Road of the Patriarch ts-3

by Robert Anthony Salvatore

  Jarlaxle and the dragon looked at the dwarf.

  "Well, ye taked me from the place I've known as home for many a year," Athrogate protested. "Ye can't be expecting me to just swim to Cormyr, now can ye?"

  "We will stay together, we three," Jarlaxle answered both the dragon and the dwarf. "I would be grateful if you would fly me in the wake of your sister and Artemis."

  If he was trying to gauge the reaction of the surprising Entreri as he declared his intentions, the drow was sorely disappointed, for Entreri, who simply did not care, had already started away.

  Ilnezhara grabbed Jarlaxle by the hand and pulled him along. "Come and show me your gratitude," she bade him.

  Jarlaxle followed without complaint, but he kept looking back at Entreri, who sat with his back against a rock, staring out at the dark and empty waters to the west.

  * * * * *

  "I remain surprised that you would provide such information," Ilnezhara said to Jarlaxle around noon the next day, when she awoke beside him. "Why would you trust me with such information after I sided with King Gareth against you? Or is it that you wish harm to befall this Kimmuriel creature and your former associates?"

  "You will not see Kimmuriel, nor any of my Underdark brethren," a sleepy Jarlaxle replied. He yawned and stretched, and considered his surroundings. Waves lapped rhythmically at the rocky shores of the small island, drowned out intermittently by Athrogate's snoring. "They will work from the shadows below."

  "Then why tell me?"

  "They pose no threat to King Gareth," said Jarlaxle. "And now I know your loyalty there. Indeed, Kimmuriel will force Knellict to behave himself, so consider the efforts of Bregan D'aerthe to be a welcomed leash on the Citadel of Assassins. And an opportunity for you and your sister. Items we consider commonplace and cheap in Menzoberranzan will no doubt interest you greatly for your collections, and will bring a fine price on the surface. Similarly, you can barter goods that hold little value here but will light the red eyes of matron mothers in the city of drow."

  "Bregan D'aerthe is a merchant operation, then?"

  "First, foremost, and whenever the choice is before us."

  Ilnezhara slowly nodded, though her expression remained doubtful. "We will watch them carefully."

  "You will never see them," said Jarlaxle, and he pulled himself to his feet and gathered his clothing. "Kimmuriel is not skilled in the ways of polite society. Ever has that been my role, and of course your beloved King Gareth is too small a man to understand the worth of my company. Now, if you will excuse me, good lady. The day grows long already and I must go and speak with my associate." He finished with a bow, and pulled on his shirt.

  "He surprised you with his request," Ilnezhara said as Jarlaxle started away. The drow paused and glanced back.

  "Or are you simply not used to him leading?" Ilnezhara teased.

  Jarlaxle grinned, shrugged, and walked off. He spotted Entreri, dozing against the same rock, shaded from the rising sun and with the western waters before him.

  The drow looked all around, then quickly quaffed one of the potions Kimmuriel had given him. He waited a moment for the magic to settle in, then focused his attention on Entreri, considering the questions he might ask to spur the man's thoughts.

  Jarlaxle blinked in surprise, for Entreri's thoughts began to crystallize in his intruding mind. The potions facilitated mind-reading, and as images of a great seaport began to flit through his thoughts, Jarlaxle realized that Entreri was already there, in Memnon, the city of his birth.

  So clear were those images that Jarlaxle could almost smell the salty air, and hear the seabirds. Entreri's dream—was it a dream or a memory, the drow wondered—showed him a plain-looking woman, one who might have once been somewhat attractive, though the soil and dust, and hard living had taken a great toll on her. Her few remaining teeth were crooked and yellow, and her eyes, perhaps once shining black orbs, showed the listlessness of despair, the empty and weary eyes of a person who had suffered prolonged poverty. The world had broken that once-pretty woman.

  Jarlaxle felt a tenderness emanating from Entreri as the man's dream lingered on her.

  Then a cart, a priest, a young boy's screams…

  Jarlaxle fell back a step as a wave of rage rolled out from Entreri to nearly overwhelm him. Such anger! Passionate, feral outrage!

