Gauntlgrym (Neverwinter #1)(81)

“And more than that, the folk of the land grow alert to the awakening of the primordial, if that is what is indeed happening.”

“Folks should be scared!” Athrogate said. “Ground’s shakin’!”

“Some welcome it,” Valas Hune replied.

“And some want to stop it,” said Jarlaxle. “And those who would welcome it will no doubt try to stop those who mean to stop it.”

“There is always that possibility,” said the scout. “And to that point, a band entered Luskan only hours before me. They came into the city in small groups, but my contacts at the gate assure me that they were of singular purpose and origin. They wore the clothes of ordinary merchants, but my contacts are quite perceptive, and more than one of these newcomers, I’m told, hid an identical burn scar—a brand—under a collar, cloak, or whatnot.”

“Ashmadai,” Jarlaxle remarked.

“No small number,” Valas confirmed. “And there was a particular surface elf woman among them, stylish and alluring, and carrying a metal walking stick.”

Jarlaxle nodded, his expression showing that Valas need not continue. It made sense, of course, that the Thayans would send an expedition their way—as far as they knew, Luskan was the entrance to Gauntlgrym, and the likely starting point of any who would try to prevent the catastrophe that was no doubt well on its way.

“You have scouts in the city, monitoring them?” Jarlaxle asked.

“Some.”

“The usual crew?”

Valas nodded. “And they know to report directly to you, through our friend at the Cutlass.”

“Ye sound like ye’re leavin’,” Athrogate remarked.

“I am summoned to the Underdark, good dwarf. There are more troubles in the world than those before you.”

Athrogate started to protest, but Jarlaxle stopped him short with an upraised hand. The simple truth of the matter was that Bregan D’aerthe and Kimmuriel had lessened their presence in Luskan greatly in the last few years, and with good reason. With the fall of Neverwinter, Luskan had become far less profitable for the band, and indeed, while Jarlaxle had a vested personal interest in the endeavor, mostly out of spite against that witch Sylora Salm and her treachery, it was personal, not professional. A large part of the reason Jarlaxle had elevated Kimmuriel to a position nearly equal to his own was to allow them both to keep such things separate. Thus, Jarlaxle had hired Valas Hune and Gromph with his own funds, and had asked for no support from Kimmuriel and Bregan D’aerthe. The primordial, the Dread Ring, the skirmish between Thay and Netheril … none of that was of financial importance to Bregan D’aerthe, and Bregan D’aerthe remained, first and foremost, a for-profit enterprise.

Jarlaxle tossed Valas Hune another small bag of gold, which obviously caught the scout off guard. He looked at Jarlaxle with undisguised curiosity.

“For the extra information,” Jarlaxle explained. “And please do buy Kimmuriel the finest brandy, as repayment for him sparing his finest scout and thief.”

“ ‘His’?” Valas Hune said with a sly grin.

“For the time being,” Jarlaxle replied. “When I return to the Underdark and the matter of this new endeavor, I will reclaim that which is mine. Including the services of Valas Hune.”

The scout grinned and bowed. “I look forward to such a day, my friend,” he said, then was simply gone.

“Ye think it’s her?” Athrogate asked Jarlaxle.

“It would not surprise me, but of course I intend to find out,” Jarlaxle promised.

“Makes no sense, elf,” the dwarf replied. “Why would Dahlia walk into Luskan like that?”

“It’s been a decade.”

“To be sure, but who’d forget that one, even after ten years? She comes walkin’ into the city in that hat and with that staff o’ hers? How would we not know?”

“Why would she think we’re even still in the city?” Jarlaxle countered. “And truly, why would she care?”

“Wouldn’t we be the ones yer friend was speaking of? Ye know, them what’s wantin’ to put the primordial back in its cage?”

“Perhaps,” Jarlaxle said with a shrug, but he was already thinking along other lines. He had kept some tabs on Dahlia in the years since the eruption. He knew that she had been in Neverwinter Wood, serving Sylora and the creation of the Dread Ring, and harrying the Netherese. And he knew, simply from their encounter in Gauntlgrym, that such a station would not well suit the fiery and independent elf warrior. And there was the matter of her betrayal by Sylora in Gauntlgrym.

Dahlia could easily enough have entered Luskan in disguise, of course. In fact, for her, just wearing ordinary clothing could be considered a substantial disguise. But if Dahlia had come to the city so brazenly, was it because she feared nothing Jarlaxle could throw against her?

Or was it because she wanted Jarlaxle to find her?

The drow nodded, trying to play out all the many possibilities, and reminding himself that two other important visitors would soon enough enter the city.

“Where’re ye goin’?” Athrogate asked as Jarlaxle started for the door.

“To speak with Valas Hune’s contacts. And for yourself, the Cutlass. Send my love to Shivanni Gardpeck. Let her know of potential visitors.”