She believed him.
"I often travel with the merchants," she lied, holding the quiver in her voice. "It is one of the duties of my rank as a soldier of Ten-Towns."
Entreri laughed at her again. Then he looked into the distance, his features assuming an introspective tilt. "Perhaps this will play to my advantage," he said rhetorically, the beginnings of a plan formulating in his mind.
Catti-brie studied him, worried that he had found some way to turn her excursion into harm for her friends.
"I'll not kill you - not yet," he said to her. "When we find the halfling, his friends will not defend him. Because of you."
"I'll do nothing to aid ye!" Catti-brie spat."Nothing!"
"Precisely," Entreri hissed. "You shall do nothing. Not with a blade at your neck - " he brought the weapon up to her throat in a morbid tease - "scratching at your smooth skin. When I am done with my business, brave girl, I shall move on, and you shall be left with your shame and your guilt. And your answers to the merchants who believe you murdered their companion!" In truth, Entreri didn't believe for a moment that his simple trick with Catti-brie's dagger would fool the merchants. It was merely a psychological weapon aimed at the young woman, designed to instill yet another doubt and worry into her jumble of emotions.
Catti-brie did not reply to the assassin's statements with any sign of emotion. No, she told herself, it won't be like that!
But deep inside, she wondered if her determination only masked her fear, her own belief that she would be held again by the horror of Entreri's presence, and that the scene would unfold exactly as he had predicted.
Jierdan found the campsite with little difficulty. Dendybar had used his magic to track the mysterious rider all the way from the mountains and had pointed the soldier in the right direction.
Tensed and his sword drawn, Jierdan moved in. The place was deserted, but it had not been that way for long. Even from a few feet away, the soldier from Luskan could feel the dying warmth of the campfire. Crouching low to mask his silhouette against the line of the horizon, he crept toward a pack and blanket off to the side of the fire.
Entreri rode his mount back into camp slowly, expecting that what he had left might have drawn some visitors. Catti-brie sat in front of him, securely bound and gagged, though she fully believed, to her own disgust, that her own terror made the bonds unnecessary.
The wary assassin realized that someone had entered the camp, before he had ever gotten near the place. He slid from his saddle, taking his prisoner with him. "A nervous steed," he explained to Catti-brie, taking obvious pleasure in the grim warning as he tied her to the horse's rear legs. "If you struggle, he will kick the life from you."
Then Entreri was gone, blending into the night as though he were an extension of its darkness.
Jierdan dropped the pack back to the ground, frustrated, for its contents were merely standard traveling gear and revealed nothing about the owner. The soldier was a veteran of many campaigns and had bested man and orc alike a hundred times, but he was nervous now, sensing something unusual, and deadly, about the rider. A man with the courage to ride alone on the brutal course from Icewind Dale to Luskan was no novice to the ways of battle.
Jierdan was startled, then, but not too surprised, when the tip of a blade came to rest suddenly in the vulnerable hollow on the back of his neck, just below the base of his skull. He neither moved nor spoke, hoping that the rider would ask for some explanation before driving the weapon home.
Entreri could see that his pack had been searched, but he recognised the furred uniform and knew that this man was no thief. "We are beyond the borders of your city," he said, holding his knife steady. "What business have you in my camp, soldier of Luskan?"
"I am Jierdan of the north gate," he replied. "I have come to meet a rider from Icewind Dale."
"What rider?"
"You."
Entreri was perplexed and uncomfortable with the soldier's response. Who had sent this man, and how had he known where to look? The assassin's first thoughts centered on Regis's party. Perhaps the halfling had arranged for some help from the city guard. Entreri slipped his knife back info its sheath, certain that he could retrieve it in time to foil any attack.
Jierdan understood the calm confidence of the act as well, and any thoughts that he might have had for striking at this man flew from him. "My master, desires your audience," he said, thinking it wise to explain himself more completely. "A meeting to your mutual benefit."
"Your master?" asked Entreri.
