A/N: Disturbing images coming up. Do not read the first few paragraphs of the chapter if you are sensitive to the topic of rape.

"Wonderful life, this. So much hardship for a pittance
and the empty joys in reveling in the misery of others."—A.E.

Chapter Four

A burst of cold air; a blue glowing dagger. In front of him, a leering drow, white teeth contrasting brightly with black skin.

He'd seen that leer before—that rapist Nyx and he had executed four months earlier. He had to flee!

A whisper: "Sorenseth."

A blue flash crossed his vision—the glowing dagger, knocked from his hand, flying through the air, hitting the far wall with a thunk.

He couldn't move, couldn't breathe. A tightness in his throat. He was choking!

Tai struggled against the dream, knowing it was a dream but unable to escape it. He tried to force his eyes open or bite his tongue—anything! But he was paralyzed again.

The drow forced him to bend over a table. Cool wood against his sweating face, the light of the dagger gone. Darkness. No, no! It was dream! He had to—

The sound of ripping cloth. No. It was a dream! It—

Tai jerked awake and found himself breathless, sweating, and unable to move. For several long seconds, his entire body felt made of stone, then slowly the outside world filtered into his mind and enabled him to relax: the sound of the fire crackling, of crickets chirping, even the snapping of a twig under the weight of an unseen animal. As he cautiously looked around the camp, he saw that Nyx was sleeping, Jarlaxle was in Reverie, and Entreri was keeping watch. The assassin looked at Tai as he sat up, and the priest realized with a surge of near desperation that he needed to be alone. He stood quickly and walked over to the assassin. "I'll be right back, and I would prefer privacy."

Entreri nodded solemnly. "Mordecai may not have gone far. Don't venture too far; stay close enough that I can hear if anything goes amiss."

"I will," Tai said, turning away. He had the impulse to run from the encampment, but he forced himself to walk normally. However, once he was in the safety of the trees, he sank to the ground, his grief and shame overcoming him. He leaned forward, placing his palms on the cool grass, and let his hair fall forward and curtain his face. No one was present to see his flushed cheeks or grimace, but the depth of his emotions was so great he felt the odd need to hide it even from the forest.

It was that dream again! Every time he had it, his grief and humiliation seemed to return anew, overwhelming him and making him grow ever angrier. The dreams also forced him to reflect on things he didn't like, but despite his efforts to block them, the unwanted thoughts pierced his jumbled defenses: he should have been able to stop the rape from happening. The rape should have never happened at all! Tai felt disgusted with himself, and even though he believed it was unfair, he felt upset with Hoar, too.

"Don't brood," Entreri's advice echoed in his mind. But right now Tai didn't feel like brooding anyway—he felt more like getting revenge. He was tired of all the shame and grief, and he wanted to follow the teachings of his god and punish the person responsible. But as much as Tai wanted to aim his rage at Mordecai, he understood that some of it was aimed at himself. Worse still, as these emotions welled up in him, the priest found tears in his eyes. Tears! Again? He'd nearly cried several times over the past tenday, and he found that made him even angrier. Was he so weak?

Tai's rage surged through him at the thought, streaking through his body to pulse in his fingertips and leaving an icy burning in his chest. These emotions had to go away, these dreams, thoughts, and tears. Reacting with instinct born of desperation, Tai began punching the ground beneath him—punching it over and over until his knuckles bled—and oddly, with the pain the rage and shame subsided. His mind stilled for a moment, allowing him a chance to breathe, yet he found there was one thought that didn't lie still with the others: the one that threatened his very concept of his life and identity.

As usual, Tai didn't hear the assassin's approach, so when the man spoke, the priest jumped.

"It sounded like you were beating a small animal to death," Entreri quipped, "but I see you were beating yourself instead."

Tai straightened and allowed a snort to escape. "Just had to let out some excess anger."

Entreri knelt beside the priest and watched him. "You're not brooding again, are you?"

