Chapter Four

An unhappy Jarlaxle was double-checking the surrounding area, ensuring that all their enemies were either dead or fleeing, when he heard an explosion that sounded very much like a powerful spell. Knowing orcs likely weren't responsible for such magic, he headed in the direction of the sound, carefully setting aside for the moment his concern over his own failed spell. When he reached the edge of the clearing, he found Entreri facing off with, of all things, a fellow Calishite. Entreri's gauntlet was smoking, apparently from having thrown back a spell, and a tree behind the other man had been reduced to splinters. Both had apparently come in close contact with the energy: Entreri's right forearm was burnt, and the other man's left shoulder was burnt.

Jarlaxle whipped out one of his many wands and pointed it at the dangerous magic-user. "I suggest you remain very still and do not speak."

Tai ran up and halted by Jarlaxle. He looked the newcomer over and frowned. "Tyrist."

"Tyrist?" Jarlaxle echoed, and saw from the corner of his vision Entreri raise his dagger and advance a step toward the man.

"A cleric of Tyr," Tai confirmed. "And a powerful one," he continued in a whisper, "for the damage suggests a flame strike."

The cleric had diverted his attention to Tai and seemed to hone in on the symbol stitched upon the breast of his cloak. "A priest of Hoar? You, a mere boy?"

Tai made a face, and Jarlaxle decided the young man didn't like to be referred to as a boy.

The cleric had turned a frown back upon Entreri. "I should have known that a priest traveling with the likes of you would be a priest of Hoar." Disgust blackened his tone. "And I shouldn't be surprised, I suppose, at seeing a drow with you, either."

"You speak as though you know me," Entreri said, and Jarlaxle could hear in his voice, and see in his face, every ounce of his hatred for priests.

"I have only lived out here for ten years. I know well the exploits of the assassin Artemis Entreri." The man flashed a look at Jarlaxle, who promptly stepped forward, wand still aimed at the man's chest. The cleric returned his gaze to Entreri. "You will not escape justice this time."

Entreri's eyes narrowed into glittering slits, and Jarlaxle fancied that he could already smell the cleric's spilt blood. But Tai was one step ahead of everyone.

"Who gave you the right to be the judge, jury, and executioner of this man?" Tai asked, and it seemed to Jarlaxle that the cleric was suddenly a full two inches taller. "If you left your homeland ten years ago, I can't imagine you have any current information about him. Perhaps he is no longer the man you knew of; perhaps it would be the greater crime to kill him now."

The priest of Tyr and Entreri were both staring at Tai with incredulity, but Jarlaxle could tell that while the priest's incredulity bordered on revulsion, Entreri's was tinged with . . . respect? Perhaps the young cleric could charm Entreri after all.

"The church of Tyr gives me the right," the man said. "And do not be a fool. People such as Artemis Entreri do not change. Such monsters are evil without limit, a blight upon humanity that must be scourged at all costs."

Tai, his eyes narrowing, tilted up his chin and sniffed at the man. "The power to change is in all people, Master . . . ?"

"Macatos. Hector Macatos."

"Master Macatos. And the power to destroy rests not only in evil people."

Jarlaxle sensed a wisdom about the boy that belied his years. This one walks with his god, Jarlaxle thought, and his god with him.

"Evil propagates evil," Tai continued, "and justice honor. If this assassin is truly the monster you claim, his current deeds will damn him. But if he is not what you claim, and is instead a just man at heart, your trial-less execution will be the greater evil. Therefore, it would be best if you allowed fate to take its course."

Hector was sneering. "We Tyrists do not rely on fate so greatly as you, Master . . .?"

"Vatoshie."

"Vatoshie, then." Hector straightened his shoulders despite his burn. "Instead, we rely on the law—"

"Blindly, Master Macatos. You rely on it blindly." Tai glided down the slope into the clearing, placing himself between the angry assassin and the haughty priest. "At any rate, as their temporary traveling companion, their actions are my responsibility now. As a priest of a fellow god of retribution, I demand that you stand down and leave them to my judgment. However," Tai cast a humorless smile upon Entreri for a moment, "I can assure you that if you continue your assault upon Master Entreri, the only justice this day will see is the justice dealt to an overly nosey man."

Entreri was grinning evilly, and, Jarlaxle noted, a bit hungrily as well. Hector was frowning, but he looked between Entreri, Tai, and Jarlaxle and seemed to reach a decision. "I will leave you be," he said, and Jarlaxle did not believe for one moment that the priest meant it. Still, when he turned to leave, Jarlaxle did not stop him.

Entreri, however, seemed to have a different opinion on the matter. He stepped forward, the hate still plain in his eyes. Tai turned toward him and raised his hands in a calming manner.

"Please, Master Entreri, let it go. It would be unwise to murder a priest of Tyr in this area; they have gained quite a foothold here. Let us wait to act—perhaps it will prove unnecessary to kill him."

