Note: the quote is really the best I could find... How sad!
Chapter 4: Soul-searching, breakfast and gnomish inventions
All happiness depends on a leisurely breakfast. John Gunther
Shandara was laying on her bed, trying to read a book. The noise coming from behind the wall was disturbing her, but she knew she couldn't do anything about it. Aran had once again decided to make the newest guild members train their skills, but judging from the sounds the exercise wasn't going too well.
It was time to get up anyway. She put the book on the floor beside her bed and started to look for something to wear. She remembered the way the drow had stared at her last night, and although she had enjoyed his admiration and noticed his good looks, she decided not to try to beg more of those stares. The drow could be a fascinating lover, with his trimmed body, flirting eyes and flamboyant manners, but at the time she wasn't interested. Besides, she thought, Isaldora would need some kind of a wake up, and the drow would be perfect for that job.
Shandara dressed up in a plain red dress, tied her hair with a black ribbon and looked at her image from a large mirror on the wall. She had promised herself that she wouldn't interfere with the love lives of others, especially when her own was usually closer to a disaster. But this opportunity was too good to miss. Isaldora would get rid of her prejudice and also some of her morality, which sometimes annoyed Shandara. The elf, although working for thieves, had a bad habit of moralizing and seeing things either as black or white. Shandara, a woman who adored all kinds of colours, sights and sounds, couldn't stand it, and she had sworn to herself that she would do something about it. Now the solution was here, in the form of a dark elf. The world seemed to have a strange way of arranging things, Shandara thought, grinning at her reflection.
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Isaldora hadn't slept well, and when she had heard the noise from the practice, she had remembered that she had neglected her own training. Now she was in one of the training rooms, trying to concentrate on the movements.
Trying is the right word, she thought, putting her sword down and leaning on the wall. She felt like her feet were made of lead and her arms of wood. She hadn't slept well, but that wasn't a good enough reason for this kind of clumsiness.
It was the drow. Aran had hired a drow, who had simply walked into the guild, like he had the right. Isaldora had been taught to hate drows. It was one of the things her mother had always told her; never trust a drow. But despite all the hate she had been taught, she had never seen a drow. She had had a picture in her mind; a picture of a drow with bared weapons that were dripping with blood of innocent elves. She had not expected colourful clothes, a hat with a feather and eyes that you could drown in.
That was something from those books Shandara kept bringing her, with beautiful heroines who, although they were powerful themselves, always became mindless idiots when they met the hero. Isaldora had often wondered why Shandara gave those books to her, since the woman never read them herself. 'To teach you something,' Shandara had once said with an evil smile and given her a book where a low servant fell in love with a daughter of a noble lord.
Isaldora sighed and cursed Shandara and her books to the deepest hell. Because of those books her mind was filled with romantic ideas. Without them she... Isaldora sighed again. She couldn't really blame Shandara. She wasn't sure what had happened when she had met the eyes of the drow, but now those eyes haunted her every moment. The eyes of the enemy.
Isaldora picked up the sword and walked to the middle of the room. It didn't matter what she had felt when she saw the drow. It was then and this was now. She would have to concentrate on the moment, on training and regaining her skills that had suddenly disappeared. And the drow... She would simply have to avoid those eyes and stop reading those books Shandara kept giving her.
Left foot forwards, sword arm up and spin left. This time it went perfectly. Isaldora smiled and tossed the sword in the air, catching it without any difficulties. All things worked out when you were logical and didn't let strange emotions trouble you. Sure, keep telling yourself that, a little voice inside her mind chuckled. It's not like you actually believe yourself.
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Entreri didn't like the room he had been given. It was surprisingly big and all the furniture was comfortable, but that was exactly what troubled him. Although he had to admit that he liked it better than those cheap rooms in the inns they had been staying lately, this kind of luxury could be bad. He didn't want to get comfortable, because he had witnessed how so many people had gone soft and lost their edge because of easy life. Dondon had been one of them, and also the closest to him.
