"I have already been to the nine hells. Hardly worth a return visit."—Jarlaxle

Chapter Six

Midnight had arrived, marking the fourth day of travel for Tai and his group—fourth and last, for Nyx had estimated that they should arrive at the ruins by the following midday. The question was, of course, would they reach the Kagaor ki Tamal before Mordecai? Tai had been praying hard about this concern.

And now, with the midnight hour, time had come for Tai to commune with Hoar again. Around him, the encampment was silent. Jarlaxle had returned a half hour earlier from an unspecified errand, for which he'd broken their buddy-system in order to have privacy. Since Entreri seemed unbothered by this event, Tai had tried to follow suit, especially when the assassin indicated that the drow was gathering useful information.

Now Jarlaxle leaned against a tree and stared into their small campfire; the elf had first watch. Nyx and Entreri had left a few minutes earlier for a precautionary scout of the surrounding forest, and Tai expected them to return shortly after he finished communing. But for now, Tai was alone with Jarlaxle, something that made him uncomfortable, and he had to rely upon Jarlaxle's protection while he communed with Hoar—a situation that made him distinctly unhappy.

Still, the wilderness surrounding Tai seemed to reach out and soothe him. The musky scent of pine needles permeated the air and mixed with the smoke of the campfire, creating an oddly relaxing smell. The murmur of the nearby stream made a calming background song for chirping crickets and croaking frogs, and beams of silvery moonlight joined the orange blaze of the fire, lighting the small clearing with a comforting glow.

After a few moments' meditation of nature, Tai closed his eyes and prepared to commune with his god. Since Hoar had so blatantly protected him from the drow assassin a few days earlier, Tai found it easier to commune despite his lingering questions. But faith, Tai realized, was not a matter of logic or evidence; it was a matter of the heart, in a realm the brain could not touch—much like trust and love. Therefore, Tai needed to shore up his faith, a task that only Hoar could truly help him with. And as Nyx had reminded him, Hoar hadn't changed; only Tai's viewpoint had changed. However, Hoar would help Tai banish his doubts.

Eyes closed and legs crossed, Tai rested his hands on his knees and cleared his mind. He proceeded through the breathing and meditation rituals more easily tonight, inhaling deeply, filling his chest with breath, and seeking the essence of Hoar which abided in his heart.

The connection came quickly, causing Hoar's divine power to burn in Tai's veins, a racing warmth that reached out to leave a tingling sensation on his scalp and in his toes and fingers. As a strong sense of order and conviction filled him, Tai felt muscles relax that he didn't even realize were still tensed.

Hoar was pleased this night; Tai had the distinct impression that somewhere in the world a rather exceptionally poetic and well-deserved case of vengeance had been served. Or perhaps several.

Praise be to Hoar for the justice served today, Tai prayed, and the priest could feel Hoar's responding respect—a fact that greatly comforted the young man.

I ask forgiveness for doubting you and for not keeping my focus on my holy mission, Tai continued, And I pray for the opportunity to administer vengeance in the coming day, as well as for your guidance and assistance in doing so. At this point, Tai began praying for the divine spells he might need the following day, starting with the power to heal. Even though he knew Jarlaxle carried a healing device, Tai was always concerned with his ability to heal. The image of Entreri, Nyx, or Jarlaxle bleeding to death and his failing to heal them was a nightmarish vision. The fear was one he felt about complete strangers—what a horror to watch someone die when he was blessed with the power of his god!—but the fear was intensified when it concerned his friends . . . and despite his misgivings about Jarlaxle, Tai hadn't entirely given up on the drow. When he'd first come to know Jarlaxle, Tai had sensed something worthwhile in drow, beneath his dangerous mercenary exterior and lust for profit. He had sensed a free-spirited soul, not one bent on destruction. It was a fact Tai now found he had to remind himself of often.

Once he had finished praying for divine spells, Tai listened closely to his feelings, focusing intently on the spiritual thread connecting him to Hoar. It was now time to see if his god wanted him to attend to any certain task or had any message for him. The impressions or images Tai received were usually faint or vague, but they were enough for him to act upon. As Tai listened, he remembered the first time he'd mentioned to his uncle that Hoar imparted such things to him. His uncle, a veteran priest of Hoar by the name of Kassur Vatoshie, had grown nearly white in the face, his jaw falling slightly open.

