The Best of the Realms, Book I

EMPTY JOYS

R.A. Salvatore

Artemis Entreri looked down the sloping rocks to thedistant fishing village on the shore of some lake he did not know. Small wavesrippled in, gently rocking the many ships and sending their tall masts into ahypnotic sway.

Usually impervious to such fits of introspection,Entreri allowed himself to follow that dance for a bit, to ponder the unlikelycircumstances and unlikelier companion that had delivered him to that spot.

With four decades of life behind him, and nearly threeof those spent surviving alone in the harsh underbellies of Calimport and othercities, it struck Entreri as curious and ironic that, into middle-age, he foundhimself being guided by the machinations of another.

Was it a testament to Jarlaxle's persuasiveness thathe was allowing himself to be tugged along that strange road, or was it,perhaps, some inner need of his own, unrecognized and unexamined?

What was Jarlaxle offering to him? Adventure? Entrerihad known that for most of his life, and most of it had not been of hischoosing, but rather had been foisted upon him by circumstances dangerous andtroubling.

Wealth? To what end?

Never had Entreri desired anything substantial ofmaterial value, unless one counted the possessions of his trade that he eventhen carried, particularly his signature jeweled dagger on his right hip, andthe fabulous sword, Charon's Claw, on his left.

The assassin noted the approach of his dark elf companionJarlaxle, and shook the thoughts from his mind, and he wouldn't lie to himselfsufficiently to deny that he did so with some measure of relief.

For deep within, Artemis Entreri understood what itwas that Jarlaxle was giving to him, and despite his rational objections, theloner survival instinct shouting most prominently among all of his emotions, hewould not reject that one gift: friendship.

Jarlaxle held his wide-brimmed and outrageously-plumedhat in one hand as he casually strode toward Entreri, revealing his angulardrow features and bald head in all their ebon-skinned beauty. His travelingcloak was thrown back over one shoulder in a dignified, almost aristocraticmanner, and it flapped out in the breeze behind him, accentuating his lithe elfform. So thin and agile was he, with no weapon visible, and yet he exuded aconfidence and power, a simple physical presence, beyond that of any manEntreri had ever known.

He was carrying a new item, Entreri realized as thedrow moved closer. At first, the assassin had thought it a simple walkingstick, a broken branch collected along a wooded trail, but as Jarlaxle neared,Entreri began to see the beauty and craftsmanship of the cane. It was made allof silvery metal, the head curved forward and was carved into the likeness ofan alert ferret, head craned in ready posture. The eyes were two black gems-andflawless ones, if Entreri knew Jarlaxle.

What a pair of opposites the duo must seem, Entrerimused, considering his own appearance, with boots often mud-caked and cloakweather-beaten. But as he considered that, the assassin did a cursoryinspection of himself and had to wonder just how much his traveling companionwas beginning to wear off on him.

His black hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail andhe had shed his bulkier and oft-torn leather surcoat for a shirt of fine fabricand quality, that he kept unfastened several inches down from the collar. Morethan a fashion implement, though, the shirt, furnished by Jarlaxle, was sewnwith fine strands of enchanted metal threads that could turn a blade at leastas well as the bulkier leather.

Entreri was looking trim and fit as well, at least asmuch so as he had been over the past decade. Jarlaxle was keeping him on histoes, keeping him constantly on the move and in practice.

And perhaps there was something else contributing tothat fitness, Entreri knew, and he couldn't help but wince a little bit as heconsidered it. In one of their last encounters, Entreri had utilized hisvampiric, life-stealing dagger on an unusual creature, a shade, and in thatstrike, something of the essence of the creature had apparently found its wayinto Entreri's being, as was evidenced by the slightly grayish tone his skinhad taken.

Jarlaxle had professed ignorance to what it might portend,and Entreri had no idea at all, and so he had chosen to simply ignore itall-except on occasions when he took a moment to consider his present state.

"They are in their cave," Jarlaxle informedhis companion, referring to a ragtag band of highwaymen they had followed intothe foothills.

"Why do we care?"

"Must I explain every adventure to you, detail bydetail?" the drow replied with that grin of his that always promisedEntreri that they were going to get into serious trouble.

Jarlaxle, freed from the confines of the Underdark byhis decision to turn his mercenary band of dark elves over to a lieutenant,seemed to desire life right on the edge of disaster.

