"Some people suffer under the pain of tragedies that most
cannot imagine. And yet to believe that you can never
make anything more of your life, can never rebuild or recover,
is to damn yourself outright."—Tai

Chapter Three

The midnight hour had come and gone, leaving a pale half moon encircled by encroaching storm clouds, which prowled the horizon like hunting panthers. Mordecai and the three Tuin'Tarl soldiers crouched in the High Forest's dense foliage, where the chirps and hoots of strange insects and animals surrounded them, and awaited the fifth member of their party. The night had grown cool, and the breeze brought a further chill. Mordecai pulled his cloak around his shoulders and eased his increasing boredom by watching Cat hunt.

Finally Vren arrived, dragging himself to his companions and revealing that his arm was a mess of shredded gore.

Mordecai was amused. "How many of them did you kill before you were so neatly frayed?"

The Secondboy dug a healing potion out of his supplies and drank it. "None," he admitted with a snarl.

"None? I thought you said strategic assassinations would work best," Mordecai mocked him. "I thought you said you could handle all four of them by yourself."

Vren glowered at Mordecai. "I met unexpected resistance."

"Jarlaxle?" the cleric guessed, assuming that the mercenary would easily wound and scare off the Secondboy. He crossed his arms and smugly peered down at Vren. "Or was it the human assassin?"

Vren sat against the nearest tree trunk and didn't answer. The three Tuin'Tarl soldiers watched the exchange in silence, too wise to speak up when their former weapons' master and the Secondboy were arguing. For several moments, the only sound was tree limbs creaking in the wind. Mordecai hoped the heavy silence would force Vren to answer, but the Secondboy seemed willing to let the question hang.

"The female?" the cleric finally asked. Then a moment's enlightenment hit him, given Vren's near pout. "The boy? You cannot be serious!" Mordecai laughed, the humor of the situation winning out, especially given the depth of Vren's failure and cowardice.

"And what, may I ask, do you find so amusing?" the Secondboy asked with a glare.

"You mean other than your pain?" Mordecai sneered. "I find great humor in the fact that a mere human boy would so easily beat you. It verifies for me that you are still the pathetic fighter I was brought in to replace."

Vren's entire face scrunched into a frown, his look of hatred priceless. "The human is a cleric. I'm unsure what spell he used against me, but my efforts were greatly impeded by it."

"A weak cleric such as he impeded you?" Mordecai laughed again.

"If he is so weak, why is he not dead by your hand," Vren asked, "along with Jarlaxle and Entreri—who are both still alive despite your best attempts?"

"Because I didn't intend to kill him," Mordecai snapped. "I tortured the boy and sent him as a message to the others." Unknowingly, Vren had hit a sore spot with the cleric. Mordecai knew that during the fight against Jarlaxle and Entreri, the human boy had held him motionless with his god's or goddess's power. Granted, it had only been for a few moments, but even those mere seconds were inexcusable. The irritating brat would pay for that embarrassment. Maybe Mordecai would rape him again. Somehow, death didn't seem an appropriate punishment.

Vren was smirking at Mordecai. "Convenient excuse." He crossed his legs and sat upright, continuing before Mordecai could respond. "I still believe that attacking them individually is the best plan."

"Why?" Mordecai asked, not seeing the logic of Vren's strategy. "I insist that we should retrieve the mirror first. We can then use it to kill Jarlaxle and his companions all at once. Besides, retrieval of the mirror is our mission—are not our Matron Mother's dreams of power the whole purpose of this endeavor?" The cleric's tone turned faintly sarcastic.

The Secondboy snorted. "Yes. But what if Jarlaxle gets the mirror first? Or worse, uses some connection he still possesses to discover and reveal our identities? Do not underestimate his power or ability to destroy our house." Vren frowned. "We have never been strong, and Bregan D'aerthe has the ear of House Baenre. It's not a pleasant thought, given that both Jarlaxle and Kimmuriel remain alive and, according to you, are still in league."

Mordecai held back a sigh. "Of course Jarlaxle will figure out our identities. All the more reason for us to retrieve the mirror first!"

"No, all the more reason to kill Jarlaxle first!" Vren seemed exasperated.

Mordecai felt his patience slipping. "Very well. But if you persist in your efforts to kill Jarlaxle and his pets first, then you should wait until they reenter the forest and attack them all together."

Vren snickered and began patting down his long silver hair—a clear sign that he thought he had the upper hand in their exchange. "Why would you be so adamant about that strategy? You tried individual assassinations and an ambush, and you failed at both."

