第二章
暗巷生活
“动作快点！我说，再快点！”贾拉索大吼着。他的手臂电光火石般不停挥动，一阵如疾风骤雨的匕首攻势向不停闪避翻滚的杀手喷涌而出。
恩崔立猛烈挥动他的珠宝匕首和长剑——一把他并不怎么欣赏的卓尔风格长剑——通过快速地反复垂直划圈来截下那些投掷武器并把它们弹开。他始终保持着双脚迅速移动，如飞鸟疾掠过平静的水面，在贾拉索出色的防御姿态——一种因那川流不息激射而出的匕首而变得更加无懈可击的姿态——中寻找着破绽。
“有破绽！”惟利是图的卓尔大喝一声，飞速掷出了一把匕首，紧接着是第二把、第三把和更多的匕首。
杀手将长剑从另一个角度向后挥，但心知他对手的判断是正确的。他转而纵身一跃翻滚开去，同时以手紧紧抱头护住所有的致命部位。
“哦，干得漂亮！”当杀手翻滚到自己脚边时卓尔发出又一击然后由衷称赞道，那把匕首没有伤到人类一分一毫，只是戳进了他身后飘飞的斗篷中。
起身的同时恩崔立感觉到匕首向内甩回来撞上自己腿的后侧。担心会被它绊到，杀手把自己的匕首抛向空中，随即迅速把斗篷从肩上拉下来，打算以同样流畅的动作把它抛到一旁。
然而他忽然有了一个点子，他没有扔下那斗篷而是相反地接住了自己致命的匕首咬在牙间。他威胁性地绕卓尔对峙过了一个半圆，挥动他那件卓尔魔斗篷慢慢形成一面圆盾以抵挡那些投掷物。
贾拉索看着杀手微笑起来。“即兴之作，”他的钦佩之情溢于言表，“一个真正战士的标志。”然而话音刚落，卓尔手臂又是一扬。四柄匕首骤然攻向杀手。
恩崔立一扭身旋了整整一圈，但与此同时他将斗篷抛起又在转回身来时稳稳接住。一把匕首没入了对面的地板，第二把从杀手头边擦过，只是险险落空而已，而其余两把和先前那把一样被织物捕获住。
杀手继续挥动斗篷，但它因三把匕首的负重而无法再像之前那样流畅地挥展开来。“也许并不是一面那么出色的盾。”贾拉索评价。“你说得可比打得好，”恩崔立回敬道，“真是糟糕的组合。”
“我说是因为我很享受这场战斗，敏捷的朋友。”卓尔回答。
他的手臂再次回缩，但杀手已经采取行动了。人类把手臂大大伸展开以防止被斗篷绊到，朝惟利是图者迎面纵身一个翻滚，眨眼间就拉近了两者间的距离。
贾拉索仍然射出了一把匕首。它从恩崔立背上掠了过去，但卓尔从他的魔法护带中轻快地摸出另一把匕首握在手中随即一抖手腕，念出了一句咒语。匕首立刻有了反应，延伸形成一把长剑。当杀手靠近，长剑如预期般向上挑出一个角度直取他腹部，卓尔巧妙地闪身避过。
恩崔立保持身子伏低转而向前疾掠，迂回摆动斗篷试图绊住佣兵头子腿后。惟利是图者加快脚步几乎就要闪开了，却被其中一把匕首钩住了靴子于是仰天向后摔了下去。他正如任何一个卓尔一样身手敏捷，但杀手也有着同样的优势。人类冲到卓尔上方，长剑以迅雷不及掩耳之势猛力刺落。
贾拉索随即避开，剑刃对撞上恩崔立的。出乎他意料，杀手的剑竟然被撞飞了。然而很快他就恍然大悟，因为杀手目前空出来的那只手闪电般近前，一把紧扣卓尔的前臂将他的武器远远推开。
杀手的另一只手逼近，手中再次紧握着那把致命的珠宝匕首。
恩崔立抓住了这个破绽发起攻击，而贾拉索已经不及阻止或是作出丝毫闪避。一波绝望的情绪，不可抗拒以灭顶之势涌起的全然而彻底的绝望，吞没了杀手。那一瞬他觉得似乎有人侵入他的脑驱散了所有思维，启闭了他所有的反射。在这无法避免的一滞中，卓尔另一只手向前一挥，一把匕首击中人类的腹部然后弹了开去。
不和谐而令人瘫痪的情感洪流继续在恩崔立脑中疯狂轰鸣，他跌跌撞撞地后退。片刻之后，当纷乱模糊的理性碎片开始变得清晰，继而发现自己靠坐在小屋另一头的墙上面对着微笑的贾拉索，他终于吃力地感知到自己的动作同时仍觉得有些困惑。
