Part 10

A few tricks

            "So," Entreri said, when he came back healed – thank the Gods that this city also had people recognizable as beggars, "Where were we?"

            Sam stood up and looked around.  "Trying to find a way out."

            "You really have no idea at all?"

            "Yeah, and he's been quiet," Sam said sheepishly.  "Sorry."

            "No, being quiet is a good thing," Entreri replied, keeping a tight hold on his temper.  Exhausted by the fight, the outburst and the argument afterwards, he was really in no mood to be reassuring to a little girl, but making her upset would not help matters very much, and Entreri prided himself on being practical, despite past endeavors involving his 'arch-nemesis'.  This showed that even immortal assassins have their blind spots.  "Are you hungry?"

            "A little," Sam admitted.  "But do you have the… money from here? I think all places would have different currency, especially different worlds."

            "If I did not look this different from the normal people I could steal some," Entreri said dryly, "I grew up as a thief, and I think I can still remember a few tricks."

            "I could try something," Sam offered, brightening at the prospect of showing off some of her 'newfound skills'.

            "No, it's too dangerous." Entreri sat on the ground next to Sam and sighed, thinking, regretting having brought up the subject of food, because now he was hungry too.  He could go to the 'convention', because the youths had implied that people who were dressed like him went there… except that he was quite sure that he would get lost looking for it.  The sense of disorientation brought on by being in extremely unfamiliar and peculiar territory was serving to mess up his navigational ability, even in a city-like atmosphere.

            "Maybe Jarlaxle and Kimmuriel will think of something," Sam suggested hopefully, with a child's trust in adults.  "They seem really smart!"

            "I certainly hope so," Entreri replied mildly, not stating that the last he'd remembered, Jarlaxle had been looking so deadly serious about Kimmuriel's mental call for aid that it was quite likely something rather bad had happened to the psionist, and help might not be forthcoming from that quarter.  "Did you see what happened when Zaknafein came here? Like where he might have appeared from?"

            "No… one moment he was following noises – like people talking, though you can't hear what about – then one moment he was here." Sam sighed.  "What are we going to do now?"

            "Let's walk around for a while.  Maybe we'd find something," Entreri said, getting up and putting on an optimistic expression.  Frankly, he did not feel nearly as optimistic, and was actually betting on Jarlaxle for help… but again, he did not want to deal with a hysterical child at this moment.  Especially – since Entreri was still somewhat prone to a male view of the world despite long years of association with strong female figures in his life, human or otherwise – a female hysterical child.  Like most men, he had a feeling that he would know absolutely nothing about how to comfort a crying girl, and did not really want to get into such a situation.

            "All right," Sam grinned, nearly bouncing to her feet.  "Where first?"

            "Well… back to the alley I turned up in.  Maybe there's something different there," Entreri walked with Sam to the road, looked around carefully, saw no fast-moving chariot things, and got quickly across, then began slowly retracing his steps.  That rickety-looking metal stairway looked familiar, as did that set of vandalized wall – slowly, they got back to the main street that he had followed the youths down.  No luck there – everything looked decidedly normal – as much as 'normal' was in this place, anyway.

            Overhead, something made a distant roar, and Entreri ducked on reflex before looking.  Large metal bird-like thing in the air.  Probably some sort of magecraft… it was rather reassuring somehow to know, despite his hatred of mages, that at least this world had the common factor of magic between it and Toril.

            Entreri didn't want to face the most probable conclusion – but they were well and truly stuck – so he began to look closely at the walls and the structures as if searching for clues, gingerly running his fingers over the even stone-like material, ignoring the smell which seemed more or less common to alleys all over the universe.  There was probably some rule of metaphysics out there about it.

            "Maybe that person knows where to go," Sam suggested, pointing out of the alley, where a motley group of people were passing by – dressed in very strange, patchy armor and wearing extremely odd-looking flimsy copies of swords and other strange implements.  Shrugging, Entreri walked out of the alley and approached the group.

            "Greetings," he started off a little awkwardly.  "But are you and your party headed to the 'con'?"

            A girl with very obviously fake elvish ears nodded excitedly.  "Oh yes.  Are you going too?"

            "I am afraid that my sister and I are a little lost," Entreri put on his best smile, which still looked somewhat sinister.  "Could we accompany you to the 'con'?"

