[DE]魔晶仆从[小白试译，第十五章，初稿完]
[首先要说，因为某前面的情节还没有看，所以有些涉及前文的句子是凑合着翻的，等以后再个别修改吧，炸汗~ ……估计这句话会适合很多章节，某不喜欢按顺序翻的无良家伙= =+++]
第十五章
亲爱的瓦维尔
“哈，我的朋友，你可骗得我真惨啊。”贾拉索对恩崔立耳语道，任由伤口远远还没有治愈的杀手置身于一个虚弱而几乎可说是无助的境地。当杀手滑落到半意识之中时，佣兵头子，拥有着将他完全治愈的魔法的人，转而把时间花费在考虑所发生过的一切上。当听见一个使他深受折磨的声音——一声太熟悉的呼唤——他正尝试着判断人类战士到底是在挽救他还是毁灭他。
卓尔凝视的目光滑向恩崔立，一个笑容在他黑色皮肤的脸上渐渐扩大开来。克林辛尼朋！这个人拥有克林辛尼朋！贾拉索在脑海中重演了一遍事态发展，很快得出了结论，在那场最初的、出人意料的袭击中，杀手所做的绝不仅仅是简单地从他的带子上割落了小袋而已。不，这个机智的——如此机智！——人类把卓尔的小袋用一个赝品掉包了，一个装着假造碎魔晶的完美赝品。
“我鬼祟的同伴，”惟利是图者说着，虽然他并不确定杀手是否能听见，“我真高兴能再一次知道，自己没有低估了你！”说完，佣兵头子探身去够恩崔立带子上的小袋，同时保持面带微笑。
杀手的手电光火石般抬起，一把抓住了贾拉索的手臂。
眨眼间卓尔自由的那只手中多出了一把匕首，准备用它刺穿这几乎全然无助的人类的心脏，但他留意到恩崔立并没有采取进一步的攻势。杀手没有伸手抓取他的匕首或者任何其他武器，相反地只是，悲哀凝视着他。在脑海中，贾拉索能听见碎魔晶在呼唤着自己，召唤他结果掉这个人类并把那理当属于他的造物夺回。
他几乎就要这么做了，尽管克林辛尼朋的呼唤远远不如当他拥有它时那样强力和悦耳。
“别，”恩崔立对他低声说，“你没办法控制它。”
卓尔退了回去，艰难地注视人类。“而你能？”
“这就是它只呼唤你的理由，”恩崔立回答道，他的呼吸比早些时候更加吃力了，鲜血再次从他身侧的伤口汩汩流出来，“碎魔晶对我没有控制的效力。”
“为什么？”贾拉索怀疑地问，“难道阿提密斯·恩崔立竟然保有和崔斯特·杜垩登一样的道德标准？”
杀手开始低低地笑起来，但随即因几乎无法忍受的痛苦扭曲了表情。“崔斯特和我在很多方面并不是那么不同，”他解释道，“至少就自制而言是这样。”
“而仅仅自制就能让你摆脱碎魔晶的控制？”佣兵头子问，语气仍带着某种轻蔑的怀疑，“那么，你是说我不像你们之中任何一个那样自制——”
“不！”恩崔立咆哮道，他几乎坐了起来，绷紧了胁部以对抗又一波的剧痛。
“不，”片刻之后他更冷静地又说了一次，放松躺倒，同时艰难地呼吸着，“崔斯特的标准拒绝了这造物，正如我自己的一样——但不是道德标准，它出于强烈的自我。”
卓尔退后了一点，表情由怀疑转为好奇。“你怎么做到的？”
杀手看着他想要开口却只露出一个痛苦的表情。贾拉索伸手从斗篷之下拿出一个小球，将它靠近人类同时开始吟唱。
杀手几乎是立刻就感觉好多了，他觉察出自己的伤口正在愈合，呼吸也变得更容易控制。卓尔吟唱了几秒，每一秒都让恩崔立感觉更好，但还远在治疗完全奏效之前，惟利是图者停下了。
“回答我的问题。”他要求道。
“他们会杀了你。”恩崔立回答。
“很显然是这样，”贾拉索说，“你就不能只是单纯地警告我？”
“不止如此，”杀手坚持着，“反对你的人人多势众，而且他们知道你的首要武器将是这个造物。因此，他们将它压制住了，虽然只是暂时性的。”
佣兵头子的第一本能是自己再度需要碎魔晶的力量以回去报复莱基和金穆瑞的背叛。然而他抑制住了这个念头，让恩崔立继续说下去。
“就想要把它从你身边带走这一点来看，他们是正确的。”杀手大胆地总结。
贾拉索怒视着他，但也只是一瞬罢了。
“远离它，”恩崔立警告，“抵挡住它的诱惑，回想一下在过去的这个十日中贾拉索的所作所为。你无法在地表逗留除非真正保持一贯隐秘，然而你造出了水晶塔群！达耶特独立佣兵团，就它所有的力量和它本身之外克林辛尼朋的力量来说，不可能支配全世界——甚至连支配卡林港也办不到——然而看看你打算干些什么。”
