Servant of the Shard: The Sellswords

by R. A. Salvatore

  “Our numbers grow,” Berg’inyon agreed, “but so too mounts the danger of discovery.”

  “And of treachery,” Kimmuriel added. “Witness that one of the spies, under the influence of Jarlaxle’s artifact, turned against us when the fighting started. The domination is not complete, nor is it unbreakable. With every unwitting soldier we add in such a manner, we run the risk of an uprising from within. While it is unlikely that any would so escape the domination and subsequently cause any real damage to us—they are merely humans, after all—we cannot dismiss the likelihood that one will break free and escape us, delivering the truth of the new Basadoni Guild and of Dallabad to some of the guilds.”

  “We already have agreed upon the consequences of Bregan D’aerthe being discovered for what it truly is,” Rai-guy added ominously. “This group came to Dallabad looking specifically for the answers behind the facade, and the longer we stretch that facade, the more likely that we will be discovered. We are forfeiting our anonymity in this foolish quest for expansion.”

  The other two remained very silent for a long while. Then Kimmuriel quietly asked, “Are you going to explain this to Jarlaxle?”

  “Should we be addressing this problem to Jarlaxle,” Rai-guy countered, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “or to the true leader of Bregan D’aerthe?”

  That bold proclamation gave the other two even more pause. There it was, set out very clearly, the notion that Jarlaxle had lost control of the band to a sentient artifact.

  “Perhaps it is time for us to reconsider our course,” Kimmuriel said somberly.

  Both he and Rai-guy had served under Jarlaxle for a long, long time, and both understood the tremendous weight of the implications of Kimmuriel’s remark. Wresting Bregan D’aerthe from Jarlaxle would be something akin to stealing House Baenre away from Matron Baenre during the centuries of her iron-fisted rule. In many ways, Jarlaxle, so cunning, so layered in defenses and so full of understanding of everything around him, might prove an even more formidable foe.

  Now the course seemed obvious to the three, a coup that had been building since the first expansive steps of House Basadoni.

  “I have a source who can offer us more information on the Crystal Shard,” Kimmuriel remarked. “Perhaps there is a way to destroy it or at least temporarily to cripple its formidable powers so that we can get to Jarlaxle.”

  Rai-guy looked to Berg’inyon and both nodded grimly.

  Artemis Entreri was beginning to understand just how much trouble was brewing for Jarlaxle and therefore for him. He heard about the incident at Dallabad soon after the majority of the dark elves returned to House Basadoni, and knew from the looks and the tone of their voices that several of Jarlaxle’s prominent underlings weren’t exactly thrilled by the recent events.

  Neither was Entreri. He knew that Rai-guy’s and Kimmuriel’s complaints were quite valid, knew that Jarlaxle’s expansionist policies were leading Bregan D’aerthe down a very dangerous road indeed. When the truth about House Basadoni’s change and the takeover of Dallabad eventually leaked out—and Entreri was now harboring few doubts that it would—all the guilds and all the lords and every power in the region would unite against Bregan D’aerthe. Jarlaxle was cunning, and the band of mercenaries was indeed powerful—even more so with the Crystal Shard in their possession—but Entreri held no doubts that they would be summarily destroyed, every one.

  No, the assassin realized, it wouldn’t likely come to that. The groundwork had been clearly laid before them all, and Entreri held little doubt that Kimmuriel and Rai-guy would move against Jarlaxle and soon. Their scowls were growing deeper by the day, their words a bit bolder.

  That understanding raised a perplexing question to Entreri. Was the Crystal Shard actually spurring the coup, as Lady Lolth often did among the houses in Menzoberranzan? Was the artifact reasoning that perhaps either of the more volatile magic-using lieutenants might be a more suitable wielder? Or was the coup being inspired by the actions of Jarlaxle under the prodding, if not the outright influence, of Crenshinibon?

  Either way, Entreri knew that he was becoming quite vulnerable, even with his new magical acquisitions. However he played through the scenario, Jarlaxle alone remained the keystone to his survival.

  The assassin turned down a familiar avenue, moving inconspicuously among the many street rabble out this evening, keeping to the shadows and keeping to himself. He had to find some way to get Jarlaxle back in command and on strong footing. He needed for Jarlaxle to be in control of Bregan D’aerthe—not only of their actions but of their hearts as well. Only then could he fend a coup—a coup that could only mean disaster for Entreri.