"Perhaps." Mordecai's smile was nasty. "But at least I was not defeated by a child."

Vren narrowed his eyes. "Our Matron Mother appointed me the leader of this group, and you will abide by her orders—and therefore mine. We will follow my plan."

Appealing to the power of the matriarch, Mordecai thought with disgust. Are you too much the fool to realize that you should not have to rely on anyone's power save your own? "Very well. Might I suggest that I take care of the human boy and the female, and that we wait to resume our efforts until the group heads for the ruins?"

"You leave me to kill Jarlaxle and the human assassin?" Vren seemed amused.

Certainly. You'll be dead before you can land your first strike. "Of course." Mordecai kept his glee hidden. "Would killing them not prove your superior skill?" He knew Vren couldn't disagree with the plan now, particularly since refusing would also underscore Vren's cowardice.

Vren looked rather like he was dangling over a pit of hungry spiders. "True enough. Very well."

Mordecai had to employ every ounce of his self control not to laugh again, especially considering the fact he was secretly making fools of them all. House Tuin'Tarl was just one more stepping stone, one more rung on a ladder. A tool to aid in a much larger chaos and victory.

Yes, Mordecai was amused, indeed.

Dawn brought relief from the rain, so Tai awakened to brilliant sunlight pouring through the window into Entreri's and Jarlaxle's room. The priest sat up in Jarlaxle's bed, which he'd taken over for the night, and scanned the room: the drow was gone, which was no surprise, and Entreri appeared to still be sleeping. The inn was shrouded in comforting silence, a stillness that seemed to suggest no one else was stirring. Tai couldn't even hear any sounds from the street yet, although when he climbed out of bed and glanced outside, he could see a few early risers walking down the wooden sidewalks.

Movement in Tai's peripheral vision alerted him that Entreri was awake. The assassin extended his body into a luxurious, cat-like stretch, and then, as usual, he was wide awake. He sat up, pulled his dagger from its place in the wall, and eyed Tai.

"Good morning," the priest greeted him softly. The assassin seemed most in his element at night, and therefore was usually rather dour in the morning.

"As you say," was Entreri's neutral reply.

Tai started to smile, but a sudden thought stole it. "I wonder if Nyx returned safely."

"Jarlaxle said he'd attend to it," Entreri said. "Since he didn't awaken us with grim news, I assume she's fine." He climbed out of bed and began moving about the room.

Tai nodded and tried to have confidence in the assassin's logic. Still, since Entreri, Jarlaxle, and he had been unable to track his attacker, the drow could have easily tried to kill Nyx as soon as his arm was healed, assuming Mordecai would heal him. Furthermore, Entreri's comment that Jarlaxle would find Nyx and assure her safety hardly comforted Tai, given his current feelings about Jarlaxle . . .

The priest shook his head and gazed out the window as his thoughts threatened to overcome him. He needed to stop being so suspicious. Tai had analyzed the conversation between Jarlaxle and Mordecai that he'd overheard, and as a result, he had realized that Mordecai seemed disgusted that Jarlaxle would associate with humans. This left Tai with a question.

"How do drow view humans?" the priest asked, turning toward Entreri.

The assassin was lining up his shaving equipment, but at Tai's question he stopped and regarded the priest. "As insects, basically. We're less than nothing to them."

Tai wondered if the name Mordecai called him, iblith, meant "insect." Somehow, he suspected that it meant something much worse, and inexplicably, the priest's throat constricted. "Then why is Jarlaxle friends with you?" he managed to ask. "Why would he travel with three humans?"

Entreri shrugged. "Apparently he does not share their attitude. He has never seemed to mind the company of humans and in fact seems to enjoy it at times." A small smile bent up one corner of the assassin's mouth. "Jarlaxle is a very odd drow. I spent time in the drow city of Menzoberranzan, so allow me to assure you, Jarlaxle is one of a kind. All the other drow are like Mordecai."

Tai wrinkled his nose in disgust and felt his breathing grow shallower. Hoping to ease some of his tension, he turned back toward the window and stared at the growing crowd milling around the street. "If Jarlaxle knows that—and I know he does—then why did he leave me alone the night we were doing reconnaissance at the tower?"

A stretch of silence met this question. "Because you are an adult and a priest," came the reply at length. "We'd seen you fight before; you can hold your own. Besides, if you'll remember, we had not yet verified that we were dealing with drow."