"Hoar has imparted images or impressions to you?" his uncle had asked. When Tai had nodded the affirmative, the older man had stuttered in his shock. "T-that's incredible! It-it's no minor feat to establish such a connection! Much more training and experience than you possess is normally required. Hoar must greatly favor you, my dear Tai."

Tai felt a sigh escape him at the memory, although his concentration remained unbroken. It would reassure him greatly to believe such a thing were true, given recent events. Then again, why should he doubt it? His Uncle Kaasur was a wise man and rarely wrong.

I truly believe you are the Chosen of Hoar, Nyx's words echoed in Tai's mind. The Chosen . . .?

Tai's thoughts grew quite still as he realized that these memories might be directed by Hoar. If such were the case, then Hoar was telling Tai that he had indeed singled out the young priest for a special role or mission. But if that were true . . .

What then of Mordecai? And the rape? Tai wondered. Why—

And then the priest felt it—felt it was clearly as though Hoar had descended to the Material Plane and communicated with him in person: rage! Hoar was furious on Tai's behalf, empathized with Tai's need for justice, and was even angry that one of his followers had been subjected to such a crime.

Vengeance will be Hoar's, Tai thought. Believed. Knew.

Tai felt an unacknowledged knot in his stomach release as one more question fell away. Hoar was indeed at his side, would be at his side as Tai faced his remaining humiliation and fears. With the strength of his god empowering him, Tai felt his confidence returning.

Tai thanked his god profoundly then opened his eyes, ending the communing. The priest's gaze landed upon Jarlaxle, who still sat by the fire, seeming lost in thought. Tai had been bothered by his suspicions concerning the drow, but he had yet to work up the courage to confront him. However, Tai decided it was time to face Jarlaxle, to address the issue of the elf's actions on that painful night, to deal with the distrust Tai now felt toward the mercenary.

Tai stood, and the movement caught Jarlaxle's attention. Squaring his shoulders, the priest stepped toward the drow, determined to resolve the problem.

Nyx had to concentrate hard to both engage in reconnaissance and keep up with Entreri since the man seemed to literally melt in and out of the deeper shadows of the forest. She could see one reason the assassin had built such a successful career.

As the pair weaved through the trees, Nyx reflected on their earlier conversation—an interesting discussion to have while one guarded bathers. Entreri's coldness, practicality, and selfishness were evident, but so was his interest in Tai. The monk honestly didn't understand why Entreri fascinated Tai or why the assassin seemed to return a tiny share of that attention, but she couldn't deny that the two were drawn to each other. Her best guess was that Tai wanted to convert Entreri to the ways of Hoar and that Entreri saw in Tai either a reflection of his younger self or an image of who he could have been at Tai's age. However, Nyx ultimately didn't care why they were friends; she only cared that a bond that was slowly growing between the two.

Anything to help Tai . . . although Nyx hadn't yet figured out what the assassin could offer Tai, exactly, given that by all appearances, he was a cold-blooded killer.

Tai is truly amazing, Nyx thought, forever awed by the priest's ability to see the best in people. Makes me wish I hadn't developed such a cynical streak. But cynicism aside, it's still amazing that Tai would attempt friendship with such a dangerous man. She shook her head. Only Tai . . .

Entreri halted and knelt, examining animal tracks in the mud. Nyx drew up beside him and watched him. His hair was bound into a tight ponytail as usual, and without the bolero's visual block, Nyx could clearly see his aristocratic features in the moonlight. Before embarking on their trip, the assassin had shaved off his goatee, and the net effect of his dark hair, high cheekbones, and strong jaw was . . . oddly disconcerting. Especially given that strange glance Entreri had given her earlier, almost as though he were taking her measure or—

What am I thinking? she demanded of herself, surprised by her thoughts.

Eyes which looked black in the darkness met her gaze and held it. "The paw prints suggest dire wolves; we must be on guard."

The monk nodded, and Entreri rose and started forward again with his graceful stride. Nyx sighed as she followed. I am a fool to even bother noting the attractiveness of such a treacherous man.

What was that saying her grandmother had always repeated about women and dangerous men? Nyx allowed a snort to escape. No, she wasn't drawn to danger. She was drawn to . . .

Wisdom, like Tai's if he were older, she thought, and strength, like Entreri's if he weren't an assassin.

