Disclaimer: The recognizable characters in this fanfiction were created by R. A. Salvatore in association with the legal entity Wizards of the Coast, who owns relevant copyrights to additional Forgotten Realms material referred to herein. The characters are used without permission but no material profit of any kind is being made from the following work. WotC reserve rights to Forgotten Realms material, but all of the situations unique to this work of fan fiction are property of the writer.
Note: If you were expecting a continuation of the previous chapter's scene, you may be disappointed. My goal was to write in an erotic setting, but to evoke none of the eroticism. It was harder than I imagined and I now realize it didn't work very well.
cages
The domed ceiling of the main room was expansive and elegant on a grand scale. The interior was lit by a massive chandelier comprised of an arrangement of fanciful glass curls and hanging crystal drops. It was a cunning metaphor of a shimmering cloud frozen in the beginnings of a rainstorm. It sparkled with light reflected from the cerulean panels surrounding it and, in turn, cast rainbows on the concave panels that gave the dome its awe-inspiring character.
Designed to cast light down rather than up on the reflective surface of the ceiling, the chandelier efficiently illuminated the vast interior of the room. The entire circumference of the great circular room was awash in wealth. The floors were exquisite hardwoods thrown with intricately designed silk carpets, most likely hand-knotted locally in Calimport or Memnon. The walls were tiled in expensive lacquered panels, mother of pearl, and tasteful marble veneer. The hundreds of alcoves set into the walls were given the same decadent treatment, to prevent their appearance from breaking up the scene. Within each alcove were treasures any member of Calimport's down-trodden lower class could have sold and used to live comfortably for the rest of their miserable existence or to purchase for him the death of a dangerous enemy.
The doors to the room were equally grand. More than twice as tall as the men guarding them, they were constructed of hardwood banded with iron and set with golden curls reminiscent of the chandelier above. On either side of the great doors stood guards, smartly outfitted in black from their close-fitting turbans to their slightly pointed boots. They wore no scabbards for their massive scimitars, which were equally fine as any other treasure in the room. The curved swords had obvious magical attributes, for with the size of the blade such weapons would need large pommels to properly balance them, but none were present.
Fittingly, the women housed in the room were each in their own right as amazingly pleasing to the eyes as any treasure. They sat together drinking a fragrant tea cunningly shaped into bulbs that bloomed into flowers when steaming water was poured over them. Their evening discussion ran the gamut of politics, intrigue, and literature, often with a catty sense of wit most Calimshite bards would find intimidating.
Socially and mentally, the stunningly attractive women of the prince's harem were anything but defenseless. Moreover, their eunuch guardsmen, well-trained and expensively equipped, were not mental slouches. It had taken cheating as skilled as could be found in any halfling gambling den to strip one of the men of a week's wages. Wages the women obviously had no use for, but could tease the man with regardless.
Despite their mental prowess, none of the occupants of the harem had noticed their dangerous observer. A man, grown a year or two older and wiser, perched in silent contemplation in one of the room's many alcoves. No expression tempted his handsome features as he continued watching the women in the room. He found it ironic that many of the women were familiar to him. It appeared that after Sawouz had bled and died, the ladies of his harem had been taken in by the merciful man that had paid for Sawouz's death in the first place.
Entreri distantly approved the ladies their pragmatism, even if his respect hadn't greatly increased in regard to their way of life. In his dark profession the assassin usually saw purely hedonistic harems rather than traditional ones. Over the last two years of his life he'd ceased to really be affected by what he saw within them. Exposure had led to a certain understanding and a comfortable lack of disturbing emotion. He knew what to expect from himself and from the women. The siren call of the opposite gender no longer inspired anger born of pain and confusion. With such a difficult mission on his plate, the assassin was glad he'd taken care of potential confusions.
He'd spent a month casing the palace kept by one of the sultan's many nephews. He'd consulted his network, purchased additional information at the cost of spilled blood and blackmail, but trusted his personal observations far more than any other resource. The job was, beyond a doubt, the climb up from a plateau of work that had lost its challenge.
For the month he'd spent laying the groundwork for the assassination, Entreri had felt more alive than usual. There was life on the razor edge of total devastation. The man was not as reckless as he'd been as a teen, but still enjoyed the view of the waiting abyss from the dizzying heights. One mistake and destruction would hungrily claim him.
