The Last Threshold

Page 59

“Truly?” he again asked the shade, who desperately tried to set another arrow.
The fool finally caught on, and handed over the bow with a hand shaking so badly that Jarlaxle had to work hard to suppress a laugh.
“And the mithral shirt,” he instructed. “And anything else you might possess that belonged to my imprisoned friends! Indeed, strip yourself naked then run around and collect all of their items, and I warn you that if any are missing, you will follow the fate of the gargoyle!”
The shade let out a little whimper, tossed a ring and some bracers atop the pile of clothing, then shuffled away, bowing with every step.
“All of them!” Jarlaxle shouted after him.
“Well met, Lord Draygo,” the drow said to the startled warlock after he materialized in Draygo Quick’s private room, right near where the illithids had been standing.
Draygo Quick eyed him both studiously and incredulously. The warlock considered his options, wondering mostly if those dangerous illithids were still around. There weren’t many creatures in the known multiverse that could unnerve Draygo Quick, but he counted the octopus-headed mind flayers among that group, to be sure.
The door behind him opened and one of his students gasped.
Draygo Quick held up his hand to keep the young warlock at bay.
“Bid her to close the door and be gone,” the drow instructed. “My associates and I have little time, and I would speak with you alone.”
“Speak?” Draygo Quick replied suspiciously.
“Lord Draygo, be reasonable here,” said the drow. “We are both businessmen, in the end.”
“Kimmuriel,” Draygo Quick breathed, and it all made sense to him. Kimmuriel Oblodra of Bregan D’aerthe was rumored to be a psionicist of considerable power, and that would explain his association with the mind flayers, the most psionically-gifted creatures of all.
“At your service,” Kimmuriel confirmed.
“At your service, you mean,” Lord Draygo replied. “You dare attack a lord of Netheril with such impudence? You dare enter my private quarters and steal from me, before my very eyes?”
“Your minion,” Kimmuriel prompted, motioning to the door.
“And if I choose to allow her to stay, perhaps to call in others?”
“Then I will fade away from here, and you will have nothing to show for the losses you have suffered this day,” Kimmuriel answered, and he held up the onyx figurine of the now-freed Guenhwyvar. “Alas, the considerable losses.”
The implication that there might be some gain to be found here was hard to ignore. “Be gone!” Draygo Quick snapped at his acolyte after mulling it over. Should it come to a fight, that one wouldn’t be of much help against this drow of such reputation, or against the illithids in any case, Draygo Quick knew.
“My lord!”
“Be gone!” Draygo Quick cried again.
“But the dark elves have taken the whole of the castle beyond this tower!” the woman cried. “And we are trapped here, blocked by an adamantine wall!”
Draygo Quick leaped up from his chair and spun angrily on the young female shade, his eyes wide and nostrils flaring. Rare were such outbursts from the composed and powerful lord, and this one had the desired effect, as the younger shade gave a squeal of terror and fled, slamming the door.
Draygo Quick took a few breaths to compose himself, then turned back to face Kimmuriel.
“How dare you?” he asked quietly.
“We have done you a favor, and the rewards will prove greater than the inconveniences we have caused,” Kimmuriel replied.
“By attacking my castle?”
“Indeed, to provide you proper cover to the lord of Gloomwrought and your peers for the loss of Drizzt and the others, for of course, that is why we have come. The damage to your abode is no doubt considerable—that is Jarlaxle’s way, I fear. His belief is that the best way to end any battle is to win it quickly, with overwhelming force, and so, as usual, he has.”
“If you think me defeated, you know little of Draygo Quick.”
“Please, Lord Draygo, remain reasonable,” Kimmuriel replied with clear condescension—or perhaps it was just supreme confidence, Draygo thought.
“Your castle can be repaired, and we will kill as few of the fools you employ as possible. So yes, there is a bit of inconvenience to you—but it need not be more than that, and surely not as tragic as it might become if you place your pride before your pragmatism.
“We have come at the behest of … well, let us just say that Lady Lolth will not be denied that which is hers. I doubt that you wish such a war as you might find if you follow the path of your pride.”
“Lady Lolth?” Draygo Quick asked, and he didn’t hide his intrigue. “For Drizzt?”
“It should not concern you,” Kimmuriel said.
“Then he is Chosen.”
Kimmuriel shook his head. “I make no such claim.”
“But Lady Lolth—”
“Has her own designs, and only a fool would pretend to understand those,” said Kimmuriel. “Nor does it matter. Here is my offer, and I will make it only this one time: Remain here in your private rooms while we finish our work. Stand down with your remaining forces—not that you have much choice in the matter, in any case. We will be gone soon enough.”
“With treasures,” Draygo Quick noted, and he nodded toward the onyx figurine.
Kimmuriel shrugged as if it should not matter.
“You wish to know whether Drizzt is favored by Mielikki or Lolth,” the drow said.
“You possess that knowledge?”
