Chapter 6
It's a cold world
The acrid stench of burning troll immediately permeated the air as Yoshimo set fire to the still corpses with his torch, an insidious, nauseating smell worse than that of a charnelhouse. Even in unmoving death the trolls retained their repulsively disturbing forms – they rather resembled humans, if said humans had been stretched to a height of nine feet and then caught some devastating disease that left them painfully thin, gaunt and with an unhealthy olive green cast to their skin. Small pale gray eyes, blank in death, once burned with an unceasing hunger for flesh, and a wide mouth lined with yellow-black, sharp teeth matched the long talons surmounting the long-fingered 'hands' and three-toed feet. Nest-like, matted hair sprouted in uneven clumps on their skulls.
They even walked in a parody of human gait, with slumped shoulders, hands dragging on the ground, ungainly, hunched, seemingly clumsy, but with unnerving agility, and possessing surprising strength. John learnt this firsthand when he accidentally got close enough to see the corded muscles in stark relief in the arms of a troll before it attempted to bite his head off with a snake-quick dart. It wasn't the first time he had to thank the panther for saving his disreputable life.
"How much closer are we to the drawbridge?" he asked Nalia, for the tenth time. It gave him something to do, and had the added advantage of being able to irritate the aristocrat. After meeting with the captain of the guard stockaded outside the castle, they'd agreed to fight their way in after sneaking through a secret passage into the castle, lower the drawbridge to allow the guard to attack, and make use of the confusion to find Nalia's father and the rest of her family, then get the hell out of there. It wasn't much of a plan, since the servants they had freed so far mentioned other monsters about, but it had a certain direct charm – besides, they wouldn't be in direct danger after the drawbridge went down. Hopefully.
"It's upstairs. We're nearing one of the hidden staircases. I don't think we'd like to encounter trolls climbing up one of the normal ones – they're steep, and a fall would break our necks. And there're too many trolls for us to handle in the courtyard proper, so we have to let the drawbridge down via the battlements." Nalia lowered her bow. "Does your cat mind scouting a little? This corridor goes round a few bends, and ambushes…"
The panther glanced at John, who nodded. It sniffed, then loped away in perfect silence, muscles rippling under black fur.
"This place is a warren of corridors, traps and secret rooms," Y'vair said admiringly. "Your ancestors must have been entertained too much by the wrong stories. Some day I may have to appeal to you for permission to stage a play here. Pity they don't have any more flame arrow caches." Flame arrows somehow burst into flame in mid-flight when loosed from a bow...useful when trying to burn a 'dead' troll in a hurry before it regenerated. Yoshimo had attempted to explain exactly why, but John, never having been one for aerodynamics or physics, had tuned the thief off.
"Not too bad so far on this side," Hendak said. They'd decided to split up out of practicality – the corridors were narrow, and too many people would just get into each other's way. Y'vair, Constantine, Yoshimo and the cat had gone one way, and Nalia and the rest the other, around a ring of corridors until they'd finally met up again at a confluence that led to wider corridors, to advance upstairs together. So far Yoshimo nursed a nasty scratch on his arm and Y'vair had a laceration on her back, and Nalia's group suffered similar wounds, but there were no casualties. Careful rationing of potions had served its purpose – no one was too seriously injured.
"I hate things that regenerate," Y'vair grumbled. "It's lucky these things are rather stupid. At least two of them managed to inflict wounds on their…companions with the way they fight."
"Charging in and flailing around and biting." Yoshimo rubbed his eyes after checking his torch. "And we also have to fight in dim light. At least they try not to go too close to the torches."
Y'vair looked John up and down pointedly. "Sparrow…you're still unharmed, and I saw you going close enough to torch some of them." Burning trolls were maddened trolls that attacked the closest thing in the vicinity, even each other, which was obviously very helpful. Besides, John found it amusing. He'd been finding a lot of things amusing lately. Must have been the backlash from the depressing, rain-soaked march from Athkatla.
John smiled inscrutably. "Magic." Actually, he wasn't quite sure himself – if it was synchronicity, it was working better than ever today than it had ever had when he was on his world. Trolls were either intercepted or missed – once, gambling, he put himself in the direct way of one, and the troll's swipe, which couldn't possibly have missed, did so. The magic didn't seem to help the others, however. There would be time later to try and figure this out…and the price of it. Magic always had a price, even if you weren't aware that you had paid.