"No, not brooding," Tai said, cupping his bloody fist in his hand. He felt stupid suddenly, realizing he was going to have to heal himself. "Just angry. I seem to have some version of the same nightmare almost every night, and I'm sick of it."

The assassin nodded. "They will stop."

Tai glanced at him in surprise. "You seem so sure."

Entreri's jaw clenched, and Tai found himself wondering if he'd said something wrong. "Nothing lasts forever," the assassin said.

"Of course." The priest stared at the blood running down his knuckles for a moment; the red blood looked almost black in the dim moonlight. "Although I promise I'm not brooding, there is one last thing that bothers me," he whispered.

"Very well. Speak your mind." The assassin watched Tai for a moment, and then seeming to sense the priest's hesitance, Entreri reached into his belt pack and pulled out a roll of bandages. With methodical efficiency, Entreri set about bandaging the priest's hand, almost as though he were giving Tai a chance to compose himself.

Tai watched the assassin's efforts and worked up the courage to tell him what was on his mind. The very idea seemed blasphemous, but Tai wanted to get the worry off his chest before it drove him mad.

After Entreri tied the knot on the makeshift bandage, he looked up and locked gazes with Tai. "Well?"

Tai sighed and forced himself to speak. "I'm wondering . . . was this all a test from Hoar?" The priest didn't really expect an answer from the assassin, but he knew Entreri would hear his words without being scandalized, whereas Nyx might be disturbed by his doubts. "Was this some test to see if I'm good enough? Or is it punishment instead? Am I being punished for some way in which I've failed Hoar?"

Entreri frowned and seemed to think a moment before answering. "Frankly, I would never consider the possibility that it was a test. From what you've told me, I'm forced to conclude Hoar is not like Lolth or other such deities, who would issue a test for the purpose of chaos and torture. In fact, such a test seems quite opposite from your description of Hoar and what he values. As for punishment, I don't know much about gods, but it's only logical that Hoar would not seek vengeance against you unless you strayed from his path. I doubt that you have done that."

Tai nodded. Entreri might not know much about gods, but there was sense in what he said. "I suppose you're right," the priest said, realizing that all he'd really needed was to hear someone else confirm what he wanted to believe . . . what he knew he should believe and have faith in.

"As I've told you before, you think too much," Entreri said quietly. "Your strength will see you through this. Focus on that instead."

"I don't feel strong at the moment," Tai whispered, more to himself. The instant he said the words, however, he regretted them; his assassin friend really didn't seem like the type to sympathize with such a declaration.

Sure enough, Entreri scowled. "You must have absolute faith in yourself, or you will indeed grow weak."

Tai cringed at the assassin's harsh tone and felt more deeply stung than he wanted to acknowledge. He felt like a fool, suddenly. "Yes, of course. You're quite right," the priest replied, realizing in a detached way that his tone had gone flat. At the same time, he experienced a growing anger at Entreri's rebuke. How dare Entreri treat him so! Was he not in enough pain already?

Entreri's scowl multiplied exponentially. "Hells!" For a moment the man seemed genuinely frustrated. "I'm simply telling you to stop doubting yourself. It is unlike you to lack confidence and conviction."

"Ah," Tai replied snidely, his anger getting the best of him. "So my admission did not just prove me weak and unworthy in your sight?" Even as he spoke the words, the priest realized he was sincerely worried beneath his sarcasm.

The assassin's scowl evaporated into a smug grin. "That's better." He pointed to the symbol stitched on Tai's cloak. "Inner conviction to carrying out vengeance. As a cleric of Hoar, does that not describe you? Be sarcastic, if you like, but do not fall into self-doubt or fear. Such things will only cause your death."

Tai watched the man for a moment and then allowed himself to relax. So the assassin wasn't rebuking him after all. Tai nodded at Entreri's advice, and for an odd moment, he felt as though he were playing the role of the pupil once again. Well, he did suppose Entreri was around the same age as his uncle, who had trained him; maybe it made sense that he'd feel that way around the assassin at times.

Entreri stood. "Now come back to camp. Dawn will come too soon, and we've had an eventful night."