“I possess insights that go to the question you hope to clarify by garnering that knowledge,” Kimmuriel answered. “Indeed, I hold answers that will make the question of Drizzt Do’Urden’s allegiance or favor irrelevant to you.”
Draygo Quick swallowed hard.
“I have come from the hive mind of the illithids,” Kimmuriel explained, and Draygo swallowed hard again, for surely, if any creatures in the known multiverse had any answers to the fate of Abeir-Toril, it would be that group.
“So we have a deal?” Kimmuriel asked.
“You will finish and be gone? And what else?”
“You will hold to the agreement that Jarlaxle forged with Lord Parise Ulfbinder.”
“Nonsense!” Draygo Quick blurted. “You cannot wage war and smilingly sign a trade agreement in the same moment!”
“We did not wage war,” Kimmuriel corrected. “We came to retrieve that which does not belong to you—”
“Drizzt and his companions assaulted my castle! By my right of defense do I claim those spoils!”
“And in the process,” Kimmuriel continued, ignoring the rant, “we have saved you from the wrath of one far less merciful, or at least, of one far less interested in allowing you to continue to draw breath. This raid, Lord Draygo, has surely saved your life.”
Draygo Quick sputtered, unable to even find the words to strike back.
“But we do not expect your gratitude, just your good sense,” Kimmuriel continued. “We have provided you with cover, and I will offer to you an understanding of that which is happening between the Shadowfell and Toril beyond anything Drizzt Do’Urden might have provided.”
“So you have done me a favor, provided me cover and saved my life,” Draygo Quick said skeptically, “and you offer one more gift, and all in exchange for a few baubles and a prisoner?”
“I would hope for much more from you.”
“Do tell.”
“When I give to you my insights, you will understand that both of our respective groups, Bregan D’aerthe and you and your fellow lords of Netheril, will benefit greatly from our alliance.”
“How do I know you are not lying to me?”
Kimmuriel’s expression remained, as always, impassive. “Why would I need to do so? Your tower is full of unseen illithids, all eager to feast on the brains of shades. By my word alone are you and your acolytes protected.”
“The illithids answer to a dark elf?” the warlock asked doubtfully.
“In this instance, yes.”
The way Kimmuriel said it, so matter-of-factly, erased any doubts in Draygo Quick, and he realized that this offered deal was the best he was going to get.
“Good,” Kimmuriel answered, and only then did Draygo Quick realize that the drow psionicist was reading his thoughts.
“I will return to you within a tenday,” Kimmuriel promised. “For now, keep your minions in this tower if you wish to keep them safe.”
Draygo Quick started to protest, but Kimmuriel turned around and walked away, right through the tower wall.
Lord Draygo fell back into his chair, full of venom, but full, too, of intrigue.
Chapter 24: Aftershock
DRIZZT WAITED, CROUCHED DEFENSIVELY, UNSURE OF HIS SITUATION. THE room had shaken violently—the drow couldn’t imagine what had caused such a rumble. His thoughts shot back to the cataclysm that had flattened the city of Neverwinter, the volcano that had thrown him from his feet with its incredible shockwave.
Was this, then, some similar natural, or primordial, disaster?
Drizzt stayed on his toes, listening, watching, knowing that he might have to spring away on an instant’s notice. Perhaps another earthquake would split the wall asunder and drop the ceiling. Would he be quick enough to get free of the crash? And perhaps such a leap and sprint would garner him his freedom beyond Draygo Quick’s crumbling walls.
But then what?
Soon after, the drow heard running outside his door, and shouts of protest, followed swiftly by grunts and groans and the all-too familiar thud of a body collapsing to the hard floor.
“An attack,” he whispered, and no sooner had the words escaped his lips than his room’s door swung in.
Drizzt tensed, ready to attack. Then he gasped, his thoughts spinning in a jumbled swirl, so much so that he tried to speak out a name, but barely made a squeak.
“Wonderful to see you again, as well,” Jarlaxle replied with a wry grin. “I have missed you, my old friend.”
“What? How?” Drizzt sputtered. Aside from all the implications of this unexpected encounter, Drizzt had thought Jarlaxle killed in Gauntlgrym. The sight of this one, another tie to a long-lost time, overwhelmed him and he simply could not contain his relief. He leaped across and wrapped Jarlaxle in a great hug.
“Ambergris,” Jarlaxle explained. “She alone escaped the castle of Draygo Quick, and she guided me back to this place.”
“But you died in Gauntlgrym!”
“I did?” Jarlaxle stepped back and looked at his arms and torso. “I fear I must disagree.”
Now Drizzt eyed him suspiciously. “This is a trick of Draygo Qui—”
Jarlaxle’s laughter cut him short. “My suspicious friend, be at ease. Recall the day of your escape from Menzoberranzan those decades ago, after you and Catti-brie dropped a stalactite through the roof of House Baenre’s chapel. Did I not show you then that I am a friend full of surprises? I will tell you all about the events of Gauntlgrym and beyond, but at another time. For now, let us leave this place.”