"Until he learns that we killed his niece."
"We?"
Entreri turned his head, and if Jarlaxle hadn't been grinning at that moment, Entreri would have leaped across and throttled him.
"If the Citadel of Assassins hunts us, then King Gareth will likely embrace us even more," said the drow. "I am not fond of relying on such things, but until we can sort out the potential of our new power, it will have to do. Well, that and the dragon sisters, who I'm sure will look upon us with new respect."
"Respect or hatred?"
"They are not as different as you seem to believe."
Entreri moved to reply, but before he could get a word out, the air around the riding pair shimmered weirdly, like a wave of soft blue cloth.
Their summoned horses disappeared out from under them.
Entreri hit the ground hard, bouncing and rolling, scraping his face and nearly shattering his jaw. As he at last came around, finally controlling the roll, he saw Jarlaxle drift by, the drow still upright and levitating through the momentum of the fall.
"That was no accident, nor did the duration of the magic of the mounts run out simultaneously," the drow called back, from far ahead.
Entreri looked around, his hands going to his weapons.
"To the foothills, and quickly," Jarlaxle insisted. "The Citadel mustn't catch us out in the open."
They rushed back to retrieve their mounts, merely obsidian figurines once more. Then they scrambled to the west, where the ground began to slope up, and great tumbled boulders from the Galenas offered them some cover. They were still climbing when far in the distance to the north, they spotted the unmistakable dust and movement of many galloping horses.
"How did they do that?" Entreri asked when they pulled up with their backs against a huge stone for a much-needed break. "Was it an ambush? Is there a wizard about?"
"Was it even them?" Jarlaxle asked.
"If not, then this troupe should ride right past us," Entreri reasoned.
Both he and Jarlaxle took that cue to peer around the boulder down to the flat plain, where the truth of it all became quite evident. For the pursuers had slowed, with some already turning to the west and filtering into the foothills north of their current position.
"We should find a defensible spot," Jarlaxle suggested.
Entreri didn't blink. "When they close on us, you will just turn to shadowstuff and melt into a crack in the stones, no doubt," he said.
Jarlaxle considered the words for a moment, but given the incident in the dracolich's cave, he really wasn't in any position to promise differently.
"Come," the drow offered. "All hope is not lost. There are caves, perhaps."
"None that will suit your needs," came a voice, and the two turned their heads very slowly to see an older man, well-groomed and dressed in splendid robes of purple and red, and with not a speck of mud on him. The way he held himself, the tilt of his head, and the obvious reverence with which those several guards around him, including a dwarf both of them knew too well, told them exactly who he was before he even introduced himself as Archmage Knellict.
"I do not know that I would name Canthan as a friend," Knellict said. "He was an annoying one, who seemed to find even more annoying companions."
"That'd be me," Athrogate proudly announced, and no one was amused.
"But he was an asset to my organization," Knellict continued. "A valuable one, and one lost to me."
"If I had known that, I would have let him kill me," Entreri quipped.
"Bwahaha!"
"Shut up, dwarf," said Knellict, and when Athrogate immediately buttoned his lip, shifted nervously, and averted his gaze to the ground, it occurred to Entreri and Jarlaxle that the archmage was all his reputation claimed, and more.
"Commander Ellery was no small asset, as well," Knellict said. "A liaison to the happenings of the crown—mostly an unwitting and stupid asset, but an asset nonetheless."
"Ah, and now you seek to reclaim that which you have lost," Jarlaxle replied.
"Do I?" Knellict began walking around to the side, studying them both as he went. "You were stronger than Canthan, obviously, since you vanquished him," he said. "And no doubt King Gareth will now welcome you into his court, since you have saved Palishchuk and defeated the magic of Zhengyi."
"I think we just volunteered," Entreri remarked.
"You prefer the alternative?" Jarlaxle came right back.
"I need not explain the details to you, of course," Knellict said. "You are both well aware of the rules. We understand each other?"
