Part 8

One of each

            "I still think you should kill the halfling," Zaknafein muttered for about the fifteenth time that morning.  Thorkin had unnerved the dark elven warrior immensely with his piercing wit.  "He…"

            "Knows too much? So do… just about all the Rogues Guilds," Entreri replied wearily.  "And I'm not even going to talk about the Courts.  Zaknafein, I'm getting tired of this conversation.  Just because Thorkin knows all about us doesn't mean he is that much of a threat.  In fact, I'm rather good friends with him."

            "If you kill him you'd warn the other Guilds off buying information."

            "Yes, and probably set a precedent for other Guilds to kill me as well."

            "I will not let them kill you."

            Entreri purposefully let out a deep, exasperated sigh, and looked around for Jarlaxle.  The mercenary leader was strangely enough not paying attention to him, however, and was riding several yards behind them, next to Kimmuriel's mount, a spirited mare which, sensing its rider's inexperience and nervousness, was getting remarkably skittish. In any case, Jarlaxle had been strangely conscientious about Kimmuriel's welfare since they had left Athkatla, for mysterious reasons that Entreri didn't want to know about.  Kimmuriel, unsurprisingly, seemed far happier (and therefore, a lot more stable) with all the attention, though.

            "Are you listening?" Zaknafein's voice snapped Entreri out of his guilty speculations, and the assassin hastily schooled his face into one of solemnity.

            "Of course."

            Zaknafein snorted at him, then glanced back at Kimmuriel and Jarlaxle, guessing correctly at the heart of Entreri's curiosity.  "What about them?"

            "What about us?" Jarlaxle asked immediately, raising an eyebrow.  Entreri contented himself with glaring at Zaknafein as he tried to find a good way to salvage the situation.

            "Nothing," Entreri said, as ingenuously as possible, failing to come up with said good way.  Zaknafein chuckled, the evil bastard.  Even Jarlaxle seemed amused now.   "I was, uh, thinking that we should stop around Crimmor for the day."

            "All the monsters seemed to have been cleared out of the area," Jarlaxle said, sounding disappointed.  The roads were now wide, clean, paved, and ran through the mountains and the Greenfields with impunity.  Progress made it such that a ride from Athkatla to Cloakwood now took much shorter than it should have been, since roads had been cut through the Cloud Peaks.  The tollbooths had by now made far more than they had spent using magic and dwarves to slice safe caravan ways through the mountains.

            "We could always fight each other," Zaknafein suggested, eyeing Entreri, who pretended to ignore him and ostensibly fixed his eyes on the road. 

            Jarlaxle laughed.  "What our mutual friend probably wishes to say about that is that it is far too fine a morning to be driving each other's faces into the dirt."

            "It is?" Zaknafein looked around disdainfully.  "There is too much light."

            "Ah, but for some reason your coexistence with Sam allows you to see perfectly in Surface light, while Kimmuriel and I have to make do with strange spells." Jarlaxle reached over and pressed gloved fingers over Kimmuriel's hand, almost affectionately.  The psionist looked up at him, tilted his head as if in questioning, and they kissed, Jarlaxle expertly riding closer and somehow managing to prevent Kimmuriel's mount from panicking at the same time.

            Hands began to wander, and Entreri coughed politely.  "I do not think you should be doing anything while riding, Jarlaxle."

            Jarlaxle grinned as he broke the kiss.  "Why not? It is a long ride, and I get bored easily."

            "Doing that… on a horse?" Entreri asked, fascinated despite himself.

            "It is possible." Zaknafein commented clinically.  "I could show you, if you like."

            Entreri stared at him, ascertained quickly that Zaknafein wasn't joking, and shook his head furiously, backing his horse away (thank goodness for Handle Animal +9).  "No.  And don't come near me either."

            "It is an entire day to our next stop," Zaknafein said, smirking like a predator.  "And looking at an endless stretch of river and sparse vegetation can only hold my attention for so long."

            "This is your fault," Entreri said accusingly, looking back at Jarlaxle and Kimmuriel, who were watching the two of them with great interest.

            "No, no, do not mind us," Jarlaxle said genially.  "Do continue."