Nyx tried to dismiss the thoughts and focus on the scent of jasmine, the feel of the nighttime breeze, the sound of croaking frogs. Monks were trained to live in isolation, carrying out their duties alone. Friends or partners were rare, although her monastery had preached loyalty to possible companions. Following tradition, Nyx had set out by herself to administer vengeance, but she ultimately found herself drawn to people, drawn to the desire to guard others against peril, to ensure others' safety and security. In the end, she found herself better able to deal with her own pain than others'; she couldn't stand to see Tai suffer.

The monk stopped abruptly as she realized she was going to collide with something. Collide with . . . Entreri's back.

"Quit staring off into the night," the assassin snapped. "Your inattention is suicidal, for you may believe I will not come to your aid should your daydreaming get you attacked."

Nyx clenched her fists, instantly irritated, but then found herself grinning for some reason she couldn't discern. "I wasn't daydreaming," she quipped, "I was contemplating your fine shoulders." Her smile turned positively evil.

A small snort announced Entreri's response. "A foolish lie from a foolish woman."

"Your shoulders are not fine?" the monk asked, feigning misinterpretation.

The assassin glanced over his shoulder. "You've spent too much time around Jarlaxle." He began walking once more, and Nyx double-stepped to catch up with him.

"There's no need to be insulting," she replied, still grinning.

Entreri didn't smile, but somehow his features seemed to relax, almost as though he'd suppressed a smile. "Is there not?"

Nyx let the comment slide, and the two walked side-by-side in silence for several minutes. The camp's perimeter was secure, so the two could return and rest.

"We should reach the ruins tomorrow," Nyx said, attempting conversation with the untalkative male.

"Yes."

"It is likely Mordecai will reach the ruins around the same time."

"And I will kill him."

The monk's lips quirked at the short answers; the man was difficult. "No doubt, although perhaps we should allow Tai to kill him for vengeance."

"I assume you mean holy vengeance and not ordinary, wrathful vengeance." The assassin's tone implied near-sarcasm.

"But of course."

"Zealot."

"Thank you."

"If you think that way—and I know you do—then why have you not taken vengeance upon Jarlaxle? Or, rather, I should say tried." A touch of mockery colored Entreri's voice.

Nyx, long used to being maligned for her faith, was unfazed by the mockery, but she couldn't understand the assassin's reference. "What do you mean, vengeance upon Jarlaxle? What has he done that I should rain my—" she smiled in spite of herself, "—ah, Holy Wrath of Hoar upon him?"

Not a single muscle in Entreri's face twitched; the man didn't miss a beat. "He is drow. Is your answer not self-evident?"

But Nyx was no child and no stranger to deception. She stopped in her tracks, ready to challenge the man, although she strongly suspected she would lose the battle. "Don't bother. I know that's not what you meant. Tell me what Jarlaxle did that I should be so worried about."

Entreri halted three feet in front of the monk and didn't turn to face her. The implication of that was not lost on Nyx. "You cannot be serious," he said, although his intonation was flat, not surprised as the words would normally imply. "Surely Tai has not so withheld information from you, his friend."

A cold burn socked Nyx in the chest, just as though someone had punched through her ribs and crammed ice into her lungs. The sudden fear and hurt were so intense she missed a breath. "Tai . . . hasn't told me . . . what?"

The assassin still did not turn around, leaving Nyx to stare at his cloaked back. "I know you've noticed that Tai is leery of Jarlaxle now."

Nyx could feel a pounding in her temple, could somehow hear her pulse in her ears; the strength of her emotions nearly rendered her deaf. "I—yes."

"Jarlaxle separated from Tai during their reconnaissance on that night, and Tai is angry at him for leaving him alone, considering what happened."

Nyx felt her throat constrict, and her next words were a choked whisper. "He . . . what?"

"Will you attempt to kill Jarlaxle now?" the assassin said, his disdain evident. "Will you allow your temper to overcome you? I wonder that you've managed to survive so long with such undisciplined emotions."