Entreri wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

They were living fairly well, in those times they satstill long enough to realize the spoils of their adventures. They traveledfrom town to town, putting down no roots, taking jobs-usually as bodyguards orbounty hunters-as they found them. Every so often, circumstance forced atactical retreat-it didn't take long for Entreri and Jarlaxle to wear out theirwelcome, after all-but on most occasions, it seemed to Entreri that theirconstant movement and hunting for adventure was more the realization ofJarlaxle's agenda than the pressing pursuit of any authorities.

"You truly want us to join in with a band ofhighwaymen?'' Entreri skeptically asked. "Are we to climb through theirranks, position by position, by proving ourselves worthy in the eyes of theirself-appointed leader?"

"You live for sarcasm."

"I am being tutored by the best."

"At least in that, unlike in other matters, youadmit your inferiority, then."

Entreri had no answers, and didn't even bother to fixJarlaxle with a scowl. The dark elf would only find some witty answer for it,anyway, and would hardly be either threatened or bothered.

"We need not stay with them for long," thedark elf explained. "But they have some good food-of that I am certain,and I tire of our rations. Besides, this group might well lead us to somegreater ally or adventure; we will never learn unless we seek."

Entreri didn't bother to argue, and fell right intostep as Jarlaxle started away, moving toward the road they both knew thehighwaymen to be currently working.

Sure enough, within an hour, the two came upon a cleararea of trail, lined by only a couple of trees, and there they were predictablyaccosted.

"Stand where you are!" came the order fromthe boughs of one of the trees.

"It took you long enough to discover us,"Jarlaxle called back.

"There are a dozen bows trained upon you!"

"Then at least four of your fellows are holdingtwo, which would leave them quite ineffective, I would wager," said thedark elf.

"You are a wealth of information," Entreriremarked.

"Impress them with intellect."

"Tell them everything we know," Entrericorrected. "And perhaps our life's tale that brought us to this point.What next, Jarlaxle? Will you draw them a map to your mother's house?"

Jarlaxle's lips curled at the amusing notion ofsending a stream of surface dwellers trotting happily to House Baenre inMenzoberranzan.

Entreri dropped his arguing and glanced around, tonote that several of the bandits were about, a couple with bows and allscrambling for a better angle on the pair. The one who had verbally accostedthem dropped down from the tree, then, and started forward, sword in hand.

Entreri measured the balance (or lack thereof) of thatstep, and figured that he could have the man dead in three moves, should itcome to a fight.

"Strip yourself of your weapons, your coin, andeven your clothing," the man demanded in a falsely haughty voice, a toneof sophistication that did not match reality, both the friends knew, and onedesigned to convey superiority over his slobbering fellow robbers."Perhaps my friends and me will let you walk away."

"And I," Jarlaxle corrected.

"Aye, yourself as well."

"No no, you said 'my friends and me,' but theproper-"

"Let it go," Entreri interrupted.

"Quit yer whispering!" the man demanded,reverting to an accent that seemed far more fitting to one of his lowly anduneducated stature. "Now go ahead and start dropping the goods."

"Now, now, friend," said Jarlaxle. "Wecome not as enemies, and surely not as victims. We have been watching you andyour fellows for some time now, and have decided that a joining of ourresources might prove a valuable alliance."

"Eh?" the man responded, his face blank.

"Oh, wonderful," Entreri remarked.

"They have not shot their bows yet, havethey?" whispered the dark elf.

"All owing to the brilliant diplomacy ofJarlaxle, no doubt."

"Enough o' that, both of ye!" the highwaymanyelled. "Now I'm warning you for the last time to start dropping thegoods!"

"It will be the last time if I choose to cut outyour throat, to be sure," Entreri replied.

He saw Jarlaxle explode into motion before he ever finishedthe sentence, and heard as well the twang of bows.

But Jarlaxle was the quicker, pulling a black discfrom his mightily magical hat, spinning it (and hugely elongating it in theprocess), then throwing it down at their feet, creating an extra-dimensionalpocket, a portable hole.

Entreri and the drow dropped in as the arrows zoomedoverhead.

The human assassin landed easily, dropping fast into acrouch, while Jarlaxle, with hardly a thought, it seemed, caught himself withlevitation and lightly touched down beside him.

Up came Entreri, up and forward, and Jarlaxle threwhimself against the hole's front wall and turned fast, cupping his hands infront of him and offering Entreri a boost. The assassin light-stepped ontothose delicate but surprisingly strong fingers and Jarlaxle hoisted him.

