Neverwinter (Neverwinter #2)(96)

“They pay you well, then,” Drizzt reasoned. “Ever was Artemis Entreri for sale to the highest bidder.”

He was surprised by Entreri’s reaction, the assassin’s face tightening into a grimace, and Drizzt knew immediately that Entreri’s relationship with the Netherese was not a bargain of gold coins. Entreri had claimed he served a master, but Drizzt understood then that it was not by choice.

Entreri stared hard at him.

“What is it?” Drizzt asked.

Entreri didn’t blink.

“If not gold, then what?” Drizzt demanded. He draped his wrists over his sword hilts, a poignant reminder of who held the upper hand. “Why would Artemis Entreri serve the Nether—” He stopped and considered Entreri’s earlier words, a claim that Jarlaxle had betrayed him to the Netherese. Instead of continuing with the line of reasoning, Drizzt looked into the eye of his old enemy and asked, simply, “Why?”

“Because he has my sword,” Entreri admitted after a long pause.

“Khazid’hea?” Drizzt asked, and he was a bit confused, for as far as he knew, that sword was still in the possession of the dark elf To’sun Armgo, who lived in the Moonwood in the Silver Marches.

Entreri considered him with a bit of obvious puzzlement, then nodded, as if realizing something. “You wouldn’t know of Claw,” he explained. “Charon’s Claw, actually. Truly a mighty blade, greater by far than Khazid’hea.”

“And you wish to have it back, so you serve the hateful Empire of Netheril?”

“I wish it destroyed!” Entreri countered angrily, but that fast melted into resignation. He laughed helplessly. “I’m its slave. The Shadovar lord in Neverwinter holds the sword, my sword, and it has taken power over me.” He looked over at Dahlia. “And so I’m compelled to kill you,” he explained with a shrug. “Nothing personal.”

His flippant remark had Dahlia advancing a step, her hands going to her weapons, before Drizzt intercepted her.

“He would prefer death,” the woman protested.

“Indeed!” Entreri agreed, and Drizzt looked at him curiously.

“If you could,” Entreri explained.

“He just had his blade to your throat,” Dahlia reminded the assassin.

“But the sword would just bring me back to fight you again,” Entreri went on, ignoring her. Again he looked past Drizzt to Dahlia, and this time, there was more sadness than cleverness showing on his face.

“You’re a slave to a sword you once possessed?” Drizzt asked.

“If I don’t work to its ends, I’m tormented.” He shook his head. “You cannot imagine the torment, my old nemesis. It would do your mother proud.”

Drizzt scrutinized him closely and understood from the assassin’s truly helpless expression—a visage that seemed so out of place on the face of Artemis Entreri!—that the assassin was not exaggerating.

“And its ends include killing Dahlia?” Drizzt asked.

Entreri shrugged. “That’s part of it.”

“Then you die,” Dahlia interrupted, but Drizzt continued to hold her back, and he silenced her with a look.

“Does Dahlia truly matter?” Drizzt asked, drawing confused expressions from both of the others. “Or is she a means to an end?”

“What are you plotting here?” Dahlia demanded, but Drizzt ignored her.

“She’s an obstacle in my master’s way,” said Entreri.

“But not the goal?”

“An obstacle to the goal,” Entreri replied, and Drizzt grinned, catching on.

“Then help us to kill Sylora,” Drizzt reasoned, and Dahlia’s gasp did not deter him. “Is that not the greater prize your master seeks?”

Entreri answered with a nod as he considered the reasoning, and the possibilities.

“Killing Dahlia, who vows to kill Sylora, wouldn’t please your master, then,” said Drizzt.

“You would ally with us?” a skeptical Entreri asked. “I witnessed your work on the Shadovar patrol north of Neverwinter.”

“Ally with a Shadovar, a Netherese pig?” Dahlia replied, equally incredulous. “Never that!”

“Artemis Entreri is neither,” Drizzt assured her. “Why not, then?” he asked both of them.

“It’s often claimed that the enemy of my enemy is my friend,” Entreri replied with a shrug.

“Are you still my enemy?” Drizzt asked him.

Entreri laughed a bit as he considered that. “I grew bored with you more than a century ago. To think me your enemy would be to think I care about you one way or the other.”

“And for me?” asked Dahlia. “You just admitted you plan to kill me.”

“That can wait.”

“The enemy of my enemy will be my enemy again?”

Entreri smiled wickedly. “We shall see.”

Drizzt turned from him to Dahlia. “It’s settled, then?”

“I intend to kill Sylora,” Dahlia stated flatly. “And I intend to kill any who try to hinder me from experiencing that pleasure.”

“And what of those who would aid you?” Entreri teased. Dahlia turned and walked away.

“Well met again, Drizzt Do’Urden,” Entreri said to the drow, and he motioned down at his dropped blades.