  He saw the woman again, receding into the dust, and sensed that he was on a cart rolling away from her. The tenderness was gone, replaced by a sense of betrayal that filled Jarlaxle with trepidation.

  The drow came out of it, shaken, a short while later. He stood staring at Entreri, and he knew that what he had seen when he had insinuated himself into the assassin's dreams were indeed memories.

  "Your mother," the drow whispered under his breath as he considered the image of the black-haired, black-eyed woman.

  The drow snorted at the irony. Perhaps the kinship he felt toward Artemis Entreri was more rooted in common experiences than he had consciously known.

  CHAPTER 15

  KING OF VAASA

  With Kane's strong arm supporting him, Entreri managed to get up again, but he had little strength and balance. There was no resistance within him as Olwen pulled his arms back behind him and bound them tightly with a fine elven cord.

  "Where is Jarlaxle?" Emelyn asked him, and though the wizard moved very near as he spoke, his voice came to Entreri as if from far, far away. And the words didn't register in any cohesive manner.

  "Where is Jarlaxle?" the wizard asked, more insistently, and he moved so close that his hawkish nose brushed against Entreri's.

  "Gone," the assassin heard himself whisper, and he was surprised that he had answered. He felt as if his mind had disconnected from his body and was floating around the room like a bunch of puffy clouds, each self-contained with partial thoughts that might have once been connected to, but had come fully removed from, any of the thoughts flitting through the other clouds.

  He saw Emelyn turn to Kane, who merely shrugged.

  "I'll go check it," the distant voice of Olwen said.

  "More carefully this time," said Emelyn.

  The ranger snorted and walked past, directly in front of Entreri, and he paused just long enough to offer the beaten assassin a glare.

  Kane took Entreri by the arm and led him off, with Emelyn coming close behind. As they entered the ascending corridor and wound their way up, the assassin's coordination, mental and physical, did not return, and on several occasions, the only thing that kept him standing was the support of Kane.

  They found King Gareth, Friar Dugald, and many soldiers milling about the audience chamber. Gareth stood by one wall, hands on his hips and staring curiously at one of the tapestries, which had been unfastened to hang to its full length.

  "Well, now," Emelyn muttered, walking by Entreri and stroking his beard.

  "Ah, you have him," Dugald said, turning to see the trio. "Good."

  "It is curious, is it not?" Gareth asked, turning to face his friends. "Can you explain?" he started to ask Entreri, but he paused and considered the man before turning a questioning stare at his two friends.

  "Kane touched him in a special way," Emelyn said dryly.

  Gareth slowly nodded. "Where is Olwen?" he asked, a sudden urgency coming into his tone.

  "Confirming that the drow has departed."

  "And he has," came the ranger's voice from the tunnel entrance. "Through a magical gate, I suspect. And if the tracks are any indication, and we all know that they always are, then Jarlaxle wasn't the only elf—probably drow—walking about the place. I'm thinking that our friend here, the King of Vaasa, will have some answering to do."

  "He should start with this, then," said Emelyn, and both he and Gareth moved aside from the tapestry, revealing it fully to Entreri and his nearest captors. Behind the assassin, Olwen sputtered. Beside him, Kane offered no words, sounds, or expression.

  As he gradually began to focus on the tapestry, Entreri became even more confused
. The image seemed double, as if the tapestry was coming alive, its inhabitants stepping from the fabric into the chamber.

  But then he realized, far in the recesses of his groggy mind at first, but gradually working its way into his general thoughts, that the people portrayed on the tapestry were the very same ones who stood beside him in the audience chamber. For the tapestry depicted the victory of King Gareth over Zhengyi the Witch-King, and with great and accurate detail.

  "Well, King Artemis?" Gareth asked. "Why would you decorate your audience chamber with such depictions as these?

  Entreri stared at him, dumbfounded.

  Kane pushed him to the side, then, and eased him into one of the mushroom thrones.

  "He is not ready to speak yet," Kane explained to Gareth. "The mystery will hold for a bit longer."

  "As will this one," Gareth replied, and handed Kane a rolled scroll, the same one Kane had noted on the throne in his passing. He took it from Gareth and unrolled it, and again showed no emotion, though the cryptic words were surprising indeed.

  Welcome Gareth, King of Damara.