好几次佣兵头子想要开口反驳，但早在能说出口之前他的每一句争辩都消失在了喉咙里。他知道杀手是对的。他走上了歧途，而且是很严重地。
“我们没办法回去向那些篡夺者解释这一切。”惟利是图者说。
恩崔立摇了摇头。“是碎魔晶授意了这场推翻你的政变，”他解释，而卓尔向后退缩像是被人打了一巴掌一样，“你太狡猾了，而克林辛尼朋认为野心勃勃的莱基会更简单地屈服于它那些混乱的计划。”
“你这么说只是为了安抚我。”贾拉索责难道。
“我这么说因为事实如此，没有别的理由。”杀手回答。当被一阵剧痛攥住时他不得不表情扭曲地停了下来。“而且，如果你花点时间考虑一下，你就会意识到这就是真相。克林辛尼朋使你沿着它的首要方向前进，但并不是毫无干涉。”
“碎魔晶没能控制我，或者它办到了。你不能同时让两种情况都成立。”
“它当然操纵了你。你怎么能怀疑这一点？”恩崔立答道，“但不是以它知道自己所能操纵莱基的同等程度。”
“我曾经去Dallabad摧毁水晶塔，这是这造物绝对不会希望见到的，”贾拉索争辩说，“然而我能做到！来自这碎片的一切干涉都被拒绝了。”
他继续，或者说是打算继续下去，但恩崔立轻易打断了他。“你真能做到？”杀手怀疑地问。
佣兵头子结结巴巴地答道：“当然。”
“但你没有这么做？”
“我看不出废弃这塔的理由，一旦我知道自己能……”贾拉索开始解释，但当他真切听到从自己嘴里说出来的那些话，它击中了卓尔，而且是很猛烈地。他被欺骗了。他，密谋的高手，曾被愚弄以致坚信自己没有受到控制。
“把它留在我这儿。”恩崔立说，“碎魔晶从来没有放弃过操纵我的企图，但它无法提供我真正想要的，因此，它对我没有任何效力。”
“它会耗尽你的意志，”贾拉索告诉他，“它会找出你的每一处弱点并且加以利用。”
杀手点点头。“它的时间越来越少了。”他简短地说。
卓尔好奇地看着他。
“如果没有一个计划的话我是不会耗费心力和时间把你拖离那些卑鄙小人身边的。”杀手说。
“告诉我。”
“等时机成熟。”杀手保证，“现在我恳求你不要拿走碎魔晶，也恳求你让我休息一会儿。”
他向后靠去并且闭上了双眼，清楚知道如果贾拉索发起攻击的话自己唯一的防卫就是碎魔晶。他明白如果自己使用了这造物，它将很可能找到很多很多方法来削弱他的防卫，而结果可能是他放弃了自己的使命而只让这造物来充当他的引导者。
他通向毁灭的引导者，杀手明白，或许也通向一种比死更糟的命运。
当恩崔立看向贾拉索，他稍微有点安心了，因为他又看见了狡猾而机会主义的风度，那在采取任何最后和具有潜在轻率性的行动前反复小心考虑得出结论的佣兵头子的面貌。考虑到杀手刚才向这惟利是图的卓尔所解释的一切，克林辛尼朋的负隅顽抗将成为至关重要的一环。不，他相信贾拉索不会再在行动上反对自己了。佣兵头子在显然完全领会某种境况之前绝不会采取任何行动以求改变。[这最后一句是大胆按某的理解颠倒语序意译的，因为原文的说法貌似有点不合中国人习惯？]
随着脑海中浮现出这个念头，杀手很快陷入了沉睡。
当意识渐渐模糊时，他感觉到卓尔那小球的治疗魔法再度降临到自己身上。
* * * * *
小心拆开短信的同时，半身人惊讶地发现自己的手指竟然在微微颤抖着。
“为什么阿提密斯，我甚至都不知道你会写字。”瓦维尔窃笑着说，因为羊皮纸上的文字构架非常漂亮，虽然对她过人的鉴赏力而言稍微有点多此一举。“‘我亲爱的瓦维尔，’”她念了出声，然后停下来思考着这些字句，不确定自己怎么能接受这样的问候。这只是一个普通的礼节性标题还是真正友谊的迹象？
这时半身人想起了对于阿提密斯·恩崔立的内心世界她真正的了解有多么贫乏。杀手总是宣称自己唯一的欲望是成为最顶尖的，如果真的只是这样，为什么他不在一得到碎魔晶之后就好好加以利用？瓦维尔知道他持有着那玩意儿。她与Dallabad方面接触时所听说的那些事清晰浮现出来，倾斜的水晶塔群，一个逃走的人类，恩崔立，还有一个她相信一定就是贾拉索的黑暗精灵。
一切迹象都表明杀手的计划获得了成功。即使没有听到那些目击者的亲口描述，不管他的对手有着怎样显赫的名声，瓦维尔从来都不曾对这个人类有所怀疑。
半身人走到自己房门确认它上了锁。然后她搬了一张椅子到小小的床头柜旁边并且把羊皮纸在柜子上铺平，又用巨大宝石的纸镇压在信的下边，然后开始继续往下看，决定把自己的分析保留到这第二次的通读之后。
