“What?” he asked again, shaking his head.
“Me girl,” Bruenor explained with a wink. “She taked me shield and the one ye bringed back with ye and put ’em together in the forge. Ha! It’s still givin’ me brew, too!”
“Aye, but too bad it’s not throwin’ ye shots when it’s so small on yer arm,” Athrogate said, drawing laughter.
“She put them together?” Drizzt asked soberly, more closely inspecting the wondrous item. He saw the traces of Tiago’s spiderweb shield in there, and could not doubt Bruenor’s claim.
“By the gods,” he said as he fell back.
“What?” Bruenor asked.
Drizzt shook his head, trying to sort it out, and suspecting now why Catti-brie had asked him to leave his weapon belt behind when he had come to the room, and also suspecting the real reason she might be late.
Drizzt slid his chair back and started to stand, but Bruenor grabbed him by the arm and looked at him curiously.
“Where ye off to?”
“She’s at the Great Forge,” Drizzt replied
“ETERNAL,” DAHLIA SAID to Entreri when he knelt on the bed beside her. “Forever am I grateful. You cannot know …”
Her voice broke apart and she began to sob. Entreri grabbed her and pulled her close. He needed her support as much as she needed his. After a long while, he pulled her back to arms’ length and stared into her beautiful eyes.
“I was as lost as you,” he said.
Dahlia managed a laugh and a shake of her head. “You cannot begin to know …”
“I was once a prisoner of House Baenre,” he assured her. “For many tendays. I know. And the thought of you there …”
His words, too, fell apart, and he just pulled her close and hugged her, and kissed her, and felt warmth he had rarely known in his many, many years of life.
“You and Jarlaxle and Drizzt, I am told,” Dahlia said a bit later.
“There were others as well, but yes.”
“You came for me, all three. I cannot ever forget that.”
Entreri looked at her with some concern, particularly since she had mentioned Drizzt, who had been her lover for years. However much he had come to see Drizzt as an ally, if not a friend, he couldn’t stand to lose Dahlia to the ranger—he couldn’t stand to lose her at all.
“But it was you, most of all?” Dahlia asked. “You made them go with you to come and get me.”
“I would have come alone.”
Dahlia nodded, not doubting a word, and the upturned edges of her smile caught the tears that streamed down her cheeks. “I know little,” she said. “My mind swirls and my thoughts are lost …”
“Kimmuriel will fix that,” Entreri said.
“But one thing I know.” She reached up and stroked the man’s cheek, and it, too, was moist with tears. “I know that I love you, Artemis Entreri. Only you and always you.”
“I love you,” Entreri replied and fell into her arms.
Those were the rarest of words for him. He had not said that to another person since the earliest days of his childhood, to his mother before his mother had so awfully betrayed him. He didn’t think he could ever proclaim such a thing again.
But there it was, laid out there, naked and unafraid—so amazingly unafraid.
Artemis Entreri was sure that he had never known such peace.
SWEATING AND EXHAUSTED, and ultimately satisfied, Catti-brie held up the magnificent scimitar in front of her huge blue eyes, which reflected the stars in Twinkle’s new glassteel blade.
The scimitar had the shape of Twinkle, making it a better match with Icingdeath, and Catti-brie had also recovered a bit of Twinkle’s powerful defensive magic. But now the weapon had Vidrinath’s blade, glassteel and full of tiny stars, as strong and fine as any blade ever forged. It would never again be broken. The scimitar could live up to Vidrinath’s name, Lullaby, by producing the drow sleeping poison at its wielder’s call.
A fitting addition for Drizzt, she thought, who did not want to kill unless no other choice could be found.
She silently thanked the primordial for giving her these insights, for showing her the true power of the Great Forge of Gauntlgrym. These were gifts far beyond what any mere fire, even one this hot, could ever produce. This was more than the flaming tendril of the primordial, it was a most ancient magic, a gift of a godlike being, and so Catti-brie was properly humble and truly grateful.
And more convinced than ever that her efforts would regrow the Hosttower of the Arcane in Luskan, and so save Gauntlgrym.
