Charon's Claw (Neverwinter #3)(83)

They were supposed to be, at least.

“They live?”

“All three, yes. Indeed, they seem to be doing quite well among the grateful citizens of Neverwinter.”

The tiefling screwed up his face. “Your soldiers failed!”

“My warlord, Herzgo Alegni, failed me, so it would seem.”

Alegni stiffened at that unavoidable truth. “They were three against one,” he explained.

“Four against two,” Draygo Quick corrected. “By your prideful choice.”

“And all of the Shadovar remained at bay!” the hulking warrior insisted.

“Lord Alegni, you are not appealing when you whimper like a child,” Draygo Quick warned. “Your charges—your charges—acted as they had been ordered. You were certain that Barrabus the Gray would be brought under your control, and that your deception would put you alone with Dahlia for your long-desired victory. It would appear that you were not quite correct.”

“Three against one!” the tiefling insisted.

“Four against two,” Draygo Quick again corrected. “Would you so easily forget the drow’s panther companion? Or Effron, who battled the beast for a long while as you played out your folly on the bridge?”

Alegni’s face tightened at the mention of Effron. Alegni wanted to argue, to throw some insult or threat the twisted warlock’s way, Draygo Quick recognized, for how many times had he seen that look?

“You have no one to blame but Herzgo Alegni,” the withered old warlock insisted. “Accept your responsibility. You know what must be done.”

“I must retrieve the sword.”

Draygo Quick nodded. “Back to your rest. The priests will be along, one after the other. Accept their healing and their nourishing spells, for you will face that dangerous trio again soon.”

“I have learned from my mistakes.”

“Good, then I’ll not have to tell you to take others along with you.”

“I’ll need a new weapon . . .” Alegni said, or started to say, for Draygo Quick was done with him and the old warlock turned on his heel and simply walked away.

He pulled the door closed as he left Alegni’s room, and quickly lifted his finger to his pursed lips, indicating that Effron, who had been waiting outside the room, should remain quiet until they were away from the room.

“Will I accompany Lord Alegni to retrieve the sword?” Effron asked many steps later—a bit too eagerly for Draygo Quick’s liking.

He stared at the young warlock.

“I’ll go with him?” Effron asked again.

“You will go . . . near him,” Draygo Quick corrected. “Herzgo Alegni likely walks to his death.” He started to go on, but paused, gauging Effron’s response.

“How does that make you feel?” he asked.

Effron gave one of his twisted, awkward shrugs, trying futilely to dismiss the notion as if he didn’t care—but of course, he most certainly did.

“He’s reckless now,” Draygo Quick explained.

“Because of the sword, the urgency in retrieving it,” Effron surmised.

“Partly, but mostly because of Dahlia’s involvement. That, and the betrayal he feels at the hands of Barrabus the Gray.”

“Artemis Entreri,” Effron corrected.

Draygo Quick chortled at that, as if it hardly mattered.

“The human was his slave for decades,” Effron said. “Surely Lord Alegni could have expected no fealty there!”

“There’s always a strange dynamic at play between master and slave,” Draygo Quick explained. “An unexpected one, to be sure. Not unlike father and son.” He tilted his head in a curious manner at Effron as he spoke that thought.

“So I’m to shadow his movements,” Effron said. “And?”

“You are to retrieve Charon’s Claw,” Draygo Quick instructed. “Nothing else matters.”

Effron nodded, but there remained something less than convincing in his expression.

“Nothing else,” the old warlock reiterated. “Not the fate of Herzgo Alegni, nor that of Dahlia.”

Effron swallowed hard.

“Oh yes, I know how deeply you hate her, twisted one, but that is a battle for another day. One I will grant you, on my word—but not until Claw is safely back in Netherese hands.”

“Likely I will have to destroy them to retrieve it,” Effron said.

“Will you?”

Now it was Effron’s turn to curiously regard the master.

“We have a bargaining chip,” Draygo Quick explained. “One the drow will not readily ignore.” As he spoke, he reached into an extra-dimensional pocket in his voluminous robes and produced a small cage, one that easily fit in his palm, of glowing blue light. Inside it, in quarters too tight to pace, stood a tiny black panther, ears flattened, teeth bared.

Despite the gravity of the situation and the dangerous road ahead, Effron laughed aloud. “It was said that you destroyed the beast.”

“Destroyed? Why would I destroy something as beautiful . . .” he paused and brought the cage up before his wrinkled face, and the cat’s ears flattened even more and she gave a tiny growl, “. . . something as valuable as this.”

“I would truly love having such a companion as that,” Effron said, but he bit off the last word and swallowed hard when Draygo Quick flashed a hard stare at him.