But the depths would never have him; Artemis Entreri simply did not think that way. There was only one perfect path under his feet, anything else was void.
Gaining entry into the room had been the most difficult part of the job and combined several elements of traditional infiltration. Entreri didn't mind putting together a plan that seemed routine, he was more concerned with results than style. Slipping into the outer shell of the palace had been easy enough. Between his skills at hiding in the long shadows offered by morning light and his talent at assuming the effective composure and body language of a member of the household staff, Entreri had gained entry into ring after ring of the palace's inner workings. The last few layers of infiltration had been excruciatingly pure works of stealth and subterfuge.
He'd taken to the shadows, darting from window frames to the minute purchases offered by lintels and hallway moldings. In the outer halls leading to corridors that would lead to the harem doors, he'd opted to follow a high ranking staff member at a close distance. Thanks in part to his small size and adaptive body language, none of the guards questioned his presence nor did the staff member notice him as the assassin had ingeniously kept himself in the man's blind spot.
The final breach he owed to the prince's eye for architecture and wealth. The double doors, at least as thick as a full grown man, were tall enough that the assassin, working the shadows and lintels as ever, had only needed to wait for the doors to be opened. When the palace staff had arrived with the magnificent breakfast the harem was afforded, the doors were opened by carefully alert eunuchs within and without. He'd slipped under the top of the rounded door frame and up on the other side, quickly finding a hiding place in a convenient alcove above the door.
That had been hours ago. Since then, he'd moved from alcove to alcove, an unnoticed shadow of inevitable death, until he'd gained a location convenient to the part of the room that looked the most comfortable for the occupants. His position was still part of the wall and the room was undeniably spacious. From all appearances he would have to make a tremendous leap and hit the ground running if things went badly. Of course, Entreri had known that since perusing the room's layout two weeks prior. He didn't plan things to go badly. According to his carefully formed picture, the prince would come in, lose himself to pleasures, and the assassin would take things from there.
In the meantime he continually studied the room and the structure of the relationships evidenced by the blissfully unaware harem women below him. Safe in their gilded cage, the ladies had little compunction about where their conversations led them. Entreri found the usual useful information bandied casually in inner circles he could put to future use. Unbidden thoughts slipped into his as he observed; he wondered how the two concubines he was familiar with from Basadoni's harem would fit in to the gathering.
Frowning severely at his slip in discipline, Entreri closed the thought down, contained it, and jettisoned any related impulses from his mind. He hadn't seen or heard anything about the guild's far-sighted bookkeeper in months as it was.
The great doors at the west end of the room opened within the expected timeframe, heralding the approach of Entreri's mark. The man dressed the part of royalty. Gold threads were shot through his exquisitely cut and embroidered clothing, enhancing the atmosphere of wealth the man already projected. His bright blue eyes, set in a face lined with the marks of shrewd calculation and underneath black slashes of plucked eyebrows, gleamed with crafty intelligence. His mustache was exquisitely groomed, brushed up in the fashion popular for generations. The steps he took were trained in the walk of a man born and groomed for command and respect.
As he moved within the room, the ladies of the harem stood as one and ran to greet him, sinking to their knees in a semi circle around him when he halted. It seemed to Entreri that he paused only to allow them a moment to pretend to worship him. If he hadn't been working, his disgust would have been complete. Basadoni's women never acted in such a humiliating way.
The assassin studied the prince's tight gaze as it swept over the adoring assembly, dissecting the man's level of security. Entreri was satisfied to note the prince's gaze was confined to the women and not the other, many, symbols of status contained in the room. The prince, who was no stranger to hiring killers, felt safe indeed.
The prince seemed pleased with what he saw; a smile lifted the corners of his mustache in satisfaction. Suddenly, but not unexpectedly, he brought his hands together in two quick motions that sounded across the room in sharp reports. The assassin's jaw clenched in involuntary annoyance at the sound, but it was hardly a noticeable reaction, ensconced as he was in the shadows. In a much more ostentatious display, the beautiful women all reacted by breaking ranks and racing for various musical instruments.
In no time at all, the room was resounding with lively music and vibrating ever-so-slightly with the energetic dancing of the prince's harem. Only two women did not join the dance, sing, or fetch musical instruments. Instead, these two begged the prince to come sit with them in such a familiar manner Entreri could only assume it was a nightly event.
