He sensed nothing unusual, no contact at all between the artifact and this elf.
“There are a hundred warriors about you,” the elf maiden said, stopping some twenty paces from the pair. “They would like nothing better than to pierce your tiny drow heart with their arrows, but we have not come here for that—unless you so desire it.”
“Preposterous!” Jarlaxle said, quite animatedly. “Why would I desire such a thing, fair elf? I am Drizzt Do’Urden of Icewind Dale, a ranger, and of heart not unlike your own, I am sure!”
The elf’s lips grew very thin.
“She does not know of you, my friend,” Entreri offered.
“Shayleigh of Shilmista Forest knows of Drizzt Do’Urden,” Shayleigh assured them both. “And she knows of Jarlaxle of Bregan D’aerthe, and of Artemis Entreri, most vile of assassins.”
That made the pair blink more than a few times. “Must be the Crystal Shard telling her,” Jarlaxle whispered to his companion.
Entreri didn’t deny that, but neither did he believe it. He closed his eyes, trying to sense some connection between the artifact and the elf maiden again, and again he found nothing. Nothing at all.
But how else could she know?
“And you are Shayleigh of Shilmista?” Jarlaxle asked politely. “Or were you, perchance, speaking of another?”
“I am Shayleigh,” the elf announced. “I, and my friends gathered in the trees all around you, were sent out here to find you, Jarlaxle of Bregan D’aerthe. You carry an item of great importance to us.”
“Not I,” the drow said, feigning confusion and glad that he could further mask that confusion by speaking truthful words.
“The Crystal Shard is in the possession of Jarlaxle and Artemis Entreri,” Shayleigh stated definitively. “I care not which of you carries it, only that you have it.”
“They will strike fast,” Jarlaxle whispered to Entreri. “The shard coaxes them in. No parlay here, I fear.”
Entreri didn’t get that feeling, not at all. The Crystal Shard was not calling to Shayleigh, nor to any of the other elves. If it had been, that call had undoubtedly been completely denied.
The assassin saw Jarlaxle making some subtle motions then—the movements of a spell, he figured—and he put a hand on the dark elf’s arm, holding him still.
“We do indeed possess the item you claim,” Entreri said to Shayleigh, stepping up ahead of Jarlaxle. He was playing a hunch here, and nothing more. “We are bringing it to Cadderly of the Spirit Soaring.”
“For what purpose?” Shayleigh asked.
“That he may rid the world of it,” Entreri answered boldly. “You say that you know of Drizzt Do’Urden. If that is true, and if you know Cadderly of the Spirit Soaring as well—which I believe you do—then you likely know that Drizzt was bringing this very artifact to Cadderly.”
“Until it was stolen from him by a dark elf posing as Cadderly,” Shayleigh said determinedly and in a leading tone. In truth, that was about as much as Cadderly had told her about how this particular pair had come to acquire the artifact.
“There are reasons for things that a casual observer might not understand,” Jarlaxle interjected. “Be satisfied with the knowledge that we have the Crystal Shard and are delivering it, rightfully so, to Cadderly of the Spirit Soaring, that he might rid the world of the menace that is Crenshinibon.”
Shayleigh motioned to the trees, and her companions walked out from the shadows. There were dozens of grim-faced elves, warriors all, armed with crafted bows and wearing fine weapons and gleaming, supple armor.
“I was instructed to deliver you to the Spirit Soaring,” Shayleigh explained. “It was not clear whether or not you had to be alive. Walk swiftly and silently, make no movements that indicate any hostility, and perhaps you will live to see the great doors of the cathedral, though I assure you that I hope you do not.”
She turned then and started away. The elves began to close in on the dark elf and his assassin companion, with their bows still in hand and arrows aimed for the kill.
“This is going better than I expected,” Jarlaxle said dryly.
“You are an eternal optimist, then,” Entreri replied in the same tone. He searched all around for some weakness in the ring of elves, but he saw only swift, inescapable death stamped on every fair face.
Jarlaxle saw it, too, even more clearly. “We are caught,” he remarked.