"When would it wear off?" Hendak asked curiously.
"I have no idea," John replied. Magic had never been famous for consistency – an unpleasant thought: if it wore off while he was in close contact with a troll, he wouldn't be in a very…favorable position. Bugger that for a lark.
The cat padded back nonchalantly into sight, and nodded its large head stiffly at them.
"Well?" Nalia asked of it. It shot her a long, measured stare that expressed unspoken low opinions that the panther held of Nalia's intelligence.
"Three of them again? These things seem to come in threes. Sometimes I wish they could try for some variety." Yoshimo set his torch into a bracket in the cold wall for a moment to massage his arm. It was clumsy at each fight to have to find a bracket to put the torch then draw the bow, so he simply gave the torch to John most of the time, who didn't have one – not enough fuel, which they carried carefully in their packs. A dagger and torch were surprisingly good – get up close enough to rip up the abdomen, then set fire to the thing as it ran around shrieking.
"I'm sure your criticism would cut the trolls deep, Yoshimo," John nudged one corpse with his toe. "They'd be absolutely burning with regret."
Yoshimo chuckled, the sound out of place in the grim utilitarian walls of the fortress.
The panther sniffed at John, implying that it was completely unimpressed with his sense of humor, then suddenly turned without a sound, growling a warning. One of the trolls had followed, apparently – roaring, it charged at them with its shambling gait, ignoring the fact that it was outnumbered. It was feathered with arrows quickly enough, and collapsed, clawing at the ground, snarling its frustration and pain. Hendak set fire to it.
The panther yawned and watched the thing convulse for a moment, then padded off back where it came, tail curling and uncurling at the end to indicate boredom.
"Should we follow?" Nalia asked, smoothly notching another arrow.
"No…I think it wanted us to…ah." The panther bounded back to them effortlessly, at its back two more snarling trolls. John hit one in the eye with his slingshot, and as it staggered, hit it lower down where it would presumably hurt more. It doubled over with a roar, low enough for one of Hendak's men to behead it with an axe. The other troll flailed at the man, the claws raking deep furrows into his plate armor and smashing him into the wall hard enough to knock the breath out of him with a loud crash of metal against stone. But panther sank its teeth into the ankle of the troll and swung its considerable weight behind it, causing the thing to fall with an ear-splitting screech, where the other men promptly cut it up and set fire to the corpses.
"Interesting. Didn't think they would be sensitive there…ah hell, what was I thinking? Of course they would be." Y'vair chuckled, as they carefully advanced after ascertaining that the man in plate armor was all right. They made no effort at being stealthy – the trolls had good hearing, and in the empty fortress footsteps and the sounds of armor echoed quite a bit. "Dirty fighting."
"You've never done it that way before?" Yoshimo looked astonished.
"Of course I have…just not with monsters. Odd." Y'vair chewed her lip thoughtfully. "Some part of me doesn't seem to register that monsters have genitals."
John was about to make a remark on that, but Nalia stopped short at a wall, while the corridor stretched forward before them into the darkness. "Here." She pressed one of the bricks, and with a click and a smooth hiss, the portion of the wall slid back, then to the side, to reveal a winding stairway.
John irrationally wished he had a video camera. If he jerked it around a little, dropped it at times, and pointed it at the wall a few times, he might be able to sell the film to whoever produced the Blair Witch Project. His immediate surroundings were stereotypical enough.
"Just need some bloody screaming, and it'd be ready to sell," he muttered, then blithely ignored Y'vair's inquiring backward glance.
**
They fought their way slowly to the drawbridge, and soon became accustomed to the stink of burning troll and the smell of the evidences of troll living. Trolls were unafraid of death, and the butchering of their comrades didn't faze them – they simply just climbed over the dead bodies, stepped on the severed limbs, anything to get at living meat. One of Hendak's men got his head ripped off, the troll biting into still-warm flesh even as the others, gagging, cut it down. There was no time for grief and no time for fear – an attempt to scatter and run would only meet with clawed disaster – one man had lost his nerve and tried, and had run immediately into a group of giant lizards that had emerged from the normal stairway. He'd screamed loudly when impaled on a large falchion as long as a conventional broadsword.