Tai nodded, feeling both an odd stab of pain and a twinge of pride at Entreri's answer. His throat seemed to further constrict, and he hoped he wouldn't tear up. Not in front of Entreri, at least. "True eno—" The choking sensation grew, cutting off Tai's words, and the priest recognized it for what it was.

This had happened to him once before, four days earlier while he'd been bathing one night. He'd been pondering a similar question, and as he'd grown tenser and angrier, he'd suddenly begun to choke. The feeling reminded him of the choking and near suffocation he'd experienced under Mordecai's spell. Tai grabbed at his throat and desperately sucked in air. The resulting inhalation sounded more like a wheeze.

The priest suddenly had an assassin at his side. "Relax." Entreri's voice was forceful yet calm.

Tai took another wheezing breath.

"Look at me." It was a command that could not be disobeyed.

Tai glanced up and found his gaze captured by Entreri's to such a degree that he felt almost as though the assassin were transferring his composure into Tai's soul.

"Inhale slowly and deeply," the assassin said, still holding Tai's gaze. Entreri's power of personality was so immense that the priest felt as though Entreri were speaking directly to his soul. "Imagine your throat expanding."

Tai was reminded of his meditation and communing rituals; he touched the tip of his tongue to the roof of his mouth and breathed deeply. Minutes later, when Entreri blinked and broke their gaze, Tai realized that he'd forgotten he was choking.

"You need to stop brooding and staring out the window," the assassin said quietly. "You are only causing yourself damage."

Tai was speechless. Entreri hadn't said the words with any warmth or concern, yet somehow, Tai felt cared for. The priest realized belatedly that he felt almost peaceful. How was that possible? If Jarlaxle, or even Nyx, touched him or tried to comfort him, he became tense or irritated. Entreri could stand a mere foot in front of him and say six sentences, and Tai felt comfortable and reassured. Was it the difference in personalities? Jarlaxle's flamboyance and Nyx's pained concern versus Entreri's calm practicality? Or . . .?

"You're doing it again," Entreri stated. "Stop before you drive yourself mad." The assassin gave Tai a pointed look. "Listen. It's very simple. Nyx, Jarlaxle, and I are not going to betray you, and Mordecai is going to die a horrible death. That's all you need to know, and all you need to think about."

Tai watched the flash of anger and disgust cross Entreri's face as he mentioned Mordecai's name and had to wonder . . . was it Entreri's anger—oddly enough—which made him so comfortable to be around?

Tai wasn't sure. All he knew was that some part of Entreri's personality or attitude made him feel grounded. Stronger. In fact, the assassin's anger and cynicism reminded him of Hoar.

"Yes, that's it," the priest said, mostly to himself. "You remind me of Hoar."

Entreri looked like he'd been kicked in stomach. "I remind you of your deity?"

"He's the god of vengeance, and he takes great pleasure in poetic justice," Tai said. "The two of you are similar in your . . . uh . . . bitter humor."

Entreri raised an eyebrow at that. "Is that so?" He smirked, then shook his head. "Perhaps. But that begs one question: how did someone as even-tempered and joyful as you end up following such a god?"

Tai shrugged. "Because I was enraged over my brother's unjust execution and the resulting shame my family lived with."

"And now you are angry again." Entreri snorted. "Indeed, you should have heard the tone of your reply last night when Jarlaxle suggested you sleep in our room for safety."

Entreri's observation brought Tai pain; he knew well the price of rage and pessimism. "Well, it's not as if I'm a child," the priest explained. "He made it sound as though I was a five-year-old who needed his parents' protection."

"I don't think he meant it that way." Entreri turned and headed back to his shaving implements. "In his own strange way, he might have been concerned."

Tai kept his reply to himself, and he and Entreri got ready in short order then proceeded downstairs for breakfast. Nyx and Jarlaxle were waiting for them at a corner table and had already been served their food.

"Ah, so you are alive," Entreri greeted Nyx as he took a seat.

"Said with such concern," Nyx quipped.

"But of course," the assassin replied snidely.

Tai sat by Nyx and gazed at her as inconspicuously as possible. Her auburn hair was braided in a crown with three smaller hoop-braids looping across her neck. Under her leather vest, she was wearing a simple white shirt, its sleeves tucked neatly in leather bracers, and her grey cloak was pulled around her shoulders as though she were chilled.

