Chapter 2
"A Truth"
The magical torches burned dimly, leaving most of the temple in shadows. The corpses of several drow and two vipers littered the flagstones, and the metallic smell of blood tinged the air, adding a strange contrast to the earthy smell of dirt and vines. With the battle over, the chamber seemed too still and quiet, especially since Jarlaxle was deep in thought and Entreri was scowling. Even Nyx remained silent as Tai attended to her injuries, and the priest wished someone would speak. They needed to propose a plan of action immediately. However, as Tai lowered his hand, having finished healing Nyx's wounds, he found himself caught on a memory. He stared past the monk's shoulder, his brow creased. "Convergence of mirror."
Nyx raised an eyebrow, and Entreri turned his scowl away from the ground and considered the priest.
"'Convergence of mirror?'" the assassin repeated.
Tai continued to stare at the far wall as his thoughts sorted themselves. The dim chamber and its musty smell bothered him, although he wasn't sure why, and made it hard for him to concentrate. It was as though the impinging shadows and dust reminded him of something . . . something that made him uncomfortable. It was like—
Tai shook his head and forcefully pushed away his discomfort. With a deep breath, he got his thoughts back on track. "Do you remember what I told you? 'Kagaor ki Tamal' means 'convergence of mirror.'"
Nyx was nodding. "The information we read said that the artifact was called The Mirror of Convergence."
"But it also was referred to as The Tainted Mirror," Jarlaxle pointed out.
Tai shook his head. "I don't know what that means, but I know what I felt. I sensed it when Mordecai used the mirror: divine energy. The mirror is divine."
Jarlaxle watched the priest for a moment, then nodded. "Our question is answered."
"Not entirely." Tai focused his gaze on the drow. "We don't know if the mirror will put Mordecai in touch with Set or Sseth."
"I take it neither is good," Entreri commented dryly.
"The greater question," Jarlaxle said, "is this: what does Mordecai think the mirror does, and was his assumption correct?" A small smile turned up the corners of his lips. "As a follower of Vhaeraun, Mordecai would have little use for a mirror that connects him to another deity."
Nyx appeared smug. "Then obviously he thought the mirror was psionic."
"But it isn't." Jarlaxle laughed. "I wonder how that will affect his great plans!"
Tai had to admit that Mordecai's apparent blunder amused him as well, but it didn't mean Mordecai was any less dangerous. "Maybe not at all," the priest said.
Entreri frowned. "Indeed. He seemed perfectly capable of wielding the mirror's power."
Jarlaxle shrugged. "As I said, he will return for us. We may track him down to save time, but he will come to us either way."
Tai frowned. It was true, of course, but Jarlaxle seemed too confident for the priest's comfort. All four of them had multiple reasons for vengeance, and he and Nyx even had a holy mission for retribution. Added to this was the endangerment to their lives and Mordecai's apparent success, but Jarlaxle seemed unworried. In fact, the elf began walking around the room, checking the walls.
"Now what's he doing?" Nyx mumbled.
Entreri's eyes were half-hooded. "Checking for hidden doors, no doubt. He thinks there will be treasure here."
Nyx rubbed her temples, as though she were getting a headache. "He's thinking of treasure at a time like this?"
"There may be something else left in the ruins that might aid us in our cause," Jarlaxle pointed out. He stopped in front of a wall carving, frowned at it, then explored it. Moments later, a hidden door rumbled open.
Even from his position, Tai could detect the magical torches in the next chamber flaming to life. The resulting glow of light upon the drow's face was brighter than it should have been, and the mercenary's sudden gleaming smile told Tai all he needed to know.
"Well," Tai said, throwing Nyx's words of a few days earlier back into her face, "he is a mercenary."
"He's a drow mercenary," Entreri corrected, as if that explained everything.
Jarlaxle had clasped his hands together and was staring into the next chamber as though a beautiful naked woman stood beyond the doorway. "Just seeing to our finances," the elf said a touch breathlessly.
Tai traded a look with Entreri. "I think I understand our drow companion better each day."
Entreri smirked. "You must have been fooled by his uncharacteristic charm and equally uncharacteristic gaudiness. Your mistake."
"I really didn't know anything about drow," Tai admitted, finding himself sharing that smirk. "Guess I found out the hard way."
Entreri's facial expression grew suddenly stoic again—an unreadable mask. Nyx flashed a look of concern at Tai, then she shot the assassin a glare, as if he were somehow to blame for Tai's cynical humor.