He came out of the hole in a dead run at one very surprisedhighwayman.

Entreri fell into a roll, threw himself over sideways,then scissored his legs around the highwayman's, tripping him up. The man hadbarely hit the ground before Entreri was over him, that devilish jeweled daggerat his throat.

"Tell them we are your friends," Entrerisaid, and when the man hesitated, he pushed the dagger's tip in Just a bit.

But enough for him to activate the enchanted weapon'slife-stealing ability.

The would-be robber's eyes widened with horror as he realizedthat his very life force was suddenly being sucked out of him.

"Tell them," said Entreri, and the man beganto shout for the others to stand fast.

Entreri pulled the man up roughly and rolled aroundbehind him, using him as a shield against any of the archers. He saw Jarlaxlefloat up out of the hole then, standing perfectly still and perfectly calm.

"Drow elf." one of the others yelled andthey all began firing their bows, lines of arrows streaking at the dark elf,who didn't flinch in the least.

Every arrow went right through him-or right throughthe illusion of him that he had brought forth from the hole.

"Are you quite done?" the drow asked, whenat last the firing subsided.

"Very well, then," he added when there cameno response, and no further arrows.

Entreri stood up and pulled his captive to his feetbefore him, then roughly shoved the man away and flipped his dagger back intoits sheath in one fluid motion.

"We wish to join your band," the assassinremarked, "not thin your ranks so that there might be room for us."

Entreri's attention went back to the hole, whereanother Jarlaxle was floating up to stand beside the illusionary. He lookedout wide to both sides, to see the archers nervously fumbling with their bows,though none offered a shot.

"Have they learned?" came a call from withinthe hole.

"They seem willing to talk first, at least,"Entreri answered, and a third illusion of Jarlaxle drifted up from the hole.

When a few moments passed and the archers still madeno move to fire, a fourth image of the dark elf appeared, and immediately beganinspecting the other three, nodding his head admiringly before he finally madehis way to the side of the hole, stepped onto solid ground and lifted theextra-dimensional device.

The three images began to slowly fade.

"Very well then," Jarlaxle said, moving toEntreri and the befuddled and terrified would-be robber. "Lead on."

"I–I will have y-your weapons," the manstammered, trying futilely to sound as if he was back in control as his fellowsclosed in.

"In your throat or your chest?" Entreriasked. The man gulped audibly and said no more about it.

Entreri sat on a ledge, nearly twenty feet up from thefloor of the cave that his newly-adopted band of cutthroats used as theirlair. It was a large and airy chamber, and the band had been quite adept atadding homey comforts. Many beds sat on the different levels of the shelvedmain cavern and there was a complete cooking area, with a well-constructed firepit, counters, and cabinets. Numbering fourteen, with the addition of Jarlaxleand Entreri, the rogue band had plenty of space.

There was only one separate chamber, used by Pagg, theband's leader, a tough if somewhat simple ruffian with more scars than Jarlaxlehad magical devices.

Even with the comforts offered by the cave, it didn'ttake Entreri long to come to wonder why in the world the band had decided uponthat particular location for their base. They were off the main merchantroutes, and the only towns around were poor farming and fishing communities.Even if they cleaned out every village within a twenty mile radius of every valuable,the robbers would still be poor.

Entreri watched with amusement as a game of dicecontinued on the main floor of the cave. Jarlaxle was playing, and winning ofcourse, as was evidenced by the continuing growls and complaints of the others.

Entreri shook his head and wondered if the drow wouldpush his winnings far enough to start a terrible row-and Entreri honestlywished that he would. They had been among the band of ruffians for the betterpart of two tendays, and Entreri was growing dreadfully bored. He had been outon the road twice with Jarlaxle and some others, and once they had even managedto overtake a merchant wagon, relieving the terrified man, a baker, of hisgoods. The ruffians had then moved to murder the man, but Jarlaxle had stoppedthem, explaining that doing so would only incite the wrath of authorities.

Entreri could hardly contain his grin as he recalledthat moment of terror for the poor, trembling baker, when Jarlaxle had turnedto him and elicited a promise that he would not tell anyone about the theft.

After tasting one of the man's creations, a sugarycookie, Jarlaxle had then gone one step further, insisting in no uncertainterms that the man surrender his previous life and join in the group at thecave.

And there he was, Entreri mused, working away by thefire pit on some new creation to satisfy the unusual creature who most surelyterrified him beyond anything he had ever known.