Since Entreri wouldn't turn to face her, Nyx stalked around him and stood before him, staring into his face. "The fact my temper is problematic is not lost on me. You needn't condescend. But my anger is irrelevant to the issue at hand." And so is my pain over the fact Tai did not tell me this. "I only need to know one thing. Did Jarlaxle know Mordecai would rape Tai?" The monk shook her head. "I mean—did Jarlaxle leave Tai unguarded, knowing that there were drow, and that the drow would—"

"Jarlaxle had no idea such a thing would happen, of course," Entreri stated unequivocally; his hard stare matched his conviction. "Jarlaxle may be drow, but he would not—"

And suddenly, the confident assassin was without words, a situation Nyx suspected was rare, if not unheard of. It told her much: much about the assassin, his friendship with Jarlaxle, and his willingness to contemplate the concept of friendship. It also answered her question.

"Will you try to kill Jarlaxle now?" Entreri asked again. "Or will you control yourself and recognize that it's the boy's decision?"

Nyx turned away from the assassin then and walked toward their camp. "It's Tai's decision," she said, her voice flat. And it's likely my temper that kept Tai from telling me of this in the first place. He likely thought I'd 'relieve' him of the decision in my anger.

With that thought, Nyx found new determination to control her temper. The realization was humbling, indeed.

Tai walked to Jarlaxle's side and stared down at the mercenary, who glanced up at him as well. The firelight lit Jarlaxle's ebony face, and the accompanying warmth of the flames eased the night's coolness. In the silence between him and the drow, Tai could easily hear the leaves rustling in the wind and even the occasional limb creaking as an animal jumped from tree to tree.

Tai supposed he should be afraid of confronting Jarlaxle; he was, after all, both a drow and a mercenary. Clever. Dangerous. More evil and more dangerous than the priest—who was beginning to understand the depth of his naivety—had initially given him credit for. How foolish Tai felt, then, for his optimism and faith, and the dissolution of his positive attitude left a bitter taste on his tongue—a cold, metallic taste, as if someone had shoved a dagger in his mouth.

"How much have you laughed at me?" the priest asked softly, not caring if he made sense at first. The mercenary would quickly ascertain the motivation and meaning of his question. "Often? I would even say you were justified in thinking me a fool and invite you to laugh at me, but if you did, I'd tell you to go to the hells." A note of anger crept into Tai's voice.

Jarlaxle remained seated, which to Tai indicated that the drow considered him insignificant. Still, some emotion the priest couldn't identify crossed Jarlaxle's face briefly. "That would be unnecessary, I assure you," the elf replied. "I am well-acquainted with the pain of the nine hells." A wry smile turned up the corners of his lips. "Or, in my case, I should say the abyss."

Tai's brow furrowed at the odd answer, but before he could speak, Jarlaxle continued.

"Do you hate me, or do you hate yourself?" the drow asked.

Tai's renewed confidence was not shaken, but his patience evaporated. "Both of us, of course!" he snapped, unwilling to lie even now. "And why shouldn't I hate you? You left me—either suspecting or knowing what kind of danger I was in—you left me, your ally and companion! And as a result, Mordecai took out his rage upon me!" Tai clenched his fists at his side. "Not that you really understand the concept of loyalty or companionship. Don't think I haven't figured out what you are."

Jarlaxle seemed to remain calm and unfazed. "Mordecai was—is—the seeker of the Kagaor ki Tamal; you and Nyx were and are on a holy mission to stop the seeker of the mirror from attaining it. Whether Entreri and I had become involved in this business or not, you and your friend were destined to cross paths with Mordecai, and being drow, Mordecai would have either flippantly killed you—since humans are cattle—or maybe taken pleasure in torturing you and then killing you. I may have been wrong to leave your side that night, but I'm sad to say that you would have ended up Mordecai's victim either way."

Tai, struck by the truth of Jarlaxle's logic, was taken aback, but only for a moment. "That may be true, but you were with me. You were involved, and if you'd stayed by my side, Mordecai would not have succeeded in assaulting me."

Jarlaxle stood then, and the priest—although he understood that he could in no way hold his ground against the drow—mentally prepared himself for an attack. The mercenary, however, made no move against him; in fact, if anything he seemed sad.

"In other words," the drow said now that he faced Tai, "you believe that because I had the power to defend you, I had the responsibility to defend you."

The words were not said sarcastically, or even with any particular inflection at all, so the priest wasn't sure what to make of the comment. "That is generally the way it works between allies or companions: they protect each other. We have different skills, but we each have our role to play. And in the greater scope of life, someone would step in and stop the . . . the rape of another person, even if that person were a complete stranger. Not that I expect you to understand that."

