Chapter 10

Relaxation


They reached Kormul as the sun set. Due to their part in the merchant caravan's arrival, the guards didn't look twice at Artemis and Jarlaxle. Once inside, they waited until they reached the Kormul market square and parted ways there. Jarlaxle split the payment evenly with Entreri, each of them taking a purse of five thousand gold in heavy coins.

"We've been paid, we're in a new city, and we're hungry. I think this is the perfect time for a celebration," Jarlaxle declared. It reminded him of old times. Before the complication of Matron Malice, he and Zaknafein had been mercenaries together. When he'd formed Bregan D'aerthe, he fully expected Zaknafein to come with him. Instead...

Jarlaxle shook the thoughts away. "A celebration," he repeated firmly.

He intended to get tipsy and forget about Zaknafein. The present was the present.

"You'd find any reason for a celebration," Entreri said, but he didn't reject the notion. "If we're going to celebrate, though, I'd like roasted mutton."

Jarlaxle grinned and nodded. "Roasted mutton and whatever else you desire. That is the meaning of a celebration."

Entreri nodded, and they made their way down the main street, checking out various inns. They settled for one three blocks down - a fine-looking establishment with the questionable name of The Blue Dragon.

"Ignore the name," Jarlaxle said valiantly. He dismounted and called into the stables, "Vacancy?"

"Aye, sir," a boy called back.

Jarlaxle smiled brilliantly. He tipped the stable boy to treat Naim and Aazim with extra care. He and Artemis entered through the side door and walked into the main room of the inn. A fire was already blazing in anticipation of plunging nighttime temperatures, and the air was heavily scented with spice and roasting meat.

"Smells promising," Entreri noted, which was perhaps the highest praise Jarlaxle had heard from him yet concerning lodging.

Jarlaxle felt a wave of pleased warmth. I am getting to you yet. He selected a corner table for them. The dining area was moderately crowded; other travelers sat at the old, heavy tables. Once again, he gave Entreri the corner while he took the seat to the right, shifting the angle so that he could see most of the room.

They also had a clear view of the bar. A long row of bottles on a shelf against the wall displayed the inn's selection. Jarlaxle couldn't tell what most of the beverages were.

"While we wait for food, a drink!" Jarlaxle suggested.

Entreri was pondering the unusual range of colors. The deep reds and golds he recognized, as well as the clears and the pinks. What he didn't recognize was the sky blue. He wasn't much of a drinker, given he preferred to have his wits about him at all times, but an occasional harder drink could be tolerated. He flagged down a waitress. "What's the blue drink?"

The waitress, who was darker skinned than he was but with equally black hair, gave him a gleaming white smile. "That's our special: blue burbon. We garnish it with blueberries."

Entreri shrugged faintly. "Fine."

Jarlaxle raised his hand with a disarming smile and pointed. "What is that beautiful bright red liquid called?"

The waitress turned to look where he was pointing.

"Three down from the green bottle," Jarlaxle said.

The waitress turned back to him with her gleaming smile. "Granatus."

"That sounds exotic," Jarlaxle said. "I'll take it."

The waitress bowed.

She left them with menus before heading to the bar, and Entreri scanned the parchment. The list of options was short but fancy. "Roasted mutton with rice pilaf, curry vegetables, and garlic bread." He set down the menu. "Works for me."

"I'll have the same," Jarlaxle said. His mouth was watering, and his stomach was tight. Rations hadn't done it for him.

Entreri did a secondary scan of the room, having sized up the patrons upon first entering. He noted all the usual things: where the exits were, who openly had weapons, who likely had concealed weapons, and who was traveling nobility. They seemed to be a fairly relaxed crowd. Entreri returned his attention to Jarlaxle. "Technically, we did work for no pay and got paid for no work. An ironic trade, no?"

The waitress returned with their drinks, setting a short, squat glass before Entreri. Sure enough, the blue liquid had wooden stick in it that held three blueberries.

Jarlaxle laughed. "Irony is the result of experience and expectation. Without those things, it is simply one more event in life. But yes, the inversion is ironic." He sniffed his own drink, which came in a flute similar to how one served champagne. Once a long time ago, House Baenre had pilfered many cases of champagne from a merchant caravan headed for Waterdeep. The strong, sour fruit drink had become a favorite of his. This bright red granatus smelled similar; tart and fruity.