The priest knew his friend had to feel his gaze upon her, but she didn't look up from her food. Concerned, he watched her outright. Despite her faintly tan complexion, Tai could see a few freckles racing across the bridge of her slender nose, and he felt surprised he'd never noticed them before. "Were you attacked?" he asked softly, assuming that Jarlaxle had told her of the previous night's events.

"No."

Nyx's short, emotionless answer told Tai she was upset. Although she had a vicious temper, Nyx actually had difficulty articulating herself when feeling hurt or distressed. "I'm sorry," he said.

The monk finally looked at him. "Don't worry about it. It's fine."

Tai gazed into dark brown eyes that were similar in hue to his own. She understood; he could tell. "Very well."

Jarlaxle was handing Entreri a brown package, and the rustling paper caught the priest's attention. As soon as Tai looked at the assassin, Entreri handed the package to him. "Here."

The drow chuckled. "Really, Artemis. Can you not be a bit more graceful with your words?"

Entreri glared at Jarlaxle. "What is there to say?" He turned back to Tai and gestured at the package. "I hope it fits. You were indisposed the morning I ordered it, so I had to estimate the measurements."

Overcome with curiosity, Tai ripped open the paper to find a superbly tailored black cloak made of the finest material he could imagine. He ran his hand across the fabric, stunned by its smoothness.

"I would say it's a late birthday gift," Jarlaxle said, "but when I accused Artemis of being thoughtful, he admitted he didn't know in advance that your birthday was yesterday."

Tai fingered the silver clasp at the neck of the garment. He couldn't even guess how much the cloak must have cost! "Thank you! I . . . why?"

"Your cloak was too bright in hue. You would stand out in the forest."

Tai smiled at Entreri's answer and carefully unfolded the cloak. To his amazement, a symbol had been stitched on the left breast: a gloved hand holding a coin depicting a two-faced head. Tai glanced up at Entreri. "You had them sew the symbol of Hoar on it!" He felt a lump in his throat, and this time he knew it was because he was moved.

The assassin was looking a bit grumpy by this point. "It is no great matter. Besides, you need the symbol, do you not?"

Tai was grinning. "Yes, quite." He stood and shed his tattered blue cloak, replacing it with the luxurious black one. It was a good fit. Tai ran his hand down his arm, feeling the cloak's material again. He didn't think he'd ever owned such fine clothing in his life!

Nyx looked back and forth between Tai and Entreri until the assassin narrowed his eyes at her. "What is it?"

"The two of you are like twins now," the monk commented, her tone indicating this wasn't necessarily a good thing.

Tai glanced at Entreri, then looked at Nyx. "How so?"

"You're both dressed in nearly solid black," she replied.

The assassin and Tai considered each other. Sure enough, Tai's riding outfit, cloak, and boots were all black, and Entreri's only nod to color was the brown leather belt pack around his waist. Everything else from the assassin's boots to his small, flat hat was black.

Jarlaxle sighed. "This will never do." He grinned at Entreri, as though they were sharing some deeper, private joke. "The boy really needs some color."

Tai pinned the drow with a stare. "Do not call me 'boy.' I am two years past the age of majority now."

Jarlaxle tried to look apologetic but failed miserably. "I am sorry, Master Vatoshie. Consider it a sign of my—"

"Advanced old age?" Entreri suggested. "You are practically ancient, are you not?"

The drow gave Entreri a mock glare. "Not at all! Although I surely have more experience, maturity, and wisdom than you."

The human and the elf were warming up for one of their verbal sparring contests, Tai could tell. He smiled and sat down, waving down a server as he did. He and Entreri needed to eat, and quickly. The group needed to head for the High Forest as soon as possible.

After all, Mordecai apparently had garnered more accomplices, who would not rest until he and his companions were dead and the mirror was found.

The chirping of crickets and singing of birds graced the air, along with the scent of pine and mint. A gentle breeze moved through the trees, sending the occasional green leaf whirling to the ground. The mid afternoon sun filtered through the canopy of the High Forest, reflecting against the hair—or hat, in Jarlaxle's case—of Nyx's companions. The light awakened the sheen of Tai's sleek black hair and revealed a surprising quality in Entreri's. The assassin had decided to shed his hat for the day, and as a result, Nyx noted that his hair was so inky black that a kaleidoscope of colors seemed mixed in it. Jarlaxle's purple hat, on the other hand, practically glowed in the illumination, and Nyx shuddered. How could any creature have such horrid taste? When she wasn't feeling mistrustful of the drow, she was genuinely intrigued by him and his lack of fashion sense.

