They dismounted and let the horses eat. The two of them milled around, trying not to look at each other. Artemis noticed suddenly that there was a grayish white blob in the distance. He wordlessly motioned with his hand and then jerked his head towards the horizon. Jarlaxle looked.
"Well, well, well," he said. "So this is Perrin."
They both studied it, not sure what to make of it. The distant city seemed ominous somehowafter the turn the morning had taken. They were not sure of anything, and the bone white walls of Perrin did not help their uncertainty. In every way, they felt as though they'd come at a crossroads.
"Do we really want to go there?" Artemis said, voicing their unease.
The drow mercenary shrugged, but his eyes were clouded with something close to worry. "Why not?" he said.
Artemis couldn't tell if it was left over from the conversation they'd purposefully discontinued upon deciding to stop, or if something about the city was as disquieting to Jarlaxle as it was to the assassin. Normally, he didn't believe in premonitions; he'd always believed it was the stuff of impoverished widows trying to eke out a living as soothsayers. Experiencing a groundless emotion unsettled him. "I don't," he said, his eyes still fixed on where the dirt trail dwindled to a smudge in the distance. He lost his voice for a few moments. Jarlaxle saw his hand subconsciously stray to his dagger hilt. Then Artemis swallowed, and said, "I think we…should turn around." He glanced behind them, as if double-checking that their way had not been barred. He glanced back at the Perrin. "Turn around," he mumbled, repeating himself under his breath.
"It's not that far now," Jarlaxle said, waving a hand at it and planting his other hand on his hip. He looked at the assassin incredulously. "What did we ride all the way out here for?" The drow completely ignored any nagging feelings of doubt he might have had. "No, I say we move on."
Artemis was already walking back to his horse, looking as though he were preparing to get back in the saddle.
"Artemis?" Jarlaxle half followed him with an expression of irritated foreboding.
The assassin wasn't listening to him.
This made him far more shaken than some distant spectre of a city on the horizon. He didn't want to intrude on his friend's personal space, but on the other hand, his friend was pushing him to it. Jarlaxle tightened a hand around Artemis' shoulder and tensed, preparing to turn the assassin around.
Artemis spun around under his own power and came face to face with the drow, startlingly close. Jarlaxle took a step back. "If you value my opinion…" the man said, pausing warningly and holding up a hand. There was a chilling solemnity in his features. His gray eyes, dark with some unfathomable emotion, bored into the drow. "There is death in that city." After this surprisingly superstitious statement, he turned around and mounted his horse.
Jarlaxle hurriedly scrambled for his own horse and leapt onto it as he saw Artemis leaving without him. "Wait!" He rode after the man, quickly catching up to him by urging his horse practically into a gallop. It was a bumpy ride, and the drow was almost too surprised to stay in the saddle. The assassin didn't slow his pace. He increased it. What are we running from? Jarlaxle thought, dismayed.
Loud beats from their horses' hooves shattered the silence, and even as it had been on their way down the trail, they met no one.
Artemis didn't know what to think. As they met the beginnings of the field of lavender again, even those innocent purple flowers seemed dangerous. He felt his senses intensifying the same way they did when another assassin was trying to kill him. He didn't understand. It was a feeling of murderous pursuit.
But then, as they followed a turn in the road to accommodate an old tree, he put together what had been in the back of his mind. Whenever they came to a large city, it invariably had more traffic along that area of the road both coming and going. Perrin was the largest town of all the places they'd visited so far, or so the local people had said.
Artemis' stomach plummeted. It had been days, and they had seen no one. They hadn't even seen fires in the distance. And in fact, why was the road to Perrin so long? Why hadn't someone built more villages, or simply built Perrin closer to the rest of the people in this country?
Everyone was avoiding the lavender-swept plains.
Why did they hear no whispers of doomsday stories about Perrin if it was so dangerous to go there? Had something happened to Perrin recently no one knew about since the city was so far away?
The assassin was uncomfortable with having all these questions left over. He liked things neatly tied up so he didn't have to worry about something unexpected killing him because he hadn't accounted properly for a possibility.
It's a possibility we've both walked into a trap, Artemis thought. But that yielded a crop of more questions. Who had they angered? Was it personal? Did someone just want to trap anyone going to Perrin? Was the trap in Perrin? Was that the reason there were no people? Did people come to Perrin only never to return?
Or, forbid, was there nothing the matter except that Perrin was extremely unpopular for some mundane reason, such as an obnoxious leader in the community no one could stand, or a local tradition to make one's meal out of nothing but turnips?
Well, even if that was so, he consoled himself, we still wouldn't likely enjoy our stay there.
The assassin became aware of the fact that he was hungry. This startled him sufficiently to make him consider slowing down or stopping altogether. We didn't see anything on the way that was dangerous, he reminded himself. Surely we're not that naïve if there is danger to ourselves around here. Unless whatever has been posing a threat was waiting until now.
To be safe, they should backtrack all the way to Namouth, the last village they'd been through before deciding to seek Perrin. That destination was between two and three days away.