Entreri stomped up to Tai and leaned into his face. The youth, who was only three inches shorter than the assassin, seemed somehow dwarfed. "And I am to abide by the request of a priest who claims jurisdiction over my actions?"

Tai's eyes were back to their normal wideness, and he stared up at Entreri with a boyish innocence. "Oh, not at all." His smile was completely disarming. "I just said that to get rid of the Tyrant!"

Jarlaxle, certain that Hector was indeed gone, stowed away his wand and considered the boy carefully. It was as if the priest had changed personalities suddenly: boy, wise man, boy again. Just exactly how much favor did Hoar bestow upon this youth? Apparently a great deal, if the young man's clerical powers were any indication. While the youth was not a powerful cleric, he was certainly more accomplished than any sixteen-year-old could normally hope to be.

"Now," Tai had continued, still smiling in the face of Entreri's scowl, "would you allow me to cure your burn? I can't imagine that it feels very pleasant."

Entreri looked tired suddenly, and turned away, retrieving the sword he'd dropped and putting away his weapons. He settled himself at the base of a tree, leaned against the trunk, and considered Tai for several moments. "Very well."

Tai grinned and rushed over to kneel beside the grumpy assassin. He examined the burn. "Oooh. Not pretty."

Jarlaxle joined them and watched the proceedings with a smile. "Indeed. You were very nearly smitten with holy fire today, my friend. Most unfortunate, although I'm unsure for whom it would have been the more unfortunate—the divine or the reprobate. Although I dare say it would've proven a scarier day for the nine hells."

Entreri summarily told him what he could do with his sense of humor.

Tai laughed along with Jarlaxle, then held his hand out over Entreri's arm. He closed his eyes and fell into deep concentration and prayer. After a moment, he waggled his fingers, and most of the burn seemed to bleed away from Entreri's skin.

"Not bad," Entreri said, apparently begrudgingly.

Tai opened his eyes and sighed. "Sorry. I'm not yet in tune enough with Hoar to completely cure you."

Jarlaxle reached into a pouch of his new belt, recently acquired from Kimmuriel, and pulled out his healing orb. It had taken Kimmuriel several days to replace the items lost when Socor had inadvertently blown up Jarlaxle's belt. "Well, in the meantime I am capable of healing the rest."

Tai scooted over and watched with interest while Jarlaxle knelt and completed the healing of Entreri's arm. The assassin was looking a bit flustered by all the attention by that point. "Thank you," he mumbled.

Jarlaxle grinned. "Well, we must take care of our hot-headed assassin, mustn't we?"

Entreri gave him The Look, but Jarlaxle merely laughed once more and put away his healing orb.

"Just what we needed," Entreri said after a moment. "A priest of Tyr who is not only going after Socor, he's out to arrest and execute me as well."

Tai frowned. "Yes, it is inconvenient. You've never before seen this man?"

"I haven't. However, he looks and acts just like every priest of Tyr I've ever known."

Jarlaxle caught the inside of his bottom lip between his teeth, suddenly consumed with theories. Since Entreri's father and uncle had sexually abused him and Entreri manifested a deep hatred of priests, it was possible that his father or uncle had been a priest. And given Entreri's specific reaction to Tyrists and the fact the church of Tyr was active in Calimshan, it was likely his father or uncle had been specifically a priest of Tyr. But what if it were worse, even, that that? What if his entire family had been members of the church of Tyr, and had merely stood by and watched the abuse happen, doing nothing to help the child?

Tai was smiling at Entreri, a touch of empathy in his eyes. "You and I, we're both given to overgeneralization, aren't we?"

Entreri scowled at the boy. "By which you mean . . .?"

"We have one or two—maybe even three—bad experiences with something, and we assume everything in the world is all the same way."

Jarlaxle watched the boy with interest, then glanced at Entreri. The man had, after all, once said that he considered "supposedly goodly" priests the lowest life form, "just below troglodytes and green slime, the greatest hypocrites and liars in all the world."

The assassin had raised an eyebrow at Tai. "I assure you, I have reason enough to hate priests."

"But does one evil priest make us all evil? Or two? Or even three? Even if you ran across an entire temple full of evil priests who supposedly served a good god, would it make all the priests of that religion evil?" Tai was beginning to take on the "wise man" persona again. "I've done the same thing in my life, I assure you, but when I stand back and look at it, I must tell myself not to call them all Tyrants. It is not easy; I fight the tendency constantly. But I know that even if I met three dozen bad priests of Tyr, it doesn't really say anything about all Tyrran priests everywhere or all priests in general."

Entreri scoffed. "That may be true, but I also know what I've seen. And what I've seen, in forty years of life, is many supposedly goodly people or priests who are nothing more than hypocrites."