The sultan's nephew made a show of protesting, but allowed himself to be pulled to a heap of comfortable pillows where a low table laden with brandy, candied fruits and almonds waited. The man settled in to liberally partake of the alcohol and the amazing visions the women offered him.
Entreri watched closely, studying the way the scene's ambience affected his mark. The assassin was wary of watching some targets too closely, concerned they would be sensitive to eyes upon them. With the prince, Entreri was not overly worried; the man was pierced with calculating eyes nearly every hour of every day and had undoubtedly grown immune to the feeling.
The evening wore on with the expected results. The prince was grew drunk on the vices his birthright afforded him. Between the alcohol and the sinuous sway of feminine bodies, he was fast growing hungry for other forms of entertainment. By Entreri's estimate, for there were no timepieces within the harem, it was full night outside when the sultan's nephew took a few of the girls and reclined in the area the assassin had expected. On cue, the guards within the room stepped out to afford their employer's escapades the desired privacy.
Entreri found it vaguely amusing that as pampered as women in non-traditional harems were, most of their keepers didn't provide them beds. Instead mountains of silk pillows and tasseled throws were their fare. Beds, the assassin mused, would probably infringe on the room's dedication to spontaneous acts of stupidity. With dispassionate gray eyes, the assassin watched the displays of imaginative depravity that unfolded beneath his perch and waited patiently.
The other members of the harem had drifted to the opposite side of the room, not wishing to have their sleep disturbed by the routine. One by one, they made themselves comfortable and dropped off to sleep, far enough away that the assassin was certain they would not cause him any problems. The only women he thought could be troublesome were those entertaining their keeper.
It was quite late when the action below the killer ceased and one of the women intoned a few words to dispel the chandelier's illumination to a dim glow. Entreri began to monitor their breathing for signs of deep sleep. He'd learned nothing if not patience and a sense of timing in the years since he'd arrived in Calimport. Both served him with pinpoint precision as he absorbed the new ambience and setting blanketing the room.
Forty-five minutes after the prince and his immediate attendants had fallen asleep, the darkest shadow in the room began to move. He slid a blackened steel blade out of its sheath and up to be gripped in his teeth. Entreri felt no sense of anxiety or nervousness as he melted down the wall and skimmed the floor on the way to the tangle of sleeping people. A month of careful preparation, an hour of penetrating a palace's security, and a day of patient stillness narrowed down to a mere moment that held the fate of many in the balance. No fan of fate, Entreri did not give a moment's thought to how his next action would again shape the girls' lives. All he allowed himself was a sliver of amusement at the irony of the repeated event.
As hushed as his own shadow, Entreri circled the group. Singling out the prince from the rest of the bodies was easy enough, though his skin was just as smooth as the women's in some places. Befitting the man's superior attitude, his head and shoulders were clearly above the women, who clung lazily to his waist. The assassin frowned at one girl, formerly of Sawouz's harem, for using the prince's chest as a pillow. She could be a problem. Crouching above the man's head, the assassin studied the girl and the prince's arms.
Relying on his instincts and observations of the prince in order to mimic his actions, Entreri reached out and laid a hand on the naked girl's shoulder and pushed slowly until her upper body twisted aside, her back reclining fully on the cushions beside her. Not one of the group had changed their breathing dramatically as a result of his action; a development that prompted the assassin to take the blade from his teeth and palm a pillow.
So much preparation for one second of perfectly executed action.
The pillow settled over the man's face in almost gentle fashion, in stark and hideous contrast to the blade that simultaneously spiked down with perfect force, to cleanly skewer the man's heart.
As expected, the man jerked once, disturbing his sleeping companions. Entreri made no move, waiting to see if the situation would pan out the way he expected. With no noise and no further struggle from their prince, the ladies lying with him snuggled back into his still warm body and went back to their sleep.
No feeling of elation swept the assassin as his hand left the dagger and lifted the noise-smothering pillow. He'd taken care of the mark, but he still had to remove himself from the area without leaving any evidence beyond the blade. The dagger wouldn't be noticeable at first glance, equipped as it was with a small horizontal hilt. It would be easier to cover than a small tower of vertical hilt. The pillow descended again, neatly covering the dagger and soaking up any blood that might leak out of the wound. Plugged as the hole was, Entreri didn't anticipate a growing pool of moisture to awaken the girls pressed against the body.