Tai stood as well, following Entreri back to camp. Really, though, the priest's earlier promise to only ask one last question had been a lie. Several questions bothered him, and while he was willing to accept Entreri's logic about tests and punishments, the other questions remained. For example, why Tai had drawn a male predator? Not only had Mordecai raped him, Tai had also once fought a man who claimed to want to rape him: one of the rapists he and Nyx had executed had made it clear that he would have given much to have made Tai his final victim. A pattern was threatening to emerge. Was there something wrong with him that he would draw such predators? Was he inherently weak? Or was there some quality about him that caused him to specifically draw males? It was not a comforting thought.

Equally bothersome was the question of why Mordecai had chosen to rape him instead of kill him or torture him for information. And why had Mordecai said the rape was "for Entreri?"

Tai halted in his tracks and stared at Entreri's receding form. Why "for Entreri," indeed? The assassin had said the previous day that all other drow were like Mordecai . . . and he'd exhibited a rare show of temper when he'd learned Tai had been raped. In fact, mere minutes earlier he'd assured Tai—with complete confidence—that the nightmares would stop. During his stay in Menzoberranzan, had Entreri been—

Tai shook his head violently and resumed walking. No. No, he could not imagine that a man as formidable and skilled as Entreri would have lost a fight with a drow and ended up being—

No. It wasn't possible. The priest dismissed the thoughts. Besides, Entreri was right. Brooding about any of these questions would not help. Tai would pray and meditate, but past that, he simply needed to watch the course of events and see what transpired.

All answers would become clear with time.

Mordecai stared at Vren. Vren stared at Mordecai. The contest lasted for several moments and was broken only by the Secondboy's growing smirk.

"A mere human defeated you?" Vren taunted, flipping his long silver braid over his shoulder. "I thought your fighting skills were so superior to mine that you could easily kill the female."

At this statement, the forest grew unnaturally still, seeming to reflect the tension between the Secondboy and the cleric. Not even the wind dared to blow; the trees remained motionless and the birds quiet. The three Tuin'Tarl soldiers followed suit, remaining as silent and unmoving as statues as Mordecai reported his failure to kill the monk.

"Actually, Jarlaxle and his other two pet humans found me and joined the fight," Mordecai said with a near snarl.

Vren's large golden eyes reflected his glee. "But you're so great and powerful! Couldn't you kill them all in a single fight?"

Mordecai felt his eyes narrowing and reminded himself sternly that he couldn't afford to lose his temper. Too much rode on his successful acquisition of the mirror . . . a goal Vren was getting in the way of. Still, if Mordecai could bring himself to work with Vren instead of fight against him, more could be accomplished.

The cleric bent down and picked up Cat, who was sniffing his boots, and stroked her soft fur as he considered the annoying drow before him. Was there even the slightest chance that this idiot—or the three soldiers who had accompanied him—could come to understand the necessity of throwing off the shackles of the matriarchy? To find the mirror and use it to advance the unification and power of the drow as a whole?

Mordecai noted that Vren was tucking a stray strand of hair back into his braid and was sneering at Cat. Somehow, the cleric wasn't feeling too hopeful. He wondered fleetingly how Vren would react if he found out Mordecai was a cleric, not just a warrior.

"I'm not surprised in the slightest that you failed," Vren said in the face of Mordecai's silence. "You've become weak. Look at you! You pander to and shower attention upon some worthless surface animal!"

Mordecai considered the fluffy white creature in his arms. Its chest was vibrating again, and it had lifted its chin so the drow could scratch under its jaw. He smiled back up at Vren. "I prefer the company of the beast to you. It is more intelligent and is a much more efficient killer."

Vren laughed. "That beast? Don't be ridiculous. It would flee at the sight of even the smallest of our pet spiders."

"We'll see if you still say that after you've annoyed it." The cleric patted his possession on the head. "Cat will shred you just as surely as the human boy did."