  Welcome Gareth, King of Vaasa.

  King of Vaasa, you are most welcome.

  "What trick is this?" asked Emelyn, reading over Kane's shoulder.

  Outside the audience chamber, a great cheer went up for King Gareth, led by the elated soldiers of Palishchuk.

  All looked to Gareth.

  "The threat to their fair city is defeated," he said.

  Friar Dugald gave a great belly laugh, and several of the others joined in.

  "And the drow is nowhere to be found," Emelyn said to Entreri. "Are you the sacrifice, then?"

  "A great waste of talent," said Olwen. "He is a fine fighter."

  "But not so fleet of foot," Dugald said. "But if we are done here, then let us return to Bloodstone Village. It's a bit too cold up here."

  "Bah, you've enough layers of Dugald to fend off the north wind," teased Riordan Parnell, coming in the keep's open door. "Our friends from Palishchuk wish a celebration, of course."

  "They always wish a celebration," Dugald replied.

  "I do like the place."

  "Straightaway, as soon as we are sure the threat here is no more, we turn for home," said Gareth. "We'll leave a contingent to remain in Palishchuk throughout the winter if our half-orc friends so desire, in case the drow has any tricks left to play. But for us, it will be good and wise to be home."

  "And him?" Kane asked, indicating Entreri.

  "Bring him," Entreri heard Gareth say, and Entreri was disappointed at that, wishing that it would just end.

  * * * * *

  "Home to Bloodstone Village, where your friend will be executed," Kimmuriel Oblodra said as they watched the exchange in the scrying pool.

  "Gareth will not kill him," Jarlaxle insisted.

  "He will have no choice," said the psionicist. "You declared Entreri King of Vaasa. If Gareth allows that to stand, he is diminished in the eyes of his subjects—irreparably so. No king would be foolish enough to suffer that sort of challenge to stand. It is once removed from anarchy."

  "You underestimate him. You view him through the prism of experience with the matron mothers of our homeland."

  "You pray that I do, but your reason tells you otherwise," Kimmuriel replied. "Step away from your friendship with the human, Jarlaxle, for it clouds your common sense."

  Jarlaxle shifted back as the wizards ended their quiet chanting and the pool fell silent, its image beginning to blur. Jarlaxle was a drow who usually spoke with certainty, and who backed up that certainty with a generous understanding of others. But he was also one who long ago learned to trust in Kimmuriel's judgment, for never did that one let hope or passion cloud simple logic.

  "We cannot allow it," Jarlaxle remarked, speaking as much to himself as to Kimmuriel.

  "We cannot prevent it," Kimmuriel replied, and Jarlaxle noted that the wizards to the sides raised their eyebrows at that. Were they expecting a confrontation, a battle for the leadership of Bregan D'aerthe?

  "I will not put Bregan D'aerthe against King Gareth," Kimmuriel went on. "I have explained as much to you once already. Nothing that has happened has changed that stance, and certainly not for the sake of a pathetic human who, even if rescued, will be dead of natural causes anyway before the memory of this incident has faded from my consciousness."

  Jarlaxle wondered at that last statement, in light of Entreri drawing a bit of the essence of shadow into his blood through the use of his vampiric dagger. He let that thought go for another day, though, and focused on the issue at hand. "I did not ask you to wage war with Gareth," he said. "If I had wanted such a thing, would I have abandoned the power of the castle? Would I not have called forth Urshula to strike hard into Gareth's ranks? Nay, my friend, we will not battle the King of Damara and his formidable army. But he is, by all accounts, a reasonable and wise human. We will barter for Entreri."

  A brief flash of expression across Kimmuriel's stone face revealed his doubt. "You have nothing with which to barter."

  "You did not see King Gareth's expression when he viewed my gift?"

  "Confusion more than gratitude."

  "Confusion is the first step to gratitude, if we're clever." Jarlaxle's sly grin brought looks of concern from all around, except from Kimmuriel, of course. "The field of battle is prepared. We need only another point of barter. Help me to attain it."

  Kimmuriel stared at him hard, and doubtfully, but Jarlaxle knew that the intelligent drow would easily sort out the still-unspoken proposal.

  "It will be entertaining," Jarlaxle promised.