Nyx's wandering thoughts soon turned to more pressing matters. Since the High Forest was generally too dense for horses, they were proceeding on foot to the ruins, and that would cost the group four days—barring any setbacks. Their destination was southeast of Olostin's Hold and uncomfortably close to Turlan's Wood, but Nyx's main concern was that Mordecai and his new accomplice would reach the ruins first. She wasn't sure which she found the most disquieting: the possibility of the drow getting the mirror, or the fact they wanted to kill her and her friends.

The former, she decided. She could deal with the latter.

It occurred to Nyx, however—and not for the first time—that drow and magical artifacts weren't the only things they had to fear. Orcs, wild centaurs, darkenbeasts, dragons, ghasts, werebears, and wraiths . . . the list of dangerous creatures one could face in the High Forest was endless.

Since neither Entreri nor Jarlaxle had seemed bothered by Nyx's warnings the first time they'd entered the forest, the monk decided to try again. She moved up beside the assassin, leaving Tai and Jarlaxle to trail behind her. Entreri seemed a logical and practical man; perhaps she could impress the tactical danger upon him.

"I need to discuss something with you," she said.

The assassin glanced at her, his grey eyes expressionless. His aristocratic features made him handsome, but Nyx had rarely met someone with so little warmth. The only time he seemed remotely human was when he was interacting with Tai, a situation that fascinated the monk . . . and also bothered her. Nyx bit her lip momentarily, struck with jealousy. But no, she was wrong to feel so possessive toward the priest; he could have more than one friend!

"I wanted to talk to you about dangers of the forest," the monk began. "I'm sure you remember my mentioning it before."

Entreri nodded but kept his attention on the terrain. The path they followed wasn't much more than a deer trail. "I am no stranger to monsters, though I admit I don't care to ever face a dragon again."

Nyx cringed at the mere thought. "Unfortunately, we may indeed face a dragon or something equally dangerous during our trip," she said. "We need to be prepared."

Entreri briefly rested his hands on his weapons' hilts. "I am prepared, I assure you."

At this show of confidence, Nyx found herself smiling at him. Despite his petty effort to torment her the day before, she found there were things about Entreri she respected: his stoic calmness and his obvious work ethic, for example. It was apparent to her that the man wasn't easily shaken and that he didn't deviate from a course of action once it was taken. He would finish a task and finish it well.

"What is it?" Entreri asked.

Nyx started, realizing she'd nearly run into a sapling in her preoccupation. "Your pardon?"

"You were staring at me." The faintest of smirks tainted his facial expression.

She snickered, unable to contain her impish streak. "Just lamenting that you're so aloof and spiteful. If you weren't as chilly as hard-packed snow, you might be worth befriending."

The assassin scoffed. "You are critiquing me? You're rather distant and stiff yourself, when you aren't having outbursts of temper."

Feeling defensive, Nyx straightened her shoulders and glared at the man. "It is only that I am dedicated to my duty. I am not distant with those I care about." She sniffed at him. "Besides, anger is a perfectly legitimate response to the raging injustices of the world."

"Or perhaps disgust," the assassin replied darkly.

Struck by his response, Nyx relaxed and smiled at him again. "Or disgust," she agreed easily. "That is why I chose to follow Hoar rather than a god such as Tyr. Hoar's anger and disgust toward injustice matches my own."

The assassin glanced at her. "I don't see why you enslave yourself to any god."

At the assassin's skeptical words, Nyx felt a familiar pang and cursed herself. Her inclination to help others attracted her to the suffering and downtrodden, especially those experiencing injustice; it was one reason she followed Hoar. Because of this tendency, Nyx found that Entreri's cynicism—which seemed to hint at buried grief—caused her a moment's concern on his behalf. "Not enslave," she replied, her tone kinder than she intended. She wanted to kick herself; despite her carefully fostered independence, she couldn't stop reaching out, a move which would likely prove dangerous with Entreri. "The choice to follow a god is just that—a choice. Your free will remains intact, as does your personality and freedom."

Entreri gazed at her silently for a moment. "You sound much like Tai."

Nyx found herself suddenly staring at her boots as she walked. "I can't imagine that." She honestly hoped Tai heard their conversation, which was likely considering Jarlaxle and the priest were walking only six or seven feet behind them. "While I am intensely dedicated to my duty, I do not possess Tai's natural wisdom or deep connection with Hoar."