Thinking about Dondon brought Dwahvel in his mind. He had learned to like and respect the clever halfling woman, and was hoping that she was doing well. He truly had enjoyed their talks, and realized that he actually missed her. Maybe there is always a chance for change, Entreri thought, walking around the room uneasily. Jarlaxle was a different matter, although they were now equal, Entreri still remembered his time in Menzoberranzan, and his time in Calimport where the drow had directed his actions.
He also remembered Drizzt Do'Urden, and how his hand had sunk into the drow's chest. That hadn't been the way to win, and he knew that without the psionic interference of Kimmuriel he would have lost. But he hadn't. "Damn you, Jarlaxle," he whispered, but without much conviction. It had happened, and there was no way of making it better. He would have to concentrate on what he was doing now, in this new place, working for a new master.
Artemis Entreri smiled. He had never worked for any master, but always for himself. This time wouldn't be any different. He was his own master, and nothing could ever change that.
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"Good morning, my lady." Shandara, who had been walking down the corridor turned around when she heard the voice behind her, and met Jarlaxle's eyes. "Morning, good sir," she replied in her most innocent voice, doing a little curtsy and flashing a quick smile. Jarlaxle laughed and then shook his head with disbelief: "You truly are an interesting one."
"Why thank you, good sir," Shandara said with a hint of irony in her voice. "So you decided to stay then," she continued in her normal tone, leaning on the wall and giving him an inquiring look. "What did Aran tell you to do?"
"Actually he told us to get comfortable and wait for his word," Jarlaxle said honestly. "I'm wondering what kind of a test he has in store for us."
"Aran doesn't test people," Shandara said. "He usually makes sure they are good enough before he hires them. I'm sorry, but I don't think I've heard your name."
"Jarlalxe," he said, bowing and flashing her a charming smile. "I'm dreadfully sorry that I..."
"You can save that for the other women around here," Shandara said dryly. "They can even fall for that. Jarlaxle? Don't you drows usually have longer names, stating the house you belong to?."
"You're right," Jarlaxle said, hiding his surprise. He hadn't expected the woman to know anything about the traditions of drow, humans rarely did. And this attempt to find out more about him that wasn't even masked to be something else. He remembered how Sharlotta had sometimes tried to pry information out of him, which had been one of the woman's many annoying features. He looked into Shandara's eyes and met the green, calm stare. This one really was interesting. "But I do not belong to any house. Or didn't belong."
"A houseless drow who still survived in the Underdark?" Shandara remarked. "You must be really good. Or lucky," she added smiling. "So, good sir, would you like to accompany me to breakfast? Or are you waiting for your companion?"
"I would be delighted. I think he'll manage on his own," Jarlaxle said. "I didn't even know that there is some kind of a breakfast."
"Aran didn't tell you much, " Shandara said, and Jarlaxle noticed right away it wasn't a question. "He sometimes has a bad habit of leaving out all the details and concentrating on the 'you're hired' part," Shandara laughed and Jarlaxle had to admit that he really liked her. After all, she was having a conversation with a drow, but didn't seem to be terrified, and she had managed to surprise him already once. He realized he was interested to find out whether there would be a second time.
"The breakfast is served in a large hall underground. It's not a very pleasant place, because there has to be torches burning all the time. Usually it's really hot and despite all those torches kind of dark, but if you want to be known here, that's the best place to head to. There are a lot of rumours going around about new people, and that one of them is a drow. As sooner they see it themselves, they'll stop bothering others with stupid questions," Shandara sighed.
"They've been bothering you?" Jarlaxle asked when Shandara lead him through the corridors. He had to admit that the building was interesting; although even from the outside it had seemed big, the inside was even larger. There were at least three floors below the ground, and the drow was sure that you could reach every corner of Athkatla from this building.
"A bit. They seem to think that I know everything what is going on around here," Shandara said grinning. "To tell you the truth, I don't know what is going on in my own life sometimes. Ah, here we are. A word of warning," Shandara said when they reached stairs and started to walk down towards a large wooden door. "I think Aran told you that there should be no violence in the guild? Well, when you're in the dining room, try to behave even better. Mirjami, the cook, can't stand bad manners. And believe me, if you do something to upset her, you wish you had rather kicked an angry dragon. She is the only woman who can command a gang of thieves and assassins like they were little boys who have been caught stealing apples."