"I have created such organizations," Jarlaxle assured him.
Knellict burst into movement. Entreri went for his weapons, but Jarlaxle, recognizing the gesture, grabbed his friend's arm.
A great wind came up and dust swirled around them, blinding them momentarily. And when it was gone, the two stood alone.
"They were never really here," Jarlaxle said. "Knellict projected the image and sounds of the entire group to us. He is a powerful one."
"But we really had that conversation?"
"We heard them and they heard us," Jarlaxle assured him. The drow cast a few quick spells and tapped his eye patch more than once.
"And now we work for the Citadel of Assassins?" Entreri asked.
"And the dragon sisters. We would not be wise to forget that pair."
"You seem pleased by it all."
"The easiest road to gaining control is one walked beside those who currently rule."
"I thought it was Jarlaxle who was always in control," Entreri remarked, and his voice took a sudden sharp edge to it.
The drow looked at him curiously, catching that razor line.
"Even when he should not be in control," the assassin went on. "Even in those instances when he is taking control of something that does not concern him."
"When did you take to speaking in riddles?"
"When did you presume to so manipulate me?"
"Manipulate?" Jarlaxle gave a little laugh. "Why, my friend, is that not the nature of our relationship? Mutual manipulation for personal gain?"
"Is it?"
"Are we to spend this entire conversation asking questions without answers?"
In reply, Entreri pulled forth Idalia's flute and tossed it at Jarlaxle's feet.
"I did not give you that," the drow stated.
"Truly?" asked Entreri. "Was it not a gift from the sisters, with Jarlaxle's understanding and agreement?"
"It is a precious instrument, a gift that most would appreciate."
"It is a manipulation of the heart, and you knew it."
The drow put on an innocent look but couldn't hold it and just gave a little laugh instead.
"Did you fear that I would not go into the castle unless I felt something for Arrayan?"
"I had no idea that there was an Arrayan," Jarlaxle pointed out.
"But you enjoyed the manipulation."
"My friend…" Jarlaxle began, but Entreri cut him short.
"Don't call me that."
Again Entreri's tone caught the drow by surprise, as if that knife's edge in his voice had developed a wicked, serrated blade.
"You still cannot admit the obvious, I see," Jarlaxle said. He took a step back, almost expecting Entreri to draw his sword on him.
The assassin looked around.
"Knellict and his minions are long gone," Jarlaxle assured him, and he tapped his enchanted eye patch to accentuate his certainty.
"Jarlaxle knows," Entreri remarked. "Jarlaxle knows everything."
"It keeps us both alive."
"And again, that is by the choice of Jarlaxle."
"You are beginning to bore me."
Entreri rushed up to him and grabbed him by the throat.
Jarlaxle dropped a knife from his enchanted bracer into one hand, ready to plunge it home. But Entreri wasn't pressing the case, other than to shout in Jarlaxle's face, "Are you my father, then?"
"Hardly that."
"Then wh
at?" Entreri asked, and he let go, sending Jarlaxle stumbling back a step. "You manipulate and carry me along, and for what? For glory? To give a dark elf credibility among the humans? For treasures that you cannot carry alone?"
"No such treasures exist," came the dry reply.
"Then for what?" Entreri yelled at him.
"For what," Jarlaxle echoed, with another of his little laughs and a shake of his head. "Why, for anything and for nothing at all."
Entreri stared at him with a puzzled expression.
"You have no purpose, no direction," Jarlaxle explained. "You wander about muttering to yourself. You walk no road, because you see no road before you. I would be doing you a favor if I killed you."
That brought a look showing a complete acceptance, even an eagerness, for the challenge.
"Is it not the truth?" Jarlaxle asked. "What is the point of your life, Artemis Entreri? Is it not your own emptiness that led you all those years into desiring a battle with Drizzt Do'Urden?"
"Every time you mention that name, you remind me how much I hate you."