"A citizen of high standing," Jierdan explained. "He has heard of your coming and believes that he may help with your quest."
"What does he know of my business?" Entreri snapped, angered that someone had dared to spy on him. But he was relieved, too, for the involvement of some other power structure within the city explained much, and possibly eliminated the logical assumption that the halfling was behind this meeting.
Jierdan shrugged. "I am merely his courier. But I, too, can be of assistance to you. At the gate."
"Damn the gate," Entreri snarled. "I'll take the wall easily enough. It is a more direct route to the places I seek."
"Even so, I know of those places, and of the people who control them."
The knife leaped back out, cutting in and stopping just before Jierdan's throat. "You know much, but you explain little. You play dangerous games, soldier of Luskan."
Jierdan didn't blink. "Four heroes from Ten-Towns came into Luskan five days ago: a dwarf, a halfling, a barbarian, and a black elf." Even Artemis Entreri couldn't hide a hint of excitement at the confirmation of his suspicions, and Jierdan noted the signs. "Their exact location escapes me, but I know the area where they are hiding. Are you interested?"
The knife returned again to its sheath. "Wait here," Entreri instructed. "I have a companion who shall travel with us."
"My master said that you rode alone," Jierdan queried.
Entreri's vile grin sent a shiver through the soldier's spine. "I acquired her," he explained. "She is mine and that is all that you ever need to know."
Jierdan didn't press the point. His sigh of relief was audible when Entreri had disappeared from sight.
Catti-brie rode to Luskan untied and ungagged, but Entreri's hold upon her was no less binding. His warning to her when he had retrieved her in the field had been succinct and undeniable. "A foolish move," he had said, and you die. And you die with the knowledge that the dwarf, Bruenor, shall suffer for your insolence."
The assassin had told Jierdan no more about her, and the soldier didn't ask, though the woman intrigued him more than a little. Dendybar would get the answers, Jierdan knew.
They moved into the city later that morning, under the suspicious eye of the Daykeeper of the North Gate. It had cost Jierdan a week's pay to bribe them through, and the soldier knew he would owe even more when he returned that night, for the original deal with the Daykeeper allowed the passage of one outsider; nothing had been said about the woman. But if Jierdan's actions brought him Dendybar's favor, then they would be well worth the price.
According to the city code, the three gave up their horses at the stable just inside the wall, and Jierdan led Entreri and Catti-brie through the streets of the City of Sails, past the sleepy-eyed merchants and vendors who had been out since before dawn and into the very heart of the city.
The assassin was not surprised an hour later when they came upon a long grove of thick pine trees. He had suspected that Jierdan was somehow connected to this place. They passed through a break in the line and stood before the tallest structure in the city, the Hosttower of the Arcane.
"Who is your master?" Entreri asked bluntly.
Jierdan chuckled, his nerve bolstered by the sight of Dendybar's tower. "You shall meet him soon enough."
"I shall know now," Entreri growled. "Dr our meeting is ended. I am in the city, soldier, and I do not require your assistance any longer."
"I could have the guards expel you," Jierdan sh
ot back. "Or worse!"
But Entreri had the last word. "They would never find the remains of your body," he promised, the cold certainty of his tone draining the blood from Jierdan's face.
Catti-brie noted the exchange with more than a passing concern for the soldier, wondering if the time might soon come when she could exploit the untrusting nature of her captors to her own advantage.
"I serve Dendybar the Mottled, Master of the North Spire," Jierdan declared, drawing further strength from the mention of his powerful mentor's name.
Entreri had heard the name before. The Hosttower was a common topic of the whisperings all around Luskan and the surrounding countryside, and the name of Dendybar the Mottled came up often in conversation, describing the wizard as an ambitious power seeker in the tower, and hinting at a dark and sinister side of the man that allowed him to get what he wanted. He was dangerous, but potentially a powerful ally. Entreri was pleased. "Take me to him now," he told Jierdan. "Let us discover if we have business or no."