He took a sip and tasted pomegranate. During his stay in Calimport he'd eaten a few of the unusual, seeded fruits. Jarlaxle closed his eyes and enjoyed. "Mmm."

Entreri ate his blueberries, then set aside the pick. He took a sip of the bourbon and was hit with the strangest taste sensation. He could taste the sour whiskey, and he could faintly detect the tart blueberries. However, there was a third taste, also very faint, that was almost floral. "Interesting," he murmured, taking a second sip.

Several sips in, he felt quite a bit perkier. His exhaustion from the day was swept away, and he found himself bouncing his knee. "Feels like I've had three cups of coffee instead of half a glass of alcohol." Which, admittedly, wasn't a complaint.

Jarlaxle chuckled and looked at Entreri curiously. "You seem flushed." He drank the rest of his granatus. The granatus was so mild he couldn't taste the alcohol. "Will you have another glass? I'll have another glass of mine."

Entreri found himself twirling his knife between his fingers. If anything, his senses felt heightened, not dulled, and the ache in his lower back from riding all day was receding quickly. "Sure." Food would come soon, and he didn't feel tipsy. A second glass should be fine.

Jarlaxle waved at the waitress and ordered refills of their drinks. He happily sipped at his granatus. He didn't feel a thing, but the drink was so tasy that he didn't mind. Besides, he wouldn't feel anything until he'd finished his second glass if it was anything like champagne.

Entreri sipped on his second glass as they awaited their mutton. The knife was doing aerial ballet by this point, and he randomly snorted. He realized suddenly that he wanted to laugh for no reason at all, and that was discomforting. "Maybe six cups of coffee wasn't such a great idea," he amended. He wasn't much of a coffee drinker to begin with. If he had any at all, he'd only have a single cup in the morning.

Jarlaxle watched Artemis toss and twirl the dinner knife with amusement. He also admired Artemis' dexterity. "Food will probably dull the effects."

"One hopes," Entreri muttered.

Fortunately for him, their food arrived shortly. He dug in with detectable enthusiasm for once, finding himself amazed at how delicious everything was. "These are the best curry vegetables I've ever had."

Jarlaxle ate a bite of curry vegetables himself and nodded. "Delicious." He watched Artemis with surprise, however, at that oddly out of character statement. The assassin ate with obvious enjoyment. Could it be the effect of the blue bourbon? But why?

Halfway into the meal, Jarlaxle realized he didn't feel tipsy or even buzzed. That was slightly disappointing. At the same time, he was relieved he hadn't shared the blue bourbon.

Entreri polished off every single bite of his food in record time, enjoying it down to the last speck of rice. Had he not been so full, he wouldn't considered ordering seconds. He tossed down the remainder of his blue bourbon and settled back in his chair. He wiggled a bit, stretching his spine, and then pressed his palms against the table edge. His spine popped three times. He sighed with contentment. The inexplicable caffeine rush seemed to be over; now he felt a bit drowsy. A nap sounded like a good idea, except he really wanted more garlic bread...

Jarlaxle tentatively relaxed at Artemis' sigh. "Would you like dessert?" he ventured. He had no idea what Artemis' mood would be like in a state of...intoxication? Relaxation?

Entreri blinked at him and then found himself smiling. "I suppose. For once. I saw on the menu that they have caramel creme pie. It might be worth trying."

Jarlaxle almost laughed. Artemis, the man who hates sweets, wants to try caramel creme pie? Then he realized this was a fantastic opportunity. He waved down the waitress. "Two slices of caramel creme pie, please." He grinned at Artemis as the waitress left. "A true celebration!"

"Just because I'm eating a slice of pie?" Entreri snickered. Then his mind rearranged the sentence into an old cliche. "I guess I'm getting my slice of the pie." He pressed his shoulders against the top of the chair and turned his head to the right, twisting slightly. The vertebra between his shoulder blades popped. "Basadoni would say to seize the day, but of course I never did. Hedonism can be dangerous. So can cakes - or at least if I make them." He smirked even after all this time. Beating that lieutenant had been a game inside a game inside a game. It was why he could understand drow.

Jarlaxle smiled and leaned forward, cupping his chin in his hand. Even if he didn't understand Entreri's words, the assassin's obvious enjoyment and chattiness was pleasant. You've never spoken of Basadoni before. Perhaps Basadoni had been one of Artemis' few reccuring allies.