**

            No sound in the dark room other than the susurration of people trying furtively to arrange heavy robes into a more comfortable drape.  Finally, the voice of their leader, which led smoothly to the melding of other voices into a peculiar sort of harmony.

            "They are definitely approaching far sooner than we have expected."

            "It is the mercenary."

            "He has urged action."

            "Left to themselves, the assassin and the warrior would have waited until the merging posed real problems."

            "Are we ready?"

            This last question seemed to tie off the discussion, and the voices spiraled into nothing.

**

            They stopped at a 'travel inn' at Crimmor, just one of a huge chain of 'travel inn's that were spreading across Faerun like some weird creeping plague.  Still, if one didn't mind the fact that every one looked nearly exactly the same, the food was expensive, and the beer tasted as though someone had merely poured honey into water and left it to rot for a year, the beds were clean, and the rates were relatively cheap.  The owner of 'travel inn', a rather seedy-looking human whose name Entreri couldn't remember, was actually extremely rich and living in Baldur's Gate, something which Entreri had taken careful note of one day when he had drunk the beer in Calimport's 'travel inn' out of curiosity.

            "What are you looking at?" he asked Jarlaxle, noticing that the mercenary had been darting curious glances around the 'travel inn' since they had entered the place and Entreri had given them a short run-down about the place.

            "I wonder if this would work in the Underdark," Jarlaxle replied mildly.

            "Going into inns already?"

            "I actually own quite a few," Jarlaxle replied absently.  "They generally make good money as well as a good place to hide."

            "As I am sure you would know," Entreri said dryly.  "Sam, are you sure you're full?"

            For mysterious reasons Zaknafein had turned into Sam a short while before they had entered Crimmor proper, and Entreri, who had thankfully been paying attention, was just close enough to grab the reins of Zaknafein's horse so it wouldn't do something so untoward as to panic and throw off its new rider.  Still, at least asking for a single room didn't raise any eyebrows once Entreri said Sam was his younger sister. 

            Besides, he was relatively thankful that it was Sam – although he'd managed to evade Zaknafein's attentions on the entire ride to Crimmor, despite that – or because of that – he was dead tired, and wanted to sleep. 

            "Yeah," Sam said, then pouted when Entreri arched an eyebrow.  "I don't eat that much!"

            "And the food is nothing spectacular," Jarlaxle agreed.  "The young lady has great taste."

            Sam blushed furiously.  "I… just don't eat much."

            "And so modest, too," Jarlaxle pressed on, with a look of mock worship. 

            Entreri sighed.  "Stop teasing her, Kelend'ril."

            "It is hard to resist," Jarlaxle grinned.  "Your little 'sister' is too cute."

            "Don't try anything," Entreri said, finding it hard not to smile.  Jarlaxle's mischievous mood seemed contagious.  "You already have Iana'thas."

            "That is true," Jarlaxle said, pulling 'Iana'thas' over and licking his cheek.  "And he is a lot more delicious than anything this inn can offer."

            Entreri buried his head in his hands.  "And I'd thought we would manage to pass through all these places without attracting attention."

            "Hmm." Jarlaxle chuckled, tilting his head so Kimmuriel could nuzzle his neck.  "All the attention I see is a lot of disappointed females."

            "That one's looking at you, Unc… er, older brother," Sam noted brightly.  "Oh, and she's coming over right now.  Hey, she's pretty!"

            As if this couldn't get any worse…

            Entreri lowered his head.  "Sam… can you do me a big favor?"

            "Yep?"

            "Do your best not to let Zaknafein out, okay?"

            "Okay." Sam grinned.  "Changing in the middle of everyone is sure to be embarrassing."

            "That's an understatement."

            Entreri looked up into the face of an admittedly very pretty human female, dressed prudently in (proper) leather armor, a hooded gray cloak, high, comfortable black walking boots, and a short leather skirt that showed some of her long, shapely legs.  Arms were bared to show tanned skin to the elbow, after which soft leather, dyed-red gloves made for a flamboyant sheath for her shapely arm.  The untrained eye would think she was unarmed, but Entreri estimated at least three knives in the outfit, judging by the slight bulges and pulls in the cloth.