“And if they know all the details of our encounter with Drizzt Do’Urden….” Entreri said ominously, letting the words hang in the air.
Jarlaxle held his wry smile until Entreri had turned away, hoping that he wouldn’t be forced to reveal the truth of that encounter to his companion. He didn’t want to tell Entreri that Drizzt was still alive. While Jarlaxle believed Entreri had gone beyond that destructive obsession with Drizzt, if he was wrong and Entreri learned the truth, he would likely be fighting for his life against the skilled warrior.
Jarlaxle glanced around at the many grim-faced elves and decided he already had enough problems.
As the meeting at the Spirit Soaring wore on, Cadderly fired back a testy remark concerning the feelings between the drow and the surface elves when Jarlaxle implied that he and his companion really couldn’t trust anyone who brought them in under a guard of a score of angry elves.
“But you have already said that this is not about us,” Jarlaxle reasoned. He glanced over at Entreri, but the assassin wasn’t offering any support, wasn’t offering anything at all.
Entreri hadn’t spoken a word since they’d arrived, and neither had Cadderly’s second at the meeting, a confident woman named Danica. Indeed, she and Entreri seemed cut of similar stuff—and neither of them seemed to like that fact. They had been staring, glowering at each other for nearly the entire time, as if there was some hidden agenda between them, some personal feud.
“True enough,” Cadderly finally admitted. “In another situation, I would have many questions to ask of you, Jarlaxle of Menzoberranzan, and most of them far from complimentary toward your apparent actions.”
“A trial?” the dark elf asked with a snort. “Is that your place, then, Magistrate Cadderly?”
The yellow-bearded dwarf behind the priest, obviously the more serious of the two dwarves, grumbled and shifted uncomfortably. His green-bearded brother just held his stupid, naive smile. To Jarlaxle’s way of thinking, where he was always searching for layers under lies, that smile marked the green-bearded dwarf as the more dangerous of the two.
Cadderly eyed Jarlaxle without blinking. “We must all answer for our actions,” he said.
“But to whom?” the drow countered. “Do you even begin to believe that you can understand the life I have lived, judgmental priest? How might you fare in the darkness of Menzoberranzan, I wonder?”
He meant to continue, but both Entreri and Danica broke their silence then, saying in unison, “Enough of this!”
“Ooo,” mumbled the green-bearded dwarf, for the room went perfectly silent. Entreri and Danica were as surprised as the others at the coordination of their remarks. They stared hard at each other, seeming on the verge of battle.
“Let us conclude this,” Cadderly said. “Give over the Crystal Shard and go on your way. Let your past haunt your own consciences then, and I will be concerned only with that which you do in the future. If you remain near to the Spirit Soaring, then know that your actions are indeed my province, and know that I will be watching.”
“I tremble at the thought,” Entreri said, before Jarlaxle could utter a similar, though less blunt, reply. “Unfortunately, for all of us, our time together has only just begun. I need you to destroy the wretched artifact, and you need me because I carry it.”
“Give it over,” Danica said, eyeing the man coldly.
Entreri smirked at her. “No.”
“I am sworn to destroy it,” Cadderly argued.
“I have heard such words before,” Entreri replied. “Thus far, I am the only one who has been able to ignore the tempt
ation of the artifact, and therefore, it remains with me until it is destroyed.” He felt an inner twinge at that, a combination of a plea, a threat, and the purest rage he had ever known, all emanating from the imprisoned Crystal Shard.
Danica scoffed as if his claim was purely preposterous, but Cadderly held her in check.
“There is no need for such heroics from you,” the priest assured Entreri. “You do not need to do this.”
“I do,” Entreri replied, though when he looked to Jarlaxle, it seemed to him as if his drow companion was siding with Cadderly.
Entreri could certainly see that point of view. Powerful enemies pursued them, and the Crystal Shard itself was not likely to be destroyed without a terrific battle. Still, Entreri knew in his heart that he had to see this through. He hated the artifact profoundly. He needed to see this controlling, awful item be utterly obliterated. He didn’t know why he felt so strongly, but he did, plain and simple, and he wasn’t giving over the artifact not to Cadderly or to Danica, not to Rai-guy and Kimmuriel, not to anyone while he still had breath in his body.
