After a few moments, my patience was rewarded.
As she pivoted toward me, I closed my eyes for a bit more than a wink, to give the impression I was only now coming around.
She noticed my optical flutterings. Her footsteps were soft as she crossed the room to come to my side.
"Easy now," she purred. "No sudden moves. We don't want a repeat of your last episode, now do we?"
With more careful maneuvering, I turned my head to face her. I opened my eyes to behold the face of the angel that filled my memory. Our eyes made contact, and a smile came to her lips.
The fog that filled my head began to dissipate, and the scene around me came into focus.
I was lying on a makeshift cot in some storeroom. The angel of loveliness who had first inspired thoughts of ecstasy, passion, and compassion also became clearer. Far from the angelic vision of my dreams, she had the ragged look of a gutter snipe. This is not to say she was hard on the eyes, mind you, only that she was of the common sort one usually found along the docks of Waterdeep.
Waterdeep! I must have been mugged in some Dock Ward alley. Well, that explained how I'd gotten here, and the abuse my cranium endured.
She smiled again, and whispered, "Good. You're coming around. I was afraid you were going to pass out again."
The tone of her voice had not changed, and what I had taken for the sensuous purring of an amorous angel was probably just the modulated tones of a careful nurse. Perhaps, too, she was reluctant to announce our presence to passersby, predators, or watches.
I slowly turned to the side, raised my head up with the support of elbow, arm, and hand, and hazarded a question. "I'm in Waterdeep, right?"
"You are correct," she answered tentatively, as if expecting another question hot on its heels.
"Good," I replied with false bravado. "It's always good to know where you finally wind up. It's almost as important as your own name."
Even now, I cannot be sure whether the tension that crossing my nurse's face was real or imagined. At the time, I was too distracted to pay attention. Only then did I realize I hadn't the foggiest notion in all Toril what my name was, or for that matter, what my past was.
I panicked and lurched forward. I wanted to escape this storeroom and seek a clue to my identity. The nurse tried to press me back to the cot. I quickly dodged her grip and got to my feet…
And promptly passed out again for all my hasty efforts.
Sounds from outside the storeroom soon brought me around. Numerous dockworkers were none too quietly heading to their jobs. My nurse was once again present, slightly the worse for wear, as if she had just finished a hard night's work. This time, she was accompanied by a burly fellow for whom the term gentleman would have been wishful thinking.
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.