"You seem to like her," Jarlaxle said when Shandara opened the door and stepped into the room. "I do," she answered, "but we can talk about that some other time. Now, try to make a good impression," she said with an evil smirk. There had been a lot of noise when they entered, but now the heads started to turn one by one and the speech was lowered to whispers. Shandara headed through the room with soft steps and Jarlaxle could have sworn that her hips were swinging more than before. He followed her, ignoring the surprised stares but meeting a few hostile ones.
"It really is a drow," he heard someone exclaim, and then there were voices hissing the man to be quiet. Shandara had stopped in front of a table filled with food and was greeting a round, middle-aged woman. "Jarlaxle, I'd like you to meet Mirjami. Mirjami, Jarlaxle," Shandara said when the drow reached them."He is another of the two new members," she added to the woman.
"My lady," Jarlaxle said taking off his hat and bowing to the woman. She watched him for a time and then she smiled: "It's always good to get more mouths to feed. And you elves are always so thin!" she said shaking her head looking sad. "But I think I can do something about that. Here you just take what you find." She motioned towards the table. "But if you want something special, come and ask."
"I will do that, my lady," Jarlaxle said, but the woman waved her hand: "No need for that. Call me Mirjami like everybody else. And now eat something, like I said, you elves are too thin."
"That is why I like her," Shandara said to Jarlaxle when they started to collect food to large wooden plates. "She never judges anyone by the appearance. And she made sure that everybody heard her, so... This is the start," Shandara said. "Welcome to the guild."
"Thank you," Jarlaxle said grinning, and then followed Shandara, who walked to a table in the corner of the room. There was only one person sitting there, an old gnome who was wearing a bright orange robe. There was a plate full of food in front of him, but he seemed to be more concentrated on tinkering with some sort of metal box. When Shandara sat down, the gnome looked up from his work and his face was lightened with a smile. "Good that you are here! Hold this," he continued, handing Shandara a small cogwheel.
"Erik, I'd like you to meet Jarlaxle. He's new. Jarlaxle, this is Erik Jansen, our master illusionist and an inventor of great talent," Shandara said and motioned Jarlaxle to sit down. The gnome gave him a quick look and then shrugged: "I've always said that Aran is good at judging people. Apart from those few times..." he muttered, glancing at Shandara who smiled, remembering couple of times when the gnome had nearly been killed by new members of the guild who hadn't known who he was, but had found him too annoying to bear.
"Jansen?" Jarlaxle asked, sitting down in front of the drow. "One of the famous Jansens that build their strange machines and constructions all around Faerun?"
"Are there any others?" Shandara said when it seemed that Erik was concentrating only on his box. She looked at the cogwheel that was blackened and seemed like it had survived (only barely) few explosions. That didn't surprise him, the gnome usually moved into a new room every month when his old one had to be repaired. Explosions of different size and noise were common phenomena in the guild these days, and Aran had sighed that if there was an attack on the guild, everybody would just imagine that the noise came from Jan's experiments and ignore it. But since the gnome was an excellent mage, and hadn't blown up the guild house, Aran let him continue his experiences. What the gnome was studying, nobody seemed to know, and Shandara had decided that she shouldn't ask, because the visitors who dared to go into his room, were usually offered a variety of turnip delicacies to taste before thay got any answers. Although Shandara wouldn't have called herself a coward, Erik Jansen, turnips and cooking were a combination she wasn't able to think about without shivering of sheer horror.
"What were you thinking about?" Jarlaxle asked and Shandara had to admit that the man was perceptive. Maybe even too perceptive. "Turnips," she answered truthfully, grinning at Jarlaxle's surprised expression. "Don't try anything made from turnips."
"What are you talking about?" Erik asked, taking the cogwheel from Shandara's hand. "Turnip is an excellent ingredient in every possible food. You are welcomed to try some," he added to Jarlaxle. The drow looked at Shandara who was shaking her head wildly and decided to go for "No thank you" as a suitable answer.
"Whatever," Erik said, attaching the cogwheel somewhere inside the box and hitting it with a little hammer he took from his pocket. "It's your loss."