“I will finish this,” Cadderly remarked.
“So you say,” the assassin answered sarcastically and without hesitation.
“I am a priest of Deneir,” Cadderly started to protest.
“I name supposedly goodly priests among the least trustworthy of all creatures,” Entreri interrupted coldly. “They are on my scale just below troglodytes and green slime, the greatest hypocrites and liars in all the world.”
“Please, my friend, do not temper your feelings,” Jarlaxle said dryly.
“I would have thought that such a distinction would belong to assassins, murderers, and thieves,” Danica remarked, her tone and expression making her hatred for Artemis Entreri quite evident.
“Dear girl, Artemis Entreri is no thief,” Jarlaxle said with a grin, hoping to diffuse some of the mounting tension before it exploded—and he and his companion found themselves squared off against the formidable array within this room and without, where scores of priests and a group of elves were no doubt discussing the arrival of the two less-than-exemplary characters with more than a passing concern.
Cadderly put a hand on Danica’s arm, calming her, and took a deep breath and started to reason it all out again.
Again Entreri cut him short. “However you wish to parse your words, the simple truth is that I possess the Crystal Shard, and that I, above all others who have tried, have shown the control necessary to hold its call in check.
“If you wish to take the artifact from me,” Entreri continued, “then try, but know that I’ll not give it over easily—and that I will even utilize the powers of the artifact against you. I wish it destroyed—you wish it destroyed, so you say. Thus, we do it together.”
Cadderly paused for a long while, glanced over at Danica a couple of times, and to Jarlaxle, and neither offered him any answers. With a shrug, the priest looked back at Entreri.
“As you wish,” he agreed. “The artifact must be engulfed in magical darkness and breathed upon by an ancient and huge red dragon.”
Jarlaxle nodded, but then stopped, his dark eyes going wide. “Give it to him,” he said to his companion.
Artemis Entreri, though he had no desire to face a red dragon of any size or age, feared more the consequence of Crenshinibon’s becoming free to wield its power once more. He knew how to destroy it now—they all did—and the Crystal Shard would never suffer them to live, unless that life was as its servant.
That possibility Artemis Entreri loathed most of all.
Jarlaxle thought to mention that Drizzt Do’Urden had shown equal control, but he held the thought silent, not wanting to bring up the drow ranger in any context. Given Cadderly’s understanding of the situation, it seemed obvious to Jarlaxle that the priest knew the truth of his encounter with Drizzt, and Jarlaxle did not want Entreri to discover that his nemesis was still alive—not now, at least, with so many other pressing issues before him.
Jarlaxle considered blurting it all out, on a sudden thought that speaking the truth plainly would heighten Entreri’s willingness to be done with all of this, to give over the shard that he and Jarlaxle could pursue a more important matter—that of finding the drow ranger.
Jarlaxle held it back, and smiled, recognizing the source of the inspiration as a subtle telepathic ruse by the imprisoned artifact.
“Clever,” he whispered, and merely smiled as all eyes turned to regard him.
Soon after, while Cadderly and his friends made preparations for the journey to the lair of some dragon Cadderly knew of, Entreri and Jarlaxle walked the grounds outside of the magnificent Spirit Soaring, well aware, of course, that many watchful eyes were upon their every move.
“It is undeniably beautiful, do you not agree?” Jarlaxle asked, looking back at the soaring cathedral, with its tall spires, flying buttresses, and great, colored windows.
“The mask of a god,” Entreri replied sourly.
“The mask or the face?” asked the always-surprising Jarlaxle.
Entreri stared hard at his companion, and back at the towering cathedral. “The mask,” he said, “or perhaps the illusion, concocted by those who seek to elevate themselves above all others and have not the skills to do so.”
Jarlaxle looked at him curiously.
