It had been cleansing.
Finally, a conclusion of sorts.
All that had made him bitter and angry now seemingly gone, weight of years falling away.
The slate was clean.
Still so much haunted the man, not only the gnawing guilt that still reared its ugly head every now and again.
The hate.
What else had he ever known? He had loved once, the love of a child for his mother but even before that was stolen from him, he had nurtured hate.
And bitterness became his sweets.
All debts paid now, and those still outstanding didn't matter anymore.
And there is was.
Boredom.
The vile viper waiting beneath the serene – wanting again to poison him into action.
But Entreri no long cared for it – bitterness no longer nourished him.
Once parting ways with Jarlaxle he had trekked to Calimport to be with Dwarvel who was at first relieved then annoyed. After two months of watching him wither to a husk of a man she threw him out.
Entreri became a pseudo-hermit, never staying in the one place long, never being of any use nor any hindrance to any. He never scowled anymore, nor did he learn to laugh.
And one night taking shelter in a ruined old hut in the border of a plain and a dense wood he spoke to himself the words he would not have dreamed a year earlier "Where are you, Jarlaxle?
Jarlaxle had returned to Bregan D'aerthe and smoothed over some ruffled feathers but was soon suffering a similar malady as Entreri.
Many secretly still looked to Kimmuriel as leader, Jarlaxle had been away too long.
Alone in his chambers he lacked for nothing, but also he wanted nothing. He was home it was true, but the schemes and manipulations had dried up. His mind no longer wanted to focus on any one thing. Jarlaxle looked about drearily, all of his prizes and immense treasures from all around the world littered the chamber but all of it ended up meaning nothing to him.
May as well have filled the room with sand and rock for all it mattered.
He still took pride in his appearance – of course it was necessary, couldn't have anyone think that their illustrious leader was loosing his touch. That would make for an all to easy target.
Jarlaxle, relying more on reputation than charm theses days, knew his days of yearning must come to an end – for soon his reputation would not be enough.
This lethargy had taken hold at the final parting of himself and Entreri, never before had he been so rejected in his whole, considerably long, life. Somehow the bitterness was washed off Entreri and seeped into him. And this was a wave he could not ride out - this bitterness threatened to consume him.
He close his eyes and let his head hang back, listening, straining to hear anything. But there was nothing Menzoberranzan was - to him - quiet as a tomb.
Yet to others, who listened to more subtle sounds – it was a mass of activity. A world that never slept, never rested lest it be caught unawares. Kimmuriel, comfortably sitting cross-legged on a bench had been privy to all of Jarlaxles thoughts ever since he returned to the underdark. The eye-patch that would normally stop such prying was now days seldom worn. This alone alarmed the psionicist. But then what he found once deducing that this was just a silent cry for help from his colourful companion – that alarmed him even more.
He still acted as Jarlaxles second, but in truth Bregan D'aerthe now turned to Kimmuriel for most things. This distraction annoyed him to no end. And now with Jarlaxle as distant and indifferent as ever his elevation to official leader of the mercenary band loomed even closer.
He clenched his fists in an uncharacteristic display of emotion (were anyone there to see it) only one choice now.
Quickly getting up he went with controlled haste to Jarlaxles chamber.
Entreri was just about to fall asleep when a slight glow from outside made him turn his head, his vision was blurry, eyes heavy from lack of sleep.
He no longer slept, he brooded for days and nights until he passed out from sheer exhaustion.
The glow went and he decided – even if he was attacked he didn't care and so rolled back onto his side tugging the filthy blanket about his shoulders.
"Hrrrrrmmmh!" a muffled moan came from outside.
Entreri turned again to face the door not sure if he had imagined it.
"Hhmmmmph hmmmmhmmmmrrrm!" the moans became louder and something hit the side of the door.
Without bothering to arm himself Entreri got up, pulled on a shirt and taking his candle went to investigate.
Outside he found for lack of a better term a bundle of a person. Dressed in rather ill fitting leather armour, but wearing decent boots and gloves. Bound hand and foot and with a small coarsely woven black bag over his head.
Entreri went down on his haunches in front of the figure "Seems you got yourself into a bit of trouble."
The figure thrashed more violently pulling at the ropes and for all that Entreri could make out swearing incessantly.
"Alright hold still. I'll get that bag off you."
The figure stopped thrashing and sat still, Entreri loosened the cord binding the sack at the neck and pulled it off.
Both men sat gaping at each other for an instant "Jarlaxle?"
"Whooo juuhhh fiiinkh?!"
Entreri quickly removed the gag as well.
"What in the nine hells happened to you?"
"Bastard jumped me! Tied me up dragged me here!" Jarlaxle spat "Damned Bastard! For my own good he said!"
"Who?" Entreri cut away the last of the ropes.
"Kimmuriel and two others." He shot to his feet and rubbed his wrists where the ropes had bitten into them.
Entreri turned and trudged back into the abandoned shack.
Jarlaxle spun to him "Hey where are you going?!"
"Sleep."
"Ohh no. No. No. And no. You and me we are going after that treacherous little piece of earwax that thinks he can just dump me out here! And dressed like this! I'd prefer he stabbed me!"
A dagger flew out from the shack and stuck in a tree just to Jarlaxles side
."Could still happen. Good night!"
Jarlaxle looked about the wood seething in way he had never done. There was always something that could be done, always someone to exploit but now. He ripped the dagger out of the bark and attacked the tree with it out of sheer frustration swearing with every stoke that he would skin that psionicist and feed him his own hide in pieces.
His fury spent, hands bleeding and sore he sank down into the pine needle covered dirt and promptly fell asleep.