"I wouldn't call one evening of enjoyment in a life of seriousness hedonism," Jarlaxle said.

Their slices of pie came.

Entreri considered the masterpiece before him. The crust was a dark brown and the pie filling itself a soft tan, much like coffee with cream. The topping was white and garnished with crispy rice. "Food artwork," he noted. "Far more appealing than the garish pink cake I made. Not that its looks mattered to him. He was a slob. He'd eat any cake. Even one as lumpy as mine." He snickered again. "Then again, mine was lumpy for a reason." The strangest part, actually, had been getting the guild cook to teach him to make cake. He'd been covered in flour for two days straight.

He took a bite and decided instantly he could eat two slices.

Jarlaxle was lost. He ate a bite of his pie silently and savored it in his mouth, sorting out Artemis' story. You endangered one of your enemies with a cake to take advantage of his gluttony? He was intrigued by how amusing Artemis seemed to find the apparently deadly prank. "Why was the cake lumpy?" he asked cheerfully.

"Crushed glass," Entreri answered without missing a beat. He savored another bite of his pie. "I made lieutenant for that. Youngest yet. Fourteen." Or, at least, he thought he'd been fourteen. He wasn't really sure. He didn't know his birthday because his so-called family had stopped celebrating it when he was very young. All he remembered was that it'd been summer, and he thought he'd been nine when he'd been sold. "Fourteen's close enough, anyway," he decided aloud. If he were right, then he was forty now.

Jarlaxle's eyes widened. "Fourteen? Lieutenant at fourteen?" He drastically reassessed Entreri's skills and life. "You were two years younger than I was when I first learned the art of combat, and -" He did some mental calculations. "Forty years younger than I was when I achieved the same level of power."

Even adjusting for the different aging rates of their races, Artemis had been more powerful at a younger age.

That triggered another conclusion. "You're a prodigy," Jarlaxle blurted.

Entreri genuinely smiled at him. A truly happy smile with no hint of cynicism or irony. "Yes. I learned very quickly. Basadoni had me tutored in reading, writing, arithmetic, and languages in addition to making sure I understood politics and economics. Of course, I was also trained in hand-to-hand combat, swordsmanship, and archery, including how to fight from horseback." He had absolutely no idea why he was suddenly spilling his guts, but he couldn't really seem to stop chattering. "I went from nothing to fully functional in about two years." He paused briefly. "Well, I was a street fighter. But that was just punching and kicking and turning the elements around you into weapons."

Jarlaxle nodded, taking in this information with stunned gratitude. Artemis didn't have to open up to him. He hoped that their conversation earlier today had something to do with Artemis' forthcoming nature now, even if alcohol was involved. "I have learned all of those skills during my lifetime, but not so quickly. It is truly amazing that you rose from apprentice to lieutenant in two years." Although he suspected that the price had been high socially. Humans were not so selfless that they could overlook a person's rapid ascension, and Calimport was much like Menzoberranzan. You became a feared and hated target. Alliances were offered you, but no companionship. You learned as a child to distrust anyone trying to befriend you.

As he'd previously suspected, Artemis Entreri was drow and not drow. Their experiences overlapped, but meant different things. Watching others excel in the areas of social networking and human friendship must have frustrated you. How embittering to be left out because of superior skill. It is no wonder that you view the world around you and everyone in it with such disdain and anger. You had no choice but to scorn everyone. In addition, no one could keep up with you. Naturally, you came to feel that other people were unreliable and worthless.

Finally, Jarlaxle felt he had the key to unlocking an understanding of this man, and Entreri had given it to him.

"I liked languages," Entreri noted, scraping his plate clean. His voice had grown slightly slower, softer. He stared at the bar for a moment, his gaze passing over the colored bottles and their colored contents. "I once sent Basadoni a coded message using three languages and numbers. It wasn't a difficult code to break - for him. For the idiots who tried to break it first, though, it was hopeless. He laughed about it later." It had been a warning about a guild raid. He could still feel Basadoni's warm hand on his shoulder as he gave him a squeeze of gratitude. 'Such a smart young man,' he'd said. He glanced at Jarlaxle. His skin seemed inky smooth in the dim lighting, single red eye standing out in contrast.

It is nothing. It is everything.