            "Good evening," the female said in a soft voice. "Do you mind if I join you?"

            "Of course not," Jarlaxle said, before Entreri could reply.  "Take a seat, please."

            The female sat next to Entreri, with a shy smile.  "My name is Marie."

            "Glad to meet you," Entreri muttered, glancing at Sam, who was looking slightly worried at something.  Now that made him feel very nervous.  "My name is Senar, and this is my sister Senae.  Those two elves indulging in a public display of affection with no regard for proper mannerisms are Kelend'ril and Iana'thas."

            'Kelend'ril' grinned wickedly, doing something under the table that caused 'Iana'thas' to suddenly twist and press his body against him and stifle a moan against his master's neck – thankfully not audible to any other patrons of the inn's bar room.  Entreri sighed deeply, turning to the woman, who seemed more amused than anything.  "Sorry about that." Thankfully, Sam wasn't paying attention – she was staring at the roast turning on a spit in the fireplace to the far left in fascination.  It had been occupying her for quite a while.

            "Oh, it's fine.  You might have problems if they tried this in the Northern regions, though."

            "One would have thought they had modernized by now," Jarlaxle said mildly, as if all he'd done for the past few minutes was discussing the weather instead of doing things to Kimmuriel that should be private.

            "You have been there before?"

            "Years ago," Jarlaxle waved it off. "And only very shortly."

            "And you? If you don't mind me asking?" Marie smiled at Entreri.

            "I have been there quite often," Entreri said slowly, wondering how they had gotten to this type of conversation.  "Why do you ask?"

            "Because I live around there… and if you people are regular visitors to the region, you could… drop by," Marie said in a purr.  "As it is… I was despairing of good company tonight."

            "Sorry, I'm rather busy tonight," Entreri said hastily, firmly pushing off the fingers trailing up his thigh.  "And I have to look after my sister.  She uh, gets frightened sleeping alone."

            "No I don't!" Sam said indignantly at the perceived jab at her courage.  Entreri shot her a look, and she grinned sheepishly.  "Uh. But I get lonely."

            "See?" Entreri said desperately, realizing that Marie had suddenly sat a lot closer.

            "I like men who care," Marie said with a sultry smile.  "And I am quite sure that she would not mind one night by herself…"

            Entreri looked at Jarlaxle and Kimmuriel for help.  The one good thing his predicament had provided was that those two had stopped to watch the 'entertainment'.  Jarlaxle shrugged slightly, smirking, with a 'you owe me' glint to his eye.  "Actually, lady Marie… I believe my friend Senar's mate might object to you keeping him company for tonight.  He is prone to jealousy."

            " 'He'?" Marie looked at Entreri in disappointment.

            Entreri nodded a little too enthusiastically.  "Yeah.  I don't want to get you into trouble.  And… I am not interested in anyone else," he added quickly.

            Marie chuckled.  "Ah well.  It seems lately that all the handsome guys swing the other way.  Though if you ever want to convert back…" she blew him a goodnight kiss, and swayed off, now disinterested.

            Entreri breathed a sigh of relief.  "Thanks, Kelend'ril."

            Jarlaxle laughed.  "Explaining a transformation into Zaknafein would have been quite difficult."

            "Before we attract any more weird company, I suggest we retreat to our rooms.  And lock the doors." Entreri said, getting up from the table quickly.  Hopefully Zaknafein would not make anything of this.

**

            Sam didn't change back to Zaknafein in the room, such that Entreri felt mildly worried.  "Is something wrong with him?" he asked her, once he had closed the door.

            Sam bounced onto the bed, and then hugged a pillow.  "Don't know.  He didn't say anything at all when you were with that lady, though."

            "Right, now I'm worried," Entreri sighed. "Do you know why he switched to you?"

            "No idea," Sam said thoughtfully.  "I was actually having a nice, relaxing time on the field, too."

            Entreri sighed, removing his armor carefully and putting it on a chair, then his weapons and boots.  After washing up, he commented,  "So long as it had nothing to do with this afternoon."

            "Well, you got a reaction there," Sam said, then asked innocently, "What happened this afternoon? I wasn't looking."

            Entreri rubbed his temples and prayed for patience.  "Nothing, other than I didn't want to do that in public and certainly not in front of Jarlaxle and Kimmuriel." Especially not in front of them.

            Climbing under the sheets and closing his eyes, he muttered, "And I refuse to do anything I do not want to do just because he wants to have fun.  Goodnight, Sam."

            Sam said a goodnight somewhere over his head, then climbed under the blankets and went to sleep as well, curling into a ball out of strange habit.  Entreri watched her until she fell asleep, and then turned over carefully, closing his eyes.  Zaknafein got upset over the weirdest things, and he was actually relatively used to the little temper 'tantrums' the dark elf pulled.  For someone supposedly so old, Zaknafein was occasionally prone to mildly juvenile behavior, possibly because being a warrior tended to produce more of whatever made males very male (testosterone, but science in Faerun isn't very advanced yet).

            Too tired to really consider why Zaknafein seemed to act oddly whenever Entreri refused to do certain things, the assassin fell asleep.  After an hour had passed, the figure of Sam wavered and turned into Zaknafein, who removed his clothing down to pants, and pressed against Entreri, draping an arm around the assassin's waist, slipping his hand under the shirt and stroking his stomach.

            Entreri woke up immediately, blinking in confusion, then relaxed when he registered who was holding him.  "Damn it, Zaknafein, your fingers are bloody cold," he muttered, leaning back against the dark elf's chest.  At least that was warm.

            Zaknafein chuckled.  "You could elect to… heat them up," he whispered suggestively into Entreri's ear.

            "Because of your… antics this afternoon I'm too tired, what with having to stay ahead of you, on the road, and handle an increasingly confused horse all at the same time," Entreri replied dryly.  "So go to sleep."

            "Did you like that… female?" Zaknafein said then, quite suddenly, his voice a little uncertain.

            Entreri groaned.  "Must we have these kinds of talks when I want to sleep?"

            "She was attractive."

            "Did you like her?" Entreri responded.

            There was a short pause, before Zaknafein murmured, "Not the way I like you."

            "Well then, I didn't like her the same way I like you, either." Entreri closed his eyes.  If Zaknafein wanted to be cryptic, that was fine by him, especially when all he wanted to do was return to oblivion.

            "At least she was not wearing perfume, or she would have gotten it all over you," Zaknafein muttered. 

            "Half of the time I smell like you."

            "I wonder if you know how much that excites me," Zaknafein purred, rubbing against Entreri.  The assassin sighed, wondering if this sudden mood change was good or… probably not.

            "I told you I'm too tired.  And besides, if we do this, how the hell am I supposed to ride tomorrow?"

            "That would not be my problem, would it?"

            "Zaknafein… oh fuck."

            "I knew you would see it my way eventually."

**

            Kimmuriel lay in bed next to a possibly asleep Jarlaxle (it was always a bit hard to tell) and wondered why his master didn't seem interested in 'playing' anymore.  Come to think of it, their last time was when he was trying to convince Jarlaxle to allow him onto this trip – was his leader angry about something he did then? Or was he just not interested at this point in time?

            The latter point seemed a bit questionable.  As far as he knew, for the past few years that they had officially been with each other Jarlaxle had never shown any actual disinterest in the act, and whoever initiated it was never much of an issue.  Right now whenever Kimmuriel tried to do anything, Jarlaxle would merely shoot him a bored look, as if he knew what the psionist wanted to do, but could not be bothered, and it always served to make Kimmuriel back off quickly, as if burned.

            Either that or Jarlaxle was truly tired, because he had not been moving around this much since he had returned from his first, long Surface hiatus… but that probably was not the reason either.

