Chapter Twenty-Three: The One-Eyed Jax
Artemis Entreri brought the pipe to his lips and inhaled as he watched the crowd.
The One-Eyed Jax was full to the brim with rowdy patrons, no doubt to hear the young and handsome bard across the way. The boy was not bad at all, and more than a few women swooned over him as he sang saccharine love songs. During a particularly sappy ballad he winked at one of the women, making her bounce on her heels and squeal with excitement.
Entreri rolled his eyes. Definitely not the usual clientele. A handful of drow were also there, a couple he recognized as Bregan D'aerthe, talking quietly, some of them even socializing with humans. It was a change from the growling pirates and baudy drinking songs that had filled with place years ago. A few pirates still hung around peering out at the rabble with narrowed eyes as if thinking along similar lines to Entreri. The City of Sails had transformed in a few short years and the assassin was sure that there were many who weren't pleased with the changes.
Was this the vision Jarlaxle had for the city of Luskan? He found it difficult to imagine the drow staying docile enough to recreate some miniature version of Waterdeep. They were for sure capable of building a beautiful city, as Menzoberranzan had been one of the most beautiful places he had ever seen. But would they be able to transform Luskan into something that would be tolerable to surfacers?
More importantly, could they stop backstabbing each other long enough to complete such a project?
There were wonderful and beautiful aspects of the drow people - their art, architecture, music, food. But all of that was tinged with an element that any decent person from the surface would find abominable - Lolth. It seemed that for now the humans in Luskan were fine with drow merchants and food carts. Humans would trade willingly with the drow. Something like a drow owned bed-and-breakfast might not been seen as anything more than a curious novelty. A few too many spider motifs, however, and the locals would start getting nervous. And if the drow attempted to build one of their churches though... Well, that would cause every nation within a hundred leagues to fall upon Luskan and restore it to it's rightful order.
Entreri hoped that they weren't foolish enough to try something like that. Jarlaxle was a clever man, brilliant even, but he wasn't human. The mercenary had always behaved as if he respected humans, but Entreri was not so sure that he truly understood them. Did his friend grasp how easy to scare humans were? Their potential for mob mentality? The potential for violence? Entreri suspected that the drow, including Jarlaxle, considered humans too weak to be a true threat. But Entreri knew that it wasn't true. Even a powerful and skilled assassin such as himself would be wary of a mob hell-bent on wiping out those they deemed evil-doers, no matter who or what that mob was made up of.
But beyond understanding human condition, there were other problems. No matter how much he thought of himself as being in control here, Jarlaxle might be little more than a puppet. The matron mothers certainly wouldn't hesitate to use Jarlaxle's accomplishments as an avenue to building power on the surface. There were also no guarantees that the drow would always obey him. More and more of the drow who came here were not affiliated with Bregan D'aerthe, and were under no obligation to be his follower. And of course there was Archmage Gromph, a wild card with his own agenda that none but he himself understood fully.
The threads here were all twisted and winding. Such was the way of the drow. He drew from the pipe again. It struck him that he was a little too familiar with the ways of the drow.
Entreri smiled bitterly and wondered for what seemed like the thousandth time why he seemed to always keep coming back to them. A race that treated him with utter contempt just for being born human.
And he knew the answer, though he loathed to admit it to himself.
Jarlaxle. His mercenaries. And of course Drizzt Do'Urden.
He was connected to them, whether he wanted to be or not, whether he wanted to acknowledge it or not.
His relationship with Drizzt Do'Urden had been complicated, but he understood his own journey with the drow ranger. It had started at rivalry and slowly over time turned into an odd friendship and warm respect. He had adventured with Bregan D'aerthe, and despite the hatefulness of the drow, those were some of the funnest times he had had in his life. But Jarlaxle...
Well, he couldn't deny to himself that Jarlaxle was the drow who he had the most connection to. The one he really kept coming back to.
He didn't know how it had happened but Jarlaxle had become a pillar in his life. Someone he didn't want to rely on, but it was how he truly felt. In this place, Entreri chose not to deny his feelings.