The monk could feel Entreri's powerful stare upon her, and she forced herself to raise her gaze to meet his. For just an instant—a single second—a hint of respect seemed to pass between them, although Nyx had no idea what she had said that inspired the reaction from Entreri.

Hours later, after the group had set up camp for the night, the monk was still puzzling it over. The assassin could be so puzzling! She needed to dedicate more energy to figuring out the enigma of Artemis Entreri, though—as well as the perplexing Jarlaxle—because of Tai's relationship with and reactions to them. That, and the fact that Nyx was currently allied with the mercenaries. However, the monk decided to set the mystery aside for the night.

While the men prepared to rest—or commune, in Tai's case—Nyx tracked down the closest stream in order to fill her canteen. She would have first watch, and she didn't want to sit through it thirsty. The chill of the night didn't bother her since it would help her remain awake, but she hated feeling thirsty.

The creek she found suited her purpose nicely. As she descended its small bank, she could feel the drop in temperature, and she wondered if the creek flowed from one of the many caves or caverns in the area. Kneeling on an exposed rock, she plunged her canteen into the icy water and watched the air bubbles rise to the surface as the container filled.

The forest around her was unusually quiet, save for the occasional hooting owl, and the monk found herself relaxing in the silence. At the age of ten, shortly before her father had been killed, she'd moved with her family from Olostin's Hold to Silverymoon, but she found that her heart was more in tune with nature than with city living. Maybe it was the influence of her father, in fact, which caused Nyx to love nature; he had been a man equally at home in gardens and forests. With a sigh of appreciation, Nyx allowed her gaze to become caught in the moon's reflection, which shone off the creek to cast a silvery glow on the plants and trees.

Her task complete, Nyx stood and turned back toward camp. However, the intuition ingrained into her by her training alerted her to danger. Her senses tingled as she focused on her sight and hearing, as well as the other, unnamable sense she possessed which could enable her to react to attacks before they even happened.

Before her ears even registered the whizzing sound, she felt the dagger's approach and launched herself into a forward roll. The weapon buried itself into a tree five feet away as Nyx regained her footing, leaving her canteen on the ground.

"Most impressive. For a human."

Nyx narrowed her eyes as the person she hated most in the world separated from the shadows and leered at her. "You," she spat.

Mordecai drew an odd, almost triangular shape in the air with one finger. "Yes, it is I. Of course, it is only destiny that our paths should cross, and it is even poetic that we should meet under the light of the moon."

Nyx's forehead creased as she frowned at the drow's odd speech. The cleric was trying to cast a spell on her; she was sure of it. Whatever it was, it wasn't working. "You should not speak of the poetic to me. As a follower of Hoar, I am compelled to use poetic justice to punish you—something you would very much not like." The monk drew her nunchaku.

Mordecai laughed. "Ah, poor foolish creature. You have no idea just how quickly you'll die—unless I decide to let you linger." The drow unsheathed his falchion and attacked.

Nyx struck outward with the nunchaku, deflecting Mordecai's initial strike, then kicked outward, directing her ki through her body to exit through the sole of her foot. She meant to break Mordecai's hip as he passed, but he dodged the blow. Nyx instantly recovered, whirling her weapon before her body and knocking aside three quick sword thrusts from the drow. Then, with a twirl of her wrist, she wrapped the nunchaku around Mordecai's falchion and disarmed him. She struck outward at Mordecai's chest with her free hand, but her fist was stopped inches short of her target just as surely as if she'd punched a stone wall. It was as though the air itself had formed a barrier around the drow.

At the loss of his sword, Mordecai drew his daggers and rushed forward; unfazed, Nyx swung outward with her nunchaku once more, slapping both of the blades away and defeating his attack. Once again, she punched outward, and this time her fist connected, knocking the drow backward.

Quickly stowing her weapon, Nyx executed a round-house kick which connected solidly with Mordecai's jaw, wrenching his head to the side. The monk then jumped forward, deflecting both the drow's dagger strikes with her leather bracers before raining multiple blows upon his face and chest. With a growl, the drow snapped his daggers inward, but Nyx easily avoided being stabbed.

Mordecai sheathed one dagger. "Versijin," he gasped, drawing a pattern in the air with two fingers. He rushed at Nyx then, and the monk punched with her right fist even as she blocked Mordecai's other dagger with her left arm. The drow, however, dodged the strike to his face and simply touched her arm.

