The Last Threshold (Neverwinter #4)(53)

“Well met, again,” the man said, extending his hand.

Drizzt took the hand, but wore a perplexed and apologetic expression. “I do not remem—”

“Don’t know that I ever offered it,” the man interrupted. “Kale Denrigs at your service.”

“Skinny?” they heard Entreri ask, and they turned as one to regard him, then followed his gaze along the road, where half a dozen others had convened, including, it seemed, the previous speaker, a man of gigantic height and girth, indeed one who more resembled a hill giant than a man.

“Half-ogre,” Kale explained. “But a good enough sort.”

That brought a laugh from Ambergris on the wagon.

“Is Stuyles about?” Drizzt asked.

“Not far.”

“We come bearing food and other supplies, and with news to benefit your band.”

“Recompense for Hadencourt?” Kale Denrigs asked, and he assumed a clever look.

“You should be paying us for Hadencourt,” Dahlia called from the wagon.

“What’s a Hadencourt?” Afafrenfere asked.

“Nah, who,” Ambergris corrected.

“Both,” said Dahlia. “Hadencourt the legion devil, harbored by Farmer Stuyles’s band.”

“Wonderful,” Entreri muttered.

“The what?” Kale asked.

“Legion devil,” Drizzt repeated. “He came after us in the forest, and he brought friends from the Nine Hells to make his case.”

“And they’re all back in the Nine Hells where they belong,” Dahlia said.

“Hadencourt? Our Hadencourt, a legion devil? How can you—?”

“It was a painful realization, I assure you,” Drizzt said dryly. “If there are any remaining associates of his among your ranks …”

“None,” Kale Denrigs replied without hesitation, and the man truly seemed shaken by the revelations.

“Take us to Stuyles,” Drizzt bade the man. “I must speak with him, and quickly.” He glanced up at the sky, where thick clouds were gathering.

Kale looked at him skeptically. “A tough road with the wagon, I fear.”

“Then leave it here. My friends will stay with it and await my return.”

Still with doubt clear on his face, Kale glanced at the mound of sacks in the back of the wagon, then started to motion to his team.

“Leave those as well,” Drizzt remarked.

“Have you baited us, then?”

“Let me speak with Stuyles,” Drizzt said. “Either way, the supplies will be yours, but you need not take them now.”

“Explain.”

But Drizzt had heard enough. He shook his head and told Kale to take him to Stuyles again.

Kale bade his band to remain with the wagon as well, and they gladly agreed when Ambergris broke out the ale and offered up drinks all around. With just him and Drizzt, the travel was quick, but over difficult terrain, and Drizzt understood the truth of the claim that it would have been no easy task to take the wagon, or even just the supplies, along.

Soon enough, though, they arrived in a wide campground of scores of tents—Stuyles’s band had grown in the months since Drizzt had last seen them—and Drizzt and Farmer Stuyles shared another warm handshake. With many coming out to view this strange visitor, Drizzt motioned back at the tent from which Stuyles had emerged.

They left many wide eyes behind as they entered. Among the onlookers stood a young tiefling warlock, his shoulders twisted from a fall off a cliff when he was but a babe.





Kale Denrigs, a lieutenant of the band, joined the pair inside, and explained the situation with Hadencourt to a wide-eyed Stuyles.

“A demon?” Stuyles asked incredulously.

“Devil,” Drizzt corrected. “It is my belief that he was a scout for Sylora Salm.”

“The Thayan in Neverwinter Wood?”

“She is dead, her forces scattered, her Dread Ring diminished.”

“By your hand?”

Drizzt nodded.

“I expect that Hadencourt was looking for me and for Dahlia, at the behest of Sylora. Among the Thayans were the Ashmadai, devil-worshiping zealots.”

“We’ve had some unpleasant dealings with them,” Kale said.

“They’ll not be much trouble to you now,” Drizzt assured him.

“Then you come with good news and with supplies,” said Kale, and at the mention of supplies, Stuyles looked at Drizzt curiously.

“Supplies only if you decline my offer,” Drizzt said cryptically, a wry grin on his face.

“That seems a strange proposal,” said Kale, but Stuyles, obviously recognizing that Drizzt had something much more important in mind, held up his hand to cut the man short, and nodded for Drizzt to continue.

And so the drow laid it out before an incredulous Stuyles and Kale Denrigs, explaining the situation in Port Llast, a settlement in need of hearty settlers, and made his offer.

“It will be a home,” he said.

“Hardly a haven, though,” said Kale.

“I’ll not lie to you,” Drizzt replied. “The minions of Umberlee are stubborn and fierce. You will see battle, but take heart, for you will fight beside worthy comrades.”

“Including yourself?” asked Stuyles.