* * * * *
我亲爱的瓦维尔，
我们分别的日子终于到了，我很抱歉。我会怀念我们的那些交谈，我的小朋友。对我来说少有人能让我足够信任而如此坦言自己心中的真实想法。我现在再次这么做，最后一次，不是希望你能对我前路的抉择提出任何忠告，只因为这样我才能更清晰地理解自己对于这所有一切的感想……但这正是我们之间交谈的美妙之处，不是吗？
现在回想起过去的那些交谈，我意识到你很少提出任何建议。事实上，你根本就很少开口，只是单纯地倾听。当我聆听自己的言辞，通过这样的聆听，通过向另一个人叙说我的想法与感受，我逐渐把它们完整地整理出来。你的表情，简单的点头，挑挑眉，是不是将我自觉地引导向一个不同的推理方向？
我知道事实并非如此。
事实并非如此——那显然沦为了关于我生存方式的冗长陈述，瓦维尔。我觉得似乎构筑我信念与行动的基质并非实体，只是某种像沙漠中不断流动的沙砾一样的存在。当我年轻的时候，我知道所有问题的答案。我生存在一个确定无疑的世界中。当现在我老了，当我已经度过了生命中的四十个年头，我唯一确定的就是其实我并不确定任何事。
作为一个二十多岁的年轻人要容易得多了，目标纯粹地在世上行走要容易多了。那目标奠基于——
我猜想它是基于仇恨，也正出于同一必需我追求着自己黑暗技艺的极致。我的目标，是成为世界上最伟大的战士，将我的名字蚀刻进费伦的历史。很多人认为我希望达到那样的目标只是出于骄傲，出于我想要人们哪怕只是提到我的名字也胆战心惊的自负缘故。
我想就某种角度而言他们是对的。我们都很自负，不管就此定义我们如何争论。但就我而言，增长名声的欲望来得并不如另一个欲望同样重要——不，那不是欲望，是必须——真正成为我这一行中的佼佼者。我乐于增长自己的名声，不是出于骄傲，只因为我明白让这样的恐惧贯穿敌人的情感防护将会带给我更大的优势。
颤抖的手无法将刀刃精准刺入。
我仍然渴望着顶点，不是出于恐惧，只因为它在这越来越趣味索然的生涯中给了我某些目标。
直到击败那个想方设法尝试着向我揭示真相的人我才了解到自己世界的本质，这看起来似乎形成了一个怪圈。崔斯特·杜垩登——我还是那么恨他！——觉察到了我的生命不过是一种空虚的存在，一个没有任何真切益处和快乐的空洞符号。我从来都不曾真正否认他的观点，只是觉得这根本无关紧要。他生存的理由永远基于他的友人和群体之上，而我的生命则更多地基于自己。不管哪种方式，在我看来都不过是场闹剧，毫无意义，为了娱乐俯瞰人间的众神而做的一出假戏，一条引导着我们走上自以为是巨大山峦而实际不过小土墩的丘陵的步道，贯通谷看似无比地深，但事实上并不构成真正的阻隔。恐怕生命的琐碎本身正是我的愤恨所在。[尤其这一段，击节称道！虽然境遇所迫流于消极，但是，那样的讽刺和犀利！阿恩~~~><]
也许让我看清脚下流动的沙砾的并不是崔斯特。也许那是你，瓦维尔，给了我某些我少有了解而且也从未真正了解过的启示和认知的人。
朋友？我还是不确定自己理解这个概念，但如果有一天我烦恼地试图彻底作出一个归类的话，我将以我们共处的时光作为参照。
那么，这或许是一封道歉的信。我不该把夏洛塔·维斯帕提拔到你之上，虽然我相信你已经如我所说把她折磨至死并且埋得远远的。
多少次你问起我的计划，我一直都只是笑而不答，但你有权知道，亲爱的瓦维尔，我的意图在于盗取一件伟大而强力的造物，在别的相关当事者试图染指之前。我明白这是一次孤注一掷的尝试，但我不得不如此，因为这造物在呼唤着我，要求我将它从目前不称职的持有者手中夺过来。
因此我将拥有它，因为我确实在这一行当出类拔萃，我将离去，远离这个地方，也许永远也不再回来。
愿你在今后的任何冒险尝试中一路平安，瓦维尔·泰戈维斯。你不欠我什么，我向你保证，然而我觉得似乎是我欠着你的债。眼前的道路漫长而充满艰险，但我目指长路的终点。如果达到目标，将不再会有什么能对我造成任何伤害。永别了！
——阿恩
* * * * *
瓦维尔·泰戈维斯把羊皮纸推到一旁，一边从眼中擦去一滴眼泪一边因这荒谬的一切而发笑。如果几个月前有人告诉半身人她将会为阿提密斯·恩崔立走出她的生命而感到遗憾，她一定会嘲笑那家伙是个傻瓜。