Sydney was waiting to escort them from the entryroom of the Hosttower. Offering no introduction, and asking for none, she led them through the twisting passages and secret doors to the audience hall of Dendybar the Mottled. The wizard waited there in grand style, wearing his finest robes and with a fabulous luncheon set before him.
"Greetings, rider," Dendybar said after the necessary, yet uncomfortable, moments of silence when each of the parties sized up the other. "I am Dendybar the Mottled, as you are already aware. Will you and your lovely companion partake of my table?"
His raspy voice grated on Catti-brie's nerves, and though she hadn't eaten since the supper the day before, she had no appetite for this man's hospitality.
Entreri shoved her forward. "Eat," he commanded.
She knew that Entreri was testing both her and the wizards. But it was time for her to test Entreri as well. "No," she answered, looking him straight in the eye.
His backhand knocked her to the floor. Jierdan and Sydney started reflexively, but seeing no help forthcoming from Dendybar, quickly stopped and settled back to watch. Catti-brie moved away from the killer and remained in a defensive crouch.
Dendybar smiled at the assassin. "You have answered some of my questions about the girl," he said with an amused smile. "What purpose does she serve?"
"I have my reasons," was all that Entreri replied.
"Of course. And might I learn your name?"
Entreri's expression did not change.
"You seek the four companions from Ten-Towns, I know," Dendybar continued, having no desire to bandy the issue. "I seek them, as well, but for different reasons, I am sure."
"You know nothing of my, reasons," Entreri replied.
"Nor do I care," laughed the wizard. "We can help each other to our separate goals. That is all that interests me."
"I ask for no help."
Dendybar laughed again. "They are a mighty force, rider. You underestimate them."
"Perhaps," replied Entreri. "But you have asked my purpose, yet have not offered your own. What business does the Hosttower have with travelers from Ten-Towns?"
"Fairly asked," answered Dendybar. "But I should wait until we have formalized an agreement before rendering an answer."
"Then I shan't sleep well for worry," Entreri spat.
Again the wizard laughed. "You may change your mind before this is finished," he said. "For now I offer a sign of good faith. The companions are in the city. Dockside. They were to stay in the Cutlass. Do you know it?"
Entreri nodded, now very interested in the wizard's words.
"But we have lost them in the alleyways of the western city," Dendybar explained, shooting a glare at Jierdan that made the soldier shift uneasily.
"And what is the price of this information?" Entreri asked.
"None," replied the wizard. "Telling you helps my own cause. You will get what you want; what I desire will remain for me."
Entreri smiled, understanding that Dendybar intended to use him as a hound to sniff out the prey.
"My apprentice will show you out," Dendybar said, motioning to Sydney.
Entreri turned to leave, pausing to meet the gaze of Jierdan. "Ware my path, soldier," the assassin warned. "Vultures eat after the cat has feasted!"
"When he has shown me to the drow, I'll have his head," Jierdan growled when they had gone.
"You shall keep clear of that one," Dendybar instructed.
Jierdan looked at him, puzzled. "Surely you want him watched."
"Surely," agreed Dendybar. "But by Sydney, not you. Keep your anger," Dendybar said to him, noting the outraged scowl. "I preserve your life. Your pride is great, indeed, and you have earned the right. But this one is beyond your prowess, my friend. His blade would have you before you ever knew he was there."
Outside, Entreri led Catti-brie away from the Hosttower without a word, silently replaying and reviewing the meeting, for he knew that he had not seen the last of Dendybar and his cohorts.
Catti-brie was glad of the silence, too, engulfed in her own contemplations. Why would a wizard of the Hosttower be looking for Bruenor and the others? Revenge for Akar Kessell, the mad wizard that her friends had helped defeat before the last winter? She looked back to the treelike structure, and to the killer at her side, amazed and horrified at the attention her friends had brought upon themselves.
Then she looked into her own heart, reviving her spirit and her courage. Drizzt, Bruenor, Wulfgar, and Regis were going to need her help before this was all over. She must not fail them.