The door banged open and Drizzt rushed in, followed by Bruenor and a gaggle of rolling, drunken dwarves.
“What’re ye about?” Bruenor demanded.
Drizzt ran up to her, his eyes locked on the scimitar.
“Vidrinath and Twinkle,” Catti-brie explained, and Drizzt nodded with every word, exactly what he had expected when he had bolted from the Throne Room.
He said not a word, but took the weapon from her, holding it aloft, feeling its balance, feeling its strength—strength as he had never before known in a weapon. Holding this blade, feeling the power of Vidrinath, Drizzt found himself amazed that he had defeated its wielder, Tiago Baenre.
He looked from the tiny stars to the beautiful woman who had given him this gift, and he was overcome. He pulled her close.
And he was terrified, then, that this was all an illusion, a deception, perhaps a self-deception, and he felt as if he stood on shifting sands, and that all the world would never, ever be right again.
Was he hugging a demon queen?
CHAPTER 4
Morada Topolino
A PAIR OF—RELATIVELY—BURLY HALFLING GUARDS STOOD AT THE end of a hedged walkway, emptying onto the main boulevard of the wealthier section of Delthuntle. The two tried to appear nonchalant—though everyone in the city knew better, of course—pretending to talk to each other, with their eyes scanning, continually scanning.
Regis grinned at the sight as he and his companion crouched behind the corner of a tavern down the lane.
“That is the place?” Wulfgar asked him.
“Morada Topolino,” Regis replied.
“It’s been five years,” Wulfgar reminded him. “Much has changed, perhaps.”
Regis cast him an unappreciative glance, not emotionally ready to entertain such grim notions.
“Donnola Topolino is as wily as Jarlaxle,” he rweplied rather sourly. “If Morada Topolino is there—and it is—then so is she.”
Wulfgar started to respond, “The Delthuntle night is lonely, no doubt …” before catching himself, but he did say enough for Regis to see he wondered if Donnola had been as faithful to Regis’s memory as he had been to her.
“What we had was real,” Regis said, turning his longing gaze back to the distant house.
“I once thought the same,” said Wulfgar, surprising him with the reference to Catti-brie, who had been Wulfgar’s love before he had been taken to the Abyss in the clutches of a yochlol.
“Donnola knows I will return,” Regis countered. “And so it is a different situation here. We all thought you dead, Wulfgar, and with good reason …”
“I know, I know,” Wulfgar said, patting his hand in the air, and offering a sincere smile of contrition.
“All these years and you are still bitter,” Regis said, and then he gasped. “Is that why you came with me? Because you could not trust yourself around Catti-brie and Drizzt?”
Wulfgar’s laugh seemed sincere enough. “No, of course not. I came with you for adventure, and one that did not involve dwarven mines!” He put his hand on Regis’s shoulder and looked into the halfling’s gray eyes. “No, my friend. I only hinted those things about your beloved—foolishly, I am sure—because I am afraid for you at this moment. A few years really is a long time, after all.”
“You said nothing I do not fear,” he admitted. “Every day since I was chased out of this place by the specter of Ebonsoul, I have cherished the thought of this moment, of
finding her again and holding her again.” Regis turned his attention back to the house. “Donnola rode with me in spirit with the Grinning Ponies while I waited for the appointed day, she followed me in my thoughts to Kelvin’s Cairn and then across the northland to Mithral Hall, and she is what sustained me when we were lost in the Underdark.”
He took a deep breath and winced. “I cherished this moment and I was terrified of it at the same time,” he said. “If she is not there …”
“She is there,” Wulfgar stated flatly, surprising Regis. “She is there, waiting for your return.”
“You just said …”
“Perhaps I did not understand. I have not before heard you speak of her like this, but if your love for her runs that deep, then I can only believe that her feelings are no more shallow. You would have waited for her for the rest of your days, wouldn’t you?”
Regis smiled and nodded. “On my deathbed, I would have looked to the door, expecting the handle to turn.”
“Well, good fortune and powerful friends have made certain that it will not come to that,” said Wulfgar. “Let us go, Regi—Spider Parrafin, and find your long-lost love.”