然而这封信，和瓦维尔与杀手曾经分享过的任何一次交谈同样亲密。她发现自己已经开始怀念那些讨论，或者说也许她很遗憾将来无法再与这人类如此交谈。至少在未来很近的一段时间中不会再有。
恩崔立本人也说将会怀念那些交谈。这深深地打动了半身人。想一想她赢得了这个人如此的友情——这个断断续续秘密支配了卡林港的街道二十多年的杀手。曾经有任何其他人和阿提密斯·恩崔立如此亲近吗？
在还活着的人中没有，瓦维尔明白。
她又读了一遍信的结尾，那关于恩崔立意图的显而易见谎言。他曾很谨慎地不提及任何会告诉那些驻留的黑暗精灵关于瓦维尔知道他们任何事或关于那被盗的造物的事，或者有关他持有碎魔晶。他那关于夏洛塔的指令的谎言的确使瓦维尔更加安全，若有必要的话，贿赂她，收买一些来自那女人和她秘密支持者们的怜悯。
这个念头让半身人脊梁起了一阵战栗。她真的不希望依赖黑暗精灵的怜悯！
事情不会演变成那样，她意识到。即使种种蛛丝马迹指向她和她的工会，她会很乐意而且很迫切地把这封信展示给夏洛塔看，然后那个女人就将视她为有利用价值的人。
是的，阿提密斯·恩崔立作出了极大的努力以隐瞒瓦维尔在整件阴谋中的影响，而这一点，比他所写给她的任何友善话语更多地向她揭示了彼此友谊的深厚。
“远走高飞吧，我的朋友，然后藏到深深的洞里。”她低声说。
半身人轻轻把羊皮纸重新卷起来放到她那做工精美的办公桌的一个抽屉中。关上抽屉的声响使瓦维尔的心起了强烈的共鸣。
她千真万确会想念阿提密斯·恩崔立。
[此章完]
哎，看着这一章，实在是，不知道该说什么好。以前一直怨念老萨没事就只知道虐阿恩，如今看来是我误会他老人家了~ 这样的柳暗花明或许是更大的幸福也说不定……
小瓦也看哭了啊，泪，那封信，尤其那一段，某也大爱呀T T 某种程度的共鸣，黑暗中滋生的友情。其实私以为阿恩对小瓦的尊敬与友情是早在无声中就开始了的，撇开小瓦的胆识和手腕不论，尤其是半身人明知对自己有害无益还是不顾风险为他示警，当阿恩意识到即使自己听从了她的警告出逃她也不会有任何机会接受他的报答，那一刻的些微触动。阿恩绝不是知恩不报的人，更不是真的内心空洞毫无所知，即使他亲手杀掉了为自己启蒙的老巴萨多尼，但他并没有一刻忘记。能在他心目中占有一席之地真的是无上的褒扬啊，进驻千难万难，而一旦达到，那本身便是莫大幸福了~！><
以下是原文：
Chapter 15
DEAR DWAHVEL
"Ah, my friend, how you have deceived me," Jarlaxle
whispered to Entreri, whose wounds had far from healed,
leaving him in a weakened, almost helpless state. As Entreri
had floated into semiconsciousness, Jarlaxle, possessed of
the magic to heal him fully, had instead taken the time to
consider all that had happened. He was in the process of
trying to figure out if Entreri had saved him or damned him
when he heard an ail-too familiar call.
Jarlaxle's gaze fell over Entreri and a great smile
widened on his black-skinned face. Crenshinibon! The man had
Crenshinibon! Jarlaxle replayed the events in his mind and
quickly figured that Entreri had done more than simply cut
the pouch loose from Jarlaxle's belt in that first,