  Yes, he had to secure Jarlaxle’s position. Then he had to find a way to get himself far, far away from the dark elves and their dangerous intrigue.

  The sentries at the Copper Ante were hardly surprised to see him and even informed him that Dwahvel was expecting him and waiting for him in the back room.

  She had already heard of the most recent events at Dallabad, he realized, and he shook his head, reminding himself that he should not be surprised, and also reminding himself that it was just her amazing ability for the acquisition of knowledge that had brought him to Dwahvel this evening.

  “It was House Broucalle of Memnon,” Dwahvel informed him as soon as he entered and sat on the plush pillows set upon the floor opposite the halfling.

  “They were quick to move,” Entreri replied.

  “The crystalline tower is akin to a huge beacon set out on the wasteland of the desert,” Dwahvel replied. “Why do your compatriots, with their obvious need for secrecy, so call attention to themselves?”

  Entreri didn’t answer verbally, but the expression on his face told Dwahvel much of his fears.

  “They err,” Dwahvel concurred with those fears. “They have House Basadoni, a superb front for their exotic trading business. Why reach further and invite a war that they cannot hope to win?”

  Still Entreri did not answer.

  “Or was that the whole purpose for the band of drow to come to the surface?” Dwahvel asked with sincere concern. “Were you, too, perhaps, misinformed about the nature of this band, led to believe that they were here for profit—mutual profit, potentially—when in fact they are but an advanced war party, setting the stage for complete disaster for Calimport and all Calimshan?”

  Entreri shook his head. “I know Jarlaxle well,” he replied. “He came here for profit—mutual profit for those who work along with him. That is his way. I do not think he would ever serve in anything as potentially disastrous as a war party. Jarlaxle is not a warlord, in any capacity. He is an opportunist and nothing more. He cares little for glory and much for comfort.”

  “And yet he invites disaster by erecting such an obvious, and obviously inviting, monument as that remarkable tower,” Dwahvel answered. She tilted her plump head, studying Entreri’s concerned expression carefully. “What is it?” she asked.

  “How great is your knowledge of Crenshinibon?” the assassin asked. “The Crystal Shard?”

  Dwahvel scrunched up her face, deep in thought for just a moment, and shook her head. “Cursory,” she admitted. “I know of its tower images but little more.”

  “It is an artifact of exceeding power,” Entreri explained. “I am not so certain that the sentient item’s goals and Jarlaxle’s are one and the same.”

  “Many artifacts have a will of their own,” Dwahvel stated dryly. “That is rarely a good thing.”

  “Learn all that you can about it,” Entreri bade her, “and quickly, before that which you fear inadvertently befalls Calimport.” He paused and considered the best course for Dwahvel to take in light of fairly recent events. “Try to find out how Drizzt came to possess it, and where—”

  “What in the Nine Hells is a Drizzt?” Dwahvel asked.

  Entreri started to explain but just stopped and laughed, remembering how very wide the world truly was. “Another dark elf,” he answered, “a dead one.”
<
br />   “Ah, yes,” said Dwahvel. “Your rival. The one you call ‘Do’Urden.’” “Forget him, as have I,” Entreri instructed. “He is only relevant here because it was from him that Jarlaxle’s minions acquired the Crystal Shard. They impersonated a priest of some renown and power, a cleric named Cadderly, I believe, who resides somewhere in or around the Snowflake Mountains.”

  “A long journey,” the halfling remarked.

  “A worthwhile one,” Entreri replied. “And we both know that distance is irrelevant to a wizard possessing the proper spells.”

  “This will cost you greatly.”

  With just a twitch of his honed leg muscles, a movement that would have been difficult for a skilled fighter half his age, Entreri rose up tall and fearsome before Dwahvel, then leaned over and patted her on the shoulder—with his gloved right hand.

  She got the message.

  CHAPTER

  GROUNDWORK

  11

  It is what you desired all along, Kimmuriel said to Yharaskrik.