Vren looked utterly incredulous. "You said that with pride." His grin grew nasty as his gaze zeroed in on the animal. "Do you . . . care . . . for the creature?"

Mordecai wondered briefly if there was a way to gift Cat with poisoned claws or fangs so she could kill the pest. "It is merely a piece of property, like a sword or dagger. It can be replaced." He smirked. "As can you."

Vren straightened his shoulders and glared at the cleric, but Mordecai knew Vren really couldn't argue the point. In his mother's and sisters' eyes, he was expendable. "If I am replaceable, so are you," the Secondboy replied.

Mordecai, despite his hatred of Vren, decided to make his one and only effort to garner the male's cooperation, if only to use him for a short while. "Then allow us to retrieve the mirror first and deal with Jarlaxle and his pets later. With the mirror in our possession, we will be not so easily discarded."

Vren, to his credit, seemed to catch the change in attitude that accompanied Mordecai's words. "You sound almost as though we could use the Kagaor ki Tamal to empower ourselves."

Mordecai's smile wasn't much more than a show of teeth. "We've been sent to collect it," he said, testing Vren's response. He also kept an eye on the reactions of the three soldiers, who were standing in his periphery.

Vren's face showed a war of conflicting emotions, and the soldiers looked caught somewhere between fear and interest. Mordecai had never met a male drow yet who didn't resent the matriarchy, but given the Secondboy's cowardice, the cleric was unsure that Vren could muster the nerve to rebel.

Another lengthy silence descended upon the forest, but this time nature flowed around them: a rushing of wind sent tree leaves and flower petals swirling about them, and Mordecai heard howling in the distance.

Apparently, Vren's pride and power-lust won. "Intriguing idea."

It was the smartest thing Mordecai had heard the Secondboy say yet. "Then let us turn our attention to retrieving the mirror first. All I have learned of it suggests it is of great power; we can deal with Jarlaxle and his pets once we have it."

Vren hesitated but ultimately agreed. "Very well. But there is one problem—do you not think that our Matron Mother will expect this treachery?"

Although Mordecai didn't doubt that Vren had ulterior motives for agreeing with his plan, the cleric smiled at the Secondboy. "But of course. However, given the new information I have gathered concerning the mirror's power, I do not believe she can muster any defense great enough to defeat us once we have it."

Vren smiled nastily, and Mordecai allowed himself to share that smile. The cleric then descended into pleasant daydreams of all the ways he'd torture Jarlaxle and his pets—especially the irritating human boy—once he had turned the mirror's potent psionics upon them.

"What a beautiful morning!" Jarlaxle smiled at the grumpy assassin traveling beside him. Entreri scowled at him, and Jarlaxle laughed. They were still two full days away from the ruins, assuming that they made good time, and the assassin was having to forcibly maintain his patience. His desire to kill Mordecai had been increased by the drow's momentary appearance the night before.

The elf knew he was correct about its being a beautiful morning, however. The morning sunlight filtered through the trees to create a golden-green glow in the forest, and the sweet scents of flowers Jarlaxle couldn't identify perfumed the air. Squirrels leapt from branch to branch in the canopy above their heads, and a slow, graceful insect with brightly-colored wings flitted across their path.

Jarlaxle's curiosity was captured by the bug. "Artemis, what is that lovely insect called?" He pointed to the winged creature.

The assassin followed his gaze. "It's a butterfly."

"How delightful! Are they always so bright yellow?"

Entreri looked like he was gathering his patience. "No. They come in a wide variety of colors."

"Really?" Jarlaxle's grin grew exponentially. "Wonderful! Such as?"

From her position in the lead, Nyx glanced back at Jarlaxle with a grin, which pleased the elf. However, Tai, who was walking by Nyx, apparently had decided to ignore both Jarlaxle's words and Nyx's reaction—he didn't so much as glance as his companions.

Entreri had sighed. "Some are white; some are purple. I've seen red and orange ones and even black, brown, and green ones. And some are multi-colored." He shrugged. "It just depends, I guess. I've never really paid much attention to it."