Jarlaxle smiled. Basadoni was your khal abbil, then, perhaps. Or a benign Matron Mother. He couldn't help but notice how different Entreri looked. Artemis' expression was softer, allowing Jarlaxle to see the beauty of his bone structure. The assassin was a delicate creature, with beautiful hair and eyes. Dark and gleaming. Now that Artemis wasn't tense and frowning, Jarlaxle could see a surprisingly full mouth. His impression had been that Artemis was thin-lipped. It was not so.

"I enjoy languages as well," Jarlaxle reassured him. "I have always had a fascination for Common in particular. When my agents needed a secret language to report in, I chose to educate them in Common. That is why I can speak this language without a discernible accent." He grinned. "It is one of my few abilities that I do not need to augment with magic."

Entreri smiled again, snorting faintly with amusement. "Your mastery is impressive." He was admittedly proud of his own mastery of drow.

Randomly, he found himself wondering why elves were so fine-boned and delicate. Even the males, generally. There was something preferable about it, somehow. "Aesthetics," he said, making up his mind. "Elves are more aethetically pleasing. Humans are too often bulky." He wondered if he were biased, but based on what little knowledge he had of art, it was all opinion. "Although all I know of art is a thief's knowledge."

Jarlaxle flushed, taken aback by Artemis' abrupt change of subject. "You should be pleased with your own appearance, then. You are as slender as an elf. As for one's ability to appreciate art, I believe all sentient creatures are born with an innate ability to appreciate and evaluate loveliness."

Artemis complimented my appearance without making a joke of it? No. It is too incredible.

"I have never stopped to notice it," Entreri said. He turned the empty glass on the table; the flame from the nearest lamp reflected off it. "Loveliness, I mean. Although I have spent precious little time on my own appearance either." He'd simply kept himself up, not wanting to look sloppy. However, he felt strangely warm at Jarlaxle's compliment. It was a sensation he hadn't felt in a great long while, and he wondered why he was feeling it now. Arousal? Why? "I wonder if it is true, what people claim about chemistry." He'd never felt it for or with anyone. Sex to him was a mere bodily function.

Jarlaxle smiled. "What do people claim about chemistry?" He felt as if he were in a waking dream. The strangeness of Artemis' behavior was mounting again.

Entreri made a vague gesture with his hand, a type of flick of his wrist. "They say that sexual attraction is chemical. That you just...feel something physically when you're around them. Some say it is beauty. Some say it's more powerful than beauty." He definitely felt drowsy, he realized. But he was also inexplicably aroused. "I wonder what was in my drink." Something more than bourbon, it would seem. "At any rate, I've often viewed humans as more like horses. Tame ones, not wild ones. A harem is like field full of mares. A single stud is released to do his business. In a worst case scenario, a human is only a stud to be paid for. In a best case scenario..." He shrugged. People claimed love, but he had no idea what that was.

Jarlaxle almost laughed from the sheer unexpectedness. He had to focus to find a direction for this conversation. The comment about horses was confusing, but he understood harems to be like the playmates Matron Mothers and their daughters collected. "Sexual attraction...my personal experience is that it starts in the mind. I admire someone, I respect them, I want to..." He shrugged. "Personally enjoy them. Give them enjoyment. Both." He wondered if he ought to be sharing that. "Actually, I overwhelmingly find myself wishing to give enjoyment, when I am strongly attracted to someone. This is not to say I have a consistent method that I believe imparts pleasure. I want to know what makes that specific person feel comfortable and in pleasure and give them that."

Entreri was incredibly self-conscious of the warmth he now felt in his cheeks. He'd been feeling a touch warm already, no doubt from the alcohol, but the blush was unmistakeable. Since when had he ever blushed? "I have no such process. I just have to believe they won't stab me." He finally realized that might not be the best criteria to have. Certainly it was an important consideration, but could there be more?

He realized suddenly that his skin was halfway numb. He both could and couldn't feel the glass against his fingertips. "We should move me upstairs to a more private setting. I'm quite simply drunk." Although he should've been able to drink two glasses without such an effect.

Jarlaxle stood up and tossed down enough coins to cover their meal, carefully modifying his body language to look casual. He was alarmed that Artemis, indeed, seemed to be getting more drunk rather than less. He gestured grandly. "Very well. I agree. I would like to retire upstairs for the night." He walked in step with Artemis rather than leading out. Artemis didn't seem to be uncoordinated, simply...relaxed.