Starlight Enclave

by R. A. Salvatore

  “I would like that,” Catti-brie replied. “But tell me, in that event, would I even remember you?”

  Galathae went quiet suddenly, her expression a bit pained. “Maybe it will be just a feeling, a spark of knowledge to make you wonder if somehow we are old friends, though to you it will also seem as if we have only first met.”

  It couldn’t be spoken more clearly than that.

  “Maybe we’ve met before,” Catti-brie answered. “Perhaps you did come to my home once, long ago, and we did to you that which you intend to do to us.”

  “Why would you?” the paladin asked in such a logical manner that Catti-brie paused and considered her analogy.

  “What would the great cities of the south have to fear from an aevendrow enclave so far away?” Galathae continued, quite seriously.

  “It was just a thought,” Catti-brie deflected. She finished the delicious treat, then wiped her bottom lip with her index finger and scraped a piece of cheese onto her teeth, determined to enjoy every last bit.

  “Maybe you’ve been here before,” Galathae said. “Or perhaps there is more to reality than we can know.”

  “Perhaps Mielikki will show me the way back here,” Catti-brie remarked. “What then?”

  “Persimmons, of course,” the paladin teased.

  The door opened then and a sentry—the same one who had tossed the comforting remark at Zaknafein when the group first entered the assembly chamber—announced, “The Temporal Convocation is now reconvening.”

  Galathae leaned in toward Catti-brie. “I do wish to hear your story. Be at ease and be comfortable, Catti-brie. You are not among enemies.”

  “I know,” she replied, and she wanted to believe that she did. And yet . . .

  The other aevendrow rose and began collecting the plates. Galathae moved for the door, telling the companions to follow along.

  Rising from her seat, Catti-brie glanced again at the smiling Azzudonna, her purple eyes locked on Zak.

  “Does it still hurt?” Zak asked her, his hand coming up and almost, but not quite, touching her nose.

  “You think me ugly?” she asked back melodramatically.

  Zak laughed. “No, I just wonder if it still hurts. I would have expected that the priests would have tended to it by now.”

  “Soldiers wear the scars of cazzcalci for many days, sometimes all the way to Midwinter Deep,” explained Vessi from across the table, and he pulled back his sleeve to show a tear in his forearm, of which he was obviously proud. “The oroks have such sharp teeth,” he added with a dramatic sigh.

  “It does not hurt,” Azzudonna said quietly to Zak, leaning in close. “As long as you are careful when you kiss me.”

  The weapon master hesitated, caught off guard, and the aevendrow laughed and spun away.

  Zak followed her departure until he turned enough to see Catti-brie staring at him with an impish little grin. He shrugged, having no answer to that.

  “Fight beside me in cazzcalci next year, Zaknafein Do’Urden,” Azzudonna called back, dancing out of the room, the others, except for Ilina and Galathae, following her.

  The remaining six went back to the assembly together and took their seats. As soon as the room was filled and quiet, Galathae asked Jarlaxle to resume his tale, which he did with great energy. Catti-brie paid more attention now, for the mercenary was fast coming upon the part where her own story intersected.

  Jarlaxle told it faithfully, spoke of adventures he and Entreri had shared in the distant Bloodstone Lands, and in the far, far south, tales that Catti-brie had not heard before. He burst with pride as he recounted the rebuilding of Gauntlgrym and of Luskan and the great changes along the northern reaches of the Sword Coast. His voice rose in triumph as he told of the heroic defeat of the demon lord Demogorgon itself in the cavern of Menzoberranzan, and of how Drizzt had become the spear for an entire city. He spoke somberly of the more recent war throughout the lands about Luskan, and, to Catti-brie’s surprise, he even told of the change of heart of House Baenre and the magical web of heresy the two great priestesses had woven to steal the driders from Lolth.

  In that moment, Catti-brie feared that this whole setup of Callidae might be a machination of Lolth to elicit exactly that story and admission from her companions.