The elf chuckled. "For someone who never paid much attention, you gave me an impressive list of colors."

The assassin narrowed his eyes. "Well, I am a man a details, which is perhaps why I, more than others, am able to fully appreciate how truly gaudy your clothing and jewelry are."

Jarlaxle merely grinned again. Imperceptibly, he began to slow his pace, hoping that Entreri would either consciously or unconsciously match his stride. Nyx was taking point for the first half of the day—a task that she and Entreri split since they were the most experienced at traveling through the wilderness. Fortunately, Tai had decided to walk beside the monk and talk to her, likely in an effort to better balance his attention between Entreri and the monk. The boy's timing was convenient. If they continued talking and if Jarlaxle could put more distance between them, the elf could speak to Entreri privately.

A few minutes later, Jarlaxle's plan paid off: Nyx and Tai were deep in discussion, and the distance between the two pairs was acceptable. The drow looked at Entreri again and mustered a serious expression.

The assassin was quick to take the cue. "What?" he asked in a near whisper.

"I thought I heard a commotion in the early morning hours," Jarlaxle replied.

Entreri scowled at him. "It was nothing."

The elf smiled. "You mean it was nothing you couldn't handle. I daresay your ability to help Tai is increasing daily!"

Entreri gave him a hard look. "If you already knew what happened, why ask?"

"I don't know the details." Jarlaxle used his innocent grin.

"Why do you need to know the details? As long as our cleric remains functional, that is all that matters," the assassin said coldly.

Jarlaxle chuckled, unwilling to allow Entreri to get away with it this time. "Surely you do not mean to imply that this is purely business? Or that you are secretly enjoying Tai's pain?"

The assassin's resulting glare of disgust made Jarlaxle reconsider his approach. Entreri pointedly looked away, clearly implying that he would not lower himself to answering such a question.

"Mercy can save your soul or damn your body," the elf said softly, echoing words he'd said to Drizzt—a concept he'd come to understand all too well through his relationship with the drow who had begun his weapons' training. Was it his experience with his mentor that now inspired Jarlaxle to "teach" Entreri? Perhaps in part, the elf admitted to himself.

Entreri's sharp gaze had returned to him. "I thought the point of this exercise was to fortify our defenses, not get us killed."

Jarlaxle stared at the narrow, leaf-covered trail before them. "It is. But my words are still quite true. In drow society—or in Calimport's underbelly—you can choose to either remain alive and successful or to have a soul." The elf caught the grave note in his voice and forced a smile as he looked back at Entreri. "Unless, of course, you can manipulate your situation to allow you both."

Entreri's expression was cryptic. "But there is no gain to be had in that."

"Some gains are not material, of course," Jarlaxle replied. "And why would you not fight to allow your soul the freedom to follow its own course? Why would you let yourself be constrained by anything? If I wanted to follow the rules, the so-called inevitability of my world, I would be yet another insignificant drow male." The elf regarded his friend. "If you allow yourself to be so limited, how can you ever enjoy your life?"

Entreri's tone was condescending. "Mercy brings joy?"

"Past acts of mercy can become effective bargaining tools if handled properly," Jarlaxle said with a smirk. "Living beyond what your world dictates as necessary brings joy."

The assassin stared at Jarlaxle for several minutes, and the elf had the odd sensation that he was being mentally dissected. Jarlaxle turned his attention to his surroundings again and watched a second butterfly flutter in his direction. He stopped suddenly and grinned.

"Oh! Do you think I can get the butterfly to light on me?" he asked Entreri. "I'd like to study it up close!"

The assassin's sneer was classic. "If you're very still and silent, it might think you're an oversized flower and land on you."

Jarlaxle laughed but ended up not replying since the insect was growing closer. He held out his left hand to intercept the creature's flight path and then went motionless. Since he suspected that the odds of the butterfly landing on him were not in his favor, Jarlaxle was genuinely surprised when the insect headed straight for his hand and landed on his ring finger.