"Don't be upset," Tai said, perceiving the monk's protectiveness, "'A wise man is a fool who lived.'"
Entreri frowned. "A saying from Tethyr?"
"A truth," Tai replied, not actually meaning to be cryptic. The priest walked over to the treasure chamber's door, through which the drow had disappeared. Despite the fact Tai wasn't charmed by gold and jewels, even he had to be impressed with the display that met him: piles of silver, gold, and platinum coins; precious gems; fine weapons—Tai imagined that the treasure was much like a dragon's horde.
Jarlaxle had picked up a fist-sized ruby that nearly matched the color of his uncovered eye. "Stunning."
Entreri stepped up behind Tai, glanced in, and eyed a sword. It wasn't lost on Tai that the assassin basically ignored all the wealth in the room and instead focused on the weapons. Entreri entered the chamber and pulled the nearest sword from a pile of coins; he examined the blade and tested the balance. "Fine blade. Not enchanted." He glanced at Tai. "How is your swordsmanship?"
"Average," the priest admitted. "I do better with the daggers."
Nyx had joined Tai as well and stared wide-eyed at the treasure. "I never imagined I'd witness such a sight."
Jarlaxle was tucking jewels and coins into the magical pouch on his belt. "We shall be well-funded for a time to come."
"And so is the summation of Jarlaxle: cleverness, greed, greed, greed, and power-mongering," Tai quipped.
Jarlaxle merely laughed, which the priest expected, but Entreri smiled, too, although the expression was closer to a smirk. Even still, Tai was oddly pleased to have amused the stoic man. However, business was business. "Maybe we should kill first and horde treasure later," the priest said.
Entreri shoved the sword back into the pile of coins and gave the priest the clearest look of respect Tai had seen yet. "I couldn't agree more."
Jarlaxle looked between the two with a paternalistic smile. "Entreri and Entreri Junior are in agreement; I suppose I shall have to control my enthusiasm for now."
Entreri's cold, murderous stare should have peeled Jarlaxle's skin off his face. The assassin walked toward Tai and Nyx and gestured for them to follow him. "Ignore the senile elf and come with me."
Tai snorted and followed as bid, but he had a feeling that there were a few things left to work out between Entreri and Jarlaxle. And perhaps also Jarlaxle and himself.
Mordecai balanced on the rocks of the river bank and stared into the muddy water, which gushed and broke over protruding boulders. The morning was overcast, the sky burdened with dark clouds, and the river seemed to rage in anticipation of the coming storm. Buried in the gushing roar was a hiss, and to Mordecai's imagination, it sounded like hundreds of snakes. Even the thrashing of tree limbs and leaves in the wind sounded like a pit of angry serpents to the cleric, and Mordecai had to wonder if the mirror carried a curse. Ultimately, however, he was far more concerned with power than any potential curses, and so he was unwilling to act on his suspicions, especially since he both wanted and needed that power, given that Jarlaxle and Pets, a priestess of Lolth, and the Jaezred Chaulssin were after his head.
A sense of presence more than the sound footsteps alerted Mordecai to the approach of another. The cleric placed one hand upon the Kagaor ki Tamal, which he had attached to the utility belt across his chest, and glanced over his shoulder. The sight of Vren five feet behind him surprised him, and he stood. "I would have thought you would be helping Chalithra track me down."
Vren grimaced. "With three House soldiers to spy on me during our journey and tell her that I betrayed my Matron Mother? Doubtful. I may have put on a show for Chalithra while she was present, but that doesn't erase my betrayal. Besides, the fact remains that as long as you have the mirror, you are the victor."
Pragmatism mixed with cowardice. Still, Mordecai smiled, deciding to accept Vren's company. "True enough. I could almost say you are wise in choosing to work with me, for with the mirror's power, my enemies will fall easily."
Vren smirked and pulled his thick silver braid over his shoulder to pet it. "You mean, once you learn how to properly wield it. Don't think I failed to note those errant bolts and misfires, especially when one nearly took off my head."
Mordecai glared at the delicate drow. "I assure you, the mirror and I draw closer by the hour."
"You 'draw closer'?" Vren repeated. "That is a particularly odd way of phrasing it."
Mordecai absently scratched the back of his neck as he stopped to consider his own words. "I suppose. All that should concern you, however, is that my ability to wield the mirror increases almost by the minute."
"As you say." The frowning Vren did not look impressed.
Mordecai experienced an inexplicable snap of rage and aimed the mirror at the Secondboy. "Would you care for a demonstration?"