The lizards – yuan-ti 'abominations', by Y'vair's casual identification – were huge snakes, towering above them, forked tongues flicking out to taste the air. There had been three of them – two wielding large, well-made falchions, and the last wearing some sort of elaborately tailored blue robe with designs of intertwined snakes. They moved with a snake's deliberate grace, and bright, slitted reptilian eyes spoke of great intelligence. The falchions glinted in the greasy torchlight, wielded with surprising professionalism.
At least the poor man had served to draw out their ambush. The robed one immediately wove spells of protection – its skin turned bark-like and glowed, and a brilliant mirror-like circle flashed into existence below it. Busy as it was, it didn't notice the panther's pounce – large jaws closed and dug into the scaly skin, clamping onto the large spine. Unbelievably the thing was alike – gurgling incoherently, it wrapped its sinuous body around the panther, and began to squeeze.
Hendak was there immediately, swinging his broadsword; he chopped at the yuan-ti, trying to make it let go. Its comrades slithered over, falchions raised, and John managed to hit one on the hand hard enough for it to drop its weapon. Yoshimo cut a nasty gash into the thing, and it lunged, mouth gaping unbelievably open like a snake's, long fangs extended, but Yoshimo somehow managed to duck and roll, swearing loudly in his native tongue as he scraped the wound on his arm on the ground. It recovered and turned to face him, hissing, but was overrun by Hendak's men. The last yuan-ti attempted to cut off Yoshimo's head, the falchion hissing in, a crescent of deadly silver, but the thief bravely blocked the crushing stroke with his katana, driven to his knees by the force of the blow. At this point Y'vair stuck her sword through its neck and twisted grimly.
"Ow." Yoshimo rubbed his knees, sitting down to catch his breath. "Snakes. I hate snakes."
"I don't know what they're doing here," Y'vair frowned at the dead bodies. "They're reputedly intelligent, and normally live in their own communities around a temple to their god Merrshaulk. So I have no idea why they'd be aiding trolls far from any sight of a temple. Your servant Daleson didn't say anything about them," she told Nalia, who had approached.
"I'd hardly have expected him to explore the castle," Nalia replied distantly. "The fact that he warned us about the trolls and the umber hulks upstairs is enough, isn't it?"
"That's another thing I'd been meaning to ask," Y'vair countered. "Umber hulks. Upstairs. Plural. Dangerous creatures with confusion spells and tremorsense. We'd never be able to sneak up on them. Even if we lock them in their feeding area somehow with bait, they'd be able to knock down the doors and walls easily."
"That dangerous?" Yoshimo clambered to his feet.
"You have no idea," Y'vair shuddered. "Met one once on my travels – ran away before it decided to give chase. And, if we do manage to keep them in, sooner or later you still have to get rid of them."
"So what do you suggest?" Nalia asked, looking peeved at the fact that they were not going to blindly follow her in her misguided attempt to charge and try to obliterate a superior force by brute strength. "We can't just leave them…"
"They'd be able to smash through armor with ease. I'd think we should collapse the stairways to that level." Y'vair said coolly. "They'd probably make a lot of noise if they try to tunnel out. Enough warning for us, and we can surprise them when they emerge."
"What if they just dig through the ground?" John walked up to them, lighting a cigarette. He needed to steady his nerves – the prospect of losing the panther had affected him emotionally more than he'd have liked it to – as it were, he kept glancing down to check that it was still there. It had taken this incident, somehow, for him to openly admit that it was one of the better friends he had, not that it was difficult – what was difficult was that he now seemed to value it more than he had valued Kit…odd. Maybe he hit his head too hard in Irenicus' dungeon.
"They could do that," Y'vair conceded. "Gah. I really don't want to fight them. I mean it. But if we do have to…just don't look at the eyes. They'd cause you to lose your senses, and I don't have a lot of dispel magic spells stored up."
"Neither do I," Nalia admitted. "I'd tell the rest to be careful."