A shout of victory from below turned the assassin's eyesback to the game, where Jarlaxle had apparently lost a rather large pot, to thedelight of the three people rolling against him and their four watchingfriends. A short time later Jarlaxle lost yet again, and he put his hands up indefeat and walked away from the game, moving to the ladders and climbing up tosit beside his friend.

"And when all is counted, Jarlaxle makes just abit, while giving the others the satisfaction that they finished strong,"Entreri reasoned.

"That and the hope that their luck will continuewhen next we play," the drow agreed.

"This is as sorry a band in as worthless a landas I have ever known," said Entreri.

"Ever do you see the dark side of it all."

"As compared to?"

"I have learned much of the region from ourdice-rolling friends," said Jarlaxle. "And there is fat PiterMcRuggle," he added, motioning down at the hardworking baker. "A fineand useful chef."

"All we need are a few women, and why wouldanyone leave?" came the assassin's predictably sarcastic reply.

"Well, there is Jehn, and of coursePatermeg," Jarlaxle reminded, speaking of the bands two female associates,one a weather-beaten human and the other a half-orc- and reflecting much moreof her orc heritage than her human side. "An inspirational pair."

"To anyone aspiring to celibacy, one wouldsuppose."

Jarlaxle laughed, but Entreri was hardly in the moodto follow that lead. Both he and the dark elf turned as a figure moved by. itwas Pagg, the group's leader.

"You two'll be out on the road later thistenday," he instructed. "And far off to the south. I'm hearing thatthere might be another caravan coming through. Ye'll get to prove yer mettleand yer worth."

He walked on by, and neither Entreri nor Jarlaxle evenbothered to follow him with their gazes.

"He keeps hoping that he'll find another wealthyhit," said the drow. "Akin to the one that put him in the positionof leadership in the first place."

Entreri nodded his agreement, and did glance over atthe departing Pagg. The man had risen to prominence among the ruffians with oneparticularly profitable haul-the only profitable haul the ragtag bunch had everrealized. Pagg had led them to intercept a merchant caravan moving fromSundabar to Silverymoon, and buried among the more mundane goods the thieveshad found one wagon laden with actual treasure.

That had been a long time ago and a long way away,however, as the band had then been fervently pursued by some of Sundabar'squite capable authorities. When the dust had settled, their numbers depleted,their leader dead, the remaining thugs had allowed Pagg the position ofleadership, and he had taken them … nowhere.

Entreri, no stranger to thieves' guilds and the workingsof noblemen, figured it was only a matter of time before Pagg angered the wronggroup and got his band exterminated.

"Perhaps when we set out tomorrow, we should justkeep walking," Entreri remarked.

Jarlaxle looked at him curiously, as if he was missingthe entire point of it all.

"Well," the drow began, "I cannot leavebaker Piter trapped here with these uncouth and uncivilized creatures."Both looked down at the poor man, working furiously as always, over by the firepit. "And I assured him that I would supply him with better equipment-aproper oven, even."

"You feel responsible for him? If it weren't foryou, the thugs would have murdered him on the road."

"To the loss of all the world," Jarlaxledramatically replied. "For truly the man is an artist with thespoon."

Artemis Entreri just snorted and looked away.

The next day, Jarlaxle was back at his gaming area,surrounded by eager gamblers. Dice rolled and cheers erupted repeatedly, andwhen Entreri finally found his curiosity piqued, he moved closer to see whatmight be going on.

"Quick Cut and Snatcher are coming in with acatch," one filthy wretch said to him.

The stupid nicknames such lowly thugs always seemed toplace on each other never ceased to amaze Entreri. He hardly paid attentionother than that quick musing, focusing instead on events at the dice area.

Entreri's eyes widened as he saw more coins there thanhe thought the entire band could possibly possess, piles and piles of gold andsilver, and even a few jewels. He started toward Jarlaxle, thinking to ask whatmight be going on, when he realized suddenly that those piles, most of which werein front of the rogues, had to be a portion of Jarlaxle's wealth!

The notion of Jarlaxle actually losing to those foolswas beyond comprehension, and that led Entreri quickly down a different path ofreasoning.

He finally caught the gaze of Jarlaxle, who smiled andshrugged, as if helpless, and motioned with his chin, albeit subtly, toward thenarrow cave entrance.

The one escape from the lair.