unexpected attack. No, the clever-so clever!-human had
switched Jarlaxle's pouch for an imitation pouch, complete
with an imitation Crystal Shard.
"My sneaky companion," the mercenary remarked, though he
wasn't sure if Entreri could hear him or not. "It is good to
know that once again, I have not underestimated you!" As he
finished, the mercenary leader went for Entreri's belt
pouch, smiling all the while.
The assassin's hand snapped up and grabbed Jarlaxle by
the arm.
Jarlaxle had a dagger in his free hand in the blink of
an eye, prepared to stab it through the nearly helpless
man's heart, but he noted that Entreri wasn't pressing the
attack any further. The assassin wasn't reaching for his
dagger or any other weapon, but rather, was staring at
Jarlaxle plaintively. In his head, Jarlaxle could hear the
Crystal Shard calling to him, beckoning him to finish this
man off and take back the artifact that was rightfully his.
He almost did it, despite the fact that Crenshinibon's
call wasn't nearly as powerful and melodious as it had been
when he had been in possession of the artifact.
"Do not," Entreri whispered to him. "You cannot control
it."
Jarlaxle pulled back, staring hard at the man. "But you
can?"
"That is why it is calling to you," Entreri replied, his
breath even more labored than it had been earlier, and blood
flowing again from the wound in his side. "The Crystal Shard
has no hold over me."
"And why is that?" Jarlaxle asked doubtfully. "Has
Artemis Entreri taken up the moral code of Drizzt Do'Urden?"
Entreri started to chuckle, but grimaced instead, the
pain nearly unbearable. "Drizzt and I are not so different
in many ways," he explained. "In discipline, at least."