Vren quickly lifted both hands and backed away a step. "Unnecessary."
Mordecai snorted but was kept from further comment by a bump on his calf. He looked down at Cat, who rubbed her forehead against his leg.
Mordecai picked her up and rubbed the soft fur between her ears, but he had to stop almost instantly and scratch the back of his neck again. Then, inexplicably, his side itched as well. Had he managed to come in contact with a plant that caused rashes? It was irritating, but it hardly worried him. Still holding Cat, he turned and grinned at Vren. "Well, let us not waste any further time. We must resume tracking down Jarlaxle and Pets immediately; we should be able to hunt them down and kill them by nightfall."
The Secondboy frowned, looking distinctly ill-at-ease. "Why do you pursue them still?"
"Because they pursue me," Mordecai answered, conveniently failing to mention all the humiliation he'd seen at not only Jarlaxle's hands, but Entreri's and the boy's, not to mention the pressing matter of being pursued by three different foes.
Vren remained wisely quiet, and the two resumed Mordecai's task.
The afternoon sun, which had broken through the gathering clouds just long enough to ignite the forest's humidity, sent waves of heat over Entreri and his companions. From the days spent traveling through the Dalelands prior to being captured by the madman Waylein, to this day—almost a year later—the assassin maintained that humidity was evil. The Calishite sun may have spent a lifetime punishing him, but the searing difference between Calimport and the High Forest could not be dismissed. The sweat trickling down his temples attested to that fact.
The tree cover and its shade offered some relief, and Entreri had become hypersensitive to the sound of rushing wind. Every shimmer to race through the full green leaves promised a moment's further reprieve and a deep breath of clean air. Then the forest would settle back into silence broken only by chirping birds, and the fragrance of flowers would confound the humidity, making it difficult to breathe. The assassin felt as though he'd been thrown into a pit of broken perfume bottles: jasmine, wild rose, yarrow, and dozens of flowers Entreri couldn't identify doused the air. The riot of smells threatened to give him a headache.
Behind him, Tai and Nyx kept pace, both obviously well-acclimated to the forest and its humidity. Jarlaxle remained about five paces to their rear, supposedly providing guard. Still, the drow, who had lived centuries in the cool Underdark, seemed to be sweating even harder than Entreri. The assassin smirked.
The group maintained a swift pace, stopping for only fifteen minutes every few hours to rest and eat small meals. Jarlaxle possessed the magical means to track Mordecai now that he carried the Kagaor ki Tamal, but their trip was complicated by their tactic: they were circling around to Mordecai's rear, hoping to ambush him from behind.
The gurgling of a stream impressed itself onto Entreri's consciousness, and he slowed their speed as a creek came into view. They had been traveling nonstop since noon; it was time for a short break. All four rushed to the stream, splashing their faces with water and filling their flasks.
Jarlaxle retreated to the heavy shade of an oak and withdrew a small disk with a sapphire in the middle. "That's odd," he said, more to himself. "Mordecai's movements have become erratic."
Entreri lifted his flask from the stream and joined the elf under the tree. "What do you mean, erratic?" He glanced at the blue squiggles on the stone disk and frowned.
"Given the nature of our surroundings, Mordecai's movements should move in a wavering line, somewhat like the path of a river, toward the saurian ruins, provided that he assumes we're still there. Or his movements should move toward our general position, if he knows where we are in the forest. Instead . . ." Jarlaxle pointed to the random loops as though no further comment were necessary.
"A pig's tail," Nyx said as she joined them.
"Pig's tail?" Jarlaxle echoed.
"His movements remind me of the curls in a pig's tail." She grinned at them. "Maybe his greed has finally gifted him with the rather poetic fate of morphing into a swine." Her smile widened. "Or perhaps a wild boar."
Entreri glanced at her, oddly struck by her sheer energy. The redhead nearly radiated confidence and good spirits, as though she already knew the outcome of the battle.
Jarlaxle grinned wickedly and lifted one finger into the air, as though to underscore a point. "Indeed, I imagine these loops and curls are reminiscent of your soft, auburn hair when you release it from its braided prison. Why, in my dreams, I—"
"Spare me," the monk said, lifting her foot to kick the elf. However, Entreri beat her to it. The assassin aimed a punch at Jarlaxle's head, but the elf dodged, causing the strike to land upon his shoulder instead.