Entreri moved back from the gathering and the shouting,found a few handholds and deftly went up onto the lowest ledge. His attention wasdiverted before he could even begin to focus back on the surprising game, forhe heard a commotion over by the door.

Several dark forms appeared in that opening, and asthey entered, Entreri recognized a couple of the missing ruffians-the stupidlynicknamed men who had been sent out on the road that morning-along with a pairof new additions: two young women, plainly dressed and obviously terrified.

Daughters of fishermen, Entreri realized.

The thugs pushed them forward into the open area, andall interest in gaming fell away fast as the band came to recognize theirnewest playthings. They surrounded the girls. Even Jhen and Patermeg came outto inspect the prize, with ugly Patermeg pawing the two girls rather lewdly, tothe hoots and howls of the appreciative audience.

"Wonderful," Entreri muttered when Jarlaxlecame over to stand just below him. "And I will bet that our compatriotsfound a king's treasure trove on the cart with those two. Or perhaps we canransom them off to their families for a goat, or even a fat pig."

"A win is a win," Jarlaxle chimed in, andEntreri stared at him incredulously.

"Did I just notice you losing a rather large sumof coin to these dolts?"

"The coins are only shiny metal unless one has aplace at which to spend them," the drow replied.

Entreri didn't even try to search for the reasoningbehind that statement.

"Wonderful life, this," he muttered."So much hardship for a pittance and the empty joys in reveling in themisery of others."

"Empty joys?" Jarlaxle echoed, and whenEntreri looked at him, the dark elf seemed like a smug and judgmental mirrorreflecting back upon him.

Unwilling to acknowledge that sly retort, howevertruthful, in any positive way, the assassin just shook his head and stood as ifto leave.

"My friend," said Jarlaxle, "it is acave, with but one easily defended exit. Where are my coins and jewels togo?"

Entreri started to offer a smug retort, but he stoppedshort as Jarlaxle's intent became clear. One corner of Entreri's lip curled, asclose to an expression of intrigue as he had been able to muster on histypically dour face in some time, something the grinning Jarlaxle obviouslydidn't miss.

"They are a dozen," the assassin remindedhis black-skinned companion. "Seasoned and skilled."

"Have you so lost the will for a challenge?"

It was Entreri's turn to smirk.

"No," he replied. "In traveling withyou, I simply have not found a worthy challenge placed before me."

Jarlaxle glanced upward at the higher ledges, andEntreri took the cue, moving to one of the rope ladders and scaling to thehighest ledge, where he quickly gathered up one of the ropes used for slidingfast back to the main floor.

Jarlaxle, meanwhile, ambled over to the gathering,where the two terrified girls were being prodded and pushed around as the thugsbegan to sort out the order of the coming assault. At one point, Patermeg, outof jealousy or just her typical nastiness, balled up her fist and punched oneof the girls in the face, knocking her to the ground.

"Don't ye ugly her up!" one of the mencomplained.

Patermeg stormed over anyway and kicked at the girl.

Or started to, for a howl from above turned them allthat way, to see Pagg standing on the high ledge, staring down at them, hisface locked in an expression that none could immediately decipher.

Until he fell forward, quite dead before he ever hitthe floor.

The bandits all watched that descent, and so nonenoticed the sudden movement up above as another form came leaping off thatledge, angling out to the side. Entreri released the rope perfectly as he went,launching himself into a long and fast-descending swing, angling down in agreat swoop that brought him sweeping right at the gathering.

The assassin slammed in hard against the first thug inline, his knees tucked at a perfect angle to shatter the man's hip and send himsprawling to the floor in agony. Letting go of the rope and drawing forth hisdagger and sword, Entreri fell into a wild roll and charge, slashing andstabbing every which way as he cut through the group.

Charon's Claw, his magical blade, began issuing forthits stream of ash, leaving black lines hanging in the air that only added tothe confusion.

Around went Entreri, coming to his feet and turning acircuit, launching a backhand stab with his dagger and cutting down one foolwith his sword-and nearly cleaving the man's head in half in the process.

He knew that he had to move swiftly, that he and Jarlaxlehad to take down at least half the remaining cutthroats before any organizeddefense could begin to take shape, but even as he started to gain truemomentum, even as he found his footing so that he could offer more substantiveand devastating strikes, he found his blade deftly deflected by a perfectlytimed parry, and he had to throw himself out far to the side to avoid acountering thrust.

As he squared up in a defensive posture, he heard awhistling noise, and despite being pressed hard by three of the killers,including both women, he glanced back at his companion.