  But again, the fear passed, and the aevendrow continued to act and react properly, and as she considered Jarlaxle’s brutal honesty here, she thought it a good thing. Jarlaxle was being less than his usual cautious self. He was putting it all on the line, a reflection, she thought, of his own desperation that this not be an illusion, or some fever-induced dream.

  She thought it even a better thing when Mona Valrissa interrupted Jarlaxle on behalf of one of the representatives to ask a question that seemed to be on all their minds: What was this beast that he spoke of, this abomination he called a drider?

  Catti-brie watched carefully the expressions of the members of the congress as Jarlaxle described the visceral horror of those beings, and she was glad of their disgust.

  Sometimes, she thought, things really were just as they seemed.

  By the time Jarlaxle finished, Mona Valrissa had to call a recess for some sleep, but they were all back together again very early the next day.

  Zaknafein followed Jarlaxle, since so much of their tales overlapped and Jarlaxle’s remained so fresh in the thoughts.

  Catti-brie had heard many of his stories before, but from the point of view of her husband, who had played so prominent a role in them.

  He spoke of the not-so-little matter of his death and of Zin-carla and his second demise, explaining the time when he was dead by simply stating that he had no memory of it at all. And now he was returned, somehow, and glad he was, for he had met his new daughter, Catti-brie, and his beautiful half-drow, half-human granddaughter, now the joy of his life.

  After another delightful meal with the same group as the previous night, Entreri began his story. Catti-brie tuned out a bit, focusing on her own life and what she intended to tell. But she was drawn back in almost immediately when she came to realize how open this always-guarded man was being. He spoke of things in his childhood, dark things that Catti-brie could not have imagined. He even truthfully recounted his first meeting with her, when he had taken her prisoner and dragged her across the land in pursuit of a halfling he had been tasked with kidnapping and bringing back to the far southland for the most extreme torture and execution.

  He was so open that it made Catti-brie—and Jarlaxle, too, she believed from watching his reactions—wonder if there had been more spread on the persimmons than muskox cheese. Or perhaps the wine was stronger than they had believed.

  But no, she realized when Entreri came to the part of his enwrapping in the magical cocoon of the one called Sharon, the one they believed to be the physical manifestation of the concept of conscience.

  Artemis Entreri was telling the truth because he saw that as part of his penance.

  And that truth coming from this man mesmerized Catti-brie. She thought it as wonderful as Callidae and the aevendrow. She had never been fond of Entreri, or even tolerant of him, until recently. There had been times when she had scolded Drizzt for not killing him!

  But hearing him now somehow infused her with hope.

  Unexpected hope, but not unwanted.

  When her own turn came, Catti-brie started in Icewind Dale with stories of her adoptive father, who was now king of Gauntlgrym, and of Regis, and of her first meeting with Drizzt Do’Urden. So many adventures did she tell, and as she recited them, trying to be as brief and entertaining as she could, she found herself as amazed as any in the room at the sheer scope of her own life.

  When she got to her death, she looked right at Galathae, and for this interlude in the life of Catti-brie, she took her time. For this was Iruladoon, a gift, so she truly believed, from the goddess Mielikki.

  Galathae’s eyes sparkled throughout the recounting, and on more than one occasion, Catti-brie noted them brimming with tears.
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br />   That moment more than any other except perhaps the miracle at cazzcalci convinced her that this was not some weird induced illusion, not a deception.

  Indeed, indeed, sometimes things really were just as they seemed.

  She went on to speak of her marriage to Drizzt and then burst out in a huge smile to tell of Briennelle Zaharina Do’Urden, her little girl, her greatest joy, and the smile became strained, and she teared up at the mere mention, only then fully realizing how badly she missed her family.

  She looked again at Galathae when she finished speaking, the paladin offering her a sincere and approving nod.

  The room was buzzing with chatter for some time before Galathae called it to order and turned the floor back to Mona Valrissa.

  “We are most grateful again,” she addressed the visitors. “The tales of the outside world remind us of our blessings here in Callidae. These insights are important, lest we take our bounties for granted. Wise were our ancestors.