Eventually they reached the door to the battlements, a path that led to the winch directly above the large drawbridge. They were a fair way above the enclosed courtyard, liberally strewn with rubble, but oddly cleared of corpses – from Nalia's description of how the trolls had taken over the fortress; John rather expected somewhat more carnage. Like the rest of the fortress, the battlements and courtyard were unadorned and sternly plain, without flags, fountains, or such ornamentation that normal fortresses were so fond of sporting. Outside, the sun had climbed somewhat past its apex, but the light and warmth was welcomed by all. John breathed in the fresh air gratefully – then immediately began to sneeze. That cat let out a growl of protest. There was an all-too-familiar stink of garbage mixed with some sort of vegetation, and the lack of corpses was immediately explained.
"Otyugh." He identified, grinding out his cigarette. The others warily glanced around down at the courtyard – sure enough, there was a pile of refuse stacked to a side, and it moved, the stench growing stronger as it did so. What had looked like a misshapen heap of rags sprouted sinuous, thick toothed tentacles as well as a huge mouth, and an Otyugh lurched forward on its three stumpy feet, growling, the tentacles seemingly probing at the air. It reached the steps up to the battlements where they were, then roared its frustration – the steps were too narrow for its bulk for it to be able to ascend.
Dropping rocks that were lying around on the battlements proved to be some entertainment for a moment, as did the group of trolls that emerged from one of the doors below them, splintering it open. The trolls saw them immediately, and tried to shoulder past the otyugh to get to the stairs, but a few more well placed rocks maddened the thing, and it tore viciously at the closest troll. Soon there was an extremely enjoyable riot taking place below them. The trolls tore apart the otyugh, but not before it chewed up two of them and maimed the third. The last troll proved that rocks were a universally workable weapon, and they dropped torches onto the corpses before moving on.
At least the winch worked. The drawbridge lowered ponderously with squeals of metal, and the waiting members of the guard charged in with battlecries. More trolls emerged from doors to meet the invaders, and a spirited battle ensued.
"Come on, let's go find the family," Nalia said cheerfully. "The soldiers and the mercenaries that Captain Darien hired should be enough to clean up the rooms."
"Why can't we let them find your family?" John suggested, as the panther sat down on its haunches next to him. "Don't think we're needed any longer."
"You know, that's a good idea!" Nalia smiled brightly, a rather vapid smile. "This way, we can go upstairs while they take care of these two floors."
"There are umber hulks upstairs, you stupid girl!" Y'vair's voice rose effortlessly into the higher ranges as her eyes flashed. "Are you insane? Those soldiers are rested, we are not. Let them take the top floor! We can handle the second floor, if you have a burning need to exterminate all the trolls…"
"This is my home, and I grew up in it! Of course I want them all dead!" Nalia refused to back down. "But they don't have magic, and…"
"You'd think that'd give us a better chance? We're both not Elminster!"
"There's still a better chance! And you heard Daleson…the chief troll is on the third floor as well! If we can get rid of it, the problem will be solved once and for all."
"All the more why we shouldn't go up there when we're wounded and tired! I don't want to meet a chief troll!"
"Don't you have a sense of adventure?"
"Not when it's going to get us all killed!"
The two glared at each other. If looks could kill, they'd both be convulsing on the ground by now. As it were, the men all gave each other nervous, wary glances, then as a body, carefully backed away from Nalia and Y'vair. Since the beginning, men knew not to interfere when a woman got really angry. Hell hath no fury, and all that.
John realized that Yoshimo, Hendak and the others were looking at him. He rolled his eyes, wishing that people would stop looking at him for decisions, then cleared his throat pointedly. "Right. Y'vair, give the girl some bit, okay? Nalia, do you have a plan?"
Nalia folded her arms proudly, completely missing the veiled insult that referred to her as a horse. "As a matter of fact, I do. If it's the gaze of the…umber hulks that is the problem, I have a solution. Would any of you happen to know the spell 'stinking cloud', or any of its variants?"
"I don't think it'd would make much of a difference," Y'vair said ungraciously, but she did calm down enough to consider Nalia's plan in a better light, "And I'm not good enough to use the higher level versions…unless you have cloudkill scrolls."
Nalia frowned. "No…an oversight, perhaps, but I had not known about the umber hulks here. I could send people back to Athkatla to buy some, but the delay might be…" She glanced at John curiously. "Unless your magic would work again."
"It's unreliable," John leaned against the battlements precariously, such that the panther growled until he stopped. It never passed up on a chance to mother him. "Could try."