"Now be nice," Jarlaxle said, turning his most innocent smile upon the assassin. "If you aren't going to extol her beauty, then I shall—"
"Die a gruesome death when she decides to punish you for your lechery?" Entreri said, his hand twitching in his desire to flog the mercenary for bringing up such a topic . . . and for the obvious ploy behind those words. The last thing he needed was a drow matchmaker!
"Save your sweet-talk for the whores," Nyx told Jarlaxle dryly.
Jarlaxle just grinned at them, and Entreri heard a soft sigh behind him.
"Correction," Tai said, "I must revise my earlier statement: the summation of Jarlaxle's life is cleverness, greed, greed, greed, and lust."
"Why the dour expression?" Jarlaxle asked the priest. "Should I not enjoy my life?"
"Indeed you should," Tai replied, very serious despite Jarlaxle's banter, "but manipulation, wealth, power, and sex won't bring you joy. At the end of your life, you will be just as empty as when you were born, but you will lack the understanding to figure out why."
Jarlaxle looked taken aback, although only momentarily. "We shall see if you still agree once you have fallen in love and lain with your first woman."
Tai's face turned a sudden shade of bright red, and Nyx kicked Jarlaxle's shin. The elf managed to avoid serious injury and chuckled in the face of Nyx's fury.
"Don't tease him!" she said, raising her foot as though to stomp Jarlaxle's face.
Entreri could see the wicked gleam in Jarlaxle's eye and knew the monk would be his next victim. "Stop now before she uses her ki to ground your prized, handsome face into gruel."
Jarlaxle stared at the assassin. "You think I'm handsome?"
Entreri understood all too well that he was now the target. "You think you're handsome."
"Indeed I am!" the elf easily agreed. "Although I didn't think you would be possessed of the refinement necessary to recognize that."
The assassin had him now. "Ah, so you say I'm not refined enough to see your beauty, but you imply I can see Nyx's? Does that mean Nyx has unrefined beauty?"
Nyx stared at the assassin, as though startled by his words.
The elf missed a beat. "My good man, did you just admit to recognizing both of our beauty?"
Entreri didn't blink. "Quit twisting my words. Did you not just say that Nyx's beauty was second class?"
"Did you just not admit that she's beautiful twice in a row?"
The assassin wasn't going to let him succeed. "If she were not beautiful, you wouldn't be trying to manipulate me into courting her, now would you?"
Silence.
Jarlaxle looked to Nyx as though to assess her reaction, and Entreri smirked. However, when Nyx seemed too shocked for words, the elf recovered his aplomb and spoke. "Just trying to help you grasp the obvious."
"At least he admits it," Tai muttered.
Nyx's spattering of pale freckles had been lost in her blush. "What! You're trying to—" She glanced at Entreri, then just as quickly looked back at Jarlaxle. "You're trying to arrange a relationship between Entreri and myself?"
Jarlaxle was grinning again. "See Artemis? She's even more beautiful when she's flushed."
Entreri hit Jarlaxle on the shoulder with enough force to knock him halfway over. "Do put back on the mask of a gentlemen. You've embarrassed both Nyx and Tai enough for one day." The assassin stood and headed off into the trees. "Let's continue. We've rested long enough."
The sounds of footsteps and a chuckling drow alerted Entreri to the fact that his companions were indeed following. However, for an instant, the assassin's thoughts were diverted away from his task and onto the possibility that Nyx was, in fact, attracted to him.
But the distraction lasted only for a moment.
Mordecai growled, and the expression of anger was so intense that, from her position at the cleric's feet, Cat arched her back and hissed.
The sun now set upon the Night Above, staining the horizon a crimson that bled into pink over the expanse of the sky. Although still nameless, now familiar insects buzzed and chirped in the cool breeze, which rushed through shimmering leaves and filled the air with—
Hissing. The sound still reminded Mordecai of hissing. But the cleric shook away such thoughts and focused on the source of his irritation: he and Vren hadn't found Jarlaxle and Pets. Here he was, no doubt being pursued by both a priestess of Loth and an assassin from the Jaezred Chaulssin, and he couldn't so much as locate the main source of his irritation—Jarlaxle! He needed to take out the mercenary and his pets before all his enemies managed to close in on him at once.
"How far away did I teleport?" the cleric asked no one in particular, stunned by the amount of time he and Vren had traveled without even catching a glimpse of the mercenary drow. Mordecai had the strangest sense that he'd somehow traveled in a circle, but even more disturbing was the fact his memory of the day seemed somehow blurred.