"And discipline alone will keep the Crystal Shard from
controlling you?" Jarlaxle asked, his tone still one of
abject disbelief. "So, you are saying that I am not as
disciplined as either of-"
"No!" Entreri growled, and he nearly came up to a
sitting position as he tightened his side against a wave of
pain.
"No," he said more calmly a moment later, easing back
and breathing hard. "Drizzt's code denied the artifact, as
does my own-not a code of morality, but one of
independence."
Jarlaxle fell back a bit, his expression going from
doubtful to curious. "Why did you take it?"
Entreri looked at him and started to respond but wound
up just grimacing. Jarlaxle reached under the folds of his
cloak and produced a small orb, which he held out to Entreri
as he began to chant.
The assassin felt better almost immediately, felt his
wound closing and his breathing easier to control. Jarlaxle
chanted for a few seconds, each one making Entreri feel that
much better, but long before the healing had been completely
facilitated, the mercenary stopped.
"Answer my question," he demanded.
"They were coming to kill you," Entreri replied.
"Obviously," said Jarlaxle. "Could you not have merely
warned me?"
"It would not have been enough," Entreri insisted.
"There were too many against you, and they knew that your
primary weapon would be the artifact. Thus, they neutralized
it, temporarily."
Jarlaxle's first instinct was to demand the Crystal
Shard again, that he could go back and repay Rai-guy and
Kimmuriel for their treachery. He held the thought, though,
and let Entreri go on.
"They were right in wanting to take it from you," the
assassin finished boldly.
Jarlaxle glared at him but just for a moment.
"Step back from it," Entreri advised. "Shut out its call
and consider the actions of Jarlaxle over the last few ten-
days. You could not remain on the surface unless your true
identity remained secret, yet you brought forth crystalline
towers! Bregan D'aerthe, for all of its power, and with all
of the power of Crenshinibon behind it, could not rule the
world-not even the city of Calimport-yet look at what you
tried to do."
Jarlaxle started to respond several times, but each of
his arguments died in his throat before he could begin to
offer them. The assassin was right, he knew. He had erred,
and badly.
"We cannot go back and try to explain this to the
usurpers," the mercenary remarked.
Entreri shook his head. "It was the Crystal Shard that
inspired the coup against you," he explained, and Jarlaxle
fell back as if slapped. "You were too cunning, but
Crenshinibon figured that ambitious Rai-guy would easily
fall to its chaotic plans."
"You say that to placate me," Jarlaxle accused.
"I say that because it is the truth, nothing more,"
Entreri replied. Then he had to pause and grimace as a spasm
of pain came over him. "And, if you take the time to
consider it, you know that it is. Crenshinibon kept you
moving in its preferred direction but not without
interference."
"The Crystal Shard did not control me, or it did. You
cannot have it both ways."
"It did manipulate you. How can you doubt that?" Entreri
replied. "But not to the level that it knew it could
manipulate Rai-guy."
"I went to Dallabad to destroy the crystal tower,
something the artifact surely did not desire," Jarlaxle
argued, "and yet, I could have done it! All interference
from the shard was denied."
He continued, or tried to, but Entreri easily cut him
short. "You could have done it?" the assassin asked
incredulously.
Jarlaxle stammered to reply. "Of course."
"But you did not?"
"I saw no reason to drop the tower as soon as I knew
that I could ..." Jarlaxle started to explain, but when he
actually heard the words coming out of his mouth, it hit
him, and hard. He had been duped. He, the master of
intrigue, had been fooled into believing that he was in
control.
"Leave it with me," Entreri said to him. "The Crystal
Shard tries to manipulate me, constantly, but it has nothing
to offer me that I truly desire, and thus, it has no power
over me."
"It will wear at you," Jarlaxle told him. "It will find
every weakness and exploit them."
Entreri nodded. "Its time is running short," he
remarked.
Jarlaxle looked at him curiously.
"I would not have spent the energy and the time pulling
you away from those wretches if I did not have a plan," the
assassin remarked.
"Tell me."
