Neverwinter (Neverwinter #2)(25)

“No one has been in here for some time,” Drizzt said, glancing around. There was a plate on the table, but it was covered in dust.

“Not since Jarlaxle and Athrogate fell in Gauntlgrym,” Dahlia replied. “Could we have expected any differently?”

Drizzt’s dark face grew very tight.

“You thought they might somehow have escaped,” Dahlia remarked.

“Jarlaxle is known for such things.”

“You hoped they had escaped.”

“Is that an accusation? What a sorry friend I would be …”

“A friend?” Dahlia asked, and she didn’t hide her amusement in the least. “Drizzt Do’Urden a friend to Jarlaxle? So at last you admit it! How does that comport with those tenets that guide your life?”

“I’ve shared many adventures with Jarlaxle,” Drizzt replied. “And he has proven to be … surprising.”

“At the least,” Dahlia said, still grinning. “But that’s all in the past now. He’s dead, as we saw.”

“I never argued otherwise.”

“Not with me,” Dahlia replied.

“Not with anyone.”

“Not with Drizzt?” She paused and let that hang in the air for a few moments, clearly enjoying Drizzt’s obvious consternation. “You knew we wouldn’t find him, despite your hopes to the contrary. You owed your friend that much, at least. But take heart, for coming here has not been totally in vain.” She pointed to the plate on the table. “We know now that Bregan D’aerthe’s power in Luskan has waned greatly, for surely they would’ve come here to investigate their missing associate.”

“We don’t know that they haven’t come here. They are excellent at their craft—they might be watching us at this very—”

He stopped and cocked an ear.

Dahlia heard it, too, a slight creak like a footfall on an old wooden stair. She slipped silently toward the door. Drizzt pulled an object from his belt pouch and whispered something she couldn’t hear. She crouched at the side of the door and cracked it open then fell back fast.

A spinning hammer hit the door with great force and knocked it open wide.

Dahlia broke her staff into flails and moved to exit, thinking to strike before the next missile could come her way, but she fell back again as something flew at her from behind. Six hundred pounds of angry panther soared past and out the door. She didn’t yell out, but her eyes opened wide indeed.

But not as wide as the eyes of the two pirates who had the misfortune of leaping to block the doorway at that very moment.

Guenhwyvar sent them flying with hardly a break in her momentum. She skidded out onto the porch, her claws digging in deeply to slow her slide.

Dahlia went out right behind her. She broke fast to the left, away from the stairs, and straight at one of the pirates Guenhwyvar had sent flying. Half over the railing, the man somehow managed to catch himself and come around with a fairly balanced and powerful swing of his sword.

At the last instant, Dahlia managed to duck under the blow. Inside his reach for the moment, she sent her flails out and around, striking him hard in the ribs from left and right. He grunted but kept fighting, retracting his blade for a second strike, but with a deft snap of her wrist, Dahlia sent her left hand up, smacking the pirate’s wrist hard with the handle of her weapon. The man yelped, his arm going out wide, but not too far. The momentum of the strike sent the top pole flipping over the pirate’s arm.

Dahlia wasted no time in driving her weapon hand straight down, the cord tethering the poles twisting the pirate’s arm as the flail’s initial momentum battled the reverse tug.

Dahlia went down into a low crouch. When the flail flipped back hard, freeing the man’s sword arm, Dahlia leaped high into the air and spun in a soaring circle kick. Her hard boot crunched against the pirate’s jaw, snapping his head back and to the side, and Dahlia didn’t disengage, extending her leg farther, driving him back and over the rail.

He tried to grab at her, and when that failed, to slash at her. But it was too late. He dropped the dozen feet to the cobblestones below.

Dahlia landed and spun into a defensive crouch, expecting an attack. And indeed several came at her, but not from across the porch—not from the porch at all but from the roof. A trio of spears flew down.

Dahlia couldn’t see them in time to dodge.






“Guen, the roof!” Drizzt yelled, charging out the door. He leaped in front of Dahlia. Icingdeath slashed up high to clip a pair of the falling spears, with Twinkle following fast to clip the third, barely deflecting it.

The spear thumped down hard into the wooden decking just beside Dahlia, the shaft vibrating from the force of the strike.

Dahlia didn’t pause long enough to thank him. She dived into a roll right past Drizzt toward a pair of thugs, her weapons working furiously and seemingly independently to parry and counter their sword thrusts.

Drizzt spied Guenhwyvar leaping to the far railing. The drow winced as he heard the crunch of splintering wood, but the railing held enough for the panther to spring away, easily clearing the edge of the roof.

Drizzt charged out to join Dahlia, but then he saw a motion to his side. He dropped his blades and slipped his bow from his shoulder, drawing and setting an arrow and letting it fly in one fluid movement.