Book 2:
Allies
8
To the Peril of Low-Flying Birds
The companions broke out of the twists and dips of the crags later in the afternoon, to their absolute relief. It had taken them some time to round up their mounts after the encounter with the Pegasus, particularly the halfling's pony, which had bolted early in the fight when Regis had gone down. In truth, the pony would not be ridden again, anyway; it was too skittish and Regis was in no condition to ride. But Drizzt had insisted that both horses and both ponies be found, reminding his companions of their responsibility to the farmers, especially considering the way they had appropriated the beasts.
Regis now sat before Wulfgar on the barbarian's stallion, leading the way with his pony tied behind and Drizzt and Bruenor a short distance back, guarding the rear. Wulfgar kept his great arms close around the halfling, his protective hold secure enough to allow Regis some much-needed sleep.
"Keep the setting sun at our backs," Drizzt instructed the barbarian.
Wulfgar called out his acknowledgement and looked back to confirm his bearings.
"Rumblebelly couldn't find a safer place in all the Realms," Bruenor remarked to the drow.
Drizzt smiled. "Wulfgar has done well."
"Aye," the dwarf agreed, obviously pleased. "Although I be wondering how much longer I can keep to callin' him a boy! Ye should have seen the Cutlass, elf," the dwarf chuckled. "A boatload of pirates who'd been seeing naught but the sea for a year and a day couldn't've done more wrecking!"
"When we left the dale, I worried if Wulfgar was ready for the many societies of this wide world," replied Drizzt. "Now I worry that the world may not be ready for him. You should be proud."
"Ye've had as much a hand in him as meself," said Bruenor. "He's me boy, elf, surer'n if I'd sired him meself. Not a thought to his own fears on the field back there. Ne'er have I viewed such courage in a human as when ye'd gone to the other plane. He waited - he hoped, I tell ye! - for the wretched beast to come back so he could get a good swing in to avenge the hurt to meself and the halfling."
Drizzt enjoyed this rare moment of vulnerability from the dwarf. A few times before, he had seen Bruenor drop his callous facade, back on the climb in Icewind Dale when the dwarf thought of Mithril Hall and the wondrous memories of his childhood.
"Aye, I'm proud," Bruenor continued. "And I'm finding meself willing to follow his lead and trust in his choices
."
Drizzt could only agree, having come to the same conclusions many months before, when Wulfgar had united the peoples of Icewind Dale, barbarian and Ten-Towner alike, in a common defense against the harsh tundra winter. He still worried about bringing the young warrior into situations like the dockside of Luskan, for he knew that many of the finest persons in the Realms had paid dearly for their first encounters with the guilds and underground power structures of a city, and that Wulfgar's deep compassion and unwavering code of honor could be manipulated against him.
But on the road, in the wild, Drizzt knew that he would never find a more valuable companion.
They encountered no further problems that day or night, and the next morning came upon the main road, the trading route from Waterdeep to Mirabar and passing Longsaddle on the way. No landmarks stood out to guide them, as Drizzt had anticipated, but because of his plan in keeping more to the east than the straight line southeast, their direction from here was clearly south.
Regis seemed much better this day and was anxious to see Longsaddle. He alone of the group had been to the home of the magic-using Harpell family and he looked forward to viewing the strange, and often outrageous, place again.
His excited chatting only heightened Wulfgar's trepidations, though, for the barbarian's distrust of the dark arts ran deep. Among Wulfgar's people, wizards were viewed as cowards and evil tricksters.
"How long must we remain in this place?" he asked Bruenor and Drizzt, who, with the crags safely behind them, had come up to ride beside him on the wide road.
"Until we get some answers," Bruenor answered. "Or until we figure a better place to go." Wulfgar had to be satisfied with the answer.
Soon they passed some of the outlying farms, drawing curious stares from the men in the fields who leaned on their hoes and rakes to study the party. Shortly after the first of these encounters, they were met on the road by five armed men called Longriders, representing the outer watch of the town.
"Greetings, travelers," said one politely. "Might we ask your intentions in these parts?"
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