"You are over-generalizing because I am drow," Jarlaxle said, no doubt harkening back to a conversation he'd witnessed between Tai and Entreri many months ago.

"Maybe I am right to," Tai replied, irritated. "And your behavior and actions give me no reason not to."

"So I am guilty until I am proven innocent?" Jarlaxle asked with a small smile.

"You were innocent," the priest said quietly. "Being the fool that I am, I gave you the benefit of the doubt from the first moment I met you. I allowed you to show me who you really were without assuming you were like what few rumors I'd heard about drow. I allowed you to show me, and you did."

Jarlaxle nodded once; it had the air of finality. "As your ally, I do have the responsibility to protect you. Unlike our mutual friend, Entreri, I understand the meaning of teamwork and interdependence, and I know that the building of teams or organizations requires responsibility to others." The elf sighed. "I am sorry that Mordecai raped you; it was certainly something I would never wish upon you. And by all the gods, I definitely did not plan for it to happen to you or foresee that it would happen."

For a minute, Tai said nothing; he hadn't expected Jarlaxle to apologize to him or agree with any part of what he was saying. The priest closed his eyes briefly and reached deep inside himself, touching the spiritual thread between him and Hoar, who wordlessly reassured him. Tai opened his eyes and met the drow's gaze. He could not gauge by Jarlaxle's words alone the truth of his attitude; only time and the elf's treatment of others would reveal if he spoke truly. The only question was, given all that had happened, would Tai allow him the chance to prove his words true or false?

"I learned long ago," the priest said, "that wallowing in bitterness and rage only poisons one's soul. I determined that healing is a necessity of life, and I have not given up that belief just because the wound cuts deeper this time. This means that I forgive you, but it doesn't mean that I trust you again. Trust, like loyalty, is earned. If you truly believe that team members or allies have a responsibility to each other, then you will understand why this is so."

"Everyone you meet should have to earn your trust and loyalty," the mercenary said. "Never give anyone the benefit of the doubt; you'll live longer that way."

Tai snorted. "So I've learned." He paused. "You sound much like Entreri by saying that, though."

Jarlaxle smiled. "Of course. We have both survived in dangerous worlds for a long time." He tilted his head, growing serious once again. "In fact, Entreri and I understand you better than you think—especially Entreri. He understands you much better than you realize or than he can admit."

Tai frowned. "Understands me better?" It seemed an odd thing to say, and yet the priest could not deny that Entreri seemed to have an instinctual knowledge of when to speak, when not to, and what to say when speaking. "Why? Or how?" A thought Tai had pondered two days earlier returned, leaving the priest stunned. "You don't mean to say—you can't be saying that—that Entreri was raped by a drow?"

"No. Not at all." The drow shook his head. "The source of his anger is a bit closer to home."

Tai shook his head at the elf's irritatingly cryptic words and started walking away. Understand me better? How, indeed? The priest sighed. If Entreri hasn't been raped by a drow, then . . .

"Closer to home." Tai halted abruptly, his mind suddenly full of endless, seemingly unrelated comments Entreri had either said in front of him or said to him. Tai felt his eyes widen, felt his breathing catch, felt his mind try to deny the onslaught, but failed:

"The nightmares will stop."

"Mordecai will pay for what he has done. He will die for it."

"This is the way the world is. Brutal, violent, and unfair."

"My father was a priest of Tyr, and one of the most evil men I've ever met. Why did he escape the justice of his own god?"

"My father was . . . one of the most evil men I've ever met," Tai repeated aloud to himself in a choked whisper, and with the words, the wind seemed to be knocked from his chest.

For a second, Tai couldn't seem to draw breath; it felt as though his lungs might implode. A strange burning sensation raced across his skin, sending shivers down his spine and causing the hair on his arms to stand up. The priest felt his shoulders tense, then suddenly he gasped, inhaling sharply as his breath returned to him. "No," he gasped. "Impossible! His father—" The priest whirled back around, facing Jarlaxle once again. "I am over-analyzing this. It cannot be!"

Jarlaxle frowned, almost as though he'd been surprised with the priest's quick reasoning, but then he turned to gaze into the fire, his non-response more powerful than an answer.