"Well, they do say elves are inherently in tune with nature," Entreri commented sarcastically as though he'd read the drow's mind.

The butterfly took a few steps up Jarlaxle's finger and tickled him. Much amused, the drow slowly drew his hand closer and scrutinized the butterfly. Its yellow wings were rimmed in black, with four black lines running down each wing. Its actual body was small and furry, and its antennae were tiny. Jarlaxle was completely charmed. "It's cute!"

Entreri appeared ready to choke, which made it worthwhile to the elf. However, suddenly the assassin's entire posture and body language changed to an attitude of alertness and tension. Jarlaxle glanced at him sharply, then looked further up the trail, where Tai and Nyx had halted twelve feet away. Both of them seemed on guard as well, and being ever paranoid, Jarlaxle turned all his senses upon the forest and gently shook the butterfly free of his hand.

It was there, all right—a sense of being watched. The elf couldn't see anything, but with the cessation of talking, his keen hearing quickly picked up on rustling leaves. Jarlaxle met Entreri's gaze and an acknowledgement passed between them. The assassin placed both his hands on his weapons' hilts.

What burst out of the brush, though, was not drow—they were red-eyed, grey-furred creatures the size of horses.

"Dire wolves!" Entreri exclaimed, drawing his blades.

Jarlaxle didn't hesitate as approximately a dozen wolves descended upon the group; the elf engaged the magical enchantment upon his cloak and drew a wand in one hand even as he aimed his throwing daggers with the other. As the first dire wolf attacked, Jarlaxle struck it with a bolt of lightning, then launched five daggers into its neck, killing it.

Over the growling, the drow heard Tai yell, "Give me cover!" Several moments later, a brilliant silver orb appeared on the trail between Jarlaxle and Entreri's position and Nyx and Tai's. With a surge of sparks, the orb coalesced into the form of a black bear. Rearing up onto its hind legs, the bear roared and then lunged at the nearest dire wolf.

Jarlaxle was impressed with Tai's successful summoning of a celestial ally, but he didn't have time to dwell upon it. A horse-sized wolf jumped toward him, its fangs bared. The drow rained a dozen daggers upon it in less than a second, then watched with amusement as the magic of his cloak forced the animal to miss him. Not one to waste an opportunity, Jarlaxle struck it with a dozen more daggers.

Beside the elf, Entreri parried two wolves' bites by slicing their faces with his blades. Quickly, the assassin jumped backward then charged the first beast at an angle, stabbing through the wolf's side. The second wolf shook its head as though it were trying to throw off the gash to its face, then launched itself at Entreri again. The assassin disengaged his sword from the first wolf's corpse and met the beast's charge head-on, shoving Charon's Claw down the dire wolf's throat at an angle, driving the blade upward into its brain.

Several feet away, the bear that Tai had summoned grappled with one wolf, and even as Jarlaxle glanced in their direction, the bear clamped its jaws upon the wolf's neck, breaking it. Tai himself was wielding his daggers, which glowed gold with magical power, against another dire wolf. An unseen shield seemed to help protect the boy from the animal's bites.

At the same time, Nyx was executing a devastating punch against her opponent's head, and a burst of green light accompanied her strike. The dire wolf's entire skull glowed from the ki blast, and it was thrown backward into a tree. A second wolf lunged at her side, but the monk whirled around, kicking the beast in the knee. Even over the growling and yelping, Jarlaxle could hear the beast's knee joint shatter.

Jarlaxle altered his strategy as another dire wolf attacked him. Engaging his innate ability to levitate, the drow rose above the animal and filled its back with a hail of daggers. Smiling at the result, Jarlaxle created a perfect row of daggers down its spine.

Below the elf, Entreri charged a dire wolf from behind and vaulted onto its back. Before the animal even had a chance to react, the assassin drove Charon's Claw through its neck at the base of the skull. A second wolf leapt at Entreri as he jumped to the ground, but the animal bounced off the air in front of Entreri just as surely as though it had hit a castle wall face-first. Without hesitation, Entreri leveled his sword against the second wolf in a flurry of strikes that caused blood to spray into the air.