"In time," the assassin promised. "Now I beg of you not
to take the Crystal Shard, and I beg of you, too, to allow
me to rest."
He settled back and closed his eyes, knowing full well
that the only defense he would have if Jarlaxle came at him
was the Crystal Shard. He knew that if he used the artifact,
it would likely find many, many ways to weaken his defenses
and the effect might be that he would abandon his mission
and simply let the artifact become his guide.
His guide to destruction, he knew, and perhaps to a fate
worse than death.
When Entreri looked at Jarlaxle, he was somewhat
comforted, for he saw again that clever and opportunistic
demeanor, that visage of one who thought things through
carefully before taking any definitive and potentially rash
actions. Given all that Entreri had just explained to the
mercenary drow, the retrieval of Crenshinibon would have to
fall into that very category. No, he trusted that Jarlaxle
would not move against him. The mercenary drow would let
things play out a bit longer before making any move to alter
a situation he obviously didn't fully comprehend.
With that thought in mind, Entreri fell fast asleep.
Even as he was drifting off, he felt the healing magic
of Jarlaxle's orb falling over him again.
The halfling was surprised to see her fingers trembling
as she carefully unrolled the note.
"Why Artemis, I did not even know you could write,"
Dwahvel said with a snicker, for the lines on the parchment
were beautifully constructed, if a bit spare and efficient
for Dwahvel's flamboyant flair. "My dear Dwahvel," she read
aloud, and she paused and considered the words, not certain
how she should take that greeting. Was it a formal and
proper heading, or a sign of true friendship?
It occurred to the halfling then how little she really
understood what went on inside of the heart of Artemis
Entreri. The assassin had always claimed that his only
desire was to be the very best, but if that was true why
didn't he put the Crystal Shard to devastating use soon
after acquiring it? And Dwahvel knew that he had it. Her
contacts at Dallabad had described in detail the tumbling of
the crystalline towers, and the flight of a human, Entreri,
and a dark elf, whom Dwahvel had to believe must be
Jarlaxle.
All indications were that Entreri's plan had succeeded.
Even without her eyewitness accounts and despite the well-
earned reputations of his adversaries, Dwahvel had never
doubted the man.
The halfling moved to her doorway and made certain it
was locked. Then she took a seat at her small night table
and placed the parchment flat upon it, holding down the ends
with paperweights fashioned of huge jewels, and read on,
deciding to hold her analysis for the second read through.
My dear Dwahvel,
And so the time has come for us to part ways, and I do
so with more than a small measure of regret. I will miss our
talks, my little friend. Rarely have I known one I could
trust enough to so speak what was truly on my mind. I will
do so now, one final time, not in any hopes that you will
advise me of my way, but only so that I might more clearly
come to understand my own feelings on these matters . . .
but that was always the beauty of our talks, was it not?
Now that I consider those discussions, I recognize that
you rarely offered any advice. In fact, you rarely spoke at
all but simply listened. As I listened to my own words, and
in hearing them, in explaining my thoughts and feelings to
another, I came to sort them through. Was it your
expressions, a simple nod, an arched eyebrow, that led me
purposefully down different roads of reasoning?
I know not.
I know not-that has apparently become the litany of my
existence, Dwahvel. I feel as if the foundation upon which I
have built my beliefs and actions is not a solid thing, but
one as shifting as the sands of the desert. When I was
younger, I knew all the answers to all the questions. I
existed in a world of surety and certainty. Now that I am
older, now that I have seen four decades of life, the only
thing I know for certain is that I know nothing for certain.
It was so much easier to be a young man of twenty, so
much easier to walk the world with a purpose grounded in-
Grounded in hatred, I suppose, and in the need to be the
very best at my dark craft. That was my purpose, to be the
greatest warrior in all of the world, to etch my name into
the histories of Faerun. So many people believed that I
wished to achieve that out of simple pride, that I wanted
people to tremble at the mere mention of my name for the
sake of my vanity.
They were partially right, I suppose. We are all vain,
whatever arguments we might make against the definition. For
me, though, the desire to further my reputation was not as
important as the desire-no, not the desire, but the need-
truly to be the very best at my craft. I welcomed the
increase in reputation, not for the sake of my pride, but
because I knew that having such fear weaving through the
emotional armor of my opponents gave me even more of an
advantage.
