The Last Threshold (Neverwinter #4)(118)

“Then there is something more.”

Draygo Quick shrugged and did not disagree.

“Dangerous creatures are these drow,” Parise Ulfbinder added.

“Are you hinting that I should release Drizzt to them?”

“Nay!” Parise replied without hesitation. “I would advise just the opposite. Admit nothing and release no one, and then we will scrutinize the reactions of Bregan D’aerthe henceforth. If Jarlaxle’s claims are grounded even remotely in truth, then his failed attempt to secure Drizzt’s release will likely be taken up by a higher authority.”

“House Baenre,” Draygo Quick reasoned.

“It would seem as if they hold a greater stake here, given the involvement of this young Tiago.”

“It would seem prudent for them to have me keep Drizzt away from that one.”

“Who can tell with these curious drow?” Parise replied. “We seek information above all else, and holding tight our cards will bring us many revelations, I expect.”

“Revelations or enmity?” Draygo Quick reminded.

“Either way, we will learn much. If they push harder, then we can hand him over, and perhaps learn even more in the subsequent events. If House Baenre bothers to come for him, then we can be confident that the Spider Queen is involved, and perhaps then this battle between Drizzt and Tiago Baenre, of which Jarlaxle hinted, will indeed prove instructive.”

“Until then, we hold the upper hand,” Draygo Quick remarked.

“Do we?” Parise was quick to ask. “You have studied the sonnet.”

Draygo Quick started to respond, but again merely shrugged.

The old shade draped the cloth over the crystal ball again, severing the connection, then sat back in his chair and glanced over at the glowing cage holding the shrunken Guenhwyvar.

So many gains, it seemed to him, had proven to be no more than illusion.





A TOWERING VICTORY



YOU SHOULD JUST LET HIM GO,” JARLAXLE SAID TO LORD DRAYGO, THE two standing in the checkerboard entry hall.

Draygo Quick put on an amused expression. He had just bid Jarlaxle farewell, after informing the drow that they had nothing further to discuss.

“You will better find your answers in that case,” Jarlaxle continued. “And truly, if Drizzt is so favored by one god or another, what gain to you to keep him prisoner?”

“You presume much,” Draygo Quick replied, a phrase he had thrown Jarlaxle’s way on several occasions. Indeed, in their hours together, the Netherese lord had never admitted that Drizzt was within his castle.

But Jarlaxle knew better, for Kimmuriel had found Drizzt, and the young tiefling warlock, as well, in separate locked rooms in the western wing of the castle. Kimmuriel had found the others, statues all, as well, in a room not far from this very spot.

“If I am errant in my suspicions, then of course—” Jarlaxle started.

“And you annoy me even more,” Draygo Quick continued. “Do be on your way, Jarlaxle, before I am tempted to speak with Lord Ulfbinder and nullify our agreement. Do not come to me again unless you are invited, or unless your request to pay a visit is accepted. Now, if you’ll excuse me, or even if you will not, I have much work to do.”

Jarlaxle bowed low. Draygo Quick acknowledged him with just a curt nod, and walked off across the floor to the doorway that would lead him to his tower and private quarters. Jarlaxle watched him, then glanced back at the sweeping stairwell in the rear of the hall, climbing up twenty feet and breaking left and right behind decorated railings.

No shortage of Shadovar guards stood up there, looking back at him, including one holding Taulmaril and another, amazingly, standing at the top of the staircase with one of Drizzt’s scimitars strapped to his hip.

He is taunting me, Jarlaxle thought, and in his mind, he could sense Kimmuriel’s discomfort as clearly as if the psionicist were standing beside him and groaning. Tell me when, Jarlaxle bade as Draygo Quick exited the room.

There are guards at the door in front of you, and more outside as well, Kimmuriel silently warned.

Jarlaxle bowed to the stern-faced sentries on the balcony, conveniently sweeping off his hat as he did.

Do not kill the lord, Kimmuriel telepathically cried.

Then guide my opening salvos properly, Jarlaxle replied. His hand slipped inconspicuously inside the hat, gripping the edge of the portable hole.

“I’ll not be using your door,” Jarlaxle announced to the guards as he turned back as if to exit the castle. “I have my own gate available.”

“Just be gone, as Lord Draygo instructed,” the guard commander on the stairs, the one with Drizzt’s scimitar, shouted down.

Jarlaxle smiled and pulled forth the portable hole, set his hat back on his bald head, and flipped the spinning and elongating hole in the general direction of the guards flanking the castle exit. The two widened their eyes in unison and hustled aside in fear, but the hole plopped down on the floor short of them without any overtly ill effects, and now seemed no more than an actual hole in the castle floor.

With the obvious distraction demanding the attention of all in the grand hall, Jarlaxle slipped his hand into a pouch and produced a small cube—and reminded himself that his brother Gromph had promised him all sorts of pain if he ruined this particular device.

Draygo is safely ascending his tower, Kimmuriel imparted.