Chapter 4
In the dead of night, Entreri woke to a magical buzz that could only mean one thing.
Drow.
He wasn't sure exactly how Dwahvel had done it, but she'd somehow managed to find a wizard capable of creating an early warning system that Kimmuriel was forming a dimensional window inside the house. And now every hair on his body was giving him the signal that they were about to be invaded.
He sat up in the bed as Dwahvel rolled over, groaning, "What time is it?"
"Time to rise and shine," came Jarlaxle's voice from the foot of the bed. But his voice had a strained quality to it, and at his side Kimmuriel practically quivered with anxiety.
"Catch," Jarlaxle called. Then a small bright green leather bag sailed through the air directly toward Entreri. Before he could catch it, the dimensional gate and the two drow were gone.
"That son of a bitch," Entreri cried angrily as the shadow stones landed in the palm of his hand, magic pouring off them in the ominous rising hum of a spell building to overload. But within seconds the hum began to mellow to a contented purr, then to silence.
"What was that?" Dwahvel asked, rubbing her eyes.
"A little surprise from Jarlaxle," Entreri snarled. He held the stones in his hand for a few minutes, his eyes half-closed in a sort of communion with them.
Then he looked at Dwahvel, who simply sat watching and waiting. "They'll be back," Entreri declared as he opened the chest at the foot of his bed and removed a certain jeweled dagger. Then he closed his eyes again and Dwahvel heard the stones in his hand begin to hum in anticipation.
After a moment, he looked up at her, an evil grin on his face. "Jarlaxle will be far too curious as to the results of his gambit not to return. They'll be back and we'll be ready."
"Ready, how?" Dwahvel asked, a little glimmer in her eyes.
Several minutes later, the warning system buzzed again, but this time Dwahvel was ready. As she'd hoped, the two drow materialized in the same location, just in range of the basin of cold water she cast right at their heads.
"Catch," Entreri called lazily from the side and was delighted to see both dark elves duck reflexively, their clothes dripping wet. Kimmuriel's hair clung damply to his head in a fashion both comical and pitiful to behold.
It had been a nice prank, Entreri decided. Anything more dangerous or more magical would have been met with instinctual retaliation. The last thing he wanted was to have his bedroom blasted apart by one of Jarlaxle's many self-defense mechanisms.
Meanwhile, the mercenary had already pulled a wand from his vest and dried himself. With a great show of effort, he even dried the carpet where they stood.
Kimmuriel had driven the water away from his clothing and hair, but he'd not had a mirror on hand, and to Dwahvel's delight his hair had gone all frizzy.
"That," Jarlaxle said sternly, "was not nice, Artemis. Nor ladylike, Mistress Entreri."
"Nor was throwing a dangerous magical artifact at us in the middle of the night," Entreri snapped. "Not nice at all, Jarlaxle."
"But, Artemis," Jarlaxle began in his most wheedling tone, "we knew the stones wouldn't hurt you. They like you. You're one of them."
"Let me guess," Entreri responded evenly, "they don't like you because you've been experimenting with them when I warned you they would do you no good."
Jarlaxle's smile and shrug told him all he needed to know. "But that's beside the point," the drow said easily. "We were actually on our way to see you anyway about a little matter of business."
"Can't it wait until morning?" Entreri responded with a nonchalant yawn.
"Day and night mean nothing in the Underdark, you know," Jarlaxle explained breezily as he headed down the stairs. "I had no idea what time it was."
Then the drow leader headed downstairs, walked boldly into the kitchen, and began to dig around in the cabinets.
"What have you got to eat in here, Mistress Entreri?" he asked. "I've been living off mushrooms and rothe so long my stomach thinks my throat has moved to Ched Nasad."
"Here, Jarlaxle," Dwahvel began in her sweetest voice. "I've made a spice cake just for you."
Jarlaxle eyed the cake suspiciously, switching his eye patch momentarily from one eye to the other, then to the center before putting it back again. Dwahvel cut three large pieces and passed them out to the three men at her table.
Without hesitation, Entreri dug into his piece of cake, entertained by the way the other two waited for him to begin before starting their own.
Moments later, Jarlaxle put down his fork with a contented sigh and exclaimed, "That was by far the most delicious thing I have eaten since being forced to leave Piter's bakery behind in Heliogabalus. My congratulations, Artemis, on securing such a wonderful cook for yourself."
