Charon's Claw (Neverwinter #3)(101)

To what end?

Dahlia closed her eyes and tried to shake the unsettling notion away. Perhaps he wasn’t manipulating her, she reminded herself.

Within a couple of heartbeats, she found herself looking at him again, her cynicism thinning.

He understood.

That notion stung her and warmed her at the same time, embarrassed her because no one should know this about her. And the thought brought a grimace to her face, because even though Entreri had come to understand a part of her scar, it was only that, a part, a fraction of the shame that haunted Dahlia. He had a notion of Alegni’s violation, that much was clear, but how far would his sympathy carry her with him if he knew the rest of the story, if he knew . . . ?

Dahlia sighed and settled back with closed eyes once more, and though she was in a stuffy and tight cave, she felt the wind on her face, felt as if she was standing atop a cliff, a baby in her arms.

Dahlia’s breathing came in rasps, and she opened her eyes and glared at Entreri, silently cursing him for reminding her of that dark past.

And yet, even that anger could not gain any lasting hold over her as she watched her quiet companion. Entreri scared her, rightly so, and Dahlia continually told herself to be wary of him.

But she couldn’t deny that he also intrigued her on several very deep and very personal levels.

He knew.

He knew, and he hadn’t turned away from her.

He knew, and instead of disgust, he had reached out to her.

Did she want that? Did she deserve that?

Dahlia couldn’t sort through the jarring contradictions in her thoughts and in her heart.

She thought of killing him.

She thought of making love to him.

Both seemed so sweet.

Drizzt’s hand snapped up to grab the small cage, but he grasped only air as the image of the woman faded to nothingness in the dimly lit cavern. He leaped around, eyes darting, and found her again to the other side.

“What trick is this?”

“No trick,” she answered. “In my hand, I have a magical cage, and in that cage is the companion you hold most dear.”

“Give her to me!” Drizzt demanded, but as he took a single step toward the woman, she disappeared again, only to reappear farther down the corridor.

“The panther came through the shadowgate with Lord Alegni,” the woman explained. “Lord Alegni does not yet know that we have the cat, but he will surely make her pay dearly for the scars she dug into his body.”

So entranced was Drizzt with the possibility of getting Guen back, with the idea that she might not be lost to him after all, that it took him many heartbeats to even register the reality that Herzgo Alegni might not be dead. His expression grew curious and he stared at the woman, at this latest image of the woman.

“Alegni is dead.”

The woman shrugged. “He should be, perhaps,” she replied. “And surely would be had he not arrived back to loving, clerical arms.”

Drizzt didn’t know how to respond.

“You will learn the truth of my words soon enough, I expect,” the woman added. “He will find you, if you remain with your companions. Did you think your battle out in the forest a mere coincidence?”

“Why are you here? Why are you telling me this? Are you Alegni’s enemy?”

She shook her head. “I am neither enemy nor friend. I am merely employed, by another.”

“Another Netherese?”

She smiled as if that should be obvious.

“Who sent you here to taunt me?”

“Taunt? I have done no such thing.”

“You dangle before me that which I most desire.”

“Such a companion is quite desirable, indeed, and by more than you.”

“I have the figurine,” the drow argued. “You cannot have her. You cannot control her! Even were you to kill me and take the statuette which summons Guenhwyvar, she would not serve you.”

“The Netherese are not impotent in the way of magic, even ancient magic, nor in the ways of planar travel,” she replied. “We don’t need your magical item to summon Guenhwyvar, nor will you, for all of your efforts, recall her to your side from out of the cage we have built for her. Do not doubt that.”

“So you taunt me.”

“No.”

“But you hold her before me, with me helpless to free her.”

“Helpless? Nay, Drizzt Do’Urden, you can have her.”

Drizzt swallowed hard at that remark. “What do you want?”

“It is quite simple,” she replied. And the drow wasn’t surprised when she added, “As I already told you, you have something that belongs to us.”

Drizzt rubbed his hand over his face.

“Give me the sword and I will free your feline companion,” the woman promised. “A fair deal, from an honorable broker.”

“You would claim such.”

“Why would I lie? We do know the truth of your words. The cat, beautiful as she is, is useless to us. She will never serve us. Her heart is yours. So take her back and return to us, to me, the Netherese sword you carry on your back.”

“So you can use it to kill me?” Drizzt blurted, and he thought the words ridiculous as they left his mouth, for he was merely lashing out in frustration.

“The Empire of Netheril cares nothing about you, Drizzt Do’Urden.”