"I won't bore you with the details," Hadrian said. "It was a very long story."
The rogue took a drink from the waterskin and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. Drizzt's lavender eyes watched every movement with more caution now that he knew who this elf was.
"He told me of his childhood, his rise to power, the hunt for the halfling, and his defeat by the hand of a drow renegade," Hadrian continued, seeming unaware of Drizzt's scrutiny. "He told me everything. And then he told me his favor."
"What was the favor?" Drizzt asked.
Hadrian ran a hand through his white hair and rested back against the wall of his prison, putting his hands behind his head.
When the tale finished, the boy's dark eyes were wide with wonder. His grandfather heaved a heavy sigh and leaned back in his chair, staring out of the dusty window at the coming twilight. The boy watched the assassin with curiosity as the man who had told him such a wonderful tale of adventure.
Artemis Entreri, who seemed to be bodily young, turned his gray eyes to the boy. Those eyes were aged beyond what any human should have been. The boy waited patiently as Entreri spoke once more.
"Now that you have heard my tale, you must do me a favor."
The boy nodded. He had agreed to the favor in exchange for the story. The boy looked at Entreri with his large almond shaped, gray eyes. A pained look crossed the assassin's face for a brief instant.
"Take my sword, boy, and take my dagger." The words were calm. "Take my jeweled dagger and plunge it into my heart. Take my life into yourself."
The boy took a moment to recall those words. His eyes widened in fear and he shook his head in denial, the white locks of his shoulder length hair brushing his cheeks. Entreri's cold eyes narrowed.
"You swore on pain of death to do me a favor."
The boy's eyes stung with unshed tears. He had just met this amazing man only three days before and listened to the tale of his life. He didn't want to kill his grandfather. But he couldn't go back on his word. He had heard what the dagger would do when it pierced flesh. He didn't want his grandfather to suffer the horror of the dagger's blade.
The dagger in question appeared in Entreri's hand, the hilt offered to the boy. His hand shook as he reached for the blade. A glance into Entreri's cold, dark eyes was enough. The boy understood. The man wanted to die. He had lived longer than he should have, seen more than he wanted, experienced life and love, pain and death. Though tears trickled down his cheeks, the boy stood firm and held the dagger ready to strike.
"You are strong, so much stronger than I am," his grandfather said, tiredly. "Take my weapons, for they are all that is left of me and all I can give you."
The boy nodded and glanced at the sword leaning against the table nearby. The red blade had seen the assassin through many battles and the boy knew it would see many more before he was through.
"And tell that treacherous father of yours that he was right," his grandfather added quietly, a hint of bitterness in his voice. "That should please him."
The boy nodded as his hand moved forward. He felt the dagger plunge into his grandfather's chest, piercing his heart. He heard the sharp gasp of Entreri's last breath as the pull of the magical dagger sucked his life from him. He felt the creep of the assassin's life force slide along his body, settling in his bones. When the sensation ebbed away, he pulled the dagger from his grandfather's chest. He wiped the blood from the blade onto his tunic and took the sheath from his grandfather's lifeless hand. Wiping away the last tears he was going to shed, the boy turned away from the hollow shell of a once great assassin, picked up the lethal sword leaning against the table, and left the small ramshackle house. His footsteps were silent--years of practice and perfect balance--as he made his way to the waypoint where he was to meet his father. The alley behind what was once the Copper Ante was dark and empty. The halfling establishment was silent and dark as well, the people having long ago abandoned the building. The boy waited silently, knowing his father would know he was there.
Somehow he always knew...