  “You express your desire to go and find Doum’wielle, and if this remains your chosen course, we will not stop you. Indeed, we will take you there—Doum’wielle was friend to Callidae, too, and fell with many of our people beside her. But beyond the entrance of the caverns of the uninhabited, you will travel alone. Our losses there earlier this year still hurt us dearly, and we, unlike you, understand that which lies within. We will try to persuade you to a different course until the time we leave you, although we find your loyalty and your cause just and powerful.

  “You understand our conditions for taking you to this place. Should any or all of you somehow survive and escape that cursed place, your next journey must, on your word, be back to Callidae. Are we agreed?”

  “Yes,” they all replied, and Jarlaxle added, “Back here, where you will steal from me all thoughts of this place, the most wondrous memories of my long story.”

  “Where you will declare your choices,” Mona Valrissa corrected him. “It seems clear to us that we already know Catti-brie’s decision, for it is one easily made.”

  “But not without great lament,” Catti-brie replied.

  Mona Valrissa paused to acknowledge that with a look of appreciation and endearment. She continued, saying, “Then go and rest and prepare.” She called the assembly to adjournment. “When you are ready to depart, simply ask and it will be done.”

  She raised her hands and clapped them together, and the assembled members of Callidae’s congress began standing and shuffling about.

  “Wait!” Jarlaxle called out loudly, surprising them all, particularly Galathae, who was coming over to escort the friends home.

  “Wait, I beg,” Jarlaxle continued. “There is something else I must tell you, and I have come to know that it should be here and now, and not when we bid you farewell.”

  His tone was not light, indeed sounded grave, and Mona Valrissa clapped her hands again three times sharply, reconvening the convocation. The members hustled back to their seats and the room quickly quieted.

  “What are you doing?” Catti-brie asked Jarlaxle, but it was Zak who calmed her.

  “Helping them, I think,” said the weapon master.

  Mona Valrissa nodded to Galathae, who told Jarlaxle to please continue.

  “When we went to the cave, we found riddles,” the rogue began. “The eggs, the polar worms. Why would slaadi and frost giants be caring for such a hatchery as that? Now, you supposed it to be a secret army of monsters that they could send against you, and perhaps you are right. But I think it might be something more.”

  He paused there and paced for a bit, clearly trying to sort out his thoughts.

  “Everything is in balance about us,” he continued. “This is true in the Underdark, but even more apparent here on the surface of Toril, with oceans and lakes, forests and fields. So, this glacier, Qadeej if you will, has stood for centuries uncounted, longer than your stories. Now you are speaking of its advance, taking Cattisola, and creeping toward the tunnel leading to Scellobel, correct?”

  “We send teams out into the tunnel to cut it back, but yes, it is moving, slowly,” Galathae replied.

  “At its rate of advance it will be a hundred years or more before it comes near to Scellobel,” Mona Valrissa explained. “It still has not fully taken Cattisola, but there is little of value there any longer.”

  “Your lifeblood is the hot springs that you call the River Callidae,” Jarlaxle said. “Without it, you could not live here. You would have to abandon this place and find a new home.”

  “If the glacier continues its advance,” said Mona Valrissa, seeming perturbed.

  “If I’m correct, it will. I think the slaadi are doing it,” Jarlaxle stated, and that began a hundred whispered remarks and exchanges throughout the assembly.

  “The remorhazes,” he went on, and he paused again, and Catti-brie could see him rewinding his thoughts to the background of his explanation. “Why do the hot springs flow here in the midst of Qadeej? Is it a deep volcano, perhaps, or a primordial, or great elemental god of fire? Did your people happen upon a godly struggle locked in stasis, where Qadeej and such a primordial of fire had fought to a standstill that leaves you with the streams of hot water that provide such life to Callidae?

  “Perhaps. But I—but we—don’t think so. In the abandoned Ulutiun town, Catti-brie reached through her ring and found no sensations of any such second beast. So possibly it is a volcano, far below, feeding the fire, melting the ice in these areas that the hot springs might flow.

  “Or maybe it is something else. In the Underdark, there are vast chambers of huge crystals. We call them the breathless rooms, because—well, if you went in one, you would understand. I’ve seen only one, and from afar, and even from that great distance, I could feel the heat emanating from the place. To remain inside such a chamber would kill me, or you, or any of us.”