Wulfgar started around the corner, towing Regis by the shoulder, but the big man paused and stared at the house more closely. “Will I even fit in that place?” the nearly-seven-foot-tall barbarian asked.
“Crouch,” Regis offered. “And do not sit in any chairs with arms, for I fear we’ll not extract your ample haunches from their stubborn grasp.”
Laughing, the seemingly unlikely companions, one more than twice the height and thrice the weight of the other, started out into the street to Morada Topolino. By the time they’d covered half the ground, they’d caught the attention of the guards, who regarded them curiously.
The guards stood to block them, and several more appeared from the hedgerows, including more than a few with leveled crossbows. Morada Topolino was clearly on alert, and that brought a concerned look to Regis’s face.
“Who are you?” one of the burly guards started to ask.
“Your business?” the other asked at the same time, but barely had the words come out when more than one of the halflings with crossbows shouted “Spider!” and that sparked recognition in the two blocking the walkway, their expressions going to wide and happy smiles.
“Spider?” they both echoed, coming forward.
Regis greeted them, one by the name Donfellow, and the three shared friendly handshakes and hugs.
“My friend, Wulfgar,” Regis introduced his companion. His eyes weren’t on Wulfgar, though, but on the many guards who had sprung from concealment and on the others still hiding in the bushes that he only then noticed.
“We are careful,” Donfellow answered Regis’s questioning gaze.
“The new truth of Morada Topolino,” the other burly guard added. “Since that night when you left, Grandmother Donnola will never allow us to be caught by surprise again.”
“Never!” Donfellow said with grim determination.
“Donnola,” Regis whispered and seemed about to burst into tears of joy. She was alive!
“Grandmother?” Wulfgar asked, prodding Regis and clearly confused.
“It is a title of leadership, not a badge of progeny,” Regis replied. To Donfellow he added, “Pray, do not announce me?”
The guard looked at him suspiciously.
“Is she betrothed?” Wulfgar asked, surprising all, but certainly clarifying Regis’s request.
“Spider?”
“You can take all of my weapons, of course, and keep my friend here, but pray give me this surprise entrance upon Lady Donnola.”
Now Donfellow was smiling and nodding. “And no,” he answered Wulfgar. “She has shown no interest in anyone these last years.” He looked directly at Regis. “Perhaps now I understand why.”
Wulfgar agreed to remain outside with the guards, while Donfellow led Regis into Morada Topolino. They were greeted by yet another guard in the foyer, and there waited for a few moments while that guard ran off to fetch the house wizard, Wigglefingers.
“I told you I would return,” Regis said with a wide smile when the clever halfling prestidigitator appeared at the top of the stairs. A blink spell put Wigglefingers right in front of Regis, and before he realized what had happened he was being hugged yet again.
“I am so thrilled that you have!” the wizard replied with unexpected exuberance. Wigglefingers had never been overly fond of Spider, and certainly never warm to him—no enemy, though, and he had helped Regis escape on that most dreadful night when the specter of Ebonsoul had come looking for him. Still, this greeting clearly had Regis caught by surprise, and it showed on his face.
“She has not recovered from that dark night,” Wigglefingers said solemnly.
“The loss of Pericolo,” Regis reasoned, but Wigglefingers shook his head.
“We grieved appropriately for Grandfather Pericolo, of course. And we buried him, and such losses are terrible, but expected and accepted. Now, my old friend, Donnola’s pain is more one of anticipation and unrequited emotion than of grief.”
Regis locked stares with the wizard for a long moment. “Take me to her,” he said evenly, and Wigglefingers nodded.
“HAHA, BUT A grand day it is!” the chubby old halfling named Brister-Biggus said to Wulfgar, handing him yet another glass of whiskey.
