Chapter 7: Not Till The Dawn
It wasn't hard to find Jarlaxle again. Just check the loudest taverns known for their high-stakes games. His business finished across the moor, Entreri had returned to their former lodgings unnoticed and retrieved what few belongings they'd left behind. He'd entered and exited silently through an upper window, then taken to the rooftops as it was faster than the darkened alleys. The sky was growing lighter already. It was almost dawn.
Jarlaxle was sitting at a corner table facing the doorway of the Cup and Kettle, the third inn Enteri checked. Their eyes met, then both glanced away as though strangers. The mercenary was not using the enchanted mask for the first time since their visit here, and Entreri wondered at the wisdom of that. He moved to the bar and began haggling for a room. Indeed, Jarlaxle was sporting his old eye patch, diatryma-feather hat, earrings and vest. Enteri supposed perhaps it was wise - although a dark elf certainly attacted attention, everyone knew that the fugitive highwayman was human. Finally securing a room at a reasonable price, Entreri noted the room number and paid his coin.
At the gaming table a disgruntled-looking dwarf declared he'd fold, whilst Jarlaxle and two burly human warriors revealed their hands. The dark elf shrugged over the loss of two gold coins and tossed them carelessly to his opponent with the straight flush.
Enteri stepped up to the table and crossed his arms over his chest. "I would speak with you, drow." The last word was intoned with what seemed to be barely restrained contempt.
Jarlaxle smirked. "Certainly, friend, certainly. All in good time. Sit, drink and eat, we'll deal you in."
Enteri didn't move. "I would speak with you now."
The mercenary shook his head slightly, looking to his opponents apologetically. "Humans are so impatient...with the exception of you two of course." He tipped his hat to the two large warriors who, upon closer inspection, appeared to be brothers.
Couldn't Jarlaxle take a hint? Entreri realized that perhaps his carefully-schooled emotionless features did him a disservice in moments such as these. "It's about a lady of your acquaintance," he said at last.
"A...lady?" There was sudden alarm behind the dark elf's eyes, but he did well to hide it. "You'll excuse me, gentlemen."
Entreri turned and headed up the stairs while Jarlaxle scooped up his heap of coins, two pearl earrings, and a ruby stickpin, sweeping it all into a pouch. He tipped his hat again and strode up the stairs, outwardly exuding his usual aura of confidence, but inwardly plagued by a thousand questions. Entreri led the way to his rented room and Jarlaxle closed the door behind them.
The assassin answered the first unasked question without preamble. "Bess is dead."
Jarlaxle's eyes went wide for a moment, then narrowed in denial. "You lie!" His fists clenched and unclenched convulsively.
Entreri shook his head slightly. "At times, I lie," he conceded. "But not this time."
"Are you certain she's dead?"
"Yes."
Jarlaxle slumped against the wall and slowly sank to the floor, his legs no longer supporting him. "How...how did..." his voice trailed off and he put his head in his hands.
"The stablehand betrayed you," Enteri began, sparing his ally the necessity of speaking further. "The soldiers arrived well before you did. They captured Bess and tied her up, then lay in wait for you."
The mercenary took in this clear, concise summary. He looked up. "They shot at me, but they shot too soon. So they killed her just to spite me?" He rose to his feet suddenly, ruby eyes blazing.
"No." Entreri raised a calming hand. "One of the guardsman thought it would be amusing to tie her up to attention with a musket beneath her breast."
"With...a musket..." Jarlaxle repeated slowly.
"She shot herself, abbil. To warn you away."
"No. Impossible! You said she was tied!"
"Her wrists were raw from straining at her bonds. She reached the trigger. She had to warn you-"
"No!"
"Her finger was still caught in the trigger guard-"
"NO!" Jarlaxle looked about the room wildly, ignoring the burning sting behind his eyes. "Where is the mask? I'm going to her!" Not seeing the item in question, he turned towards the door.
Enteri quick-stepped, interposing himself between Jarlaxle and his goal. The mercenary tried to push past him, but the assassin grabbed his arm. "Not like this."
Jarlaxle glanced down at the hand on his arm. "Remove your hand," he said, his tone almost a growl, "or I will remove it for you."
Entreri did well to hide his smirk. Did Jarlaxle even know to whom he was speaking? He let his arm fall to his side, but still did not step out of the mercenary's way. "Stoneskin," he said simply. "Do not leave this room without it."
Jarlaxle said nothing, seeming to stare through him. The assassin still blocked his way. "Are you finished?" Jarlaxle was growing distinctly more and more annoyed.
"No."
"No?" Jarlaxle flicked his wrist and immediately had an enchanted dagger in his hand. He must get to Bess, he must see his beloved, and no one was going to stand in his way. The drow's hand flashed out, dagger tracing a horizontal slash aimed at the assassin's midsection.
Entreri caught the move and easily met the blade with his own jeweled weapon. How often he'd wondered how such a battle between them might play out, both expertly trained and equally cunning...but now was not the time. Jarlaxle let out a growl and pressed harder, preparing to break free and slash again, but Entreri would have none of it. With a sudden brutal sweep he had Jarlaxle's weapon hand pinned to the wall beside them. "Think!" he chastized. "Your judgment is clouded. You will not leave this room without being properly prepared. You have stoneskin - use it. You may need healing potions - get them. And I hope to the nine hells you have a teleportation spell stowed away somewhere!"
Whether it the ease with which Entreri had had him at his mercy or the words that had finally gotten through to him the assassin didn't know, but Jarlaxle dispelled his magical dagger with a thought and dropped his arm. The drow closed his eyes for a moment and rubbed his temples briefly. "You're right. And vith I hate you for it, but you're right."
Abbil - friend
vith - [I'll let you figure that one out on your own...]
In progress. All reviews welcome!