杀手闭上眼，终于强自把那些使人糊涂的混乱思维完全驱逐出脑海。他推测是莱基——那个先前对他和佣兵头子都施放了石肤术以保证他们能全心打斗而不用担心伤害彼此的卓尔法师——涉入了这场战斗。他飞快地扫视四周，却没有看到法师的身影。杀手转向贾拉索，然后猜想这是惟利是图者那看起来似乎无穷无尽的诡计之中又一个骗局。他大概使用了最新获得的魔法物品，强大的克林辛尼朋，来压制住恩崔立的集中力。
“也许你的动作正在变得迟钝，我的朋友。”卓尔评价道，“如果是这样可真遗憾。幸运的是你在公开声明与崔斯特·杜垩登为敌的时候就打败了他，因为今后他可还能保有年轻时的敏捷身手好几百年之久。”
恩崔立对这种论调报以嘲笑，但事实上，这个念头也在啃噬着他。他曾将自己的全部生命构筑于尽善尽美与准备万全的绝对优势之上。即使是现在，人到中年，他仍然确信自己能击败几乎任何一个敌人——身怀纯熟的战斗技巧或凭借比任何敌人更迅速和老练的深思熟虑，凭借对任何战场的精心准备——但杀手不愿变得迟钝。他不想失去那已经烙进他生命如此之深的辉煌战斗优势之所在。
他想反驳贾拉索的话，却做不到，因为在内心深处他明白，在那场与崔斯特的战斗中如果不是金穆瑞·欧布罗扎用心灵异能力量介入，事实上败的人将是他自己，那么崔斯特就会成为公认的胜利者。
“在速度方面你并没能胜过我。”杀手摇摇头开始争辩。
贾拉索逼近，红热的眼睛危险地眯了起来——那是一种杀手在这永远自控的惟利是图黑暗精灵领导者英俊的脸上很少见到的威胁性表情，狂怒的眼神。
“我有这个！”卓尔高声宣布，把斗篷大大拉开以向恩崔立展示出那造物的尖端，克林辛尼朋，碎魔晶，正巧妙地藏在一个口袋里，“别忘了。即使没有它，我也很可能能打败你，虽然你很出色，我的朋友——比我曾知道的任何人类都更出色。但只要我拥有这个，你就只不过仅仅是个凡人。一旦和克林辛尼朋的力量合而为一，哪怕只是动一动念头我也能毁了你。别忘了。”
杀手垂下目光，反复咀嚼着这番话和这语调，仔细回想，贾拉索那笑意常在的脸上不寻常表情的影象在他脑海中变得更加鲜明起来。和克林辛尼朋的力量合而为一？……只不过仅仅是个凡人？九狱在下这到底该死的是什么意思？别忘了，佣兵头子是这么说的，而的确，这是个连阿提密斯·恩崔立也无法马上一笑置之的教训。
当目光再次抬起来的时候，恩崔立发现卓尔已经戴回了他平时的表情面具，那种狡猾而似乎对一切都觉得有些有趣的神色，给所有见过它的人都留下同一个印象：这诡诈的卓尔所知之多远超他的观察所得，甚至远远超出他所可能了解到的。
看见贾拉索的态度再次缓和下来也提醒了杀手这场打斗本身的不同寻常之处。惟利是图的佣兵头子本不和任何别的人比试。连莱基也不由得在被贾拉索告知他有意与恩崔立在公平基础上打一场时大惊失色。
只要稍加考虑，恩崔立就能理解法师如此失态的理由。贾拉索之所以能挣扎求存，一部分原因就是始终保持神秘，甚至是对那些他身边的人。没人能曾真正了解这个卓尔。他总是令自己的同盟与敌手都同样处于心绪不定和旷日持久的好奇惊诧之中，然而在这儿，阿提密斯·恩崔立面前，他却泄露了如此之多的秘密。
“那些匕首，”杀手恢复狡猾的表情，若无其事把话题转了回去，“那不过是种幻象。”
“也许在你看来是这样没错。”黑暗精灵以他一贯的模棱两可口吻道。
“事实上就是。”杀手强调说，“你不可能随身带了这么多，也没有任何一种魔法能在那么短的时间里创造出这么多来。”
“就算你这么说，”贾拉索回答，“但当你自己的武器与它们相碰的时候你听到了叮当声，而当它们刺破你斗篷的时候你也感觉到了那重量。”