"I'm sure it is," Jarlaxle said and started to eat, while his gaze wandered around the hall. Many people were still watching him, but he noticed that their looks weren't as hostile and worried as they had been. Second surprise, he thought. The woman had introduced her to two persons and because of that everyone was apparently decided to give him a chance. Actually the total number of surprises was three, if you counted the thing about turnips. Jarlaxle's eyes moved to the door just when the elven girl he had seen last night, Isaldora, stepped in. He noticed her looking at his direction and then turning her face away, as if she was trying to forget his existence.
"Give her some time," Shandara said quietly. "This isn't easy for her, but I think she will try her best. Just take it easy."
"Why are you telling me this?" Jarlaxle asked, his eyes still fixed on Isaldora. Shandara was quiet for a time and then she said, with a serious tone: "Because I think you would be good for her. She needs something in her life, and your timing couldn't have been better. But seriously, take it slowly, and don't hurt her, alright? If you do, I will regret that I didn't come up with a handy threat that I could actually carry out," she finished, flashing him another evil smile. "But I trust you will be a perfect gentleman. Talking about gentlemen..." she continued and Jarlaxle followed her gaze to the door. Entreri had just stepped in and he headed towards them through the room to them, ignoring the stares of the thieves.
"Good morning, master Entreri," Shandara said smiling. "Did you sleep well? Would you care for some breakfast?" Her cheerful tone didn't falter although Entreri gave her a cold look that, Jarlaxle noted, was especially evil in the Entreri-scale of looks.
"You really should eat something," Jarlaxle said, pointing at the table filled with food. Entreri was about to respond, but the box in Erik's hands started to make a loud ticking sound. All conversation in the hall stopped and people started to look around for cover.
"Erik, should that be doing that?" Shandara asked slowly, staring at the gnome who seemed quite surprised of the turn his invention had taken. He looked at her and then back at the box. "Maybe it's some minor problem," he said, taking his hammer out again. "I'll just give it a whack and then..."
Shandara ducked under the table, and Jarlaxle and Entreri followed her, more because of basic survival instinct than anything else. Around them other people did the same when the gnome raised the hammer and brought it down on the box.
There was a moment of complete silence. Then the gnome exclaimed: "See, I told you that..." Rest of his words were cut off by the explosion that send him crashing to the nearest wall. Shandara peered on the table, which was filled with scorched food. The box, or what was left of it, was nothing than a twisted piece of metal and springs. Mirjami hurried to them, pouring a jug of water on the smoking table, putting out the few flames that had already started to rise.
"Well, maybe a little more than a minor problem," Erik said, getting up and straightening his robe. He was mostly unharmed because of all the charmed jewels he was wearing, but there was a look of surprise in his eyes. "Well, I'll know what went wrong as soon as..."
"You!" Mirjami exclaimed, shaking the empty jug at Erik. "If you ever bring any of your little inventions here, you wish that that explosion had killed you. Do I make myself clear? No more tinkering in my dining hall!"
"Of course," Erik muttered, looking down on his feet like a school boy. Shandara got up, looking at Jarlaxle and Entreri who were also back on their feet: "I think that breakfast is over. If you want, I can give you a tour in the guild. Aran isn't good at organizing these things, he seems to believe that everything can eventually be found, it just takes a lot of walking into wrong rooms."
"Fine by me," Jarlaxle said, looking at Isaldora, who had been staring at them from the other side of the room. When the elf noticed his stare, she turned away, blushing a little. Entreri noticed this too, and couldn't help to wonder how the drow seemed to be able to charm every woman she met.
"Not the time for that yet," Shandara said. "Like I said, give her a little more time." Jarlaxle nodded and then looked at Entreri. "The tour?"
"It really doesn't matter to me," the assassin replied, wondering how he would cope with all this. Gnomes and exploding objects were not the things he liked to see in a place where he had to live, but maybe the gnome would manage to kill himself at some point and solve the problem that way. Entreri looked at Jarlaxle and then at Shandara, who returned his look calmly. Later Entreri wasn't sure whether it had been that calm look, or the worry that the gnome would have some other exploding things with him that made him say yes. They headed out of the room, leaving behind a scorched table, embarrassed-looking gnome and shouting woman.