With the stealth that was his hallmark, Entreri crossed the room toward the double doors that had never left his attention. According to the meticulous timetables he'd run through his mind time and again, there would be a changing of the eunuch guards within the next fifteen minutes. It was his best opportunity of escape unless he still wanted to be in the room when the sultan's nephew was discovered dead. The back up plan was to kill the guards before the women previously in Sawouz's harem could identify him. He doubted it would be necessary to go that route, but the ruthless assassin was a man always ready to adapt his plans to changing situations. The women could also be slain, if they recognized him this time, but he didn't want to resort to such unprofessional sloppiness unless absolutely necessary.
No articles of wealth swayed Entreri as he ascended the wall and maneuvered himself above the doors' curving framework. Artemis Entreri did not kill for wealth anymore than he killed for passion. He used his deadly skill for his own benefit; carving out a kingdom of one. The spoil he most desired was complete independence, bought with fear and respect and financed by the perfect skills the sale of his soul had made possible. Wealth only stood as a mark of worth to the rest of society. In Entreri's view, his worth was marked by the outside world in how much he charged for his services. Services that would fetch double the price hitherto demanded after his escape.
The guards did not disappoint Entreri's sense of timing. The door opened as scheduled, allowing the assassin his avenue of escape. In his professionalism, he still did not take pleasure in the precarious exit, only concentrated on working his way down the length of the corridor's shadows. The way out wasn't always easier than the way in, but the difference was greatly significant. Entreri's route in had taken place in the amber light of morning; one of the least likely moments to expect infiltration. In contrast, his escape was taking place in the middle of the might, the time ruled by Calimport's ne'er-do-wells.
It took him half the time to let himself out as the windows were locked from the inside. He could have opened one in no time from the outside; it took an instant to unlock it from the inside. The window expedited the escape process even though detail-oriented Entreri took a moment to lock the window behind him.
Despite the impeccable skills that had fast vaulted him to the top of his profession, Entreri knew climbing up the outside of the palace would have been nigh impossible. The climb would have left him weary and he couldn't leap i up /i from level to level as effectively as he could drop down. Inevitably, he would have been noticed and picked off by an arrow or crossbow bolt, perhaps even been reduced to a blackened smudge by a wizard's fireball. Gravity would work against him.
With the situation reversed, gravity was stacking the odds in his favor. He slipped from surface to surface under cover of a cloud-covered moon. He dropped from each level on feet as silent as any cat's. And he twisted around iron fencing and glass-topped walls as easily as any snake, often avoiding the nests of birds that could become unintentional alarms along the impressive structure.
Many hours before dawn would kiss the night sky until it flushed crimson, Entreri was off the walls of the palatial structure and in the broken down alleys. He noted with derision that he was more at home in the desolate side streets, stinking of a vile combination of death, urine, and refuse, than within the incense-scented halls of the building he was leaving behind him. It wouldn't matter how often he was contacted to do work within rich settings; to him it was all a veneer to cover the world's insurmountable supply of weakness and falsehood.
The poverty-stricken, in Entreri's opinion, were more honest about their position, though he held no amount of sympathy for the wretches. Perhaps they had started at nothing, but Entreri hadn't even had the luxury of familiarity with his surroundings when he'd hit Calimport. As far as he was concerned, he wouldn't waste spit on any of the dehydrated beggars sleeping listlessly in the alleys.
His journey to the guild house took time, located as it was on the opposite side of the city. Most of the trip was spent creating as winding and confusing path as possible. He purposely cut through rival guild territory, never fearing reprisal; his reputation was firmly established by the Basadoni cabal and was growing everyday. However, it was not the Basadoni guild house he was headed for.
When he at last appeared before his destination, a building as run-down in appearance on the outside as it was rich on the inside, he noted a plethora of homeless hanging around the front. He would have known at a glance the derelicts outside were skilled combatants, even if he hadn't expected them. They knew him, but were not expecting him to come calling. A few shifted nervously, whispering to each other as he approached. One of them slipped quickly into the building as Entreri came to a halt before them.