Tai blinked, but then seemed to recover instantly. He smiled softly again and patted Entreri's healed arm. "I have known those people, too. That is why I prefer to serve in Hoar's traveling priesthood. I will roam a great deal of Faerun in my life, and I will leave no name behind me. I will build no wealth. I will only promote justice, and when I am gone, no one will remember my passing. This lifestyle should help ensure that I would never become one of those people. And to me, that is a profoundly comforting thought."

Entreri was glaring at him. "So the exception now makes the rule?"

"Who says the rule wasn't made by the exception in the first place?"

It took Entreri a beat to catch up with that reasoning. "So you're suggesting I misformulated my entire concept of the world?"

Tai just smiled. "I'm not suggesting that the priests of Tyr you've known weren't evil, I'm merely suggesting that you might want to reconsider the nature of world you see."

Entreri snorted and pushed himself to his feet. "Fascinating, I'm sure, but there is a reason I'm an assassin and not a philosopher." He gave the boy a sidelong glance. "Are you not bothered by the fact I'm assassin, supposedly goodly priest?"

Oh, no, Jarlaxle sighed internally. We've lost ground.

"Not at all. There are many assassins serving Hoar."

Jarlaxle and Entreri both stared at Tai. "Assassins serve Hoar?" Jarlaxle asked. "Is he an evil deity?" Entreri turned an angry look upon him briefly.

Tai laughed. "Certainly not! Hoar is . . . well, just. His domain is retribution, and like a good judge, he is very neutral." He hesitated. "Let's put it this way: many paladins serve Tyr. But anyone who is interested in upholding the spirit of the law can serve Hoar. This occasionally includes assassins. Sometimes an unfair law must be broken, you see, in order for true justice to be served. Of course, a Tyrist would punish anyone who breaks any law—even in civil disobedience."

Entreri traded a look with Jarlaxle, but the drow wasn't quite sure what that look said. "Well," the assassin said after a long pause, "I guess that makes you tolerable."

Tai laughed off the implied insult, and for a moment, Jarlaxle was reminded of himself. The elf's initial assessment of Tai would have to be revised to include more complexity.

Two hours later, Jarlaxle stared ahead at Entreri and Tai, who both now rode the same horse. The easy gait of his mare actually made the elf tired, and he frowned in an unusual show of unhappiness.

His levitation spell had failed.

Jarlaxle was aware that Drizzt Do'Urden had completely lost his ability to levitate after coming to the surface, but recently there had been conflicting rumors concerning the fate of drow who remained on the surface. Jarlaxle would have to invest Kimmuriel's help in researching the question. Yet, in the meantime, Jarlaxle felt vulnerable. He'd relied on his innate magic all his life, and in a world he still knew little about, he didn't want any disadvantages. Besides, what would Entreri think if he learned?

The drow shook his head, immediately confused. Entreri's loyalty to him during their last fight with Socor still had Jarlaxle puzzled. Here was a man known for treachery, a man who had been feeling threatened by Jarlaxle just prior to the fight, and yet this man had saved him as though it were the normal, natural thing to do.

The rational side of Jarlaxle's mind argued that it was not so surprising. Jarlaxle had offered the man a bit of simple friendship, and the man seemed to be offering him some in return. Likewise, he should expect that Entreri would treat the news of faltering magical powers with indifference.

Shouldn't he?

Jarlaxle's paranoid side immediately jumped in. This man was an assassin—a dangerous, treacherous man that no one could ever afford to genuinely trust. The drow should hide the vulnerability at all costs!

But a third part of Jarlaxle stepped forward, the part he listened to the least often: his heart. The part of him capable of occasional acts of compassion. The part of him that, when he held it in proper check, gave him the immense tactical advantage of empathy without sympathy. This part of Jarlaxle reminded him of the thought that had plagued him for a month now: What would it mean for him to acquire a genuine friend?

Acquire! his heart scoffed at his mind.

Jarlaxle sighed, exhausted by his own conflicting emotions. He picked the hat up off his head and ran his hand across his sweating scalp. Suddenly, this entire venture no longer seemed an amusing game or fun adventure. Very real, very vulnerable pieces of himself were getting drawn into this, and he decided he didn't like the experience.

But his heart chimed in one last time: You're missing something important, you fool. Put the pieces together: the priest, the sexual abuse, the act of loyalty. Add in the acts of compassion for yourself, Danica, and Morik. There is a picture here, a truth here, if only you can put together the pieces. And in the meantime, consider this: "acquiring" a genuine friend means having a friend who will not harm you.

Jarlaxle sighed again. Rationally, he knew he was indeed missing something. Something important, a key to who Artemis Entreri really was beneath all the pain, anger, and bitterness.

But could he really afford to take the time to figure out the puzzle? Could he chance truly placing his welfare in Entreri's hands? The man despised weakness, after all. Would he tolerate a drow with failing magical powers?

The only answer was to contact Kimmuriel and hope that the spell failed for some other reason—perhaps they were in a wild magic zone, or maybe it was a fluke, a random misfire. Either way, the only answer concerning Entreri was to not find out the answers to his questions.