Jarlaxle, surrounded, was spinning his cane over andover in his hand, and it was the item that was "singing" like somestrange musical instrument. The octave raised as Jarlaxle increased the spin,bringing the walking stick in diagonal swoops back and forth to either side ofhim.

A sword came hard at Entreri and he brought Charon'sClaw across in a parry, then slashed it back the other way, releasing a wall ofblack ash. He rushed around to the right of the ash, sword swiping and buildinga perpendicular visual barrier.

Entreri stopped short and pivoted back the other way,ducked low as he quick-stepped, then turned back and plunged right through thefirst of his ash barriers.

Patermeg was still looking to her left, to the far endof the second wall, when he burst out right beside her, his dagger stabbingdeep into the side of her chest, his sword going across the half-orc female'storso to poke her opposite shoulder, keeping her sword at bay.

Entreri twisted the dagger and called upon itslife-stealing abilities, then tore it free and hopped forward over thecrumbling Patermeg, engaging Jhen and the other in a sudden and furiousexchange.

The whistling continued from across the way, and wasaccompanied by a series of grunts, shouts, and squeals that Entreri could notignore. He glanced back to see the ring of thugs about Jarlaxle collapsing,bandits grabbing at their bellies, at their faces, and falling away, stunghard. Entreri's scan of Jarlaxle registered the truth.

As the walking stick twirled, the drow was fasttapping his little finger against one of the ferret eyes, and that was settingloose a needle dart to fly forth from the other end. A stream of the tiny,stinging (and no doubt poison-coated, judging from the spasms of those beinghit) missiles flew forth.

Entreri focused completely on the task before him,slapping aside Jhen's sword and that of his other attacker. He had anopportunity to strike at that man, but held his defensive posture, and whenboth blades came at him side-by-side a moment later, he swiped his sword acrossand up, taking them both high.

Entreri fast-turned inside that parry and slashedCharon's Claw back down, painting the air black before his turning and dodgingattackers.

And they were face-up before the wall of ash, apparentlyexpecting Entreri to burst through it or come running around either end.

Except that the pivoting Entreri had been on the nearside of the ash wall when he'd created it, and so was behind them, watchingwith some amusement.

Jhen, to her credit, got it first, and she gave ascream and spun wildly around. She ducked the swinging Charon's Claw, but thesword wasn't aimed for her anyway, and instead went across and lopped the headfrom the male thug, who still stood staring stupidly at the ash.

No, for Jhen, Entreri had reserved his jeweled dagger,taking her right in the face as she conveniently ducked low.

The assassin pulled the blade free and looked back tosee Jarlaxle with only a pair of thugs remaining, and both of them takingrefuge behind the two captured girls.

A third man was sprinting for the door, but Jarlaxlereached into his innate drow magic and placed a globe of impenetrable darknessover that opening. The man ran right into the globe, and from within its darkconfines came a crash and a grunt.

"He has most of my coin, I fear," Jarlaxlecalmly said, as if intending to spur Entreri to motion.

But the assassin just stood and watched the standoffwith amusement, wondering if Jarlaxle would barter for the lives of theinnocent girls.

Jarlaxle stood calmly, his only movement that of hiswalking stick, still spinning before him, rocking back and forth.

"Empty of darts?" Entreri asked in the drowlanguage, guessing correctly that the others could not understand.

"Not quite, though the poison is depleted,"Jarlaxle replied.

That prompted Entreri to glance around at those fallennear to the drow mercenary, most squirming on the floor weirdly.

Drow poison, Entreri recognized, a paralyzing anddebilitating mixture.

"And so I should be ready to take this pair, Isuppose?" Entreri asked.

"Yeah stop yer blabbering and let us go!" one of the thugs demanded, and to accentuate his point, he brought his shortsword up against the throat of one of the girls.

Entreri watched Jarlaxle's delicate movement, a slightturn to put himself in better alignment with the rogues.

Entreri gave a shout and charged forward.

Jarlaxle's walking stick clicked twice in rapid successionand the poor girls screamed.

But both men fell back from them, each hit in the faceby a stinging needle. One recovered quickly, to his credit, while theother, a needle buried deep into his eye, thrashed about on the stone floor.

As for the other, he would have been better off had henot recovered, for as he reached back for the girl, she was suddenly thrownaside, her place taken by Artemis Entreri.