"You're not expected," one of the pretenders told him, voice rough with nervousness he didn't mean to show.
The assassin didn't even glance his way, content to wait for the return of the guard that was playing messenger. "Your pasha must indeed be rich if he pays you to state the obvious."
The comment had the intended effect of silencing the guildsman, who frowned furiously, but did not return the intended slight. Nobody wanted to anger a killer on his way up the deadly ranks of his profession.
In less time than the assassin or guards would have thought possible, the messenger returned and motioned Entreri forward. "Come with me."
Smiling without humor, Entreri followed the woman in, watching his back as he went. As a visitor to the guild, most people could expect to be blindfolded when making a call. The first time the assassin had come, they had tried to do subject him to the same treatment. Several broken wrists were on the mend since then. He'd made it perfectly clear he would not submit to anyone touching his person in any way.
This visit was substantially easier. The thief leading him was more a chaperone than a guide and she didn't bother making the trip unnecessarily complicated. There was no straight way to their destination; her pasha's meeting hall was only accessible by going down several floors before heading up again. The seasoned thief was doing her best to make the round about route as direct as possible while keeping a furtive eye on the dangerous assassin.
Outside the pasha's meeting hall Entreri saw the usual guards, inside the room he saw the usual wealth, but none of the exotic hunting cats nor the man himself were present. When he walked in, he found himself alone. Standing solitary in the room was vaguely uncomfortable to the assassin; it was his habit to enter into known quantities or to lay in wait for his victims. It was his supreme confidence in his growing abilities that kept him from feeling exposed.
A tapestry behind the pasha's granite dais folded under a fleshy hand as Pasha Pook moved it aside to facilitate his entry into the room. Though he was well-groomed, his eyes were tinged red and his expression was clearly irritated. Entreri could guess why; Pook was a man proficient in enjoying the many spoils his sharp faculties brought into the guild. It was likely he had a late night not unlike that the late prince had known. Except Pook was alive and the prince was not.
Pasha Pook thrust himself into his chair, fixing the assassin with an irate glare that bordered on childish petulance. At first he said nothing, only gripped the head of a panther statue beside his chair. Entreri said nothing, content to let the pasha play his little waiting game. The assassin knew and appreciated the power of silence.
"You could not come at a decent hour?" The man finally spat, fingers digging into the statue's ruby eyes.
Nonplussed, Entreri played the waiting game a few beats longer, reminding the pasha that he was a ranking member of one of the most powerful guilds in the city. "I see I've mistaken the value of a personal visit."
Pook ignored the retort; he both knew Entreri wouldn't use an intermediary on a job of such magnitude. A personal visit didn't make up for the ungodly hour. Still grumpy with his early wake-up call, he went on to business. "It is done?"
Artemis Entreri did not bow to the pasha and his nod was so abbreviated it hardly stirred a hair on his head. Only one man warranted the assassin's elusive respect and Pook, no matter how successful his guild, would never warrant half that in the assassin's eyes. "I have no other reason to be here. You may send the second half of the payment to the appropriate account with my guild. At that time our business will be concluded."
The pasha smiled absently, infractions suddenly forgotten. He smoothed his fingers down the gilded pelt of the panther statue flanking his chair. Entreri was young, but harder to read than ruffians twice his age. "Are you so eager to leave, Master Entreri?"
Pook's playful attitude wasn't winning him the assassin's goodwill. The man was causing a faint sense of revulsion to bubble up from within Entreri. His reply was clothed in a dangerous quiet voice. "Are you eager to keep me?"
The wily pasha nodded knowingly, gauging the assassin's reactions and choice of words. He knew it wasn't wise to play games with dangerous people before their motivations were quantified, no matter how young they appeared. "I know you for a man that respects a straightforward approach, so I will be frank with you. My guild could use someone like you; money's no object for a man with your skill."
"I wonder how Pasha Basadoni will take your intention to poach his most trusted lieutenant?" The offer wasn't the first Entreri had heard, but it was coming from one of the wealthiest pashas in Calimport. He knew, too, that there would soon be even more interest, as long as the city's other hired killers weren't foolish enough to claim the hit. Entreri himself would not claim the hit, either, but his silence on the subject would speak more eloquently than any boasting.