            "Oh, sure!" another girl grinned.  Entreri realized that this group was not only just about all females, though he wasn't sure about the one behind the helmet made of some strange papery material, but also all more or less wearing fake elvish ears that would make any true elf laugh himself sick. Why were they doing that anyway? The main difference that Entreri really could think about between an elf and a human was not really the ears, but the inhuman beauty, the unconscious grace and the slenderness of the body… and in general, the absolutely annoying haughtiness.

            "So, where'd you get all that armor from?" another girl asked curiously.  "And um… are you going as Aragorn?"

**

            "Is it all settled then?"

            The mages looked uneasily at themselves, and then at the dark human-shaped figure leaning out of the dim light at the wall, arms crossed, fingers idly tapping, as if in impatience.

            "Well… our research…"

            "Has to be curtailed," the figure said curtly.

            "But you do not see!" one of the mages almost wailed.  "Do you not see how important this is? To know what is true reality? The answer could strike at the core of society, of magic, of life itself!"

            "Perhaps that is why it should not be known," the figure suggested dryly, "Imagine what it would cause if it were found to be true.  Nothing would function – all structure and order as we know it, whether for human, elf, dwarf… any living thing – may fade into chaos.  And… though chaos is admittedly quite entertaining, in excess it simply becomes wearisome."

            "But it may only be for a while… and who best to search the new realm than this continent's greatest assassin, accompanied by one of the best warriors this world has known?"

            "That 'best warrior' you speak of is currently fairly out of his mind and extremely confused," the figure replied, "Though I believe that may have been your intention.  I do not know precisely when you freed him from Hell, but I believe you kept him in an impression of Hell and kept placing him inside the Other, did you not?"

            "Yes… we hoped that in the havoc he would invariably cause would bring about some sort of reaction in the Other, such that we could gain greater understanding from it – but mainly what happened was that the killed were ignored or explained away.  It was as if the Other was just a mirror of this world."

            "Humans are humans no matter where they are, eh? Perhaps you did learn something after all.  How all of you – and your human Gods – like to make others in your image." The figure yawned.  "Though I believe I should thank you for making the past few weeks highly interesting."

            "We would like to know however… how did you find out about all this?" another mage asked, almost fearfully.

            "A bit of old-fashioned deduction and looking for clues.  I got some people to ask around in Hell, and they had never heard of this kind of 'torture', and besides, apparently Zaknafein had dropped out of the picture a while ago due to some sort of deal.  The little girl – some sort of magical construct – was to restrain him, wasn't she, because you could not place him in the Other all the time, or cause too much havoc and get him killed there. I believe you people thought that you had some sort of ritual that could control the change from the girl to Zaknafein, as a little girl, no matter how intelligent, is a lot easier to manage than an insane warrior."

            "However, you probably did not expect that their combined will was strangely stronger than whatever bonds the ritual used to tie them to this place," the figure continued idly, as if just remarking on the weather, "So they escaped, and since you lot are mages as well as humans you had to come up with a really complicated and odd plan to get them willingly back here, but you did not count on much interference, nor that the girl's will – or Zaknafein's own hesitation –would be so strong as to prevent Zaknafein from killing Entreri and hence driving him absolutely insane."

            "Well… you seem to know the bones of it," one of the mages admitted.  "Quite a bit of it was made up on the way, so I guess this failure was not too unexpected.  We never expected Zaknafein to develop feelings for Entreri… or vice versa… when we arranged for him and the girl to get to Calimport."

            "You cannot ever predict someone precisely," the figure shrugged. 

            "Why stop it now, though? If you could have saved yourself all that trouble on the ship… and in the forest…"

            "Let's just say it afforded me a good opportunity to play with something in another way," the figure smiled.  "And it was entertaining… up to a point.  No doubt it would be better if I did it the other way and let them claim the credit and a resolution… but since I no longer find all this amusing, there is little need or desire for all this to run on."

            "You speak of life as if it is a game of chess."

            "In a sense it is – you play with your pawns, and you guard your king," the figure looked at his hands for a moment, and chuckled.  "You can always find new pawns, though you'd never be sure which is your King, and your board is the world itself.  Try thinking about it like this sometime.  You might actually gain something."

            "And what would you lose?"