And with that non-answer, Tai's racing mind jumped far ahead. Tai remembered Entreri arguing with the priest Hector Macatos, challenging Hector's concept of morality and justice by referring to his father's evil, and Tai's own resulting assumption that Entreri's father had likely mistreated his son, probably by beating him.

And in his mind, Tai saw once again Entreri's reaction to learning that Mordecai had raped him. The normally stoic assassin had lost his temper and punched the dressing table.

"You are not some spineless victim," he had said. " You are a man who has had the strength to survive another's sickness."

The strength to survive another's sickness.

"Dear gods," Tai whispered, stunned. One of his hands went to his chest then, covering his heart, for he felt the organ might burst with the sudden wave of emotion. He knows how I feel! He's been sitting by me, listening to me, offering me . . . gruff . . . advice all this time because he knows!

I'm . . . truly not alone.

The priest felt tears stinging his eyes. Tears, again. But he felt no shame this time. No, he felt relief and a renewed desire to connect with the man. Connect . . . but how? Tai could barely discuss his own experience; he certainly couldn't imagine Entreri discussing his. Nor did Tai particularly want to have such a discussion. He just wanted . . . it just meant that . . .

Tai felt like his head was spinning.

Quiet descended upon the camp as Tai stared off into the darkness and Jarlaxle gazed at the fire. As the priest attempted to take hold of his emotions, one thought momentarily emerged above the others: Tai now better recognized the anger and bitterness in his friend. The sudden insight caused him to stutter as he tried to voice his revelation. "His rage—his . . . worldview. It's connected . . . He—" The priest shook his head, unable to further organize his mind.

Jarlaxle still had not moved or looked away from the fire. "Do young children choose to become violent?" the elf asked, staring into the flames, his voice soft. "Do they awaken one morning and decide to be assassins?" The drow seemed lost in thought for a moment. "Evil begets evil. Violence begets violence. Manipulation. Creation. Free will. Choice. Destiny, independence, predestination, rebellion."

The priest forced himself to focus on Jarlaxle's words, instinctively realizing that he was witnessing something rare—something, perhaps, that no one else had ever seen from the mercenary.

Jarlaxle sighed, and his gaze seemed to look through the fire into another dimension. "Can a cold-blooded assassin deserve mercy? Evil reigns in a man without a heart. But can evil be redeemed? Should it be? Should it be allowed even the chance to damn itself twice? And if it is redeemed, even to the tiniest degree, should the world be happy?"

Tai remained quiet and allowed Jarlaxle his soliloquy, then he repeated a sentiment he'd expressed to the drow once before. "Injustice is not excusable; everyone will pay—in one way or another—for their crimes. But only at the moment of death does redemption become impossible. A good person cannot deny anyone the chance at redemption. A good person cannot wish a soul into the nine hells."

Jarlaxle looked at Tai. "Can you say that of Mordecai and mean it?"

The priest's eyes narrowed for a moment, but his faith made his answer obvious. "Yes. I must. It is my opinion that Mordecai is evil, and I won't deny that I hate him. But it is not my place to determine the punishment of his eternal soul. As a servant of Hoar, my dedication to justice and retribution might lead me to execute him, but I do not have the right to wish his soul into the nine hells—not unless I wish to embrace evil, in which case I will be no better than Mordecai."

The drow smiled at Tai then, and the priest was struck with the sense that he had not been entirely a fool. That there was indeed more to Jarlaxle than the dangerous mercenary.

"Tebryn Pharn," Jarlaxle said, and he laughed at Tai's look of incomprehension. "It's a name—the name of the drow who began my weapon's training. Ask me about him sometime. It's a sad story, but I think you would appreciate it. I also think it would help you to better understand who and what the drow are."

Tai nodded, realizing that the elf was going to actually work at building a friendship with him. Now was not the time to take Jarlaxle up on his storytelling offer, though. Tai had much to think about. Much to process.

Tai now knew a secret about Artemis Entreri's past. A secret that spoke directly to his own life.

Dawn, with its punishing light, could only be an hour away. Mordecai and his companions traveled quickly, wanting to reach their destination under night's comforting darkness. Although Mordecai preferred the Night Above, he was well aware that Vren and the soldiers did not, which suited him fine, given that it increased their motivation. For once they'd reached the ruins, the drow would once again be underground—not in their cavernous home, perhaps, but in a buried ancient city which had not seen the dawn or the sunset for countless generations.