He didn't have to ever see him again. And yet he kept coming back. Other people were capable of helping him with his problems. Such as Catti-Brie and Drizzt. But despite the fact that he was no longer Drizzt's enemy, he didn't feel truly comfortable asking him for help in that way. Not the way his thoughts immediately turned to the more flamboyant drow when he was in a time of need.
Artemis shook his head. Nine Hells. What had happened to him to make him this... attached to the mercenary leader? What had happened back there, in Jarlaxle's office between the two of them?
Would that be some mistake that they never mentioned again or attempted to pursue, some folly of drunken men seeking comfort and escape? Or would Jarlaxle pursue it as he seemed to pursue just about everything with a pulse that walked on two legs? Just another dalliance for a mercenary with plenty under his belt?
Why couldn't he just get the images out of his head?
Those slender dark fingers. Jarlaxle's full lips so close to his. How the man's erection had strained against his own.
His pants felt tight.
Shit.
In his youth, Entreri had experimented with men, and it was pleasurable. But he'd thought that part of his life was over. For over a century women had kept his bed warm. But maybe he needed to change that. Maybe sex with another man was what he truly craved. Jarlaxle could give that to him.
But no. As annoying as Jarlaxle could be he didn't want this thing to come between their friendship.
Artemis shook his head, trying push such thoughts away. He had come to this place to get drunk, not to torture himself with thoughts of the Jarlaxle.
He took a breath then let his eyes drift out to the crowd again. There were fewer people here now, the bard had finished his set, and a woman played the piano in the corner of the room. He glanced around. Many of the patrons were still here, including the drow who were talking amongst themselves at a table, using their hand sign and their own language. Artemis scanned the rest of the room. A pirate was getting a little too handsy with one of the barmaids and was about to be thrown out, while a lone elf sit at the bar, his drink untouched. The elf watched the drow warily and swallowed hard when one of them looked up at him. The drow narrowed his eyes then went back to chatting with his companions.
No doubt the drow had been instructed not to come into conflict with any elf they encountered. There weren't a lot of elves here in the city and Entreri couldn't blame them for avoiding the place. The drow hated their surface cousins far worse than they could ever conceive of hating humans.
If the elven lad had come seeking the drow, he was a fool.
His drink nearly empty, Entreri decided to find out. He walked over to the bar, aware that the drow group were following his sat at the bar stool next to the elf who was still glancing surreptitiously at the party of drow in the corner.
"Two whiskeys," said the assassin to the bartender as the young elf turned to him. The boy was handsome, if a little thin. His long chestnut hair was bound in a braid that ran down his back. His green eyes met Entreri's.
"Can I help you?" he asked as two glasses of whiskey were set in front of them.
Entreri laid down a gold piece. "Perhaps it is I that can help you."
He saw the young man face twitch.
"And what would make you think I need help?"
"You look lost. And you keep glancing towards your darker cousins."
The boy frowned and his head nearly turned to look towards the drow again before he stopped himself.
"What do you want, human?" he snapped.
"No need to be hostile. I simply wanted to welcome an elf to Luskan. Not many of your kind here."
The boy nearly looked at the drow yet again and Entreri was tempted to grab him and drag him out of here before the dark elves became upset.
"Not many here. That is true. It doesn't seem like the sort of place that one of the People would settle in," he said, his voice low.
"Are you just passing through or...?"
The elf's eyes studied him suspiciously. "I am here on business." The boy frowned then sighed. "I-I was sent here by my clan. W-we need to speak to the drow who is in charge of this place."
Entreri lifted a brow at that. "Is there a reason?" If the elf was sent here alone by his clan then their situation must be dire.
"I would prefer to discuss that with the drow."
Entreri rubbed his chin. "Well you are in luck. Because I know the man you speak of. And I can take you to him." The elf's brows raised at that.
"Meanwhile I have a place you can stay," said Entreri giving the boy a meaningful look. He patted the young man on the shoulder, aware that he table of dark elves was now silent and staring, attempting to eavesdrop on their conversation. "I am Artemis Entreri, by the way," he said, not letting go of the other man's shoulder.
"Phaendar Tallandren."
He brushed a lock of the elf's chestnut hair and he reddened. Let the drow think he was just taking the boy home for a tryst.
As he stood, though, the tightness in his breeches and the elf's flushed face told him that this might end up as something more than a ruse.