"Right. We'd go with you," Y'vair said grimly. Before Nalia could frame a reply, she added, "Hendak's men would be better employed here. Give us the money, and we'd go back to Athkatla and return with the scrolls. You'd have to sponsor us, though – our finances are sort of drained at this moment."
"That won't be a problem," Nalia said doubtfully, her tone belying her skepticism at the plan of allowing the three of them to leave.
"We won't be running away," Yoshimo assured her, "We need to see this wizard friend of yours, remember?"
"By the way, if this friend turns out not to exist," John said casually, fingering the pouch where he kept the slingshot, "You may find that this little troll infestation was only a walk in the park compared to what we will do."
"You dare question my word?" Nalia stiffened, flushing angrily.
John deliberately turned away from her to look over the battlements. Below, the fight had more or less been concluded, and had spread indoors. A small number of guards and mercenaries alike were unmoving on the ground, mingling with the burning bodies of the trolls. "Until later, I'm withholding judgement on that."
"You are a cold man, John Constantine."
"It's a cold world." Bint.
**
Once they strolled out of the fortress, Y'vair breathed a sigh of relief. "Gods. One moment longer and I might have strangled that girl."
"Only one moment? I'd have beaten you to it, then," Yoshimo grinned. "She makes my hands itch."
"Homicidal barbarians," John accused them with mock distaste. The panther made a sound whose equivalent in the human tongue was cynical laughter.
"It's very therapeutic, sparrow." Y'vair retorted. "Now. Is your magic going to start in the immediate future, or…"
"Just keep walking, luv." John said lackadaisically, knowing that it rather irritated Y'vair, "We'd find out sooner or later."
"It doesn't work when you call it to?" Y'vair asked curiously. "How strange."
"It works all the time, or not at all, or when I really want something done,"
"Can you stop being mysterious for just five minutes?"
"What would you do in return, then?" John pretended to consider it, resting his fist against his cheek in the classic 'Thinker' pose.
Y'vair swore at him in some language that sounded suspiciously non-human.
"Hush," Yoshimo said quietly. "There's someone ahead."
"I can only see trees," Y'vair said sulkily. "And we're still close to the fortress, so I doubt there'd be that much disturbance still."
"What fortress?" John asked innocently, hiding his own surprise – he had looked behind them a second ago. The ugly fortress had disappeared, replaced by unfamiliar trees, which meant that magic had managed to pick them up and deposit them halfway on the route to Athkatla. He couldn't see the city walls yet, so they probably just ended up somewhere that he was supposed to go to. It did that on occasion.
Y'vair turned around, then muttered darkly to herself. "Wild magic."
"There's no such thing as wild magic any longer, luv." John said automatically, then amended, "Probably."
"Not on this world. Your magic is unconstrained by spells. Wild magic."
"Can you two discuss this later?" Yoshimo said in a strained voice. "I hear fighting, and we have to decide whether to sneak around them or to go look."
They edged closer to a conveniently lush clump of bushes, the panther padding carefully near a break in the underbrush that would allow it to charge and attack if need be.
Some distance ahead, someone was fighting six drow elves. Or rather, he had killed four drow elves, with two left. The others were mangled corpses on the ground.
The person appeared to be human, taller than average height, but not by enough to be conspicuous, skin bronzed by the sun, gracefully muscled like a dancer, not grossly so like a bodybuilder. His long hair, tied into a ponytail was so dark as to be black, touched here and there with a few silvering strands, with occasional highlights of deep blue. He could be called handsome, if he smiled, but currently his expression was twisted into one of a towering, intense rage, mouth open, teeth bared in a soundless snarl as he vented his anger on the dark elven warriors.
They watched with something approaching awe as he engaged both drow warriors with brutal, murderous skill, not killing but maiming with his short sword and heavy jeweled dagger, a deadly windstorm of flashing metal, slashing, stabbing, slicing. Rolling smoothly to avoid a slash from the one wielding two swords, he recovered and scythed out the legs from under the warrior with one fluid move. As the drow fell, he darted behind and stabbed him in the back with the dagger, efficiently, just enough to kill, then kicked the body off and deflected the lance of the second warrior with his sword.
The second warrior shouted something in the drow tongue, which managed to be both musical and harsh at the same time, and suddenly a large globe of darkness covered both fighters. The sounds of fighting resumed in an eyeblink's worth of time, then the most appalling snarl could be heard, inhuman, wildly vicious, and lupine – and also very familiar. They exchanged glances, and Y'vair mouthed the word 'werewolf', which rather explained the man's savage speed and grace.
