The Last Threshold (Neverwinter #4)(117)

“Bwahahaha!” the yochlol cried ominously.

“What?” Draygo Quick asked. “Tiago?”

“Tiago Baenre,” Jarlaxle explained, and hurriedly scooped up the portable hole, which became a piece of black cloth once more, and stuffed it back into place inside his hat. “A powerful noble son of the First House of Menzoberranzan. He has decided to take it upon himself to hunt down and kill Drizzt Do’Urden.”

“With the blessing of the matron mother?”

“Ah, there’s the rub,” Jarlaxle replied. “Matron Mother Quenthel does not hinder him, but I suspect that she does not even know of his intent. He has a minor priestess of Lolth at his side, however, though surely Lolth would cackle with glee if she favored Drizzt in this fight. Irony, chaos … they are the calling cards of that vicious one, after all.”

“Then how is this relevant? Why should I care?”

“This confrontation will bring the questions filtering around the rogue to the forefront, and will demand a resolution,” Jarlaxle explained. “Consider, if Tiago Baenre kills Drizzt, and Drizzt is favored by Lolth, the fallout will be clear and swift. And if Drizzt kills a favored son of House Baenre, the House will react violently—or it will not, and that will prove quite telling, given the matron mother’s relationship with the Spider Queen. Simply put, Lord Draygo, your imprisonment of Drizzt is denying me the answer to a question I have been asking for a century and more, and indeed, denying you the answer to that very question you ask.”

Lord Draygo stared at him incredulously. “You presume much.”

“You have him,” Jarlaxle stated.

“So you have claimed.”

“He is dead, then, and our discussion is moot,” Jarlaxle replied, and he dramatically spun and waved his arm toward the room’s doorway, and the descending circular hallway beyond that would lead back to the grand entry hall of the castle. “When first I entered, I noted your castle guard holding Taulmaril, Drizzt’s bow, the bow used by Drizzt’s dead wife. He would not part with it for all the gold on Toril, nor would he allow any other to wield it. If you truly do not know the whereabouts of Drizzt Do’Urden, Lord Draygo, then take care, for I assure you that there is a very dangerous drow ranger lurking about your estate, intent on, and likely capable of, killing anyone standing between him and that particularly bow.”

Draygo Quick stared at Jarlaxle for just a moment, then gave a sharp whistle. The room’s door swung open and a pair of Draygo Quick’s attendants, warlocks both, judging from their robes, hurriedly entered the chamber.

“Escort our guest to the west wing dining room and see that he is fed,” Draygo Quick ordered. “I will not keep you waiting long,” he promised Jarlaxle, “but I have some business to attend to.”

Jarlaxle bowed low and followed his escorts out of the room and down the tower stairs, crossing back over the checkerboard-floored grand hall—where he listened most attentively for any sounds from below—and into the dining room opposite, where he was left alone.

So his hosts believed.

Draygo Quick will speak with Ulfbinder, Kimmuriel telepathically relayed to Jarlaxle. Perhaps even to Quenthel.

Not Quenthel, Jarlaxle silently replied. He has no means to get to her as of now. You have found them?

Yes.

All of them? Jarlaxle asked, focusing his thoughts on the first word for clear emphasis.

Two alive, three as stone, Kimmuriel confirmed.

Jarlaxle winced, then sighed.

If Draygo Quick releases Drizzt, you will not execute the attack, Kimmuriel relayed to him in no uncertain terms. Not for the sake of humans and an elf!

Jarlaxle blew another sigh, then looked up and painted a disarming smile on his face as an attendant entered with a tray of food.

Do you understand? Kimmuriel demanded.

“Yes,” Jarlaxle said enthusiastically. “Truly I had not realized the extent of my hunger.”

Kimmuriel relayed that he understood the double use of the affirmation, and then he was gone from Jarlaxle’s mind, likely to let his disembodied thoughts wander the ways of Castle Draygo some more.

Jarlaxle could only hope, as Kimmuriel surely was, that the powerful Netherese warlock was not attuned to, or familiar with, or prepared against, such psionic intrusions.

So far, at least, all seemed well. Now, given Kimmuriel’s last order, all Jarlaxle had to do was figure out a way to ensure that Lord Draygo would not let go of Drizzt without a fight.





“The handmaiden was an illusion,” Draygo Quick told Parise Ulfbinder through his crystal ball.

“Jarlaxle lied to you, then, and apparently for the sake of Drizzt Do’Urden,” Parise replied.

“But why? Is Drizzt more aligned to Bregan D’aerthe than we believe?”

Parise shook his head. “I would guess that this is more personal than professional with Jarlaxle. He is a curious one, full of many layers of intrigue all working in concert to form a meticulous spider web. The whole of Bregan D’aerthe is, above all else, pragmatic. By all accounts, they are a professional, if brutal, organization. I cannot believe that they would risk such a lucrative potential as the deal we signed for the sake of Drizzt Do’Urden.”

“Yet he has done just that,” said Draygo Quick. “I did not mask my annoyance, and still he persisted.”