“A man inferior with the blade or with his thoughts can still so elevate himself,” Entreri explained curtly, “if he can impart the belief that some god or other speaks through him. It is the greatest deception in all the world, and one embraced by kings and lords, while minor lying thieves on the streets of Calimport and other cities lose their tongues for so attempting to coax the purses of others.”
That struck Jarlaxle as the most poignant and revealing insight he had yet pried from the mouth of the elusive Artemis Entreri, a great clue as to who this man truly was.
Up to that point, Jarlaxle had been trying to figure out a way that he could wait behind while Entreri, Cadderly, and whomever Cadderly chose to bring along went to face the dragon and destroy the artifact.
Now, because of this seemingly unrelated glimpse into the heart of Artemis Entreri, Jarlaxle realized he had to go along.
CHAPTER
IN THE EYE OF THE BEHOLDER
22
The great beast lay at rest, but even in slumber did the dragon seem a terrible and wrathful thing. It curled catlike, its long tail running up past its head, its huge, scaly back rising like a giant wave and sinking in a great exhalation that sent plumes of gray smoke from its nostrils and injected a vibrating rumble throughout the stone of the cavern floor. There was no light in the rocky chamber, save the glow of the dragon itself, a reddish-gold hue—a hot light, as if the beast were too full of energy and savage fires to hold it all in with mere scales.
On the other end of the scrying mirror, the six unlikely companions—Cadderly, Danica, Ivan, Pikel, Entreri, and Jarlaxle— watched the dragon with a mixture of awe and dread.
“We could use Shayleigh and her archers,” Danica remarked, but of course, that was not possible, since the elves had absolutely refused to work alongside the dark elf for any purpose whatsoever and had returned to their forest home in Shilmista.
“We could use King Elbereth’s entire army,” Cadderly added.
“Ooo,” said Pikel, who seemed truly mesmerized by the beast, a great wyrm at least as large and horrific as old Fyrentennimar.
“There is the dragon,” Cadderly said, turning to Entreri. “Are you certain you still wish to accompany me?” His question ended weakly, though, given the eager glow in Artemis Entreri’s eyes.
The assassin reached into his pouch and brought forth the Crystal Shard.
“Witness your doom,” he whispered to the artifact. He felt the shard reaching out desperately and powerfully—Cadderly felt those sensations as well. It called to Jarlaxle first, and indeed, the opportunistic drow did begin physically to reach for it, but he resisted.
“Put it away,” Danica w
hispered harshly, looking from the green-glowing shard to the shifting beast. “It will awaken the dragon!”
“My dear, do you expect to coax the fiery breath from a dragon that remains asleep?” Jarlaxle reminded her, but Danica turned an angry glare at him.
Entreri, hearing the Crystal Shard’s call clearly and recognizing its attempt, understood that the woman spoke wisely, though, for while they would indeed have to wake the beast, they would be far better served if it did not know why. The assassin looked at the artifact and gave a confident, cocky grin, and dropped it back into his pouch and nodded for Cadderly to disenchant the scrying mirror.
“When do we go?” the assassin asked Cadderly, and his tone made it perfectly clear that he wasn’t shaken in the least by the sight of the monstrous dragon, made it clear that he was eager to be done with the destruction of the vile artifact.
“I have to prepare the proper spells,” Cadderly replied. “It will not be long.”
The priest motioned for Danica and his other friends to escort their two undesirable companions away then, though he only dropped the image from the scrying mirror temporarily. As soon as he was alone, he called up the dragon cave again, after placing another spell upon himself that allowed him to see in the dark. He sent the roving eye of the scrying mirror all around the large, intricate lair.
There were many great cracks in the floor, he noted, and when he followed one down, he came to recognize that a maze of tunnels and chambers lay beneath the sleeping wyrm. Furthermore, Cadderly wasn’t convinced that the dragon’s cave was very secure structurally. Not at all.
He’d have to keep that well in mind while choosing the spells he would bring with him to the home of this great beast known as Hephaestus.
Rai-guy, deep in concentration, his eyes closed, allowed the calls of Crenshinibon to invade his thoughts fully. He caught only flashes of anger and despair, the pleas for help, the promises of ultimate glory.