Neverwinter (Neverwinter #2)(92)

He was quite sure he knew the attacker, and in this particular case, it couldn’t have been Dahlia and her blunt weapon, of course.

“She’s not alone,” he said to Alegni, and when the tiefling looked to him, he led Alegni’s gaze to the torn corpse, even prodded the body with his foot to accentuate the scimitar cuts. “No staff, not even Kozah’s Needle, did this.”

“Dahlia is a formidable one,” Alegni said, but Barrabus shook his head.

“I know this warrior, Drizzt Do’Urden by name, a drow ranger of great renown. He has sided with Sylora’s champion, it would seem, and that should be of no small concern to you.”

“I’ve heard the name,” said Alegni. “It’s spoken often in Neverwinter. This ranger is one of the great heroes of the North, so they say.”

Barrabus shrugged, conceding the point.

“And he would side with Sylora Salm?” the tiefling asked doubtfully. “He of goodly name and reputation would side with the unmitigated evil of Szass Tam?”

“He’s often misguided,” Barrabus dryly replied. “It’s his way.”

“And you think him as formidable as Dahlia?”

“More so, and I’ve battled both. And Drizzt is often accompanied by powerful friends—dwarf warriors and other drow, even more deadly than he.”

Alegni nodded grimly.

“Sylora surrounds herself with powerful allies, then,” Effron chimed in. “These two, and perhaps some friends, and the Ashmadai beast we battled in the forest, and this Valindra creature.”

Both Alegni and Barrabus looked at the warlock curiously, their expressions making no secret of the fact that they thought Effron to be rambling about things he didn’t understand.

“But I would say, Lord Alegni, that this returning elf warrior and her staff are the most dangerous to your cause,” Effron finished.

“You would say?” Alegni replied doubtfully.

The warlock didn’t back down from the claim.

“She’s a champion of no small accomplishment,” Effron insisted.

“I know of her,” Alegni replied.

“Dahlia Sin’felle.”

“Yes.”

“Except that’s not her name, Sin’felle,” said Effron, and even Barrabus’s interest was piqued by the confidence in the warlock’s tone. “Sin’felle is the name she gave herself, a mockery, a joke, a title of shame.”

“How do you know this?” Herzgo Alegni demanded.

“We are enemies with the Thayans and the wretched Szass Tam, of course, and so I made it my task to learn all that I might of these foes.”

“How do you know this?” Alegni asked again, his voice lower and stronger.

“We share allies with Szass Tam and his devil-worshiping zealots,” Effron explained. “With our heritage and their devotion, we share allies in the lower planes, do we not? I know of Dahlia and Sylora because I searched for an answer among Netheril’s spies within the Nine Hells, and I was particularly curious about this young and powerful elf warrior who fights so well with the strange weapon known as Kozah’s Needle.”

“Whose name is not Dahlia Sin’felle,” Alegni said sarcastically.

Effron nodded, letting the derisive tone slip past. “Half true, though. Her birth name is Dahlia, but the joke of her surname is clear to see, even for a dullard.” He looked squarely at Barrabus as he finished, “Yes?”

Barrabus narrowed his eyes and focused on happy thoughts of being alone in the forest once more with Effron the warlock.

“So you say, and I have no reason to doubt you, it seems, and less reason to care,” said Alegni.

“Her true name is Dahlia Syn’dalay,” Effron announced, crossing his good arm over his skinny chest defiantly as if that proclamation should carry great importance, which confused Barrabus.

Until he looked over at Alegni.

He’d never seen the Netherese lord blanch in quite that way.

“Syn’dalay?” Alegni echoed.

“Yes, of the Snakebrook Syn’dalay clan,” Effron replied.

Something seemed to be passing between the two that Barrabus couldn’t decipher.

“I would guess that she is …” Effron paused and assumed a pensive expression. “Perhaps in her early thirties.” His grin showed confidence that he now held the upper hand in the discussion. “Would you agree?”

Herzgo Alegni continued to stare hard in Effron’s general direction, but it seemed clear to Barrabus that he looked right through the warlock, as if his thoughts were focused on another place—likely another time, given Effron’s last comment. The powerful muscles on Alegni’s arms twitched, his jaw tightened noticeably, and his breath came in forced heaves. Barrabus almost believed that if the morning birds would stop chirping and the wind would stop rustling through the leaves, he would be able to hear Alegni’s heart thumping in his massive chest.

“You cannot know this,” Alegni said at last.

“Dahlia Syn’dalay,” Effron repeated, “who was barely more than a child those two decades ago.”

“Who?” Barrabus started to ask, but he realized it might be better to remain outside of this increasingly private discussion.

Neither Alegni nor Effron noted his interruption, though, and neither seemed about to speak any further.