            The last factor – and the most likely – was that Jarlaxle wanted to see how Kimmuriel would react.  That was a headache in itself – how as he supposed to react appropriately if he normally relied on his psionic ability to gauge the expectations on others, and Jarlaxle was immune to it? Jarlaxle had recently gotten into the habit of shielding his thoughts, and through the link all Kimmuriel could see were the most obvious things, like sleepiness, boredom, or thirst.  It was incredibly frustrating, especially when, in front of others, Jarlaxle ostensibly did one thing, and then in private he immediately went the opposite way.  Tonight had seemed so promising, too, despite the look of appreciation his master had favored that female human with…

            Kimmuriel was reminded of a time long past when he hadn't even thought that sex would be an integral and gratifying part of their relationship.  Now it seemed like one of the only ways he could get Jarlaxle to really look at him, really pay attention to his existence and value it – and his master was taking it away, probably for fun.

            It was unfair.

            It was even more unfair since Jarlaxle had instructed him to keep an eye on Zaknafein and that human, and the feedback from that particular 'eye' made it extremely obvious what those two were doing right now, and it was making Kimmuriel vaguely envious, to the point that he was disobeying a direct order by shutting down the 'eye' for at least two hours. 

            Disobeying – was that the reason then? Kimmuriel was conscious of the fact that he had not been very compliant for a while… but Jarlaxle had always somewhat tolerated it before – the disapproving remarks, the criticisms, the accusing glances… the problem was that it was a bit hard to pinpoint what Jarlaxle felt at any one time. 

            Kimmuriel wondered if Jarlaxle knew how much his recent remarks hurt him, and whether his master was doing it on purpose – was he trying to break him, and then discard him? The anguish at…

            "I can hear your emotions, you know," Jarlaxle murmured.

            Kimmuriel winced.  He'd forgotten to shield.  "I apologize."

            "Go to sleep."

            "If you wish."

            "Do not just block me out then go on wading in self-pity."

            Kimmuriel grimaced.  Jarlaxle knew him far too well.  "As you command," he said, as meekly as possible.  Recently Jarlaxle tended to react badly to accusations, so Kimmuriel had to remind himself repeatedly not to make any.  Lying on his side, the buckle on his collar pressed against his flesh, and he pulled at it, arranging the accessory.

            "You can take that off if you do not feel comfortable," Jarlaxle said behind him.

            Kimmuriel turned sharply, a cold shiver going up his spine at those words.  His master's eyes were closed, facing him, fingers buried in the covers so as to pull them snugly up to his neck, to all appearances quite peacefully about to sleep.

            "My… the collar?" he whispered.

            "What did you think I was referring to?"

            "I… why?" Kimmuriel blinked.  "Why ask me to remove it?"

            "I did not ask you to do that," Jarlaxle yawned.  "I merely said you could remove it if you wanted to."

            "But… you said I was to always wear this so as to remind myself – and other people – that I belong to you…"

            "It does not seem to work very well then, does it," Jarlaxle remarked blandly.

            Kimmuriel was speechless, not knowing how to react to that.  Did Jarlaxle mean that the psionist was acting as though… or did he mean other people were… what in the world? "What… what do you mean?"

            Jarlaxle stretched like a lazy cat.  "Sleep.  There is another long ride tomorrow."

            "Are you… angry with me about something?"

            "I think I am actually quite tired of that question."

            Kimmuriel opened his mouth to offer a generic apology, and then closed it quickly, knowing Jarlaxle would probably reject it, so he crept forward and pressed his lips against his master's instead, sighing mentally when Jarlaxle didn't respond, but insistently continuing anyway, planting nervous kisses and licks down Jarlaxle's neck and over his shoulders, murmuring heated pleadings against his master's skin.

            Jarlaxle growled, pushing Kimmuriel off him.  Just when the psionist thought that plans for the night had been changed, his master lay on top of him and murmured in his ear, "You are ruining my fun, Kimmuriel."

            "Why?"

            A smirk. "I actually wanted to leave off playing with you for a while just to see what you would do."  Did he mean that, or was he just saying something to make Kimmuriel think a certain way?

            Kimmuriel decided to take the words at face value, sliding his hands over Jarlaxle's shoulders and using his position to lick up his master's neck and whisper a hungry "Please…" in Jarlaxle's ear.

            "Kimmuriel…" Jarlaxle growled, then sighed when Kimmuriel murmured something else in a slightly more urgent tone.  "Far too tempting."

**

            Needless to say, the ride across the rough but otherwise scenic route through the Cloud Peaks was fun for two of the party but somewhat uncomfortable for the other two. 