  The illithid feigned surprise at the drow psionicist’s blunt proposition. Yharaskrik had explaining to Kimmuriel how he might fend the intrusions of the Crystal Shard. The illithid desired that the situation be brought to this very point all along.

  Who will possess it? Yharaskrik silently asked. Kimmuriel or Rai-guy?

  Rai-guy, the drow answered. He and Crenshinibon will perfectly complement one another—by Crenshinibon’s own impartations to him from afar.

  So you both believe, the illithid responded. Perhaps, though, Crenshinibon sees you as a threat—a likely and logical assumption— and is merely goading you into this so that you and your comrades might be thoroughly destroyed.

  I have not dismissed that possibility, Kimmuriel returned, seeming quite at ease. That is why I have come to Yharaskrik.

  The illithid paused for a long while, digesting the information. The Crystal Shard is no minor item, the creature explained. To ask of me—

  A temporary reprieve, Kimmuriel interrupted. I do not wish to pit Yharaskrik against Crenshinibon, for I understand that the artifact would overwhelm you. He imparted those thoughts without fear of insulting the mind flayer. Kimmuriel understood that the perfectly logical illithids were not possessed of ego beyond reason. Certainly they believed their race to be superior to most others, to humans, of course, and even to drow, but within that healthy confidence there lay an element of reason that prevented them from taking insult to statements made of perfect logic. Yharaskrik knew that the artifact could overwhelm any creature short of a god.

  There is, perhaps, a way, the illithid replied, and Kimmuriel’s smile widened. A Tower of Iron Will’s sphere of influence could encompass Crenshinibon and defeat its mental intrusions, and its commands to any towers it has constructed near the battlefield. Temporarily, the creature added emphatically. I hold no illusions that any psionic force short of that conducted by a legion of my fellow illithids could begin to permanently weaken the powers of the great Crystal Shard.

  “Long enough for the downfall of Jarlaxle,” Kimmuriel agreed aloud. “That is all that I require.” He bowed and took his leave then, and his last words echoed in his mind as he stepped through the dimensional doorway that would bring him back to Calimport and the private quarters he shared with Rai-guy.

  The downfall of Jarlaxle! Kimmuriel could hardly believe that he was a party to this conspiracy. Hadn’t it been Jarlaxle, after all, who had offered him refuge from his own Matron Mother and vicious female siblings of House Oblodra, and who had then taken him in and sheltered him from the rest of the city when Matron Baenre had declared that House Oblodra must be completely eradicated? Aside from any loyalty he held for the mercenary leader, there remained the practical matter of the problem of decapitating Bregan D’aerthe. Jarlaxle above all others had facilitated the rise of the mercenary band, had brought them to prominence more than a century before, and no one in all the band, not even self-confident Rai-guy, doubted for a moment how important Jarlaxle was politically for the survival of Bregan D’aerthe.

  All those thoughts stayed with Kimmuriel as he made his way back to Rai-guy’s side, to find the drow thick into the plotting of the attacks they would use to bring Jarlaxle down.

  “Your new friend can give us that which we require?” the eager wizard-cleric asked as soon as Kimmuriel arrived.

  “Likely,” Kimmuriel replied.

  “Neutralize the Crystal Shard, and the attack will be complete,” Rai-guy said.

  “Do not underestimate Jarlaxle,” Kimmuriel warned. “He has the Crystal Shard now and so we must first eliminate that powerful item, but even without it, Jarlaxle has spent many years solidifying his hold on Bregan D’aerthe. I would not have gone against him before the acquisition of the artifact.”

  “But it is just that acquisition that has weakened him,” Rai-guy explained. “Even the common soldiers fear this course we have taken.”

  “I have heard some remark that they cannot believe our rise in power,” Kimmuriel argued. “Some have proclaimed that we will dominate the surface world, that Jarlaxle will take Bregan D’aerthe to prominence among the weakling humans, and return in glory to conquer Menzoberranzan.”

  Rai-guy laughed aloud at the proclamation. “The artifact is powerful, I do not doubt, but it is limited. Did not the mind flayer tell you that Crenshinibon sought to reach its limit of control?”

  “Whether or not the fantasy conquest can occur is irrelevant to our present situation,” Kimmuriel replied. “What matters is whether or not the soldiers of Bregan D’aerthe believe in it.”