Then, as suddenly as the attack had begun, it was finished. Jarlaxle considered the damage from his position several feet above the ground: dead wolves littered the ground around each combatant including the bear, which apparently had died fighting the beasts. Blood soaked the ground, giving a red cast to the grass or mixing with mud to create the appearance of red clay. Although Jarlaxle and Entreri had managed to avoid injury, Nyx and Tai both sported a bite wound: the monk on her thigh, and the priest on his arm.

Jarlaxle slowly lowered himself to the ground and looked to Entreri, who was smirking. "I see you figured out your ring. Do you like it?" the elf asked, pointing toward the silver band on the assassin's middle finger.

Entreri shrugged. "I found it marginally helpful."

Jarlaxle laughed. "It is more powerful than you think, then. You will need to further explore its abilities." With a smile, he turned away, heading for Nyx and Tai. Entreri followed close behind.

"How serious are your wounds?" the elf asked.

Tai stowed his daggers and exhaled heavily. "It is nothing I cannot heal."

Nyx watched the boy with concern. "Do not exhaust yourself! Jarlaxle can heal us, too."

Entreri had approached Tai and grasped his bloody arm. Jarlaxle hid a smile at the way the assassin examined the wound. Of course, Entreri did not appear concerned; the man's facial expression was as stoic as ever. Still, the assassin's interest betrayed what Entreri himself likely either could not or refused to acknowledge.

"Indeed," Entreri commented. "The injury is not as serious as the amount of blood implies."

Tai gazed at the assassin with an expression Jarlaxle couldn't quite place—although the emotion of respect or perhaps even adoration was mixed in—but it was Nyx's reaction that truly fascinated the drow. The woman started to frown, then slowly smiled instead as though two opposing feelings crashed within her.

Jarlaxle stepped toward Tai. "Allow me to heal you, and then you may in turn heal Nyx. Would that be acceptable?"

The priest stared at Jarlaxle for several seconds before relaxing. "Very well."

And here begins the long road of winning back Tai's trust, Jarlaxle thought with an unfamiliar pang. It's ironic that I managed to unintentionally drive away the only person I've ever known who didn't prejudge me.

As the drow withdrew his healing orb from his belt pack, he admitted to himself that he was more interested in the concept of trust than he liked. It's a dangerous game I play, he thought. Can I truly win the prize without getting myself killed?

The answer to that question has to be 'yes,' the elf thought, raising his orb and enacting its spell. For had he not just preached to Artemis about a life without limitations?

A life without limitations: a body with a soul . . . and not only that, but a drow with a surface empire? An empire truly separate from Menzoberranzan and its ties? Jarlaxle thought with a brief smile at the now-healed boy before him. It was a possibility that the elf's mind could not seem to leave alone, and Jarlaxle's growing fascination with the idea left the increasingly rebellious elf lost in tactics and strategies, goals and forecasts (as well as several contingency plans). Industry, profit, organization, implementation. Success.

Entreri apparently noted the elf's widening grin because he turned his attention away of Tai's healing of Nyx and raised an eyebrow at him. "The look on your face is positively ecstatic. Dare I ask?"

"I was just contemplating a truth," Jarlaxle said, spreading his arms wide. "Why think small when you can plan big?"

The assassin snickered. "Yet another profundity from The Self-Important Enigma."

As usual, the drow laughed. "An enigma to one such as you, perhaps," he replied. "And not so much a profundity as a plan." A plan to escape the tiresome struggles of Menzoberranzan forever and take from life everything I never dared to believe was possible.

The trick, of course, would be making sure Menzoberranzan did not try to recapture him and rebind him to it. However, Jarlaxle had faced many obstacles in his life and had no doubt he could overcome such problem if it arose.

It's a wonderful life, Jarlaxle thought, when you make it so.

A/N: As always, thanks to all my readers and reviewers.

Rezuri has once again illustrated scenes for this story. You can find them at the site Deviant Art.