Nyx jumped backward, feeling instantly queasy. What had the cleric done to her? She tried to shake it off, determined to kill the evil beast. However, Mordecai grinned at her like he'd already won. He stalked toward her, dagger raised, and Nyx lifted her arms into a defensive pose.

Streaks of silver flashed across the clearing, and Nyx heard multiple thunks against Mordecai's armor as his back was hit. The drow jumped to the side just as Jarlaxle, Entreri, and Tai joined the fray. Mordecai instantly retreated, an endless stream of Jarlaxle's daggers following him. Entreri pursued, approaching the drow from an angle in order to avoid Jarlaxle's daggers.

To Nyx's frustration, Mordecai's body seemed to suddenly become gaseous, like vapor, and the drow's form raced away from them on the wind.

"Damn!" Entreri cursed, sheathing the blades he'd only just drawn.

"It appears we shall have to forfeit even our privacy for added safety," Jarlaxle commented.

"Surely not!" came Tai's horrified response. "You can't mean bathing, or—! Especially since Nyx is—is female!"

Nyx, however, couldn't add her opinion to the conversation. Feeling both nauseated and faint, she sank to her knees on the grass. She supposed she had one more thing for which to get retribution, now. Provided, of course, that she wasn't getting ready to die . . .

Jarlaxle stood with Entreri at the edge of the encampment and watched as Tai bent over the prone form of the monk. Entreri had snatched up the pallid woman and carried her back to the fire so they could assess her injuries, but Tai had taken over from there. Now the boy was putting his hand on Nyx's forehead, and when he did, she opened her eyes and smiled faintly at him.

"I feel . . . weak and queasy," she whispered.

"Shhhh," Tai said. "I think you may have been poisoned." He kept one hand on her forehead, apparently in a comforting gesture, and held his other over her chest. He closed his eyes momentarily, praying under his breath, then gazed at her again. He waggled his fingers over her chest, and for a few seconds, a yellow glow outlined his hand. The glow transferred to Nyx's body, spreading from her solar plexus outward in a rippling effect.

Nyx took a deep breath and glanced up at Tai. "Wow. That was instant."

The priest smiled and lifted his hand from her face. "Good."

Nyx sat up and frowned. "I guess I'd better further my training so I can learn to heal myself," she said. "Looks like I'll need it."

Tai seemed pleased. "It shouldn't be overly difficult," he began, launching into a full-scale discussion about meditation with the monk.

Jarlaxle looked to Entreri, who had watched the scene in silence. "Interesting tactic Mordecai is using," the elf commented, "although I doubt I would use such an approach myself."

The assassin turned his attention to the drow. "Not efficient enough?" he quipped.

"Not wise enough," Jarlaxle corrected.

Entreri smirked. "It will just make it that much easier to defeat him. If he continues upon the same course of action, that is."

"After two losses?" the elf replied. "I'm unsure. I do wish the other drow had attacked instead, however."

"Why?"

"He might have been wearing his House crest, in which case I could have identified him," Jarlaxle said.

The assassin raised an eyebrow. "But you have other methods by which you can garner such information."

The drow merely smiled. The two mercenaries watched Tai's and Nyx's animated conversation for a few moments before speaking again.

"Your gift to Tai seems to have lightened his mood somewhat," Jarlaxle commented in a near-whisper.

Entreri shot the drow a warning look. "I doubt it. It was more likely my words this morning. I told him to stop brooding."

Jarlaxle chuckled. "I care not how you accomplished it, I am merely glad you did." He couldn't refrain from teasing the man, however. "Why, if you keep this up, you might actually become a good man."

Entreri's glare nearly gave the elf an instant sunburn. "It's merely tactically sound," the assassin said sarcastically.

Jarlaxle laughed. "As you say."

Entreri walked toward his bedroll, ostensibly turning a cold shoulder to Jarlaxle, but the elf wasn't fooled. The assassin might despise humankind—and drow—in general, but Jarlaxle felt confident that his animosity did not include Tai.

Or finely-dressed drow mercenaries, Jarlaxle thought with a grin before turning his mind to more pressing matters, such as drow assassins.

A/N: Thank you, once again, to everyone who read and/or reviewed. Now, everyone please cyber hug the following people for beta reading, suggestions, and/or being a sounding board—and I don't just mean for this chapter. :D (listed in alphabetical order): Darkhelmet, Euphorbic, Matt, Rezuri, and Silverwolf.