Dwahvel noted with a degree of professional satisfaction that even Kimmuriel had destroyed his piece of cake and was at that moment picking up the crumbs from his plate with the tip of his finger. He glanced up just as he stuck his fingertip in his mouth and she couldn't resist giving him a very saucy wink. She could have sworn at that moment that he blushed.
"Now to business," Jarlaxle announced, and with a flourish brought out a map of the Sword Coast. "We need to stop the spring caravan to Luskan, Artemis, and you, being a professional caravan security specialist, were the first person who came to mind to consult."
"Like you said, I specialize in security. What makes you think I'll tell you how to stop a caravan?" Entreri asked calmly, but seriously.
"I'll pay more than they will of course," Jarlaxle responded evenly. "Now, we don't really care about raiding the caravan. We just mainly want to be sure it never arrives."
"I won't help you, Jarlaxle," Entreri responded firmly. "I make my living ensuring the safety of these goods. I'm not about to help you destroy them."
"It's just food and supplies, nothing truly valuable," Jarlaxle explained.
"No," Entreri responded and the two men locked stares, bright red eyes to dark gray.
After a moment, Jarlaxle sighed. "Well, if you've made up your mind, Artemis," he began in cool sarcasm, "I suppose our meeting is over." Jarlaxle made a very theatric show of folding the map. Then he glanced over at Kimmuriel who lifted an eyebrow as if to say 'why not give it a try.'
"Would it help to mention that an old acquaintance of yours from Damara is in our employ?" Jarlaxle began.
After a short pause, Entreri caught onto his meaning. Calihye. "Jarlaxle, our lives diverged the minute she tried to kill me. Her path is her own to make," he stated firmly, though he couldn't help but pity her in the hands of Bregan D'aerthe. She'd have been better off with him.
Then Kimmuriel addressed Dwahvel directly. "You might wish to keep your cooking skills very sharp," he began. "Entreri tossed the last woman who displeased him through a window."
That was it, Entreri decided. They could come into his house uninvited, they could throw dangerous items at him in his sleep, but there was no way he was going to tolerate them speaking disrespectfully to his wife.
"Out. Now," Entreri demanded as he rose to his feet. "Do not come back without an engraved invitation."
"No, no," Jarlaxle began in a soothing tone, "Artemis, let's not part on such terms. Kimmuriel, apologize."
The psionicist just glared at his leader in horror. "What? To the halfling?"
Without warning Kimmuriel felt an uncomfortable sensation in the side of his neck, a sharp little pain and then the sensation of his life being drawn away from him. He tried to marshal his mind against it, but that drain came again. It felt as if it were taking the tiniest piece of his soul away. He'd never felt so helpless.
But despite the panic, the reasonable part inside him wondered how the assassin crossed the room so quickly.
"Apologize," a voice hissed in his ear, then Entreri gave the knife point a little nudge, taking yet another drop of his very essence with it.
"My deepest apologies, Entreri," Kimmuriel stammered.
"No, to her," the voice demanded.
"My deepest apologies, Mistress Entreri. I spoke out of turn," Kimmuriel managed to say. Then the pressure on his neck went away and he looked up to see Entreri step out of the shadows across from him. Dwahvel and Jarlaxle looked appropriately surprised as well.
"Artemis, I am impressed," Jarlaxle finally stated. "I was not aware you possessed these abilities."
"You gave them to me," Entreri commented lightly, revealing the bag of stones in his hand. "Do remember this, Jarlaxle. I can come to you anywhere that shadow touches light. And where there is light, there is always shadow. So when I say wait for an engraved invitation before coming into my house, know that I am more than capable of finding you in order to deliver it."
Kimmuriel shot a glance at his chief, who looked back at him and arched an eyebrow.
Then without warning, Entreri disappeared from his place and stepped out of the narrow shadow of a kitchen stool beside Dwahvel. He grabbed her by the hair, tangling his fingers in her curls right up next to her scalp, and placed the tip of his dagger at her throat. To her credit, she only blinked once in surprise.
"And she is no pawn between us. I would kill her myself before she fell into your hands," Entreri stated, his voice deadly calm.
Jarlaxle looked at him, first in anger, then in understanding, then in wistfulness. "No, of course not, Artemis. I would never harm a hair of her head, you know that," he said sadly. "We will, of course, respect your privacy. And do be certain to drop by the invitation sometime. You are a valued colleague and a trusted friend."
"But not a brother," Entreri replied with a note of dry humor in his voice.