  “But not a remorhaz,” Galathae put in, nodding.

  “Do you recall what the infant worms were chewing in the hatchery?”

  “Crystals,” Galathae answered.

  “Jarlaxle, what are you proposing here?” Mona Valrissa demanded.

  “Take some miners and go through the tunnels to Cattisola,” he explained. “Dig, and pray have many warriors looking over the miners, ready to do battle. I believe you will find vast chambers of crystals, and there on the edge of Qadeej’s encroachment, you will find the work of the slaadi in the form of polar worms. They are unbalancing the land to allow the growth of Qadeej, a change that will drive the aevendrow and all the others from this place you call home. Kill their remorhazes and you will deal a great blow to the slaadi.”

  The assembly held perfectly quiet then, a decided hush, with the gathered representatives looking to each other, and ultimately toward Jarlaxle.

  “Of course, I—we—cannot be certain,” Jarlaxle finished. “But this is what I believe might well be happening, given what we saw in the strange hatchery.”

  Galathae moved to Mona Valrissa, the other inquisitors closing in for a private huddle.

  “Jarlaxle, all of you, we are most grateful that you have shared these thoughts,” Mona Valrissa said at length. “If there is nothing more, you are dismissed to prepare for your journey. The Temporal Convocation will remain in session until we have come to agreement on how to respond to these suspicions you have shared. Certainly, we will investigate.”

  “If your fears prove true, then Callidae owes you a great debt, my friends,” Galathae added. She walked over, the other inquisitors beside her, and with Ilina, led the companions from the Siglig to prepare for their coming adventure.

  Chapter 25

  Through the Blizzard

  The journey out of Callidae was quite different from the one that the friends had taken back to the hatchery. Accompanied by a contingent of nearly three score, mostly aevendrow but with a dozen Ulutiuns and a handful of kurit and oroks, they traveled from the lodging in Scellobel through Mona Chess and into the borough of Ardin, the Garden Borough of Callidae. All the way,
a dull roaring sound continued far above them, the winter wind speaking loudly, and neither the stars nor the Merry Dancers could be seen as a ferocious storm filled the sky with blowing snow.

  “We should come back here and remain for some time,” Jarlaxle remarked to Catti-brie when he first looked upon Ardin, which was very different from either Scellobel or Mona Chess. Few large buildings could be seen here, and none rising more than a score of feet or so. Fields dominated the view, many speckled with huge and hairy bovine beasts, which the friends immediately realized were the muskox producers of that wonderful kurit cheese.

  Catti-brie nodded, understanding the sentiment, although when the wind shifted in a swirl from the open night sky far above, the bits of snow that hit her came alongside a most terrible stench.

  The muskox herds produced more than milk, clearly.

  Even before that dose of reality, Catti-brie was nodding to be polite, and because this wasn’t a discussion she now desired. Ever since she had told her story to the Temporal Convocation, the last parts of her address, ruminations on her family alone, had dominated her thoughts. She dearly missed her husband and daughter and couldn’t wait to return to them, return to her life. Those many friends she had left behind, too—Wulfgar, Bruenor, Regis, Penelope, and all the others—beckoned to her. She had been eager to get out on the road for this mission both because of a sense of duty due to the notion that this quest might make a significant difference in the coming Menzoberranzan war, and because, simply, of her own desire for an adventure.

  A vacation, of sorts, from the inevitable monotony of a peaceful and settled life.

  Being here in this wonderful place had proven a great distraction, full of excitement. Yet still the pangs of homesickness were growing by the hour, only reinforcing to Catti-brie the blessings of her own life. If Drizzt and Brie were with her, she imagined she’d feel the same as Jarlaxle, and would stay here for months and learn and experience the uniqueness of Callidae. But they weren’t here. Which meant that if not for Doum’wielle, if not for her responsibility to her friends, she would have accepted whatever conditions the Temporal Convocation had set for her, whatever ritual they used to blur her memories of this place, and recalled to the Ivy Mansion immediately following the assembly.