The Last Threshold (Neverwinter #4)(101)

“Lord Draygo’s castle is lined with gargoyles and other sentries,” Effron explained. “If we go over that wall, they will awaken.”

“A fight in the courtyard,” Dahlia remarked.

“With a mighty warlock looking down upon us, untouchable, from his secure chambers,” Effron added.

“I may be able to get through the gate,” Effron said. “I’m not even certain that Lord Draygo knows that I have joined forces with you. He may think me still in his employ, and if that is the case, I will not be turned away. I know where Guenhwyvar is, and could perhaps find a way to break her connection to the magical prison, that you might retrieve her and be gone.”

“It would seem a great risk,” said Drizzt.

“No!” Dahlia stated at the same time, with vehemence enough to surprise all of them, including, clearly, Dahlia herself.

“Not alone,” she quickly clarified, and she seemed to be improvising as she added, “Pretend we are your prisoners, then. Or take us in for an audience with Lord Draygo—yes, go to him and explain that we wish to parlay.”

“He’ll have nothing to say to you,” Effron replied directly to her. “He will simply kill you as punishment for the death of Herzgo Alegni and the destruction of Charon’s Claw—indeed, he’ll hold that second crime even higher above you! And above you,” he added, indicating Entreri. “You two carry a high price on your heads from Cavus Dun for your betrayal, the dwarf at least,” he said to Ambergris and Afafrenfere.

“So we go in as your prisoners,” said Drizzt.

They discussed the plan at length, then, trying to find some fake magical prison they might fashion to create at least the plausibility of such a ruse, but they seemed to be going in circles. Draygo Quick knew well Effron’s capabilities, and knew, too, those of the other five.

“You have tricked us into speaking with him, then,” Drizzt offered some time later. “We have come to barter for Guenhwyvar, but you will relate to your former master that it is all a ruse you facilitated to bring us to his feet.”

“Ridiculous,” Artemis Entreri replied, but in a resigned tone, he finished, “but probably the best chance we’re going to get.”

Drizzt studied the assassin closely. The risk for Entreri was truly great, and yet he had come. Perhaps not for Drizzt’s benefit, but still, he had come.

The discussion went down that road of possibility, trying to come up with some plausible explanation as to why they would simply walk into the spider’s web in such a manner. Their conversation was cut short, though, and dramatically, as the front gates of Lord Draygo’s grand residence banged open and a black coach rushed forth, pulled by a team of four black horses already lathered in sweat as they charged off down the road.

“Lord Draygo,” Effron breathed, watching the coach depart.

“His coach?” Dahlia asked.

“Him,” Effron assured them. “No one but Lord Draygo would ride in that coach, and it is never used unless it is to take him on one of his errands.”

“Then we have to go in now,” Entreri said.

“It is still guarded,” Effron started, but he was overrun by the others, all scrambling to prepare for their assault. By the time Effron had spoken his warning, Drizzt was already moving for the closing gate, the speedy Afafrenfere pacing him, and Ambergris, holy symbol in hand and a magical enchantment of dispelling glyphs and wards on her lips, moving right behind.

They simply couldn’t miss this opportunity, Dahlia explained, she and Entreri sweeping up Effron in their passage.





Ambergris riffed off a series of spells in quick succession, first to detect magical wards, which she did, then several to dispel the potent magic she discovered about the gate.

As soon as she nodded, Drizzt shoved through the gates and led the way, again with the monk pacing him, toward the main door. On Effron’s call, they veered left and sprinted around to the side of the building.

“Not trapped—not with magic,” Ambergris assured Drizzt when they came to a small side door.

“No traps,” Afafrenfere added after a thorough inspection, speaking of mechanical devices.

“Servant quarters,” Effron explained, rushing up with Entreri and Dahlia.

Drizzt pushed through, now with Effron right beside him, guiding him along. They traversed a series of small rooms, bedrooms, and a kitchen and larder, and out through a heavy wooden door into an opulent dining room, one befitting a man of Draygo Quick’s regal stature.

“This way,” Effron prompted, and he and Drizzt led the way into an antechamber.

Ambergris and Afafrenfere came behind, with Entreri and Dahlia taking up the rear guard. They moved along another corridor and into the castle’s main foyer and ballroom, a grand chamber with a high ceiling and marble floors that seemed a checkerboard of black and white tiles. Armored statues and meticulous tapestries lined the walls of the enormous room, which was split down the middle by a sweeping staircase that climbed twenty feet or more before veering left and right along balconies bordered by iron railings with decorated balusters wound into depictions of soaring dragons.

Drizzt started for the stairs, but Effron waved that thought away and pointed to a door opposite the hall from where they had entered. “The tower stair,” he explained.