            "Well… for you people, perhaps this stuffy atmosphere, those dull cloaks and shadowed faces, maybe suffer a bit of a tan from the sun and better living from exercise… fewer of those odd odors from the experiments you create that I smelled all the way up this spire…"

            "We meant… by making everything so impersonal as a game… you might lose things of… importance."

            "I never do things impersonally.  It makes me lose focus.  And besides… what things do you mages have of importance?"

            "Contemplation.  A silent plane for the analysis of the unknown and the Other…?"

"I do fine without such contemplation… and I derive quite a satisfactory amount of enjoyment out of this life.  So, are we agreed? You will do all that I have mentioned… and then leave for Skullport?"

            "What choice do we have?" the same mage sighed.  "Either to go, or stay and get killed… incidentally, you are a lot more formidable than what accounts would say."

            "Flattery will not get you anywhere," the figure smiled, and turned to leave.  For a brief moment, the tip of a large feather flicked into the light.

**

            It was to Entreri's, and Sam's, astonishment that, without any warning, flashy lights or sounds, that with their next step their environment abruptly changed to that of the inside of a dimly-lit, plain sandstone round chamber, the smell of burnt flesh in the air combined with incense and other unknown scents.  In the center of the chamber was a round polished stone table with cushioned chairs set at even intervals around it, their backs patterned with stained glass and precious stones.

            "I know this place!" Sam said excitedly.  "This is where the mages were!"

            "Really," Entreri commented, 'drawing' the sword from the gauntlet.  "Well, let us take a little look around, then."

            "Actually, I beat you to them," Jarlaxle walked out of the exit into the dim light, a cocky grin on his face.  "While you were off lost in the woods or wherever, I found this place and took care of them."

            "See, I told you he was smart!" Sam tugged Entreri's cloak, hero-worship in her eyes as she looked at Jarlaxle.  Jarlaxle bowed in a single, complicated move to his appreciating audience of one. 

            "Did you find out what they were doing?" Entreri asked curiously.  Some part of him was asking questions, but mostly, he was tired and wanted to go back to Calimport and normality.

            "Apparently they were just experimenting with illusions and things," Jarlaxle shrugged.  "You know what mages are like."

            "Illusions?" Entreri frowned.  Where he had been did not seem to be illusion…
            "As in… something about how 'real' they can be made to seem," Jarlaxle said thoughtfully.  "Did not understand that.  And besides, at that point in time one of them tried to attack me, so that happened," he pointed at a corner, where charred remains could be seen.

            "You have long ceased to surprise me," Entreri sighed.  "And… what about Zaknafein and Sam?"

            "Oh, one of the mages had this interesting little toy," Jarlaxle tossed something at Sam, who caught it reflexively.  In her little palm was a green jewel, like an emerald… that began to glow, gradually becoming brighter and brighter, flooding the room with overdramatic emerald light until Entreri had to look away.  When the light ceased, Sam and Zaknafein were in two separate bodies, and were looking each other over curiously.

            "So that is what you look like," Zaknafein said mildly.

            "How rude," Sam stuck her tongue out at him.  "I can look like a bird in my dream if I want to!"

            "Yes, a pink and yellow one," Zaknafein said dryly.

            "At least it's cute! You're just absolutely boring in your dream.  You look exactly the same."

            "There is nothing wrong in that."

            "Add wings or something," Sam pouted.

Zaknafein glanced at Jarlaxle, deciding to ignore Sam.  "Thanks."

            Jarlaxle smirked.  "You can pay me later."

            Sam poked Zaknafein on the arm, vaguely annoyed at the sudden inattention regarding her little argument on aesthetic astral projections.  "I think you owe someone an apology." She gestured at Entreri, who was staring at the both of them disbelievingly.  All of it seemed too easy… that they could have done it so quickly seemed so unreal, like the almost sheepish expression on Zaknafein's face as he got up and approached him.

            "Did you really mean what you… said?" Zaknafein murmured, when they were face-to-face, the hope in his eyes rather painful to see.

            "Of course," Entreri said, forcing a thin smile onto his face, getting very, very tired of this conversation, but knowing that exploding at Zaknafein would do a lot more harm than good.  "And this time if you say you don't believe me, I'm really going to get angry."

            Zaknafein grinned then, rather mischievously, as if he had purposefully used that tone and that phrasing purely to irk the assassin, and opened his mouth to say something around that point just for fun – so Entreri moved quickly to close the gap between them and kiss him.  Dimly, in the background, as Zaknafein responded, he could hear Sam's squeak of "You didn't apologize!" and Jarlaxle's amused chuckle.