**

            Nashkel's 'travel inn', as did all 'travel inn's, gave Entreri a bad sense of déjà vu, and he was half-expecting the scary woman to show up in the bar room.  Thankfully, no scary oversexed woman, so dinner went without incident.

            Nashkel had changed very much – now it looked like any trading village, with a lot of merchants, some farmers and a 'travel inn', since it lay just outside the most popular pass through the Cloud Peaks. 

            Entreri was only far too happy to be able to wash up and fall face down on the bed, muttering inaudibly about dark elves and their evil, pretending that he didn't just feel Zaknafein lazily trace his spine through his shirt.  He definitely had to say something when Zaknafein slid his hand into his pants, though…

            "Stop that," he muttered, pulling out said hand.  "Because of you today's ride was damned painful, and I'd rather sleep it off."

            "I'd be gentle," Zaknafein said, somewhere above him.

            "It'd still hurt.  Take a bath in cold water."

            "If you do it with me."

            "No."

            Zaknafein sighed, then sat down next to him and began to massage tense shoulders and muscles.  Entreri froze for a moment, then relaxed slowly into it, vaguely wondering if this was Zaknafein's way of apologizing…  though probably not, because even in a gradually sleepy state he could still feel it when someone was carefully taking off his pants, thank you…

            "Zaknafein!"

            "What?" Zaknafein asked, innocently.

            Entreri swore quietly, trying to pull said piece of attire back on.  "Stop that.  And let go, damnit."

            Zaknafein pressed both his hands to his sides expertly, interlacing fingers gently, then chuckled.  "If you stop struggling I can make it a lot more comfortable."

            "Since when did you get your clothes off?" Entreri gritted his teeth, legs hampered by the pants, which had been pulled down to his knees.  "Bloody hell, Zaknafein…"

            "Agreed?"

            "What is 'agreed' is that once you let me go I'm going to find another room."

            "Humans do not know how to make buildings.  I will find you." Zaknafein draped himself on top of Entreri, and nipped the nape of his neck.  Entreri arched his back in reflex, and pressed into things he would rather not, at this point in time, feel.         
            "Get off!"

            "No.  And unless you really want it to hurt, I suggest you lie still and let me prepare you."

            There wasn't that much he could say to that, really, other than try and appeal to common sense.  "Look, it's going to be a bandit-filled trip to Beregost, because they haven't gotten rid of the gnoll tribes yet, so I have to be in some recognizable shape tomorrow."

            "Mmm.  You can sit at back and practice on your archery skills.  I am quite sure Jarlaxle and I can handle half-dogs."

            "Yeah, and if I accidentally shoot you?"

            A laugh above his head.  "I will pay attention to any wayward ammunition."

            "In the middle of a fight?"

            "All the more why one should be paying attention to anything dangerous."

            "Well… you'd be the one tired tomorrow morning, as well."

            "Elves sleep four hours, not eight.  I will be fine."

            Swearing, Entreri twisted around such that he was on his back and facing Zaknafein.  "What's gotten into you, anyway? We can do a lot of this after Cloakwood!"

            Zaknafein frowned briefly, and there was fleeting, bitter smile.  "I am not so sure about that."

            "Oh come on, like I would lose interest if you can't turn into a little girl?"

            Zaknafein shrugged.  "It is not that."

            "Then what? You… don't think you'd survive it?" Entreri pointed at the gauntlet.  "A group of mages, no matter how large, cannot fight this thing."

            "It is not that either…" Zaknafein shook his head, and then climbed under the blankets.  "Fine, if you are so insistent about it… we will just sleep."

            "You're changing the subject."

            "You started it," Zaknafein said, closing his eyes.

            "Why don't you just tell me what the hell it is?"

            "Because I still do not understand why you continue to stand by me."

            "That… that's because…" Entreri bit his lip.  "Because…"

            There was a long, awkward pause, and then Zaknafein turned over.  "Just forget it."

            Gah.  Sometimes Entreri really hated himself.   

**

            Beregost had a children's toyshop.

