Chapter Nineteen: A Rescue
Artemis Entreri stepped out of the tavern, squinting in the evening sun.
He wasn't half as drunk as he needed to be.
Damnit, Dahlia.
He shook his head as if attempting to cast the memories away.
Jarlaxle's consultation with Kimmuriel had revealed that there wasn't an easy fix. The root of Dahlia's rage lie in past trauma, a trauma that couldn't be truly erased without destroying her personality completely.
Not to mention her memories. Including memories of him.
Shit.
He'd check in with Jarlaxle, then return to the bar. The beer here tasted like donkey piss but at least it was enough to give him a nice, warm buzz.
Before Entreri stepped off into the street however, something caught his eye.
A man-tall, human, pale-strode past him, his black cloak billowing behind him, the insignia of the Shadovar briefly visible on an armband.
The Shadovar agent? Jarlaxle's lover-or former lover-had put herself in bed with the Shadovar or something like that. They had attempted to kidnap the little drow girl.
So what was this one up to?
He decided to find out.
Entreri stalked after the man, his feet silent on the cobblestoned street. The townsfolk shrank away from the Shadovar as he past by, which amused him. To any ordinary viewer, the thought of someone who looked like Artemis Entreri taking on one as frightening as the Shar-worshipper was suicide. But Entreri knew better than that. Those who dressed themselves as silly villains from an afternoon play were almost never as tough as they pretended to be.
Besides, it paid to be discrete. Making every eye fall on you when you entered in was a bad way to assassinate someone. Something he had argued to a certain foppish drow on many occasions.
Up ahead, his quarry stopped. The man turned his head towards an alleyway to his left. He stared at it without moving for several moments.
Did the man know he was being followed?
Entreri made a brief study of his surroundings, possible areas where he could strike and pathways to escape before following the man, who had disappeared into the alley.
As the opening became visible, it was clear that the man simply stood there completely still.
Entreri readied his dagger. The man must be waiting for him. But that didn't seem right. Instead, the man was focused on something else for the moment. Something beyond the alleyway.
Muffled voices drifted from the other side.
"We'll catch a pretty penny for this one," said a grating voice. "She's nice and exotic, ya see? Those brothels down in Calimshan will love her. You know they like 'em real young, they do. Ain't that right?"
Another man guffawed at the suggestion. Entreri's face contorted in rage and disgust.
Kill the Shadovar, then kill these fetid pieces of slime.
Suddenly, a girl screamed.
"Nau, nau, nau!"
What? The little drow girl? So that is what the Shadovar was up to. He was going to steal the girl while her parents raged at each other. But what was Kesrith doing out here alone in this filthy city of scoundrels and pirates?
One of the traffickers started shrieking.
"The little bitch set me on fire!" Several thumps as the man no doubt rolled around on the ground to kill the flames. "You'll pay for that, little cunt!"
Kesrith screamed again. Her cry was cut off with gurgling and Entreri readied himself for a rescue.
The Shadovar made his move. He launched himself from the shadows and onto the man who was now strangling the girl. A knife in the jugular vein released his grip and Kesrith shrank away behind some old barrels, crying weakly.
The Shadovar didn't get to the other man in time. Entreri's dagger slipped out of his victim's eye as he turned and regarded the agent.
The two men stared at one another.
"What?" said his opponent, lifting a brow. "He was a sick bastard." He shrugged.
"On that we can agree," replied Entreri. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to let you take the girl.
"This doesn't concern you." The man readied his daggers.
"Oh, but it does." Entreri stuck. His daggers met the other man's and he pushed him off. In the tight alleyway it was harder to maneuver, but the dagger still clashed, one after another.
He had to give the man credit. Maybe Thultanthar had sent someone special to retrieve the child. That or they were improving their training from the last time he had fought them.
The man even managed to get a few blows past him, though it was blocked by the chain mail beneath his tunic.
Eventually, Entreri was growing tired of this.
To the point, then.
Entreri whirled away as the man sliced down with his daggers and returned to face him before he could deal another blow. As he came around, he embedded his dagger into the man's temple with his right hand, and slashed at the man's throat with his left. Stunned, the man dropped his daggers and felt to his knees. His mouth moved like a dying fish as he touched his head and then stared at the blood on his fingers. Entreri pulled the dagger out and the Shadovar collapsed.
Well, whoever he was, he wasn't that special.
He glanced down at the two dead trafficker scumbags. Damnit. He had been looking forward to teaching them a lesson.
He shrugged. At least they wouldn't be harming anymore little girls.
He made his way over to the barrel where Kesrith was still crying.
"No! Don't come closer!" cried the girl as he approached.
He knelt. "It's just me. Entreri. You beat me at sava, remember?"
She looked up and saw that it was him. Her faced brightened a little, though he could see that she was trying hard to keep a stoic drow expression and failing.
"Come here," he said, reaching out. "I'll take you to your father."
"I don't want to go back! I must return to Menzoberranzan!"
"Is that why you are out here alone?" He couldn't keep from laughing. "That is miles away. Hundreds, even. Didn't you pay attention when you came up here?"
The girl pouted. "I tried to but then Vaelirra made me drink the tea and I couldn't remember what had happened. It didn't seem like a long time."
Tea? He was baffled for a moment, then he thought back to the jar of little red mushrooms that the drow woman had been strung out on. Of course.
The woman had been drugging her daughter.
He'd take her to Jarlaxle then.
For all his faults, Jarlaxle wouldn't feed his own child a potentially fatal drug. Well, he probably wouldn't.
As he and the girl got to their feet, he brushed himself off and looked around at the bodies.
The drow could clean the mess, he decided.