**

            The first thing Jarlaxle did back in camp was to look quickly into the tent he and Kimmuriel shared, checking on the mage, who was still sleeping as they made a quick dinner/supper, so soundly asleep that Entreri rather believed (and correctly so) that it was a drugged one.  Since he was really tired and did not want to subject himself to Jarlaxle's convoluted manner of explanations that were likely to hold as much truth in them as untruths or omissions, he made no issue about it.  Zaknafein did not seem to notice, or if he did, he certainly did not seem to care – all he had been doing since they had come out of the woods was to stick close to Entreri and touch him whenever appropriate or possible.  Entreri was far too tired to protest, and besides, the attention was appreciated, since it was, more or less, not indecent or suggestive. 

            "So, what now?" Sam asked sleepily, after she neatly finished her portion of the rabbits that they had finally caught on the way back from the mages' abode.

            "We can rest until the morning, then set off for Baldur's Gate," Entreri said, pushing her gently in the direction of his tent.  "We'd probably be taking turns keeping watch, so there will be enough space."

            "Good night then," Sam said, yawning, too tired to talk about it, and disappeared into the tent, only too happy to sleep now that her hunger had abated.

            Jarlaxle watched her go, and then turned back to them.  "It is only a few hours more to morning.  I do not believe keeping watch requires all three of us…" his voice trailed off, and he tilted his head slightly back in the general direction of Kimmuriel.

            "You could rest," Zaknafein commented mildly.  "I do not feel tired." He sat comfortably against Entreri, arm around the other's waist, watching the assassin begin to doze off.

            "Small wonder, that," Jarlaxle grinned.  "I think of the three of us, you probably expended the least amount of energy."

            "Be quiet," Zaknafein replied, with no malice in the words, poking the fire with a nearby stick, then unbuckling Entreri's cloak to cover him. 

            "Good night," Jarlaxle smirked, and went into his tent.

            After a few moments, Entreri murmured, "Is he gone?"

            "Yes," Zaknafein smiled.  "Though I think he might have seen you signaling to me.  Did you practice before? Your technique is very clumsy."

            "I did not have very patient teachers," Entreri replied defensively.  "And I wanted to know if you were… all right."

            "You would have to define 'all right', I am afraid," Zaknafein remarked playfully as Entreri pulled the cloak over the dark elven warrior as well.  "Do you mean whether or not I am still mentally unstable?"

            "To put it frankly… yeah."

            "Are we not all unstable in some form or another?" Zaknafein murmured, indicating Jarlaxle's – and Kimmuriel's – tent with a wave of his hand.

            "If you mean who I think you mean… I would guess that may be true," Entreri conceded.  "You did seem relatively 'normal' for a while, after that incident with the mask."

            "You may have to thank Sam for that," Zaknafein hesitated.  "She kept telling me she was sure you loved me, such that I… well, it was comforting.  Something to build upon.  I mean, something stable." He looked down at Entreri, who had an expression of confusion on his face.  "I am not making much sense, am I?"

            "No," Entreri agreed.  "But I believe I may understand what you mean."

            They sat in companionable silence for a while, listening to the sounds from the forest – of frogs and insects, the rustle of something small in the branches of the ash to their left, the howls of a wolf pack somewhere far away, looking down the long, winding road to Baldur's Gate and civilization.

            "I really do love you," Entreri murmured, feeling himself falling asleep against Zaknafein's shoulder.

            Zaknafein nodded slowly, his hold around Entreri's hip tightening in relief or possessiveness.  "I believe you."

**

            Kimmuriel woke up to the scent of something nice cooking, and in his groggy state he could hear, oddly enough, four voices… his master's… that human… Zaknafein… and the little girl?

            Yawning, he forced himself to get him, wincing at the feeling of the prolonged-pain aftereffects of the healing potions, and got out of the tent, instinctively shielding his eyes from the sun, though the spells he had placed on himself and his master were still in force… and his master was in front of him, a playful smile on his face.  "Ah, the second part of my breakfast is awake." 

