Don't go to Sleep

by Iliana Maura

Note: I still feel a little unsure about Jarlaxle in this part, and a couple of others. I feel like he's too well-explained, and not quite mysterious enough. However, I completely adore Geo Vitz. Would anyone be interested in reading more about her? A note on Settlestone: someone commented earlier that they thought my description didn't quite fit. To my knowledge it does, though I'd be happy to be corrected. The Settlestone barbarians were described as acting as trade negotiators for the dwarves, which means trade must have come there, etc., etc. I'm sure some small details are wrong, so please correct me if you know anything.

Chapter Ten : Elggur

Jarlaxle was not one for swearing.

He did not shout, or snarl, or rage over Arvylyn Quenvath's body. He did not do anything save bite his lip and narrow his eyes.

Someone had killed Arvylyn Quenvath.

The mercenary was aware that he was unknowledgeable when it came to the workings of the surface world, but after decades of unraveling assassinations for high-paying matrons in Menzoberranzan, he felt confident he knew my this murder had been committed.

Arvylyn had known something.

Jarlaxle searched the room, checking in the wardrobe, around the bed, and on the table. Nothing appeared to have been disturbed, which confirmed his suspicion that this had not been robbery. There were some other reasons, perhaps, that could explain the elf's death,but what were the chances that the very elf Jarlaxle had come to question was murdered in his own room?

Jarlaxle did not believe in coincidences.

The drow checked the door. The lock had not been forced, so whoever had come in had either picked the lock or entered by magical means-or been admitted by Arvylyn himself. He examined the body as well, finding that the elf had been stabbed through the heart, and, by the expression on his face, he'd seen the blade coming. The weapon itself was missing. His arms appeared as though he'd held them out, as though to either ward off his attacker or beg for understanding.

Still puzzled, Jarlaxle checked the body more thoroughly, looking for more clues. There might be-

The mercenary halted his search abruptly, and rubbed one of the rings on his left hand, a plain iron band. It was warm to the touch, and was glowing softly. The ring was a device his lieutenants could use to call him if he was needed urgently but not available. Something was happening back in Menzoberranzan that required his attention.

Thinking quickly, Jarlaxle pushed the door open a little more, so that it might draw attention, then opened the window and levitated gently to the ground outside. He needed to get back to Menzoberranzan soon, but also felt he needed to notify Drizzt and his friends.

Unlike the semi-leisurely trip down the mountain, the return trip was hurried, running uphill and panting for air as the steep slope stole his breath. Several times he considered using a teleportation spell, but his quantity of those was limited and he decided against it. Reaching the stone beside where the knew the entrance was, he used a swatch of black cloth tucked into the band of his hat to create a hole in the side of the mountain, and slipped through it. The dwarves within, standing guard on either side of the doorway, did not even notice another shadow among those created by the ever-burning torches.

The door to Drizzt's room opened just before the mercenary reached it, and Catti-brie stepped out. Honestly startled (something he hadn't been in a while), Jarlaxle took a quick step back into the flickering darkness to compose himself and start the meeting on his own terms.

"My dear and beautiful woman," he spouted, stepping out behind her. She whirled and faced him, surprise etched on her exquisite face.

"Yer back," she said, not sounding happy.

"Not for long," Jarlaxle informed her, smiling inwardly. Ah, how much he enjoyed this one! "I have urgent business to attend to."

"Then why come back here?"

"I need to tell you," he said, losing his cheerful facade, "that Arvylyn Quenvath is dead."

"You said you wouldn't kill him!" the young woman exclaimed.

An involuntary chuckle slipped through the mercenary's lips. "Not by me," he explained. "I know not who did it, but I haven't time to find out know."

"What business-" Catti-brie began, but Jarlaxle had already turned away. Quickly muttering a word to one of the wands tucked into his belt, he created a portal that would take him back to Menzoberranzan, and stepped through before the woman could finish her sentence.

"So who could it be?"

The Companions of the Hall were seated around a table in the Dwarven Hammer, discussing Arvylyn Quenvath. Early in the evening, patrons were just starting to trickle in."

"The most likely seems Geo Vitz," Regis said. "Though it's a shame we couldn't see the body before they buried it. If we'd seen whether he had his ears or not, then we'd know if it was her."

"I just can't believe that," Catti-brie muttered in disgust. "Imagin' werkin' fer a man who pays gold fer elf ears. That's sick."