  "And worth the cost?" Kimmuriel asked. "Or the time?"

  "Sometimes entertainment alone is enough."

  "Indeed," replied the psionicist. "And was all of this—the arrival of the troops, the death of the slaves, the magically exhausting withdrawal—worth the trouble for you, a simple game for your amusement merely to run away when the predictable occurred and King Gareth arrived at his door?"

  Jarlaxle grinned and shrugged as if it did not matter. He pulled out a curious gem, one shaped as a small dragon's skull, and with a flick of his hand, sent it spinning to Kimmuriel.

  "Urshula," Jarlaxle explained. "A powerful ally to Bregan D'aerthe."

  "The Jarlaxle I know would not relinquish such a prize."

  "I loan it to you as an asset of Bregan D'aerthe. Besides, you will undoubtedly learn more of the dracolich than I can, aided as you will be by priests and wizards, and even illithids, no doubt."

  "You offer payment for our assistance in your next endeavor?"

  "Payment for that already rendered, and for that which you will still provide."

  "When we find your barter for the pathetic human?"

  "Of course."

  "Again, Jarlaxle, why?"

  "For the same reason I took in a refugee from House Oblodra, perhaps."

  "To expand the powers of Bregan D'aerthe?" Kimmuriel asked. "Or to expand the experiences of Jarlaxle?"

  Kimmuriel considered it for a moment and nodded, and with a laugh, Jarlaxle answered, "Yes."

  CHAPTER 21

  NEVER THE SIMPLE COURSE

  Entreri stood staring at the west, at a cluster of palm trees rising from the rolling dunes of sand. He nodded as he realized where they were, for he was quite familiar with the mountains south of their position. Not much of this region north of the divide was rolling white sand, though south of those mountains, closer to Calimport, the desert extended for miles and miles. The land was almost equally barren, but was more a matter of mesas and long-dead river valleys, but one stretch was the exception. They were along the trade route, and since the mountains stretched out, impassable, southeast of their position, Entreri realized that they were no more than a few days from Memnon. He looked back at the dragon sisters, who were preparing to depart, and offered Tazmikella, when she caught his glance, as close to an expression of gratitude as he'd ever offered anyone.

  Off to the side of
Entreri, Athrogate sat, spitting curses and pulling off his boots. "Rotten stuff," he said, pouring a generous amount of sand from one shoe. When they came in, Ilnezhara had skimmed low, and the rut the claw-riding Athrogate had cut in the coarse sand could be traced back many yards.

  While the dwarf's discomfort pleased Entreri, he shifted his gaze to his other companion. Jarlaxle stood near the dragons with his back to Entreri, his hat far back on his head, completely obscuring the assassin's view of him. Something in the expressions of the two gigantic creatures clued him in that Jarlaxle had somehow caught them off guard. With a cursory glance at the complaining Athrogate, Entreri moved beside his long-time companion.

  And saw a handsome elf, with golden skin and hair the color of the morning sun.

  Entreri fell back a step.

  "Although the hair suits you well, I prefer the drow image," Ilnezhara said. "Exotic, mysterious, enticing…"

  "Dangerous," said her sister. "That is always the lure for you, dear sister, which is why we are farther into Dojomentikus's domain than I had desired. Come now, it is time for us to be gone."

  "Dojo would not strike out at the both of us, sister," said Ilnezhara. She turned back to Entreri and Jarlaxle. "Such a petty beast, like most males. Imagine that just a few trinkets could invoke such wrath."

  "A few trinkets and your refusal to breed with him."

  "He bored me."

  "Perhaps he should have donned a drow disguise," Tazmikella said, and Entreri realized that that should have been his line—except that he was hardly listening to the conversation, for he remained transfixed on Jarlaxle.

  "You should close your mouth," Ilnezhara said, and it took Entreri a moment to understand that she had directed the comment at him. "The sand will blow in. It is most uncomfortable."

  Entreri shot her a quick look, but turned back to his companion.

  "Kimmuriel is often difficult in his dealings," Jarlaxle explained. "He conceded quite a bit, but demanded of me that I wear this mantle beyond the Bloodstone Lands, for all the rest of my days on the surface."