"For giving you that which you desired? For facilitating your fight with the rogue drow? Ah, but did I steal the only thing in your life giving you meaning, by giving you that which you said you desired? A pitiful state of the heart, would you not agree?"
"What would you have me say? I only know that which I feel."
"And you feel like killing me."
"More than you would understand."
"Because I force you to look at yourself and you do not like what you see. Is that a reason to kill me, because I am offering to you a chance to sort through your own emotions? That is all the magic of the flute did to you, I suspect. It offered you the opportunity to look past your own emotional barriers."
"Did I ask for your help?"
"Friends help when they are not asked."
Entreri sighed and shook his head, but he could not deny any of what the drow had said. His shoulders slumped a bit, and Jarlaxle let the dagger fall to the ground behind him, certain then that he would need no weapons.
A few moments passed between them until finally Entreri looked up at the drow, his face calm, and asked, "Who are you?"
Jarlaxle laughed again, and it was a sincere expression of joy, for that was where he had hoped it would all lead.
"Why, Artemis Entreri, do you not yet know? Have you not come to understand any of it?"
"I understand less each day."
"I am your muse," Jarlaxle announced.
"What?"
"I am he who will give meaning to your life, Artemis, my friend. You do not even begin to understand the breadth of your powers. You know how well you might skulk through the shadows, you know all too well your prowess with the blade, but you have never understood what those well-deserved, well-earned powers can bring you."
"You assume that I want anything."
"Oh, you do. If you can only dare to wish for it."
"What? Athrogate's Citadel of Assassins? Shall we move to dominate them?"
"Of course, to begin."
"Begin?"
"Think large, my friend. Make your goal expansive. Athrogate will give us the insight and bona fides we need to find a strong place within the Citadel's organization—we will quickly learn whether it is worth our time to overtly dominate the place or merely to covertly exert enough control to render them harmless to us."
"Couldn't we just kill the annoying little dwarf instead?"
Jarlaxle laughed. "There has been a void of power up here for many years."
"Since the fall of Zhengyi."
"Vaasa is ours for the taking."
"Vaasa?" Entreri could hardly repeat the word, and for one of the few times in all his life, he actually stuttered. "Y-you would go against King Gareth?"
Jarlaxle shrugged. "Perhaps. But there are other ways." He ended by holding up the dragon skull gemstone. "The sisters will learn of a new balance of power between us, to begin with. And within this stone lies control of the castle and a new ally."
"An ally that will bite us in half."
Jarlaxle shook his head. "Not while I am in possession of his phylactery. He and I are already in communication, I assure you. If I choose to let him out again, he will only do so with great trust in me, for if I destroy the phylactery, I destroy the dracolich's spirit. Utterly."
"Gareth will send soldiers to the castle."
"And I will let them stay for a while."
"Vaasa?"
"At least."
"You will go against a legendary paladin king?"
"Come now, can you not admit that it might be fun?"
Entreri started to speak several times, but nothing decipherable came forth. Finally he just shook his head, sighed, and turned away, moving back down toward the flat ground.
"Trust me," said Jarlaxle.
"My muse?"
"Your friend."
EPILOGUE
"Did the fool human pass your silly little test?" Kimmuriel Oblodra asked Jarlaxle a few days later, off in the shadows beneath the Vaasan Gate.
"Do not underestimate Artemis Entreri," Jarlaxle replied, "or the value he brings to me—to us."
"And you should not overestimate the power of the skull gems you have found," Kimmuriel warned, for he had just finished inspecting the pair at Jarlaxle's request. He had spoken with the dracolich, Urshula by name, and had confirmed Jarlaxle's suspicions that the beast would not dare to go against the possessor of the phylactery.
"They are but the beginning," Jarlaxle said with a grin. "Artemis Entreri and I have an audience with the paladin king in two days, just south of here in Bloodstone Village. We will be received as heroes for our efforts in Vaasa and as solemn witnesses to the end of Gareth's heroic niece."
He couldn't help but chuckle at the irony of that last statement. If King Gareth only knew!