            Kimmuriel's confused look only served to widen the grin, and Jarlaxle pressed his mouth against his, tongue entwining with the psionist's, and Kimmuriel could taste the faint hint of meat and spices in his master… and Jarlaxle broke the gesture, laughing at something Zaknafein had said that Kimmuriel hadn't heard properly.  He frowned at the look of Entreri, Zaknafein and Sam all seated around the fire eating – something seemed wrong about the picture, but his head seemed blanketed in a thick cloud this morning, and it did not come immediately to mind… so he looked blankly at Jarlaxle in hope of some clue.

            "We took care of the mages last night," Jarlaxle said, guiding Kimmuriel to a space on the ground and pressing a bowl and cutlery into uncomprehending hands. 

            "Mages?" Kimmuriel frowned.  Yes, there was something about mages…

            "I think you fed him too much of that sleeping drug," Zaknafein snorted.  "Was it Hlei'in?"

            "What about it?" Sam asked curiously, through a mouthful of the stew.

            "It knocks out the person for a while, and makes him or her extremely befuddled for an hour or so after he or she wakes up," Entreri shrugs.  "Part of its ingredients include a certain type of Underdark mushrooms, which is why we don't use it in Calimport despite the fact that it's easily made into liquid or powder, and is tasteless."

            The words slid past Kimmuriel in slow progression, though he did, with a few false starts, grasp the idea of the bowl and the food and began eating carefully.  Jarlaxle sat behind him and put his arms around his waist reassuringly.  "Ignore them," he murmured, and the mage nodded.  To Entreri, he remarked, "I did not know that you had such knowledge of drugs."

            "It's rather unprofessional to kill people who don't attack you and you are not contracted to kill," Entreri replied dryly.  "So I know a hell of a lot about it."

            The rest of the idle chatter didn't register with the psionist, and it was only about an hour later, after they had packed, and begun to leave that the cloud seemed to clear, and an immediate question came to mind.  "You went to find the mages without me?" he asked Jarlaxle, annoyed that the note of reproach surfaced in his voice as one of hurt bewilderment.

            Jarlaxle shrugged.  "I thought it would be better for all if you slept instead and I went to take care of them.  It worked out fine, did it not?"

            "Yes, but…"

            Jarlaxle cut in before he could continue.  "Besides, you were hurt.  And I did not want any more… incidents."

            A hundred phrases rose to mind, from the righteously indignant to gratification… but what did come out was "You did not?"

            "After all," Jarlaxle smiled warmly, his words seeming at odds with the benign affection written all over his features – the soft look in the half-closed eyes, the gentle cast to his mouth… "I did tell you before.  I would not want to lose such a beautiful toy."

            Knowing that Jarlaxle could easily control his features and his voice at the same time… Kimmuriel did not really know what to believe, or whether the implications suggested were either of them true, so he nodded his head weakly and muttered some sort of thanks, relieved that Jarlaxle did not press the issue, but it hurt so much… more so when he could clearly see that Entreri and Zaknafein seemed to have resolved their relationship's little problems – the little girl sat with Zaknafein on his horse, laughing as the dark elven warrior teased his lover about something or other, while Entreri seemed a lot more relaxed than he had been for days. 

            "That was a bit of an anticlimax," Zaknafein called back at Jarlaxle, apparently ignoring Entreri's haughty reply.  "You could at least have left some for us."

            Jarlaxle laughed.  "I will remember that the next time."

            "Making us come all the way to Cloakwood and meet with so little entertainment…" Zaknafein said with a look of mock annoyance.  "Most unreasonable of you."

            Entreri snorted.  "So little entertainment? Well, excuse me for being so unamusing."

            "I had fun," Sam offered.  "Especially when that girl in the other world asked you all those funny questions."

            Entreri shuddered.  "Don't talk to me about it."

            "Okay, 'Aragorn'."

            "Aragorn?" Jarlaxle raised an eyebrow.  "Who is that?"

            "I do not even want to remember anything," Entreri said firmly.

            "Or when that other girl dressed up as a guy tried to…"

            "Sam!"

            "Do go on, my lady," Jarlaxle grinned.  Entreri glared at him over his shoulder.

            Zaknafein smirked.  "I found it interesting."

            "You didn't," Sam poked Zaknafein in the leg.  "You were jealous.  I could feel it."

            "Didn't he think I was some sort of an illusion?" Entreri asked mildly.

            "Well… he was still jealous," Sam shrugged.