As soon as Regis had disappeared into the mansion, the guards had escorted Wulfgar through the maze of the hedgerow, though it really wasn’t a maze to the tall barbarian since he stood about two feet taller than the least-trimmed hedges. Somewhere near the center of the hedge, and past several guard stations, they came to a clearing where a tapped keg stood waiting. Several other halflings joined them almost immediately, and the drinks began to flow. The halflings moved their drinks around, but with each passing hand, less was left in the glass due to less-than-accidental spills. They clanked their glasses in toasts repeatedly, and even took up an impromptu song:
Any friend of Spider
Has to be a blighter,
Friendly to the whiskey,
Laughing and so frisky
And worthy of a flight … err …
“Err?” Wulfgar asked Brister-Biggus after one refrain, as the halfling lifted his glass to clank it against Wulfgar’s—and slyly spilled a bit more of his own drink in the process.
“Well, it’s off the sleeve, you know,” Brister-Biggus replied. “We’ll mend the right words when a few more’re in ush.”
“Ush!” Wulfgar repeated the slurred reference, and lifted his glass for another clink—and he noted that Brister-Biggus spilled a bit more yet again, and surely more than the drunk-acting halfling was actually imbibing.
Wulfgar grinned knowingly, then laughed as a buxom halfling lass appeared as if from nowhere and plopped herself down on his lap—and of course she was carrying another full glass for him.
“To ush!” Wulfgar roared, properly slurring, and he belted back the drink Brister-Biggus had provided.
“To Spider!” he yelled louder, and he belted back the drink the lovely halfling lass had brought. “More!”
And more was promptly delivered. The lass began to bounce on his lap, taking up the song, and a grand party it seemed.
It seemed.
Wulfgar noted, too, that the halflings were rather cleverly shifting Aegis-fang farther and farther from his reach, dragging it inch by inch along the hedgerow.
“So how long’ve you known good shir Shpider?” Brister-Biggus asked, and he seemed ready to fall over.
He seemed.
“A hunnerd years’n’more!” Wulfgar declared, and that brought laughter all around, for to these Topolinos, Spider was barely into his twenties, and they had known the little fellow, or of him at least, for most of that time.
“Two hunnerd!” Wulfgar cried, and drained his drink once more. “Aye, an’ we figh … err … fough … err, fighted?” he paused and shook his head, trying to look perplexed. “Aye, we fight
ed drow’n’dragons, orcs’n’chipmunks together!”
That brought exaggerated howls of laughter, and how amusing Wulfgar thought it when others pretended to be drunk.
“No, truly,” he said earnestly, and he stood up quickly, plopping the buxom halfling lass onto her bum on the ground, and thus drawing more howls of hilarity. “Giant chipmunks with big teeth!”
Brister-Biggus howled with laughter.
“And shh!” Wulfgar said, stumbling and twisting his lips with his finger as he made the sign for silence. “Shh, for there’s a secret I know.”
“Ah, a secret,” Brister-Biggus echoed, and he, too, brought his finger to his lips, and all the halflings closed in eagerly.
“I’ve a secret,” Wulfgar said, nodding exaggeratingly. “When I was a young man—nay, not even yet a man—I was taken captive on the battlefield, me legs sweeped out beneath me.” He slipped into a bit of Dwarvish brogue for effect. “Aye, and down to me arse I went, me standard pole flyin’.”
He glanced around and brought his finger to his lips again. “Shh! For suren meself was a dead boy then, with a most ferocious beastie atop me.”
“And Spider saved you?” Brister-Biggus asked breathlessly.
“Ha!” Wulfgar yelped, and all the halflings fell back, gasping.
“Spider?” Wulfgar asked incredulously. “Bah, but that one, he was on th’other side, don’t ye know? Was his own friend that knocked me down!”
He stood up to his full height and crossed his massive arms over his chest.
“His friend,” he declared, his voice clear and strong, any hint of drunkenness flown. “A most noble dwarf, a king indeed, and instead of executing me, as he surely could have done, he took me in as his son. And he made this for me.”
He whispered, “Tempus,” and the warhammer appeared in his hand, and the halflings gasped again.
“For aye, I name my father as King Bruenor Battlehammer of Mithral Hall, and never a finer dwarf have I known!” Guessing that a dozen crossbows were probably trained upon him from concealment in the hedgerow, Wulfgar eased Aegis-fang down and handed it to Brister-Biggus. “A magnificent weapon, eh?”