A trembling hand does not thrust the blade true.
I still aspire to the pinnacle, fear not, but only
because it offers me some purpose in a life that
increasingly brings me no joy.
It seems a strange twist to me that I learned of the
barren nature of my world only when I defeated the one
person who tried in so many ways to show that very thing to
me. Drizzt Do'Urden-how I still hate him!-perceived my life
as an empty thing, a hollow trapping with no true benefit
and no true happiness. I never really disagreed with his
assessment, I merely believed that it did not matter. His
reason for living was ever based upon his friends and
community, while mine was more a life of the self. Either
way, it seems to me as if it is just a play, and a pointless
one, an act for the pleasure of the viewing gods, a walk
that takes us up hills we perceive as huge, but that are
really just little mounds, and through valleys that appear
so very deep, but are really nothing at all that truly
matters. All the pettiness of life itself is my complaint, I
fear.
Or perhaps it was not Drizzt who showed me the shifting
sands beneath my feet. Perhaps it was Dwahvel, who gave to
me something I've rarely known and never known well.
A friend? I am still not certain that I understand the
concept, but if I ever bother to attempt to sort through it,
I will use our time together as a model.
Thus, this is perhaps a letter of apology. I should not
have forced Sharlotta Vespers upon you, though I trust that
you tortured her to death as I instructed and buried her
far, far away.
How many times you asked me my plans, and always I
merely laughed, but you should know, dear Dwahvel, that my
intent is to steal a great and powerful artifact before
other interested parties get their hands upon it. It is a
desperate attempt, I know, but I cannot help myself, for the
artifact calls to me, demands of me that I take it from its
current, less-than-able wielder.
So I will have it, because I am indeed the best at my
craft, and I will be gone, far, far from this place, perhaps
never to return.
Farewell, Dwahvel Tiggerwillies, in whatever venture you
attempt. You owe me nothing, I assure you, and yet I feel as
if I am in your debt. The road before me is long and fraught
with peril, but I have my goal in sight. If I attain it,
nothing will truly bring me any harm. Farewell!
-AE
Dwahvel Tiggerwillies pushed aside the parchment and
wiped a tear from her eye, and laughed at the absurdity of
it all. If anyone had told her months before that she would
regret the day Artemis Entreri walked out of her life, she
would have laughed at him and called him a fool.
But here it was, a letter as intimate as any of the
discussions Dwahvel had shared with Entreri. She found that
she missed those discussions already, or perhaps she
lamented that there would be no such future talks with the
man. None in the near future, at least.
Entreri would also miss those talks by his own words.
That struck Dwahvel profoundly. To think that she had so
engaged this man-this killer who had secretly ruled
Calimport's streets off and on for more than twenty years.
Had anyone ever become so close to Artemis Entreri?
None who were still alive, Dwahvel knew.
She reread the ending of the letter, the obvious lies
concerning Entreri's intentions. He had taken care not to
mention anything that would tell the remaining dark elves
that Dwahvel knew anything about them or the stolen
artifact, or anything about his proffering of the Crystal
Shard. His lie about his instructions concerning Sharlotta
certainly added even more security to Dwahvel, buying her,
should the need arise, some compassion from the woman and
her secret backers.
That thought sent a shudder along Dwahvel's spine. She
really didn't want to depend on the compassion of dark
elves!
It would not come to that, she realized. Even if the
trail led to her and her establishment, she could willingly
and eagerly show Sharlotta the letter and Sharlotta would
then see her as a valuable asset.
Yes, Artemis Entreri had taken great pains to cover
Dwahvel's efforts in the conspiracy, and that, more than any
of the kind words he had written to her, revealed to her the
depth of their friendship.
"Run far, my friend, and hide in deep holes," she
whispered.
She gently rerolled the parchment and placed it in one
of the drawers of her crafted bureau. The sound of that
closing drawer resonated hard against Dwahvel's heart.
She would indeed miss Artemis Entreri.
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