There was a wet crunching sound, and the globe of darkness abruptly dissipated, to reveal the drow warrior flat on the ground, head nearly severed from the still-twitching body by a single bite, and the human fighter, who was using the drow's cloak to wipe off his weapons.
He turned sharply to look in their direction, and they noticed his eyes were the startling amber of a wolf's, still burning in the intensity of some barely-controlled fury. He wore well-made, black leather armor, undecorated by any of the customary designs, an unremarkable soft leather belt with pouches and a dagger scabbard attached, a plain, travel-worn sword scabbard, utilitarian, dusty brown trousers, leggings, bracers and boots. His dark red-brown travelling cloak, resembling the color of drying blood, was, like the rest of his attire, common. If not for the eyes and the leather collar adorned with a silver coin around his neck, he could probably pass unnoticed through any city that had a fair share of 'adventurers'.
He growled at them, a wolfish sound, then seemed to shake himself, hands tightening on his weapons. "Come out. I can smell you." His voice was a light, pleasant baritone that didn't match the rest of him.
Y'vair and Yoshimo looked as one to John. He sighed inwardly, then stepped out of the bushes, cautiously followed by the others. "I'm sure the ambience of the forest is tediously regular, but decorating trees with disemboweled corpses may be going a little too far."
He stared at John, features contorting for a moment as his lip twitched upward to reveal long canines that hadn't been there a moment ago, then visibly tried to calm himself when the panther bared its own teeth in a warning. "No one's complained yet. You are John Constantine?"
"It's one of the names I've been called."
"Good. Some time ago you escaped from a dungeon under Athkatla with a werewolf called K'yanae." It wasn't a question, but the man waited expectantly. When none of them showed any reaction, he continued. "Recently you have been making…inquiries, and you plan to set up communication to K'yanae's father in Baldur's Gate. I will go with you."
"You're werewolf, but how would we know your relationship to K'yanae?" Y'vair said bluntly. "You could wish her ill for all we know."
"My relationship with her is personal," the man said stiffly, "But I am a friend."
"Artemis Entreri!" Yoshimo said suddenly, snapping his fingers. "You're Artemis Entreri…that dagger, your skill…Y'vair, believe him. He's working for K'yanae down in Calimport. Her private…assassin."
"I knew that," Y'vair looked annoyed with herself. "Damn. My brain's probably asleep today..."
"What?" John asked, glancing at the man, who watched them dispassionately. "Who?"
"You're looking at the finest assassin in Calimport, which is known for its hired killers," Yoshimo said, expression apprehensive, "He's rather…well known." The thief's eyes pleaded with John not to ask any more questions.
"How'd you know the dark elves were looking for me?" John asked curiously.
"They were creeping up to your camp in the night," Entreri nudged at the metal band on the head of the nearest drow corpse with his foot. All the corpses wore bands. "The band allowed them to walk in the sunlight, as well. I need you alive to be able to contact Zaknafein Do'Urden – to travel through the Sword Coast to Baldur's Gate or Calimport would take far too long, and Black Talons have no contacts in this part of the Sword Coast. Shadow thieves." He explained curtly. "I will help you until then, since you seem so capable of getting into trouble – slave traders, dark elves, red dragons, trolls…"
"Red dragons?" Y'vair blinked.
"That Jierdan Firkaag John Constantine spoke to in the Copper Coronet has a true shape which is somewhat larger, scaly, and breathes fire." John privately and irrationally wondered if Entreri's laconic speech was a recent affectation considering he was in unfamiliar company, or if it was a long-standing habit.
"I knew there was something wrong with him," Y'vair muttered, looking irked.
"What can disturb a red dragon enough for him to require outside aid?" Yoshimo mused aloud. "Constantine, please tell me you don't intend to find out."
"I'd try to restrain my curiosity."
"Enough of this," Entreri said in a voice as cold as the northern winds. "We are not helping K'yanae in any way by this. Why do you return to Athkatla?"
"You don't know? Weren't you spying on us?" John feigned surprise. "Sniffing around our campsite, lurking in the shadows…"
"Amazing, sparrow," Y'vair murmured, "I'm so bewildered. How do you manage to make so many enemies with that tongue of yours?"