  Rai-guy didn’t have an argument for that line of reasoning, but still, he wasn’t overly concerned. “Though Berg’inyon is with us, the drow will be limited in their role in the battle,” he explained. “We have humans at our disposal now and thousands of kobolds.”

  “Many of the humans were brought into our fold by Crenshinibon,” Kimmuriel reminded. “The Crystal Shard will have little difficulty in dominating the kobolds, if Yharaskrik cannot completely neutralize it.”

  “And we have the wererats,” Rai-guy went on, unfazed. “Shape-changers are better suited to resisting mental intrusions. Their internal strife denies any outside influences.”

  “You have enlisted Domo?”

  Rai-guy shook his head. “Domo is difficult,” he admitted, “but I have enlisted several of his wererat lieutenants. They will fall to our cause if Domo is eliminated. To that end, I have had Sharlotta Vespers inform Jarlaxle that the wererat leader has been speaking out of turn, revealing too much about Bregan D’aerthe, to Pasha Da’Daclan, and we believe to the leader of the guild that came to investigate Dallabad.”

  Kimmuriel nodded, but his expression remained concerned. Jarlaxle was a tough opponent in games of the mind—he might see the ruse for what it was, and use Domo to turn the wererats back to his side.

  “His actions now will be telling,” Rai-guy admitted. “Crenshinibon, no doubt, will want to believe Sharlotta’s tale, but Jarlaxle will desire to proceed more cautiously before acting against Domo.”

  “You believe that the wererat leader will be dead this very day,” Kimmuriel reasoned after a moment.

  Rai-guy smiled. “The Crystal Shard has become Jarlaxle’s strength and thus his weakness,” he said with a wicked grin.

  “First the gauntlet and now this,” Dwahvel Tiggerwillies said with a profound sigh. “Ah, Entreri, what shall I ever do for extra coin when you are no more?”

  Entreri didn’t appreciate the humor. “Be quick about it,” he instructed.

  “Sharlotta’s actions have made you very nervous,” Dwahvel remarked, for she had observed the woman busily working the streets during the last few hours, with many of her meetings with known operatives of the wererat guild.

  Entreri just nodded, not wanting to share the latest news with Dwahvel—just in case. Things were moving fast now, he knew, too fast. Rai-guy and Kimmuriel were laying the groundwork for their assault, but at least Jarlax
le had apparently caught on to some of the budding problems. The mercenary leader had summoned Entreri just a few moments before, telling the man that he had to go and meet with a particularly wretched wererat by the name of Domo. If Domo was in on the conspiracy, Entreri suspected that Rai-guy and Kimmuriel would soon have a hole to fill in their ranks.

  “I will return within two hours,” Entreri explained. “Have it ready.”

  “We have no proper material to make such an item as you requested,” Dwahvel complained.

  “Color and consistency alone,” Entreri replied. “The material does not need to be exact.”

  Dwahvel shrugged.

  Entreri went out into Calimport’s night, moving swiftly, his cloak pulled tight around his shoulders. Not far from the Copper Ante, he turned down an alley. Then after a quick check to ensure that he was not being followed, he slipped down an open sewer hole into the tunnels below the city.

  A few moments later, he stood before Jarlaxle in the appointed chamber.

  “Sharlotta has informed me that Domo has been whispering secrets about us,” Jarlaxle remarked.

  “The wererat is on the way?”

  Jarlaxle nodded. “And likely with many allies. You are prepared for the fight?”

  Entreri wore the first honest grin he had known in several days. Prepared for a fight with wererats? How could he not be? Still he could not dismiss the source of Jarlaxle’s information. He realized that Sharlotta was working both ends of the table here, that she was in tight with Rai-guy and Kimmuriel but was in no overt way severing her ties to Jarlaxle. He doubted that Sharlotta and her drow allies had set this up as the ultimate battle for control of Bregan D’aerthe. Such intricate planning would take longer, and the sewers of Calimport would not be a good location for a fight that would grow so very obvious.

  Still …

  “Perhaps you should have stayed at Dallabad for a while,” Entreri remarked, “within the crystalline tower, overseeing the new operation.”

  “Domo hardly frightens me,” Jarlaxle replied.