Charon's Claw (Neverwinter #3)(38)

“I have studied the magical arts,” the elf explained. She held up Kozah’s Needle. “Particularly those aspects that affect the creation of magical items. I am no novice to such weapons—to be so ignorant while wielding this weapon would be dangerous.”

“And your point?”

“It is not likely that this sword, Charon’s Claw, remains in your thoughts,” Dahlia explained. “More likely, the sword reacts to those forceful commands you make to your muscles.”

Entreri screwed up his face, clearly skeptical of the reasoning, or not understanding it.

“Kozah’s Needle knows when I need it to release its energy,” Dahlia said.

“Because you dominate the staff, as I once dominated Charon’s Claw,” Entreri replied.

But Dahlia was shaking her head. “Sentient weapons, all but the very greatest, are not separate beings. They have pride and demand of their wielder—such is part of the magic imbued within their metal or wood. But they aren’t conscious beings, plotting and conniving for personal gain. Charon’s Claw has come to dominate you through your long affiliation. All that truly means is that Charon’s Claw recognizes your action cues. It knows when you mean to strike and how you mean to strike, and what you wish its role to be in that strike, were you wielding it. Now, it retains that clear recognition of your action cues, and so it can react to them faster than you can counter the reaction.”

Entreri’s expression showed him to be less than convinced.

“What properties does the sword possess?”

“The ability to trail an opaque veil of ash,” Entreri replied hesitantly, not sure where this was going.

“And how quickly can the sword create this trail if called upon by its wielder?”

“Instantly,” said Entreri, and he suddenly seemed more intrigued.

“And would the sword ever put forth this ashen trail without your call?”

The assassin thought on that for a moment, then shook his head, but without much conviction.

“Your bond with it was so strong that you are not even sure if you consciously had to call upon it any longer,” Drizzt reasoned. “And so now you presume, logically, that the sword is reading your thoughts.”

“You don’t understand the pain this sword can inflict upon me,” Entreri answered.

Dahlia shrugged.

“The sword can dominate him,” Drizzt reminded her.

Entreri added, “And so just having me with you might compromise your mission, as I said.”

“And if Charon’s Claw was in your mind,” Dahlia asked the assassin, “would it have allowed you to kill that shade warrior and free me from the web? For surely Herzgo Alegni would have me brought to him in bindings.”

“So it is not a constant intrusion,” Drizzt said. “But how will we know?”

Dahlia broke Kozah’s Needle into two four-foot lengths, then. She regarded them for a few moments—and it seemed to Drizzt that she was communicating with the weapon—then tossed one length to Entreri.

“Certainly Kozah’s Needle will recognize the intrusion of a different sentience,” she explained.

Entreri stared at the length of metal, then put it up as if testing its balance.

“Do not even think to wield it as a weapon,” Dahlia said. “And at the first signs of any battle, return it immediately! But as we travel, let this serve as our sentry. If your sword attempts to infiltrate your mind, that bo stick you carry will know of it, and the one I carry will inform me.”

Drizzt and Entreri exchanged looks then, and both could only nod in admiration of the resourceful elf woman.

On a high turn along the southern coastal road, Drizzt and his two companions looked down upon Neverwinter. Nestled within the wider ruins of the old city, the newer construction and wall were clear to see—at least, those parts of the wall that were not obscured in shadow.

It wasn’t the shadow from any trees, or the angle of the sun behind any of the nearby hills in the region, that hid the wall, but a dull haze—a magical shadow, a fog brought forth from the Shadowfell itself.

“The Netherese have reinforced,” Dahlia stated, her tone aptly expressing what all three realized as they looked down upon Alegni’s stronghold. She turned a suspicious eye upon Entreri and remarked, “Perhaps the wretch does know of our plans.”

“If every setback is to be pinned to my cloak, then tell me now,” Entreri replied. Drizzt couldn’t help but smile at the perfect timbre in Entreri’s voice, conveying the man’s apparent boredom and just a bit of a threat. He was ever calm, and so there was always that threat, Drizzt understood. He looked at Dahlia to see if she had caught it, and her expression, a mixture of anger and only slightly-hidden surprise, confirmed the drow’s suspicion.

“How many, do you think?” Drizzt asked, thinking it wise to deflect this conversation.

“Perhaps he fears that we’re coming for him—surely he knows of Sylora Salm’s fate,” Entreri reasoned. He dropped down from his nightmare steed and climbed atop a large stone to get a better vantage point. Drizzt and Dahlia slipped down from Andahar and moved to join him.

“Several score, at least,” Entreri explained when they arrived. He pointed out a handful of Shadovar encampments just outside the city wall. “Alegni has tightened his defensive ring, as well.”