The Last Threshold (Neverwinter #4)(131)

“Not always a friend of the Battlehammers, eh?” Stokely interjected.

“Though no longer an enemy, else I would never have brought him here. Indeed, were that the case, I would not be traveling with him.”

“Well, ye go where ye’re needin’ to go,” Stokely said. “But if ye’re staying in the dale, then ye best be visitin’ me and me boys.”

“Oftentimes,” Drizzt assured him.





Later that same day, Drizzt, Dahlia, and Entreri rode out from Kelvin’s Cairn for Bryn Shander, where the drow hoped they could begin to lay their longer-term plans. Afafrenfere saw them off, but remained behind to keep an eye on Ambergris and her unrelenting libations. Effron too, surprisingly, had declared that he would remain behind, and Drizzt discovered that Stokely had asked the tiefling to do so, that the two of them could spend some time alone and Effron could better explain his heritage. That notion struck Drizzt profoundly, and reminded him that Battlehammer dwarves were not nearly as xenophobic as many of the races of Faer?n. An open-minded Bruenor had long-ago befriended a rogue dark elf, after all, and now Stokely was apparently trying to carry on that tradition.

Drizzt’s confidence that he had done well in leading his companions to this distant, seemingly-forlorn but ultimately-welcoming land only grew as he left the Clan Battlehammer complex.

Dahlia rode upon Andahar behind Drizzt, but the added weight did little to hinder the powerful steed and the trio made Bryn Shander that same day, though after the sun had set and the chilly wind began to blow more strongly. The city’s gates were closed at the late hour, but the guards recognized Drizzt Do’Urden and were more than happy to grant him and his companions entrance.

“When’s the caravan back to Luskan?” one asked as the strange and powerful mounts trotted between the western gate’s small guard towers.

Drizzt shrugged, neither knowing nor caring. He dismounted from Andahar, bade Dahlia do the same, then dismissed the unicorn as Entreri released his nightmare.

“Our best choice is to enlist as scouts for the leaders of the city,” Drizzt explained as the three made their way to the nearest tavern.

“How long do you plan on remaining here?” Entreri asked.

Drizzt stopped short and glanced around, ensuring that they were alone and would not be overheard.

“Jarlaxle recommended that we spend the rest of the season or more,” Drizzt admitted.

“Sounds like a good reason to turn around and leave,” Entreri replied.

“There are powerful forces seeking us—seeking me, at least—and they will find you, as well,” Drizzt admitted.

“Draygo Quick,” Dahlia reasoned.

“That is one.”

“What do you know?” Entreri insisted.

“The drow from Gauntlgrym,” Drizzt admitted. “They have come to realize my identity, I am told.”

“Wonderful,” Entreri muttered.

“What does this mean?” asked Dahlia.

“It means, welcome to your new home,” said the dour assassin.

“When the trail grows cold, Jarlaxle will inform us,” Drizzt said. “And there are worse places to live. Is there somewhere you would rather be?”

The pointed question elicited a curious response from Entreri: a shrug that came as an admission that indeed, this place was likely as good as any other.

“We have made some enemies, it would seem,” Dahlia admitted. “Draygo Quick, Szass Tam, and now these dark elves. Is there a corner of the world far enough removed.”

“If there is, we have now found it,” Entreri remarked.

They drank for free that night, for Drizzt was recognized in the tavern, and their table was often visited by Bryn Shander citizens, offering drinks, or even a stay at their home if the trio were looking for accommodations, and asking Drizzt for stories of the long-ago days.

“To see a drow so welcomed,” Entreri said sarcastically in one of the few moments when the three found themselves alone. “Truly touching.”

“Stokely,” Drizzt reasoned. “Apparently, our dwarf friends returned to Ten-Towns from Gauntlgrym with tales of heroism that were well-received. And I notice that you haven’t refused the free food or drink.”

“Free? I earn it by tolerating their insufferable intrusions,” Entreri said. “I haven’t killed any of them yet, so I deserve the food—and it is quite possible that the drink will prevent me from murdering any in the near future.”

“If our time here is to be no more than a constant recitation of the heroics of Drizzt, then I will head back to Luskan and take my chances with Draygo Quick,” Dahlia put in, drawing laughter from both Drizzt and Entreri—but Drizzt’s mirth dissipated quickly when he looked at the woman, peering at him over the rim of her upraised mug, and realized that there was no small measure of truth in her joke.

“Tomorrow we go to the captain of the town guard and sign on,” Drizzt said, changing the subject. “With our mounts, we can easily serve as scouts and couriers to the other communities. Who will outride us? Who will outfight us? We will find many nights such as this in all of the communities, I am sure. Not so hard a life.”

Entreri lifted his glass in toast to that, though his expression showed it to be as much of a mocking gesture as any serious agreement. Drizzt accepted and welcomed that, however, knowing it to be the best he could expect from that one, and seeing that there really was a measure of acceptance in the assassin. Clearly, Entreri wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon.