Charon's Claw (Neverwinter #3)(37)

“He has ties to Entreri, as well—”

“He is dead,” Dahlia stated flatly. “You saw him die. You saw him go over the rim of the primordial pit only heartbeats before the creature vomited its killing spew. Accept it, you fool!”

Drizzt had no way to answer. He wasn’t sure that his hopes for Jarlaxle were simply a matter of refusing to accept the obvious. He had seen Jarlaxle dodge too many arrows. By all indications, Jarlaxle had died in Gauntlgrym. Who could have survived the power of the primordial erupting from inside that rim of fire, after all?

But Drizzt had once made the mistake of thinking some dear friends dead without conclusive proof, and he didn’t intend to travel that fool’s road again. Maybe Jarlaxle’s charred remains lay on the side of the primordial’s pit, or perhaps he had fallen into the fiery maw of the lava beast and nothing at all remained of him.

Or maybe not.

“So you’d use Entreri’s dilemma to once again take me far from this place,” Dahlia said. “To once again turn me from my quest.”

Her anger was clear for Drizzt to see. “If Jarlaxle is to be found, then wonderful, for he, too, would prove a valuable ally,” he said. “But the point stands even if Jarlaxle does not. There are items, or enchantments, which we might procure to protect Entreri from the prying sword.”

“Do you think he has not already looked for such things?”

Drizzt wasn’t sure what to say. At the very least, Dahlia’s point showed that they might spend months in search of their answer. In his many decades of adventuring, had Drizzt ever encountered anything other than Jarlaxle’s eye patch that might provide the needed shield, after all? And even that eye patch had failed Jarlaxle against the mind-bending manipulation of Crenshinibon, the drow reminded himself. He looked back at Entreri, who was approaching now, and gave a resigned sigh.

“So will you send me away or accept my help?” Entreri asked when he got to them, and he dropped an armful of kindling on the ground beside the small fire pit the drow had dug.

“Are we that obvious?” Drizzt asked.

“It’s the discussion I would be having were our situations reversed,” said Entreri.

“And you would send us away.”

“No, I would cut out your heart,” the assassin quipped, and he went to sorting the firewood. “Makes things simpler, you see.”

“Would you settle for having your skull crushed?” Dahlia asked, and if she was joking at all, her voice didn’t reflect it.

Entreri dropped a piece of kindling and rose, turning slowly to face the woman. “If it were that easy, I would have been killed already,” he said, expressionless. “And you will not turn me away. I’ve made my choice now, and my road is for Neverwinter, beside you or not.”

“We fear the sword,” Drizzt explained. “Should we not?”

Perhaps it was the simple honesty of that statement, Drizzt thought, or maybe it was because he wasn’t questioning Entreri’s word, but simply addressing influences that might prove beyond the assassin’s control, but Entreri seemed to relax then.

“Is there a way we can protect you from the intrusions? Do you even know when you are being scoured?”

“Idalia’s Flute,” Entreri replied, and it seemed as if he was looking far, far away then. He snorted and shook his head.

“A magical item?” Dahlia asked.

“One I possessed for some time,” Entreri explained. “If I had it now, I’m sure that I could defeat the call of Charon’s Claw, or at least offer some resistance.”

He looked into Drizzt’s questioning expression.

“Jarlaxle has it,” Entreri explained. “He repaired it, used it to lure me back to his side, then took it from me when he sold me into slavery to the Netherese.”

“Ah, then we should find Jarlaxle and seek his help,” said Dahlia, and Drizzt felt the bite of her sarcasm keenly.

Entreri stared at her incredulously, obviously not appreciating her sarcasm.

“How complete is Claw’s understanding of your thoughts?” Dahlia asked, her tone changing suddenly then, as if she were truly interested, as if she had an idea.

“You assume that I know when Claw is in my thoughts,” Entreri replied.

“Tell us everything you know about Neverwinter’s defenses,” Dahlia said with a wry grin, as if her desire to learn of those defenses—surely authentic—was only part of her reasoning.

Entreri looked to Drizzt, who, after studying Dahlia, recognized her plan and matched her smile. He looked back at Entreri and nodded.

With a shrug, Entreri explained the layout of the city, and detailed the wall’s strong points and its weaknesses. He knew where Alegni slept, and where the tiefling could usually be found. He told of the various Shadovar encampments around the city, as well, and as he moved along in his recounting, he too began to smile.

Drizzt nodded again, this time at Dahlia and her clever ploy to determine if Claw was then within Entreri’s thoughts, which, given the level and detail of the information he was providing—information that could prove fatal to Herzgo Alegni—the sword likely was not.

“Neither of you are schooled in the ways of wizards,” Dahlia said when Entreri was done.

“Enough so to kill them when they annoy me,” said Entreri.