Alright, hold it, he thought, allowing his horse to slow down. If we're going to go all the way back to Namouth, we may as well pace ourselves.
Jarlaxle at last had the opportunity to pull up beside him and ask. "What are we doing?"
"Riding."
The drow frowned at him. "Why?"
"We're running."
"From what?" Jarlaxle said. "Death?" He'd never believed a person could run from death, anyway. If it was your time… Well, then again, in drow society, even if it wasn't. Artemis wasn't being reasonable. "This is most peculiar behavior from you, my friend."
"I don't care."
This was unsatisfying. The drow mercenary was vaguely aware that he'd followed the assassin's instincts in this matter, and so had felt a little cut out. Plainly, he'd done something that he didn't know the reason why he did it, and that doing that happened without his thinking, and he was thinking now.
He let Artemis pull ahead so that he wouldn't be disturbed. He was not in the mood to talk.
It sent tremors of fear through the core of his being, this renewed proof of trust. Jarlaxle felt keenly about how dangerous trust was. Faith, even worse. 'Faith' in someone? He hoped not. Faith was groundless, idealistic belief. The last time he'd had faith in someone, he'd gone and gotten himself killed. On purpose, no less. For all he knew, without a single second thought, 'goodbye cruel world' or 'sorry to leave you hanging'. Without the least bit of consideration. The last time he'd clung to someone for support, life had been undeniably clear: Thou Shalt Not Befriend.
And now, the drow had broken that commandment. Again.
Is it some hidden character defect? Jarlaxle thought. Why do I have a death wish? Why? Why me? Has the strain of living over four centuries finally gotten to me?
"Haven't I suffered enough?" Why is it never enough?
Jarlaxle felt wretched. He was fully aware he'd made himself this way by dwelling. That didn't help. Worse, he'd just had to depress himself during a point in his life where he couldn't just pick up a girl and have his way with her in order to feel better. He didn't know what Artemis was doing to him. The drow suddenly had doubts that wenching would make him feel better. That was insane.
Ah, but do you ever really feel better? he asked himself.
I've had enough of your babble, he answered. You're the reason I feel as though I'd almost rather be turned into a drider than try to understand human beings anymore. I was having fun. And now introspection has to come along. Fun. Is enjoying myself so wrong?
At other people's expense. At Artemis' expense.
Isn't that the only way? Fun is like anything else. It only works because one person loses so that someone else may gain. It's all in a balance. All the fun in the world is already in circulation.
He frowned. Isn't it?
I don't like this. I don't like this at all. Why do people call introspection the means to self-improvement? Jarlaxle thought. He'd thought, months ago, that improving one's character was frivolous, so it ought to be fun. Experimenting with Artemis had certainly been fun. This worried him. Why wasn't it any fun to do improvements on one's own character? It certainly hadn't improved his humor. He was withdrawn, grumpy, and sometimes downright unsociably mean. If he didn't know better, he'd say that Artemis was rubbing off on him.
He'd faced one of his biggest issues back in Aberiss, one that had dictated his behavior for a long time. It had felt good to be able to set aside his fears that he would hurt another man if he tried to be intimate. He'd thought, well, now that I have this out of the way, I won't have to face another fear for at least a few decades. Unexpected good work. I need to reward myself.
He'd thought the chain would end. And now, here he was, coming face to face with another fear he hadn't even known he'd had! He'd always told himself that friendship was a good thing; it was just that no one had any genuine feelings for him.
Jarlaxle closed his eyes. He sighed and opened them again. It had taken him decades to trust Zaknafein; he'd kept pushing and pushing, trying to probe for the time when Zak would betray him so that he could be ready. And then he'd slipped up. He expected the betrayal almost before Zaknafein realized Jarlaxle's mistake, tried to think of some way to save himself, and instead, Zak had saved him. He hadn't known the betrayal would come later.
But it wasn't betrayal, Jarlaxle thought. Somehow, he didn't manage to be very convincing to himself. He just died, that's all…On purpose…Without telling me…After refusing my offer to make him one of my partners in my business ventures –
No. Stop it.
He tried to concentrate on riding his horse.
Eventually, they did stop. At that time, both they and their horses were exhausted.
Artemis sat on the ground, sweating in the late afternoon sun. His black tunic stuck to his skin in places. He wiped an arm across his forehead, then took a long pull at his canteen. "Don't you think it's suspicious that we have seen no one coming or going from that city?"
Jarlaxle considered this. He played idly with his feather, holding his wide brimmed hat in his hands. He wasn't sweating. Heat didn't bother him; it was actually much warmer in the Underdark. What made him sweat was humidity. "They could be reclusive people," he pointed out.
"That wouldn't keep people from coming to them, that would keep them from coming to others," Artemis said. He took a shorter drink, and then wiped his forehead with his arm again.
Jarlaxle looked away, not wanting to admit that the assassin had a point. "Then what do you propose we do?"