The next morning Jarlaxle awoke to the sound of Artemis snoring, he turned his head and found he had been put on a reasonably sized palette covered in straw, pine needles and a thick blanket. Entreri sleeping on a threadbare rug a few feet away from him.
He got up on one elbow and had a look at his hands, in his fury he hadn't even noticed that the throwing dagger, having no guard, had cut his palms a few times and the wounds were rich with bark and dirt.
He tried to flex is fingers but the palms protested, he winced and then with a frustrated sigh slumped back down into the 'mattress'.
The sigh and rustling in turn awoke Entreri, who yawned, stretched blinked a few times and then rolled over - back to Jarlaxle.
"Where are we anyway?"
"I don't know – away from people."
"Thought you were over your anti-social streak?"
"Thought you were the leader of Bregan D'aerthe."
Jarlaxle kicked at a wall.
Entreri again began to softly snore.
The drow turned a few times. Tried to clear his head and think about the best course of action every time coming back to the ways he was going to kill Kimmuriel.
After a while he tried to scratch at his shoulder but winced again at the pain in his palms. Hearing a stream trickle not far from the shack he got up and went to clean the wounds.
Squinting at first at the dawn he followed the sound of the water until he came to the shallow creek. Removing the splinters and coaxing out dirt took up most of the morning but the cold water of the creek numbed the cuts as much as clean them which was just as well.
Cursing Kimmuriel for taking his possessions and leaving him on the surface without even a healing potion - for the first time he was scared. He stared at his reflection in the water 'Me? Scared?" he scowled and punched at his own reflection before getting up and marching back to the shack. Artemis was going to help him wether he likes it or not.
Entreri had awoken fully a short while back and was cooking some wild mushrooms in the mostly wrecked remnants of the hearth. Jarlaxle walked in trying his best to make the common boots click like his magic ones used to when he wanted to announce his arrival.
He struck a half-hearted pose and opened his mouth to speak.
Entreri cut him off "Found this." He tossed a small travelling bag at the drows feet "And this." He held up a note, still sealed.
Jarlaxle snatched it. Scanned it and then screwed it up and flung it with all his might at the wall, stood on it once and then stormed out.
After stirring the mushrooms some more Entreri leaned over and took the scrunched up piece of paper, slowly unfurled it, read it and then burst out laughing.
Jarlaxle, who had apparently just taken a step out of view came back into the shack glaring "I am so happy that you find this amusing."
Entreris laughter died down gradually, but to Jarlaxles utter annoyance he was still smiling and shaking his head in disbelief.
"Have some breakfast will you?" Entreri filled a wooden bowl and put it down at the drows feet expecting it to be kicked and their cook to be wearing mushroom stew for the day.
Contrary to expectations though Jarlaxle sat down opposite Entreri and began gobbling the stew.
"When was the last time you ate?"
Jarlaxle shook his head "Don't remember."
Entreri pushed his half eaten bowl towards the drow when he had finished the first. The second helping was gone just as quick as the first.
Entreri poured a cup of water and passed it to his companion who drank it down in one gulp and gladly accepted another.
Artemis studied the man opposite him, he was definitely thinner and the smooth features drawn, he only wore one pair of earrings and a small line had formed between the arched white eyebrows. Too much frowning had etched its mark on the once smooth, grinning face of Jarlaxle.
Jarlaxle for an instant also took in the assassin's appearance, not slimmer but in a way less toned, muscles not so much slack from disuse but all of him leaner than he was used to. His hair untrimmed in almost a year hung to his shoulders in a ragged mess and that uncontrollable stubble as prevalent as ever.
Both looked a mere shadow of their former selves.
Entreri took out the paper again, Jarlaxle scowled.
To the drows amazement Entreri snapped "Oh stop that – it doesn't suit you."
The frown vanished.
The note was again passed "Read it again. All of it this time. And aloud."
He sighed but read "Jarlaxle, I would apologise for my actions if there was anything to apologise for. However you will soon see I acted for the best – when you are ready, really and truly ready to resume command of Bregan D'aerthe I will bring you back. As you are - you are of no use to us. I have provided a means of contacting me in the bag. Enjoy the hunt. Signed Kimmuriel."
"Keep reading." Entreri prompted.
Jarlaxle shrugged "25E 15N start at the top…?"
Entreris eyes shone with their old light "Coordinates."
"To what?"
"Not that stupid hat of yours I hope."
Jarlaxle grinned in his old fashion "Oh come on Artemis. Would I wear that thing with this?" he gestured to his plain leather clothing and armour.
Entreri sighed heavily and got up to collect his belongings.
Jarlaxle rummaged in his bag and took stock of all he had been given, a wineskin, rations for a few days, a silken scarf embroidered with gold thread (for trade he presumed as there was no coins) a spare thick woollen shirt and a small silver whistle shaped like a bone on a sturdy silver chain.
He put it to his lips and blew, expecting a note - not a fart-like rusting.
Entreri looked up and the drow shrugged and looked into the whistle where there was a small rolled up piece of paper.
"Blood of stones I have, but die not from their loss." Jarlaxle read "What's that supposed to mean?"
Entreri thought for a moment then went to the glass-less window, he beckoned for Jarlaxle to come and look.
There on the pine that had weathered Jarlaxles fury hung, on a branch a sword belt with a short-sword and two daggers as well as a dark grey travelling cloak.
"Amber," Entreri began "comes from the sap of trees. Their 'blood'."
"A treasure-hunt, eh?" Jarlaxle brushed some dirt off his sleeve. "Does this mean we again travel together?"
Entreri gave the drow one of his old looks and answered "Never."
There was an uncomfortable silence for quite a while – each staring into the eyes of the other, until the corners of Entreris mouth began to twitch upwards and both began to grin and then laugh.
"Come on you damned peacock. Lets go find you your hat."