Charon's Claw (Neverwinter #3)(36)

He looked Drizzt directly in the eye, and Dahlia noted that they shared something, some long and deep bond and obvious respect.

“I’m not going back to serve him,” Entreri stated flatly. “There is no amount of pain, no amount of torture, that will put me beside Herzgo Alegni.”

To her surprise, Dahlia realized that she believed him—not only that he intended as he said, but also that this grayish man was possessed of inner power great enough to do as he had just claimed.

She stepped back and let Drizzt and Entreri have their conversation, and caught only a few snips of the dialogue, as Entreri admitted that his mere presence with them might well have compromised any hope of secrecy they might harbor, or that this attack might have been directed to this place and against them because of his previous proximity to them.

Dahlia knew from his responses and body language that Drizzt would accept Entreri as a companion on this mission, and when she let down her own stubbornness, she realized that if Drizzt did not, she would insist. She focused mostly on Entreri then, staring at him, understanding him.

She saw the pain.

She knew that pain.

“An interesting dilemma,” Drizzt said to Dahlia a short while later. In the distance, they could see Entreri gathering firewood, as they had agreed.

“You doubt his sincerity?”

“Strangely, no,” said Drizzt. “I have known this man for many years—”

“Yet, you have not known of him for many years,” Dahlia was quick to point out.

“True enough.” Drizzt nodded in deference to her obvious logic. “But in our time together, I came to know who he truly was. I saw him emotionally stripped naked in Menzoberranzan, raw and unprotected. He is many things—including many heinous traits that I cannot abide—but in a strange way, there is honor in Artemis Entreri, and there always has been.” As he spoke the words, Drizzt thought about that first encounter with the assassin, when Entreri had held Catti-brie captive for days. Helpless and at his mercy—and yet the assassin had shown her great mercy in that time.

But there were other times, when Entreri had not been so kind, Drizzt thought, and he remembered a halfling’s finger . . .

He looked away from Dahlia, to Entreri—a confusing link to a distant past.

“He won’t willingly betray us,” Dahlia said, and Drizzt spun back on her. “He hates Herzgo Alegni as I do.”

“Why?” Drizzt asked.

Dahlia looked at him curiously.

“Why do you hate Herzgo Alegni?” Drizzt almost fell back a step as Dahlia’s face tightened. She spat on the ground at Drizzt’s feet.

“So you believe Entreri will not willingly betray us, and I agree,” Drizzt said quickly, thinking it wise to change the subject. “But what about unwillingly? He has already admitted that his mere presence with us might well have tipped Alegni off to our intentions. The sword holds him, and seems to know his every thought.”

Dahlia turned her gaze to the distant Entreri, and slowly shook her head. “It cannot,” she said, and she seemed to be speaking more to herself than to Drizzt. “Sentient weapons do not hold such power.”

“It enslaves him.”

“It feels his intentions, his anger, his move to action,” Dahlia replied. “That is a different matter. The sword reacts to his impulses, as Kozah’s Needle heeds my call, and it is powerful enough because of their long history to overrule his demands.”

“You cannot know that."

“As you cannot know that your fear is well founded,” Dahlia said. “Artemis Entreri did not lead those Shadovar to us, as he was near Neverwinter while they were out on the hunt. Perhaps his presence with us allowed his sword to understand the general course of our intent, but perhaps not nearly as specifically as you believe—else why would he have been allowed to get so near to Neverwinter without a host of Alegni’s guards falling over him? The sword does not know his every thought and every move. I cannot believe that, particularly when he and the sword are not near each other. It’s a sword, not a god!”

“But we will get near, and so Entreri will be near to the sword, and there remains the possibility,” Drizzt reasoned.

“So you would abandon this potentially powerful ally out of that fear?”

The drow thought about that for a long while, and realized that he really didn’t want to walk a separate road from Entreri. Once again, this man tied him to a past for which he longed, a time when the world seemed simpler to him, and far more comfortable. Still, despite all of that, he heard himself saying, “Yes.”

“Then he will seek out Alegni on his own—he won’t turn from that. I saw the pain in his eyes, and he will not turn from that! So we each will strike at Neverwinter, and weaker will we both be—”

“There is a third option,” Drizzt interrupted.

Dahlia eyed him curiously.

“There are ways to block such telepathic intrusions,” Drizzt explained, the idea just coming to him—and it seemed one that solved many of his current problems and addressed many of his current fears. “Jarlaxle’s eye patch—do you recall it? It was so enchanted. With it, the mercenary rendered himself invisible from magical and telepathic spying, and such dominance as the sword has shown over Entreri.”

“So we’ll go and find Jarlaxle and he’ll help us?”