            "At least that stupid incident had something out of it then," Entreri said a little slyly, his previous irritation apparently forgotten.  "So I might admit more often to false names in the future."

             "So you like having many girls using that light producing device on you and dragging you around?" Zaknafein questioned blandly.  "Very oddly dressed girls, at that."

            "You're still jealous," Sam commented solemnly.

            "He has no right to be," Entreri pointed out.  "Considering that if he just wore surface elf skin colors and walked down any street in any human city, he'd probably be mobbed by women."

            "Try it in Baldur's Gate," Jarlaxle suggested, and then glanced at Kimmuriel, who was keeping his usual silence.  "Kimmuriel could try it as well."

            "What?" Kimmuriel blinked.

            "Then we could see which of them get…"

            "Am I the only one who thinks this suggestion of yours is very… juvenile?" Entreri remarked.

            "Well, you suggested it," Sam said, bouncing excitedly.  "I vote Zaknafein."

            "Can we not talk about this?" Entreri asked a little plaintively.  "It's only a few hours' ride to Baldur's Gate, and strange conversations give me a headache."

            "We can relieve that headache in Baldur's Gate," Zaknafein's predatory smile verged on a suggestive leer.

            "I want to go to the toy exhibition," Sam said, blissfully oblivious.

            Zaknafein nodded.  "We should get a few 'toys' for ourselves."  The emphasis he put on the word 'toys' was an obvious indication of his meaning, and Entreri sighed.

            "I could lend you some," Jarlaxle said innocently.

            "You have toys?" Sam asked happily.  "Fuzzy ones?"

            "Oh yes.  Some are… fuzzy." Jarlaxle smirked, winking at Kimmuriel, who flushed a little at the sudden memories.

            "Can I see?" Sam asked, the undertones completely bypassing her.

            "No," Entreri said hurriedly, changing the subject.  "You can buy larger things in Baldur's Gate… since we will be taking the airship back."

            "A big fuzzy horse," Sam said, patting the mane of the real horse she was sitting on.  "I like horses."

            "I can get you a real one," Entreri muttered, since he disapproved of stuffed toys.  Vaguely, he wondered if Zaknafein still entertained his reactions to stuffed animals that he seemed to have gotten from Sam, and decided to find out.  He really did not like that look of calculation that had appeared on Zaknafein's features when Jarlaxle had offered to lend some of his 'toys'.

**

            Iparken seemed quite surprised to see them at the area of the docks reserved for airships.  "Done already?"

            "Yes… and we were wondering when you would be able to depart."

            "Well… maybe in three days or so," Iparken replied thoughtfully.  "We've taken care of most of our cargo, and the repairs weren't too bad." He grinned at Jarlaxle.  "We're all rooming in the King's Inn, if you want more games of chess."

            "Coincidentally… we all have rooms there as well," Jarlaxle smiled.  "It will be my pleasure."

            "All right," Iparken nodded.  "Baldur's Gate is a bit boring this time of year, but I guess you can find things to do in the three days."

            "I still have to visit the thieves' guild here," Entreri agreed.

            "They may be a bit busy – the last I heard they got into a bit of trouble with the Grand Dukes over something which I can't remember," Iparken said, all too happy to spread gossip.  "So you might want to go about there more carefully.  And if you're too bored from taking your little 'sister' around the toy exhibitions you could always go explore the sewers.  For some reason in all human cities the sewers breed strange monsters."

            "No thank you," Entreri said, grimacing.  "I dislike the sewers.  Despite having to use them sometimes."

            "I'd see you later then," Iparken said, turning his head to look at one of his mages, who was shouting something from the deck of the airship floating a few feet above the ground behind them.  The entire process of reparations seemed a bit dangerous to Entreri, with all sorts of strange equipment levitating up to the ship, and mages going on and off it to yell conflicting orders at each other.  All the dweomered arrows seemed to have been removed – and had probably been sold, come to think of it.

             Everything seemed so unreal – that Jarlaxle and Kimmuriel could be to his left, the mercenary leader making all sorts of outrageous comments to a female moon elf mage who blushed and made eyes at him, to Kimmuriel's subtle displeasure… that Zaknafein could be holding a small human girl and talking to her about stuffed toys…

            Perhaps… this world wasn't real after all. 

            But at that moment, when Zaknafein turned back to him and called his name – Entreri found that he didn't care.