Countless generations, Mordecai mused, pushing aside tree branches which hung low and tried to smack his face. Countless generations of strategy and infiltration, of trickery and assassination, all of it aimed at a single goal. And now . . . Now one young brother would step up onto the stage, out of the shadows, and lay claim to an artifact that could spearhead their struggle, perhaps win their entire secretly-waged war. His suffering at the hands of House Tuin'Tarl, his escapades with Bregan D'aerthe—a plot within a plot of a plot—it would all be worthwhile. It would be made worthwhile by this night's discovery.

With these victorious thoughts buzzing like insects trapped in his skull, Mordecai stepped out of the tree line and walked to the edge of what could only be described as a pit: a section of the forest floor had caved in, revealing one of the forest's many secrets.

"The Ssesartas Ruins," the priest whispered, and he rushed ahead of the others to stand at the pit's edge and take in the sight of his and his brothers' salvation.

The breath rushed from Mordecai's chest as he peered over the edge. Wind buffeted him as he stared down into the hundred-foot-deep pit, and for a moment his head seemed to spin, as though he had slipped off the edge and were falling. The priest inhaled steadily, regaining his equilibrium.

Below him, revealed in the silvery glow of the moonlight, lay the most beautiful sight he'd ever beheld: the partially-exposed ruins of a saurian city. Peeking out between moss, ivy, and uneven humps of recently shifted dirt were the crowns of towers, which were ornamented with carvings. Stone reliefs of snakes, their bodies coiled and tongues flicking, greeted the travelers, and while the reliefs had been worn down by weather and age, not even the press of thousands of years could completely steal the glory of the city. To Mordecai, it was exquisite.

Vren seemed unimpressed. "An ancient city, mostly buried in dirt and vines. Its exterior hardly announces the treasure supposedly contained within."

Mordecai didn't bother responding to Vren's inane comment. Instead, he grinned evilly at the Secondboy. "We arrived first; for all his cunning, the great Jarlaxle did not reach his goal in time."

Vren smirked. "How could he, with those pathetic animals holding him back?"

At the mention of animals, Mordecai glanced over his shoulder at Cat, who was riding in the priest's backpack and had her head stuck out the top so she would sniff and see everything around her. "Indeed. At least when I choose pets, I choose the type that do not slow me down."

With that, the subject dropped, for Mordecai was no more willing than Vren to admit that he had been beaten by said "pets." In the lull in the conversation, the priest pointed to a tower top which jutted from the side of the pit. "Our information suggests that we may access the city if we crawl through that tower's window."

Vren nodded, and Mordecai immediately began his descent, angling his body and feet to slide sideways down the gentle, if deep, slope. However, when Mordecai stepped into the pit, a tangible change swept over the ruins and surrounding forest. All the nighttime chatter suddenly ceased; every bird, cricket, frog, and creaking tree branch stilled. The five drow grew deathly still and silent as well, ever paranoid about an attack. However, no enemy showed its face. Instead, millions of glowing insects steadily rose from the tangle of ivy and uprooted brush in the pit, their tiny green bodies casting an unearthly light upon the ancient ruins.

Once the glowing insects had risen above the pit, they hung above the drow's heads for a minute, casting green light upon ebony faces. Then, as one luminous cloud, they drifted away into the trees. Moments later, the chirping crickets and croaking frogs filled the silence again.

With wide eyes, Vren glanced down at Mordecai. "By the abyss, what were those creatures, and what did their mass exodus mean?" he asked in the quietest of whispers.

Mordecai had been deeply moved by their beauty as well as by the magical aura that had filled the air along with them. He shook his head, unable to find his voice at first. "I'm unsure of their significance," he whispered back, "but I shall name them what I please."

Vren frowned at the odd answer, then shrugged.

Mordecai glanced wistfully after the insects once again, but instead caught a shadowy movement in the trees. An animal? Jarlaxle and his pets? Or . . .?

"Hurry now," Mordecai ordered the others, "and be on guard. I suspect we are being followed." The priest started down the slope once more, eager to reach the Kagaor ki Tamal and claim its promises.

And quickly, lest another steal his prize from him.

A/N: As I warned, my writing was slow. This semester is a real pain. Thank you for your patience and your reviews.

Euphorbic deserves a nod for a suggestion about description that she made while I was in the prewriting stage.