"Everyone knows my fondness for big cats, Entreri. How can I resist trying to acquire Pasha Basadoni's most deadly leopard? A leopard among jackals, he calls you. There are great assassins within Calimport, Entreri, but none with your pure discipline and dedication. You are the rare genuine article."
Entreri stared hard at the pasha. Compliments and flattery were not unknown to him; they usually accompanied outlandish requests and pleas for mercy. He ignored them equally. "Do you understand the amount Pasha Basadoni allots for my retainer?"
The response pleased Pook greatly; the assassin was clearly indicating his allegiance could, indeed, be bought. "I understand that this guild can triple it," he chuckled dismissively. "But I hardly expect you to make a quick decision, Master Entreri. Take your time, let the rumors of your prowess circulate. More offers will come, but none will equal mine. Like Artemis Entreri, this guild is ascending and if he is identified with its ascent, his reputation and prestige will grow in ways Basadoni cannot offer."
"You're saying I will always be overshadowed by my guild's longstanding success." Entreri didn't disagree with this view. It was a logical extrapolation of events and it was exactly the right tactic to take with the young assassin. Pasha Pook was every bit the wily speaker people on the streets said he was.
"We both know that kingdoms can be built in the shadows," Pook began, taking great pleasure in the play of words and images, "but few of worth are built within the shadow of a shadow."
Word play wasn't of interest to Entreri unless he was using it to intimidate an opponent. His response was typical in its flatness. "I prefer to have a platform from which to conduct my business. If I find yours the most advantageous, I will contact you."
Pook smile turned indulgent. His mood had started off on the foul side with the assassin's obscenely early visit, but had quickly shot into level after level of satisfaction. The prince was dead, freeing up his harem for pilfering, and the brilliant young assassin that had carried out the mission could very well be his. The day was starting off beautifully.
"Ah," the pasha sighed, "I do have one more request for you, Master Entreri, for which I will pay handsomely."
Entreri cocked his head slightly, indicating his sudden and very intense interest. If the pasha had another equally as difficult target, the assassin was keen to hear about it.
"I understand Basadoni had a lovely diviner by the name of Rashili," Pook said, unaware of the twinge of confusion he was inspiring in the assassin's mind with his use of the past tense. "I hear she left his…employ. Since she is no longer a part of the guild, it wouldn't be a problem for you to locate her, would it?"
If he weren't used to disregarding his emotions, subtle confusion might well have made it to his face. The only name he'd ever heard resembling the one Pook mentioned belonged to Basadoni's bookkeeper. He'd heard nothing of her departure and wouldn't expect to; anyone as steeped in the guild's finances would not be allowed to leave. The only way she would leave the guild would be as a corpse.
Switching mental gears, he asked himself why Pook wanted to know her whereabouts. Why would he want her? To add her to his harem? He doubted she would go willingly; the woman wasn't likely Pook's type. Due to her connection to his guild, he saw more reasons to ask Pook's motivation than not. "I won't involve myself until I know your motivations and speak to my guild master."
"I suspected no less," Pook answered immediately, always ready to be accommodating when it came to something he wanted. "As you know, I'm an acquisitive man. Years ago I lost an opportunity to acquire this girl. Pasha Basadoni slyly slipped her out from under my nose. It was a loss born of a foolish mistake and one I'd like to rectify."
The assassin was tempted to shrug the issue away dismissively. He was struck with an impulse to affirm he had no connection to the woman. She'd been a tutor in an area he needed education and he had been studious keeping any weakness for the woman from developing. What did he care where she ended up?
"I'll speak to Pasha Basadoni," he replied with typical cold efficiency and a minute nod to indicate he was ready to leave. He'd been awake for the span of a full day and night and he wanted to get away before it affected him. Young and vibrantly healthy, Entreri didn't need much sleep; he only took enough to remain in perfect mental condition.
His chaperone walked beside him, nervous of putting her back to the assassin. She had no idea he barely saw her. Entreri was committing as much of the building's layout to memory as possible while considering the issue of a possibly wayward favorite. There was little doubt in Entreri's mind, if Rashi had left the guild, whether she was a favorite or not, she was either dead or soon would be.
Pook sat thinking after the assassin turned and let himself out. He leaned back in his chair, petting the gold statue again. There was little doubt he would eventually pull Entreri into the guild; the young man was a slave to good sense.