"It's a gift, luv."
Entreri glared at John, unconsciously growling deep in his throat. The panther purposefully moved in front of John.
"We return to purchase some scrolls," Yoshimo said quickly, before Entreri decided to delete them, "To fight umber hulks."
"The distance from here to the fortress is long, and it has only been two days. How could you have reached the fortress and returned? Magic?"
John nodded carelessly. "Can't you?"
"Be nice, sparrow," Y'vair poked him in the back. "I must apologize for John's behavior," she told Entreri with a perfectly straight face, "He's not from this world, and we haven't managed to civilize him just yet."
Entreri actually smiled, thinly, a fleeting ghost of an expression, but it showed that the man at least had some humanity. John felt profoundly grateful for Y'vair's disarming presence.
**
Synchronicity deposited them a mile away from the city gates, and they walked the rest of it, talking at Entreri. The panther ignored the assassin, and showed its displeasure by grumbling quietly to itself. John didn't think the conversation qualified as 'talking to' the assassin – Entreri answered brusquely, his manner guarded, and sometimes he didn't answer at all, but pretended he hadn't heard the questions. From what they gleaned, he had been travelling with K'yanae somewhere to check out the recent turmoil of thief guilds in Athkatla, and Irenicus showed up. After that Entreri couldn't remember anything, except for waking up with a splitting headache in a ditch, with K'yanae and Irenicus gone, leaving only her collar and no signs of a fight except for burned rings in the ground and the stench of magic. They'd apparently been in the middle of nowhere, so he couldn't contact anyone he knew, so he went to Athkatla, the closest place, to try and find out about Irenicus. It turned out that Irenicus was not listed under the huge records of magic users that the Cowled Wizards kept in the Government building, so there was no way of finding out if Irenicus had kidnapped K'yanae for her good or for ill. After wandering around for a week or so, and receiving no contact from either the Black Talons or the Baldur's Gate thieves, he was just about going to give up hope and go to Baldur's Gate, when he overheard some city guards discussing the fight in the quarry at Waukeen's Promenade. A bit of espionage had led him to the party, and he had followed them. So far they didn't seem too incompetent.
"Incompetent?" Y'vair objected. "Sparrow, are you just going to stand there and let him insult us?"
"He can fight better than all of us combined," John said pragmatically. "If you really want to, go try stab him in the back. We'd give what's left of you a nice funeral. Do you want white flowers or black ones?"
"Sparrow!"
John laughed at her mortified expression, and winked at the assassin. The smile flashed onto Entreri's features again – it didn't look natural on the man's face. John had gotten a somewhat hurried background of their new travelling companion from Yoshimo, and he made several mental notes never to really offend Entreri. There were some people who could be classed as 'natural walking disasters', and John was convinced that if Entreri really wanted to, he could probably depopulate several towns easily.
Entreri had worn a carefully neutral expression when speaking of the past, but John had a strong hunch as to the exact nature of his relationship with K'yanae. He considered trying to arrange for Entreri to 'take care' of Irenicus. Entreri was one of the most tightly controlled, harshly determined, strong-willed, dangerous being that John had met, so far, and when he got too close he occasionally got irrational urges to check for wiring, or shiny steel gears, anything to indicate Entreri wasn't, disturbingly, a living creature. There was something absolutely inhuman about his attitude. He seemed to be able to change his 'aura' whenever he liked – sometimes he seemed to dominate the area, but most of the time, he was so quietly, dangerously unobtrusive that John had to check for him. The assassin's punishments would no doubt be worse than anything he could think of personally, and he had seen Hell itself, or an aspect of it. Irenicus would take a very, very long time to die, if Entreri had anything to do with it.
The prospect was thoroughly attractive.
--
Little Notes and References:
Kit: Constantine's ex-girlfriend, Irish, pretty, intelligent, strong-willed. It's complicated – go read Hellblazer yourself. Can only tell you that losing her was a great blow to Constantine.
Entreri: Entreri works for K'yanae, after a very long and convoluted incident in 'Journeys'. As to his relationship with her, just go read 'A Tale of Winter's Tide', if you're really curious. I hadn't intended to bring him in this early in the story, but it would have to do.