"Certainly not. I trust you far more than I'd ever trust a brother," Jarlaxle laughed. "Kimmuriel, we have business to attend to, I believe," he stated to his lieutenant, who still rubbed absently at the cut on his neck.
"Oh, and Artemis," Jarlaxle added as he turned to depart. "If you mean to keep your clients' cargo safe in the spring, have them avoid the route to Luskan past Neverwinter. Even without your assistance, I feel certain that it is extremely unlikely any goods will make it that far this year. Too many bandits on the road."
"And by sea?" Dwahvel asked, her voice nervous even though Entreri had removed the point of his blade and rubbed his fingers gently now through her hair.
"Yes, avoid that as well. Very dangerous this time of year," Jarlaxle stated nonchalantly. "Pirates and such."
Then with yet another of his so-gallant bows, Jarlaxle stepped to Kimmuriel's side and the two disappeared. Entreri closed his eyes for a moment, then called out, "And no spying, Jarlaxle."
Dwahvel could have sworn she heard a snort of disgust at that.
Artemis then stepped away from her and dropped to one knee to look her in the eyes. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked. "Or frighten you?"
She remembered the eerie way he'd slipped in and out of the shadows of the room. She recalled that moment of shock when his hand grabbed her hair and the tip of his blade hovered at her throat.
"No, Artemis. You didn't hurt me. Or frighten me. I trust you," she said, and it was the truth.
"I love you, Dwahvel," he stated firmly, his dark eyes never leaving hers. "I love you and I would never hurt you."
"I know. But if you ever need to kill me, I understand," she replied, and there was no joke in her voice.
The next morning well before dawn, he pulled her out of bed despite her protestations. "Get up and get dressed," he instructed in his typically highhanded fashion. Then he actually went to her closet and pulled out a pair of dresses, decided between the two, tossed his choice across her, and hung the other in the closet again.
Soon, he'd stirred her out of bed and into the washroom to wash her face and fix her hair. Through the delirium of drowsiness she noticed that he'd put a great deal of effort into himself that morning. He was cleanshaven, his dark hair pulled back smoothly at the nape of his neck, and he wore his nicest suit of clothing, the one he reserved for dinners with his most wealthy clients. So, she followed his lead and dressed with care—or at least as much care as she could manage given the way he rushed her.
They were out the door and into a waiting carriage before she knew it. The winter air was very cool, but not unbearably so. He pulled her next to him so that he could wrap his cloak around her as they rode through the darkened streets. To Dwahvel's surprise, the carriage stopped at the little amphitheater where they'd encountered the priest of Deneir and his wife.
However, the amphitheater was empty today save for the silver haired priest of Lathander, Brother Ansel.
"You are just in time, Artemis," the old priest called. "The sun will rise in only a few moments. Come, Mistress Tiggerwillies, sit and watch the start of the new day."
As the first glimmers of rosy light appeared in the sky, the priest began a song to the morning. As before, she found herself moved to tears by its beauty, its potential. But today there was a note of sadness in it as well, a tone of regret that for some the new day held loss and misery rather than joy.
But just as her heart seemed it would break with the sorrow in his voice, he included the couple in his glance as he continued to sing and a brighter note broke through. Despite the sadness, despite the pain, there was love and there was hope.
The song pulled Dwahvel along into this new day, this new place, with reassurance that all could be well if she only looked to hope. The sun was rising, noon was coming, light would pour over the earth and nothing would be hidden from its glow.
She had no idea how much time passed as she listened, and it was with surprise and disappointment that she realized Brother Ansel's voice had gone silent and that he stood there watching them with a smile on his face. Slowly she became aware of sunlight and birdsong, and despite the coolness of the day, she was warm beneath Artemis's arm.
"Are we ready to begin?" Brother Ansel asked in a kindly voice.
"Yes," came the response from the man beside her.
"Begin what?" Dwahvel asked quietly.
"The wedding."
Dwahvel could only look at him. Then she asked, "We're getting married? Now?"
"Yes."
"No, we aren't," she responded firmly. Artemis stiffened at her side and looked down at her, with a stunned expression on his face. She'd never seen him at such a loss. She made a note to always remember that she had that power over him and to only use it for good.
"Why not?" he finally managed to ask.
"Because you have not asked me to marry you."
A smile broke over his face like the dawn of the rising sun. It was beautiful to see. Then he knelt before her, took both her hands in his and asked.
She knew better than to say no. He wasn't the type to take no for an answer.