Kimmuriel looked at Jarlaxle, wary, recognizing that look of confidence and grandiose schemes in his eyes, for he had seen that look from his former master dozens of times over the centuries. But they were not in the Underdark, in Menzoberranzan where Bregan D'aerthe and Jarlaxle had held many secret trumps.
"Have you found another Crenshinibon?" the psionicist asked with obvious disgust and concern.
"I have found opportunity," Jarlaxle corrected.
"Bregan D'aerthe will not come forward in force against the likes of King Gareth Dragonsbane."
Jarlaxle stared at him with appreciation and said, "Glad I am that I had the wisdom to put Kimmuriel in control of my band," he said. "Of course you are correct in resisting this bold move. You are a fine leader, and I urge you to continue with all caution, but too with an open mind. There are many events yet to play out up here in this untamed land, and I am in control of most of them." He brought forth the dragon statuette. "My relationship with a pair of living dragons just changed in ways they cannot understand."
"More allies for your battle?"
"Allies? We shall see."
Despite himself, Kimmuriel could not help but offer a wry grin.
"You might find a way to fit in as events play out," Jarlaxle said to him. "I pray that Kimmuriel remains an opportunistic leader. The point of Bregan D'aerthe is more than survival, is it not? It is to grow in power."
"You nearly destroyed us in Calimport."
"Nay," Jarlaxle corrected. "It was an inconvenience to you. It was myself that I nearly destroyed."
"You and Entreri will take down a paladin king?"
"If it comes to that."
Kimmuriel didn't reply, other than to dip a respectful bow.
* * * * *
Muddy Boots and Bloody Blades had long since emptied out for the night, but Entreri had tossed the innkeeper enough gold to get the key for the door. He sat alone with his thoughts and a beer, considering the emotions that had accompanied him all the way to Palishchuk and back. On the table beside his flagon lay Idalia's flute, and Entreri wasn't yet certain if he hated the item or prized it.
It was all so very new to him.
He was to leave in the morning with Jarlaxle for a meeting with the king, where they would receive a commendation and an offer to join the Army of Bloodstone, so Honorable General Dannaway had informed them. As intriguing as it all was, however, Entreri's thoughts were much smaller in scope. He thought of the women who had accompanied him to the north, of how that innocent looking flute had given him a different way of viewing them.
That new viewpoint hadn't stopped him from killing Ellery, at least, and he took some comfort in that.
A soft footstep behind him told him that he was not alone, and from the sound of it, the assassin understood much. She had been watching him from across the room for most of the night, after all.
"I did not kill your friend," he said, not turning around. "Not with intent, at least."
The footsteps halted, still half a dozen strides behind him. Finally he did turn, to see that his reasoning was correct. Calihye stood there, her face very tight. Entreri was relieved to see that she did not have any weapon in her hands.
"Accept it as truth or do not," he said to her, and he turned back to his beer. "I care little."
He started to raise it to his lips, but Calihye came over quickly. Her hand grasped his wrist, stopping him and making him look back up at her.
"If you do not care whether I believe you or not, then why did you just tell me that yet again?" she asked.
It was Entreri's turn to stare at the half-elf.
"Or is it that you're simply afraid that you do care, Artemis Entreri?" Calihye teased, and she let go and stepped away.
Entreri stood up, his chair skidding out behind him, and said, "You flatter yourself."
"I am still alive, am I not?" Calihye reasoned. "You could have killed me back in Palishchuk, but you didn't."
"You were not worth the trouble," Entreri said. "A soldier of the crown was under your care."
"You could have killed me any time, yet I am still alive, and still, perhaps, a threat to you."
"You do flatter yourself."
But Calihye wasn't even listening to him, he realized as she stepped right up to him, her bright eyes staring into his.
"I assure you, Artemis Entreri, that I am always worth the trouble," she said, her voice turning husky, her breath hot on his face, her lips practically brushing his as she spoke.
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