Don't go to Sleep

by Iliana Maura

Note: Who would have guessed that those two missing scenes would make up an entire chapter? Frankly, I was amazed. The comment about Jarlaxle being protected from sunlight by an ornament on his hat is frankly little more than speculation; Entreri has a similar though in Servant of the Shard if you care to look for it, and I am going on the assumption that Entreri's powers of deduction are quite reliable ;)

Chapter Seven : Venorsh

The House Nuvin soldiers crept warily through the nearly abandoned midnight streets of Menzoberranzan. They made barely a whisper as they moved, and passerby would have to look twice to be sure there was anything there at all. Their enchanted boots did not make any noise on the ground, and their piwafwis shielded the heat of their bodies.

They were here to find their attackers.

The patrol turned a corner and found themselves faced with an empty street. It did not simply look empty, but also felt empty, devoid of life or habitation. As one, they shifted uneasily; it stank of ambush.

Without warning, strange soldiers began streaming from the surrounding buildings. Surprised and outnumbered, the House Nuvin soldiers made to retreat, but found themselves cut off from behind. The strangers, who wore no identifying signs, surrounded them on all sides. There was a dramatic pause, drow facing drow, all trembling with the excitement of coming battle, faces flushed, blades drawn, teeth bared.

The pause ended.

Menzoberranzan was a quiet city. The noisiest part, the Bazaar, was shrouded in spells to keep the sound from carrying. Elsewhere, loud activities simply weren't done. Even fights and battles were conducted in silence. The dying Nuvin soldiers stifled their screams and the living ones did not shout battle cries. The soldiers of House Nuvin put up a good fight, killing nearly two enemies for everyone one of their own that fell, but it was hopeless. Soon the silent street was red from the blood-heat. Bodies lay in cooling piles, and the soldiers of House Nuvin's mysterious enemy slipped away into the city.

Half a dozen of House Nuvin's best fighter, led by Weapon Master Du'vess, crept out of the hiding places from which they had watched the battle. They followed their enemy silently, unnoticed by their quarry.

This second group moved much more quietly than the first. After all, that one had only been bait.

This tavern was much less to Jarlaxle's liking. The wine was a little stronger, yes, but it did not come close to making up for the light. The day was drawing to a close, the sun setting, and the light fading, but to Jarlaxle's light-sensitive eyes, that didn't mean much. It didn't matter that his eyes were protected from the light by an ornament on his hat, either. He simply did not like the light. It was too revealing.

Tucked away into the farthest corner, his dark skin hidden under his hat and cape, Jarlaxle studied the room, pondering his next move. He had tracked the mysterious gold elf to Waterdeep, hundreds of miles directly above Skullport, but from there it seemed he had hit a dead end. Not only was he severely limited by his heritage, but there were many more gold elves in Waterdeep than in Skullport.

It was obvious he had to keep looking for the elf, since that was the only lead he had. Would he have to track down every elf that had passed through the city in the last few weeks? That would be impossible!

The tavern door opened, admitting a broad band of cursed sunlight and two men into the already crowded common room. He tensed as they walked straight towards him, wondering if his heritage had been discovered, but they only took the table next to his, ordered their drinks, and began talking. From their professional and confident air, and the way the other patrons gave them a respectful berth, Jarlaxle guessed they were some sort of law enforcement.

"I can't believe they're keepin' us on this case," muttered one. He was old and grizzled, and had a large chunk missing out of his nose.

"Neither can I," groaned the other, this one younger, but already bearing a scar the length of his jaw "I mean, it's been three weeks already!"

No-Nose snorted. "Ye can't solve a murder after three weeks."

Jarlaxle slid a little deeper into his shadowy corner. Definitely law enforcement.

Scar-Face sighed. "I suppose we ought to go over our facts again."

"Again?" No-Nose snarled. "We're not goin' to learn anythin' more by recitin' a bunch of memorized facts."

"Maybe one of us will notice something this time," Scar-Face protested weakly. "Besides, that's what they say is best for breaking a case."

No-Nose snorted again. "'They' are lousy paper-pushers who haven't been out in the field for so long they've forgotten what in the Nine Hells they're talkin' about. But go ahead: by all means, recite your facts."

Scar-Face sipped his ale and ignored his companion's sarcasm. "Okay. A female wizard for hire by the name of Ever was killed three weeks ago in her spellshop. She kept very good records-"

"For all the good that does us," No-Nose interrupted. "What she recorded didn't do us no good."

Scar-Face continued, unperturbed. "The day she was killed, she recorded having three customers. The first was a gold elf-"

Jarlaxle pricked up his ears.

"-who gave no name but asked for a divination spell. After him was a human named Dorian Tavares, and he paid for a divination spell as well. The last was another gold elf named Arvylyn Quenvath, who was picking up an earlier request for a hundred and one magical gems. Written by his entry was a small note saying 'fake name'."

"It only makes sense," No-Nose growled, "that it is was Arvylyn Quenvath-or whatever his real name is-that killed her, only we can't find no trace of him anywhere." He pounded the table with his fist. "Anywhere!"

"Well, we did manage to find that Dorian Tavares went east, as did the first elf."

"That don't matter," snarled No-Nose. "It couldn't've been them who did it, 'cause someone else came after bother of them. Naw, it had to be that Quenvath creature-but he just disappeared off the the face of Faraun!"

Jarlaxle could not help but smile. Of course they couldn't find which way "Arvylyn Quenvath" had left the city, because he hadn't gone through any of the gate. He had gone down, to Skullport, where he had sold Medavin the one hundred gems.

If this had happened three weeks ago, then the gems would have arrived in Menzoberranzan at a time that matched both the appearance of orbb's elghinn and the dates in the Venorik Orbb record book.

But why a hundred and one? Why not a round one hundred? And why hadn't Medavin mention the extra? Unless "Arvylyn" only sold Medavin one hundred, and took the extra to someone else.

Who?

Drizzt Do'Urdan. The only drow who wouldn't be affected by a plague in the Underdark.

Jarlaxle set his glass down on the table. He would head east-to Mithral Hall.

Arvylyn's killer paced back and forth within the stone confines of his room, ignoring his body's protests. He wished he hadn't had to kill the elf, but Arvylyn had known too much. The killer wished he could have avoided any unnecessary murders. Of course, Arvylyn had been necessary, but if only the meddlesome elf had minded his own business, he'd be alive right now.

Arvylyn dead, but Drizzt alive. Still, it was only a matter of time. The killer longed to slay the drow with his own hand, but he knew trying now would be foolish. Even weakened as he was, Drizzt would be by far the better fighter.

But that was fine. There was plenty of time. The killer only had to wait for orbb's elghinn to progress.