Bruenor rumbled in agreement.

"Who else?" Drizzt pressed. The others had thought it best if he remained in bed, but after only a few days indoors he'd begun to feel claustrophobic, and had insisted he was well enough to go with them. After a day of question the people of Settlestone, he felt more tired than he ought to, but otherwise alright.

"Nuthin' much important," Bruenor said, gulping his ale. "A few little things-a coupla men who lost a bet to him."

"Nothing to kill over."

"Nope."

The drow sighed and ran his fingers through his thick mane of white hair. He'd hoped someone might notice something new when they went over their facts, but nothing appeared to have popped up.

"And there's that Tavares man," Regis reminded them.

Catti-brie crinkled her forehead, trying to remember. She and Regis had been working together, and Bruenor with Drizzt.

"Yeah, him," she recalled. "But no one's seen him all day."

"Who's he?" Bruenor asked.

The woman shrugged. "A mercenary, from what we could tell. One o' th' caravan guards. People said he'd been payin' extra close attention t' th' elf. That was all, though."

"The person who killed Arvylyn is probably the one who infected Drizzt," Regis said. "I don't think any of these people did that, except maybe Tavares."

Drizzt shrugged. "We have nothing else to go on. We may as well question Geo Vitz. Even if she didn't kill Arvylyn, she was probably watching him, and she may have noticed someone else who was paying him undue attention."

Catti-brie glanced around the inn, which was beginning to fill up. "Where is she, anyway?"

Regis nodded toward the bar. "Over there. She's the blonde."

Drizzt looked in the direction the halfling had indicated. Seated at the bar was a tall, well-shaped woman with honey-colored hair, naturally twisted into a magnificent waist-length mass of ringlets. She sat at an angle to the bar, one elbow resting on its polished length, staring out over the common room. Her eyes were a stunning forget-me-not blue, set in a beautiful, curving face.

The woman quickly felt the Companions' eyes on her, and she turned to look at them. As soon as she saw Drizzt, her face lit up with a brilliant smile that forced the drow, his eyes accustomed to darkness, to squint. Catti-brie was staring enviously at her hair.

Geo Vitz, if that was who the woman was, paid for her drink and swaggered out of the Inn. The Companions exchanged glances and followed.

Outside, there were quite a few people on the street, a mix of barbarians and merchants, but Geo's blonde hair was nowhere to be seen.

"Right," Drizzt said at once.

"Ye're sure?" Bruenor questioned.

The drow nodded. He'd watched the bounty hunter as she'd gotten up, and seen that she stepped out with her right foot, indicating she was right-handed.

"She might be trying to throw us off," Regis suggested. Catti-brie shook her head.

"No," she explained. "She wanted to be followed."

The Companions started down the street, but they had barely reached the edge of the Inn when they caught a flash of gold between the Dwarven Hammer and the building beside it. Looking quickly, Drizzt spotted Geo's foot disappearing around the back of the inn. The others followed him without question, except for Regis, who muttered something about insanity and needing new friends. The four drew their weapons, even Regis, who clutched his small mace.

At the back corner of the building, Catti-brie reached out a hand to stop the drow. "Someone else should go first," she wispered.

"I'm healthy enough to-" Drizzt began to protest, thinking Catti-brie was afraid he was too ill to fight properly.

The woman shook her head. "That's not it," she said quietly. The other's gathered closer to hear. "Geo's a bounty hunter. She works fer a man who pays money fer elf ears, an' very large amounts fer th' ears o' dark elves. It wasn't us she wanted t' follow her, but ye."

Drizzt agreed with her logic, but didn't see how that would change him leading. He thought Catti-brie, of all people, would understand how it felt to be stifled by the protectiveness of those around-after similar feelings had cost Wulfgar his life.

Regis echoes Catti-brie's line of thinking. "If someone else went around the corner first, it might throw her off, and possibly prevent a fight."

"Now what good would come o' that?" Bruenor snorted, but he fell back and allowed Catti-brie to take the lead.

The drow was right on Catti-brie's heels as she rounded the corner. There was an open space between the back of the Inn and the first trees; no other buildings stood behind it, save a small outhouse. At first, Drizzt thought the place was deserted, but then he caught a flash to his right.

Geo Vitz rushed from the shadows of the back doorway, brilliant smile on her face and sword in hand.