Although Mordecai's question had been rhetorical, Vren answered anyway. "Far, I'd say. I met you on your way back only because I traveled all night. Besides, it is unlikely Jarlaxle stayed in the ruins. He is likely tracking you, but I doubt he took a straight course. We should assume he's coming at us from the side or may have worked his way behind us."
It was true enough, but Vren's impertinence angered Mordecai. "If I want to hear strategic talk, I'll tell you what to say." He reached up and violently scratched the irritated skin on his neck. The act set off a chain reaction that had him scratching both sides of his ribs and even the back of his left calf before returning to his itching neck again. He had scratched it so many times during the day that the skin was rough and peeling. "Curse it, but what is wrong with my neck!"
Vren, who had been frozen still in the face of Mordecai's anger, recovered himself and walked over to the cleric. "Let me see."
Mordecai schooled himself to calm down and allow Vren to inspect the problem. A long pause followed in which the cleric could feel Vren's shock. The Secondboy's surprise evoked a burning fear in Mordecai's lungs. "What?" the cleric asked.
"It's . . . scales," Vren whispered. "You have scales on your neck—brown ones, like the creature we killed in the ruins!"
"S-snake scales?" Mordecai stuttered. He pawed through the pouches on his belt until he located a small hand mirror he had stolen from the wizard's tower. Then he aligned the larger Kagaor ki Tamal and the hand mirror so he could see the back of his neck. Just as Vren had said, a patch of brown scales had grown over his vertebrae. Mordecai's growing fear lanced through his veins with such a burn that it caused him to want to scratch at the blood vessels in his arms as well. Quickly storing both mirrors, the cleric ripped open his shirt to check his chest. An expanse of pale and darker brown scales raced along the sides of his ribs.
"The mirror?" Vren asked quietly. "Is it cursed?"
For a minute, Mordecai couldn't speak. His urge to throw away the mirror was strong. But as soon as he had the thought, the cleric discarded it. What foolishness! The mirror made him powerful; what were a few scales by comparison, even if they did itch? Besides, after he mastered the mirror, Mordecai could no doubt be rid of the scales—he could command the mirror to retract the damage. Yes, it was an irritating side effect, perhaps, but it was temporary. Mordecai would be able to stop it soon, and the benefits he gained from wielding the Kagaor ki Tamal far outweighed this drawback.
"It is temporary," Mordecai said with confidence. "I am the wielder, and my control will only increase, not lessen. There is no danger." The cleric nodded to himself at this proclamation, as if to punctuate the remark, only to be shot in the chest with a crossbolt.
The cleric jerked in surprise and involuntarily coughed from the impact, but his armor protected him from the weapon. Quickly, Mordecai moved both his hands before his body in an elliptical motion, praying for a divine shield . . . but nothing happened. The cleric cursed as three drow assassins burst from the underbrush and descended upon Vren and him.
The Secondboy shrieked in fright and jerked out his weapon, practically yelling the magical command word that extended the double blades. He stepped forward to meet the first swordsman, snapping the sword in an arc, then jumping backward and twirling the sword before him when his strike was blocked by the assassin's blade.
The other two assassins, who Mordecai recognized as cousins of his, drew their swords as well and approached him at an angle meant to entrap him. The cleric realized that his god was not answering his pleas, so he resorted to the object of contention—the Kagaor ki Tamal. As he gripped the mirror, the world around him seemed to blur for an instant, and the assassins and even trees seemed to slump as though their energy had been drained. However, the assassins shook off the effect and resumed their attack, so Mordecai reached into the mirror, as though calling upon it with his very soul, and commanded the lightning to come forth. White tendrils of lightning stabbed outward from the mirror's surface, piercing the two drow before him before jumping to the third and killing him.
A single breath, and Mordecai had terminated the battle. A burning itch raced through his spine, but he shrugged it off.
Chewing his lip, Vren stared at the smoking, charred corpses, then focused his gaze on the cleric. "You could defeat an entire army that way."
"If the Jaezred Chaulssin are angry enough at me, I'll need the ability to defeat an army—one of assassins," Mordecai admitted offhandedly. "I suppose it is just as well that I, in fact, have such power."
The cleric turned away to see to forging food, but he didn't miss as Vren's look of incomprehension bled into one of fear. Mordecai savored the Secondboy's terror, steadfastly ignoring the prickling itch running across his chest.
After all, minute by minute he was mastering the mirror.
A/N: Thank you again to all who read and reviewed! Hopefully, chapter 3 will be up in about 2 weeks.