"We're mercenaries," Artemis said. "It's not like we've been engaged by somebody to travel to Perrin. We don't need to." He stopped and narrowed his eyes at the drow. "Unless you're curious."
"No. No, I'm not curious." He put his hat back on his head.
"I think you are," Artemis said. "I think you want to go back there because you know something's wrong."
This got no response from the drow mercenary.
"You know something's wrong, so you want to go over there and revel in it. You wallow in disaster like a pig wallows in mud. You can't help it. You're a drow."
Jarlaxle sighed. "No, my friend, I do not want to go to Perrin and wallow in disaster. Thank you for your offer, but I don't think even heads on pikes could improve my disposition right now."
The assassin didn't know whether or not to suspect sarcasm. Jarlaxle worried him sometimes. "You're still really upset about what happened, aren't you?" he said. He frowned. It made him uncomfortable to think he held that much power over people. Short of cutting off limbs, he didn't think it was even possible for him to affect someone else. He thought anyone that let him hurt their feelings was a fool. He never would have thought his companion would be such a person.
"Yes, my friend, I am indeed upset over 'what has happened'." Jarlaxle wouldn't look at him. Instead he watched a long grass stalk wave in the breeze. "That is what it means to have someone care."
"Then I don't want you to," Artemis said, hardly aware of what he was saying.
Jarlaxle glanced at him, his expression tinged with disbelief.
"It hardly benefits me to antagonize you," the assassin said. He blinked uneasily, wondering what made Jarlaxle look at him that way.
"Go on," the drow said, raising his eyebrows. He was now looking directly into Artemis' eyes.
"We should forget about the whole thing," Artemis said. He found a twig by his foot and nervously dragged it across a mole hole by his right hand. He'd rather look at the mound of earth than at Jarlaxle. "I made a mistake. I thought it might work, but it didn't. I don't think we could have known that if we hadn't tried. I want to stay with you. Aberiss is down the road, and I don't think we're likely to go back. It is over now."
"Move on," Jarlaxle said, watching him closely.
Artemis thought, So he understands. He felt a curious emotion, a mix between relief and emptiness. He could stop his pain now; it didn't have to go on. There was no harm done. It reminded him somehow of the feeling of a clean white sheet against his skin. The assassin stopped poking the mole hole. "Exactly. We can move on."
"You dummy!" The drow tackled him. Artemis became panicky and struggled back into a sitting position. Jarlaxle was hugging him to his chest. "I don't want to move on!" He kissed the assassin on the mouth. "It does work; if I have anything to say about it, it'll work for the next hundred years."
"What are you talking about?" Artemis said.
"I care! Don't you know what it takes to make me care?" Jarlaxle said, his embrace erratically tightening and loosening in time to his train of thought.
"No, no, not really," the assassin said, but he was cut off by his companion kissing him on the mouth again. "Is this some kind of – joke?"
"It's a miracle!" Jarlaxle said. He ran his fingers over Artemis' face. "I had my best friend leave on me! I should never have begun to care about someone else ever again!" This was his brilliant, beautiful revelation. "Imagine if I had never gone to the surface?"
Artemis couldn't get a word in edgewise. He thought that his friend was having some kind of emotional seizure. "…You would have – continued on with your life?"
When Jarlaxle kissed him for the third time, he couldn't help himself. He participated in it. "I don't think this is –" he said before he was lost in another kiss.
"You are magnificent!" Jarlaxle said.
Artemis looked a little wild-eyed. "Mag –?"
That was the last word either of them said before the assassin fell over backwards with Jarlaxle on top of him. Jarlaxle's hands were straying all over him as their mouths locked together. He couldn't keep his eyes open; the sensations were overpowering him, too intense. "We're not even completely off the road!" the assassin said, his hands on Jarlaxle's chest, pushing him away. The drow slipped a slender wand from his belt and gestured with it.
"There," Jarlaxle said, grinning breathlessly. "Now we're invisible. Happy?"
"You wasted magic just to be able to have your way with me?" Artemis said, gaping at him.
"It recharges," Jarlaxle said. "A circle of invisibility, casts five times per day." He slipped it back into his belt. "I got it when we visited Rashold." He nuzzled Artemis' neck.
"What about the horses?"
"Oh, they're in here. Besides. They know not to wander. They're smart."
Jarlaxle was about to begin again. Artemis said, "We're invisible, but we're not silent. We'll be heard. Especially you."
The drow grinned. "I still have the wand from last time."
"Wai –" The section of the road and field around them plunged into silence.
Now people can sneak up on us, Artemis gestured desperately.
We're invisible, Jarlaxle said, flicking his hand impatiently. Besides, you were just saying how the road is unnaturally deserted.
I'm uncomfortable. Artemis stared at him uncompromisingly. Now let me up.
Jarlaxle made a sign that meant Artemis had ruined their ambush, which the assassin translated as, Spoilsport.
He got up and brushed himself off. Well, at least traveling will be safer like this.
Artemis looked up at him, then struggled to his own feet and tried to assess how many grass stains he'd sustained.