The man responded with a thrust of his sword, but theassassin parried it once, twice, thrice, moving it to a lock between his daggerand sword, where a twist and flick of his wrists had the blade flying free.Before the man could even respond, before he could plead for mercy or surrender,if that was his intent, or before he could punch out with his bare hands, ifthe fool had that in mind, Entreri was suddenly up against him, both theassassin's blades buried to the hilt into his chest.

A sudden shove dropped him dead to the floor.

And still the girls were screaming. And still many ofthe others joined in, or flopped about on the floor.

"We should be leaving," Entreri suggested,turning around to regard his friend, who was standing calmly again, leaning onhis walking stick.

"Indeed," Jarlaxle agreed, motioning to thecave opening, where his globe of darkness was now gone, and gone, too, was theman Jarlaxle claimed had taken much of his coin. "To the hunt?"

"What about them?" Entreri spat with obviouscontempt, as he regarded the two shivering girls.

"Our rescue would be less than complete if we didnot escort them to their homes," the drow answered, and it seemed toEntreri as if both the poor girls would just fall over and die. "And thereis Piter, of course," the drow added, and he called loudly,"Piter?"

The fat baker came out from around a rock near theback of the cave.

"Come along then, friend," said the drow."I am afraid that I cannot deliver a proper oven to you here, so we mustsettle for depositing you back in your shop where you belong."

It occurred to Entreri then that he and his companionhad garnered no spoils from their two-tenday adventure, and indeed, ifthey could not catch up to the fleeing thug, had apparently lost some coin. Hetook out his frustration on the face of one unfortunate rogue who was trying torise against the pervasive pull of the drow poison, kicking the man hard in theface and laying him low.

"Be at ease, my friend," said Jarlaxle."You are a hero! Does it not fill your heart with joy?"

Entreri's returning expression could not have been abetter combination of venom and incredulity.

But of course, Jarlaxle merely laughed.

"He is reveling in the adoration ofgratitude?" asked Kimmuriel Oblodra, the handsome and slender drowpsionicist whom Jarlaxle had placed in charge of Bregan D'aerthe.

"That one?" Jarlaxle replied with a chuckle."He is too suspicious and angry to allow himself such pleasantries. Ireally must find him a woman who will help him to release his tensions."

"By killing her?" the other dark elf saidwith obvious contempt.

"He is not as bad as that," said Jarlaxle.He glanced back in the direction of the small fishing community where Entreriwas waiting, though of course the buildings and the assassin were long out ofsight. "There is hope for that one."

"With the right teacher?"

Jarlaxle turned back to Kimmuriel and asked, "Isthere any better?"

The other drow respectfully bowed.

"How did you find the walking stick?" heasked as he straightened.

"It is slow in the loading, but was quiteenjoyable in action. And effective, yes."

"I find your demands pleasantlychallenging," Kimmuriel replied, and he held out one hand, dangling aneye patch and holding a wide-brimmed hat that perfectly resembled Jarlaxle'sown. Jarlaxle removed his hat and swapped it with the new one after only a cursoryinspection, then spent more time in comparing his own eye patch with the one hewas trading, even ensuring that the stitching was identical.

"They will offer me new opportunities?" Jarlaxle asked.

Kimmuriel looked as if he might pout, and the otherdrow retracted the doubt with a burst of laughter. Had Kimmuriel everdisappointed him in that regard, or in any regard, for that matter?

Almost as an afterthought, Jarlaxle pulled the plumeout of his newly-acquired hat and handed it over, plucking his old plume backand slipping it into his new hat's band.

"I have grown fond of the beastly bird itsummons," Jarlaxle explained.

"But did you not fear that the man beside you wasfiguring out your various tricks?" Kimmuriel replied. "Was that notthe point of this exchange?"

"Entreri is a clever one," Jarlaxleadmitted. "But we have thrown him off any advantage he might have gainedwith this trade, even though you have not yet prepared my new bracers."

"And if you are wrong?"

Jarlaxle's face grew very tight and threatening, butonly for a second.

"I will find him a woman," the drow decidedwith a wide and confident grin. "That will take the sting from hisdagger."

Kimmuriel nodded, and Jarlaxle, so enamored of hissudden plan, didn't even bother to get a complete report of the goings-on inMenzoberranzan from his trusted drow friend, but just turned and skipped offback toward the town.

With a thought, literally, the powerful KimmurielOblodra was back into the Underdark.

Leaving Jarlaxle alone to plan his next escapade withArtemis Entreri.