against the floorboards signaled that Lothar was once again approaching. He quickly shooed Kitten away and offered me a draught of something. I began to protest, but given my weakened condition, thought better of it, and accepted what I hoped was medicine.

A gentle drowsiness quickly seized me, and I was once again out like a light.

I awakened from my slumbers to the none-too-gentle prodding of Kitten, who seemed to have decided I no longer deserved coddling. She was right. The pain in my skull had disappeared, and my strength had indeed returned. I felt well rested and refreshed, and if it weren't for the fact that I still could not recall a single thing about my past, I might have been tempted to pronounce myself fit as a fiddle.

"Do you remember who you are yet?" she inquired.

"No," I replied, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, and thankful that the throbbing didn't return.

"Too bad," she answered flippantly. "I guess you'll just have to make do with what you know."

"Did Lothar tell you anything more? Maybe he knows something."

Kitten laughed heartily. Gone was the girlish giggle of my convalescence. "No such luck," she replied, "and just so you know, Lothar doesn't say anything. He can't."

"He's mute?"

"You might say that. Years back, his tongue was cut out after a particularly ugly argument with a particularly ugly brute."

'Too bad."

Kitten shrugged. "He doesn't seem to mind," she commented. "He can read and write and make his opinions known when he wants to."

"I'm sure."

"It's just an obstacle that needed to be overcome, sort of like losing one's memory."

I couldn't be sure if she intended her comment to be taken as encouragement or a malicious taunt. The only thing I really knew was that I desperately wanted to know who I was.

The formerly soft and sensitive Kitten grew impatient. 'Well," she said, tapping the toe of her soft-soled boot against the floor, "are you ready to get on with your life?"

I was perplexed. "What do you mean 'get on with my life'?"

"You seem well enough," she observed, setting her carefully manicured fingertip against her delicately tapered jaw. "I thought you might be in need of some employment, gainful or otherwise, unless of course you just planned on setting up housekeeping here with Lothar."

"What did you have in mind?" "I have this friend who is exceptionally good at judging the measure of a man. I'm sure he can size you up and situate you in an appropriate position." "What about my identity?"

"Suit yourself," Kitten replied with a shrug. "Personally, I always considered it more important to secure food, shelter, and whatnot before indulging in 'finding myself… but if you have some plan…"

This Dock Ward vixen was right. A question still nagged me, though.

"What sort of work can I do? If I don't know who I am, how can I know my abilities?"

"Don't you worry your damaged little head," she instructed condescendingly. "It's obvious you know a lot more than you realize. You're probably exceptionally good at a lot of things." She started toward the door.

"Just leave it up to Murph."

"Murph?" I asked, hot on her heels. "Who's Murph?" "Let's just say he's a broker of talents," she replied, hastening her step. "Hurry! He doesn't like to be kept waiting."