            That was definitely the first thing Entreri noticed about it. Rather surreptitiously, to Jarlaxle's amusement, he dragged Zaknafein out of town and a little out of sight, and then came back with Sam.  If one of them was going to go mad inside the toyshop, he'd rather it was the little girl than the elegant 'sun elf', which would pose problems to any hope of keeping normalish outwards appearances.

            "Why don't you two buy stuff for her, while I go and arrange some rooms at the Lion inn?" Entreri looked at Jarlaxle and Kimmuriel.  After all, what sort of mischief could they get into in a toyshop?

            "But I want you to come with me," Sam said, tugging hopefully on Entreri's cloak.

            Jarlaxle laughed.  "Well then, you go with Sam to the toyshop, while Kimmuriel and I arrange the rooms."

            "The two of you attract far too much attention when not in either of our company," Entreri said mildly, patting Sam on the head.  "Unless you give your word not to engage in any public displays of affection or anything untoward."

            "Have you no faith?"

            "I do have a lot of faith – in your willingness and ability to cause diplomatic havoc."

            Jarlaxle grinned.  "I'd be nice."

            "That would be new," Entreri muttered, giving up and going with Sam to the shop, while the other two headed with the horses towards the inn. 

            The shop was small, but filled every corner and space on the wall with shelves and shelves of varnished, brightly colored wooden toys, well-made stuffed animals and dolls, little metal figurines of creatures and people engaged in everyday activity, and for some reason, a hell lot of fuzzy rocking horses.  Entreri rather liked rocking horses, and had bought one for Sam in Calimport which thankfully Zaknafein showed no interest in – he liked the way it stayed in one spot and yet managed to, for some reason, provide hours of non-violent entertainment unless one strayed too near to the wooden bars.

            The shopkeeper, a wizened-looking, old human male dressed in tattered brown overalls with pockets full of pens and scissors and various stationery, looked warily at Entreri, being able to sense the dispassionate danger that the assassin exuded, but seemed slightly more relieved when Sam ducked out from behind him and started running around the shop in delight, picking up things carefully, looking at them, then putting them back just as carefully.  "How many can I buy, brother?" she asked curiously, trying, and failing, to pick up a stuffed toy bear nearly as big as she was.

            "Hopefully not too many large, heavy and bulky ones," Entreri sighed.  "Which means that bear is out of the question."

            "Awww…"

            "Do you make these things yourself?" Entreri asked the shopkeeper curiously, picking up a fluff ball that on closer inspection appeared to be a rat.  Why would anyone want a toy rat, of all things… vermin tended not to be cute in reality… and toy horses never had that rather silly-looking smile, but would kick you if you could bend their legs in such a fashion…

            "Yes, my… my brother and I have been making toys for years," the shopkeeper said nervously.  "It's a family business."

            "They're very well made," Entreri said reassuringly, then looked sharply at the sound of Sam's "Oops." However, the girl had only dropped a stuffed toy, and hadn't broken anything.

            "May I ask where you are traveling to?" the shopkeeper asked.

            "Why?" Entreri replied, making no effort to conceal his suspicion.

            "Well, if you are traveling to Baldur's Gate," the shopkeeper said hurriedly, "There's a toy fair there in a week – at the marketplace – which your, er, sister might like to look at."

            "Really? Can we?" Sam looked up from her close inspection of a brown hairy lump.  Entreri guessed it was probably a cat…

            "Thank you," Entreri said, nodding.

            "You might want to avoid going into Cloakwood or stopping there for the night while traveling 'long the Coast Way, though," the shopkeeper continued.  "Lately it's got lots of weird sounds from it."

            "Weird sounds?"

            "Yeah… like there's a lot of people talking and walking, and all sorts of other things, but you see nothin'."

            "Thank you for your warning," Entreri said, frowning.  "We will be careful.  Are you done, Sam?"

            "Uh… is the fox cuter, or the rabbit?" Sam held up her findings.

            "Well… you can buy both," Entreri offered, hoping they weren't too overpriced.  "They're certainly small enough."

            "Uh… so, how many can I buy again?"

            "Just remember that unlike Kelend'ril I don't have pouches full of gold."

            "So 'one of each' is not a good option."

            "Yeah."