“我只是认为自己听到了那声响。”恩崔立更正道，想知道自己是不是终于在惟利是图者那永无止境的猜谜游戏中找到了一个突破口。
“这不是一回事吗？”卓尔大笑着答道，但对恩崔立来说这笑声似乎有着更深一层的阴谋。
杀手举起斗篷，看到了好几把匕首——纯金属的匕首——仍然刺在织物的皱褶里，而且也在布料上发现了另外几个破洞。“那就是其中一些是幻象。”他没什么说服力地争辩道。
卓尔只是耸了耸肩，不打算再透露更多了。
恼怒地叹了口气，恩崔立开始走出房间。
“即使只是幻象，如果你相信它的存在它也一样能杀了你，我的朋友，牢牢记住这一点。”贾拉索在他身后高声说。
杀手停下脚步表情严酷地回望。他过去并不习惯这样公然的警告或是威胁，但他明白就这个特殊的同伴而言，这威胁在任何时候也决不仅仅是虚有其表。
“而不管你相不相信，真家伙也一样能要你的命。”恩崔立答道，然后转身走向房门。
杀手摇着头离开，但感到挫败的同时也被激起了很大兴趣。这就是贾拉索一贯的作风，杀手沉思着，而更令他感到惊讶的是他所发现的这卓尔惟利是图者独特而引人注目的另一面。
* * * * *
就是那家伙，金穆瑞·欧布罗扎对他的两名同伴——莱基和达耶特独立佣兵团地表大军的最新加入者柏殷永·班瑞——打了个手势。
魔索布莱最强大家族受宠的儿子柏殷永，在他的成长过程中整个卓尔世界都向他敞开了大门——至少他爬到了一个卓尔男性在魔索布莱所能达到的最高地位——但他的母亲，强大的班瑞主母，对一个矮人王国发动了一场惨烈的战争，这场灾难以她的死亡作为终结，同时迫使整个伟大的卓尔城市陷入一片混乱。在那最后的混乱与忧惧时刻，柏殷永转而投靠了贾拉索和这永远难以捉摸惟利是图的达耶特独立佣兵团团队。凭借着跻身全城最出色战士和依然强大班瑞家族的家族关系，他受到了公开的欢迎和很快晋升，被提拔到了高阶副手的地位。因此，现在他并不是在这儿听命于莱基和金穆瑞，而是作为他们的同僚，来执行某种训练任务。
他想金穆瑞已经找到了目标，一个身材姣好的年轻女人，穿着普通街头妓女的衣服正在搔首弄姿。
你已经读了她的心？莱基以手势回应，他的手指交织成一种错综复杂的方式，出色地使多变的表情和他那英俊且棱角分明的卓尔面孔上扭曲的神色所暗藏的涵义表达得更加完美。
便衣间谍，心灵异能者无声向同伴确告。他们组织的同伙。那些装作漫不经心从她身边经过、传递着彼此所获情报的人。
柏殷永紧张地把身体重心从一只脚挪到另一只脚上，因置身于可能被奇异而异常强大的金穆瑞揭露内心的境地而感到有些不安。他希望此时心灵异能者没有正好在读他的心，因为他正疑惑着当这个人在身边时贾拉索究竟怎么能有安全感。金穆瑞能走进一个人的思想，似乎就和柏殷永能穿过一扇打开的房门同样简单。然后，当想到那个狡猾的佣兵头子很可能以某种巧妙的方式在那房门设下陷阱，他低低一笑但随即把它伪装成一声咳嗽。如果真的有这样的技巧的话，他决定自己也不得不学一手，以保持在思想上和金穆瑞隔绝开来。
我们知道其他人可能在哪儿吗？柏殷永悄悄用手语问。
如果不知道的话这场表演又怎么能精彩起来呢？莱基做出了回应的手势。法师笑容满面，立刻三个黑暗精灵就都流露出了狡诈而饥渴的神情。
心灵异能者闭上眼，使自己稳定保持一种深长而缓慢的呼吸。
法师接到了暗示，拔下一根睫毛包进一小团从他带子上无数小袋之一中掏出来的阿拉伯树胶里。他转向柏殷永然后开始来回摆动手指。卓尔战士自发性地退缩了一下——正如绝大多数健全的人在一个卓尔法师开始对着他们施法时会做的那样。
第一个法术发出了，柏殷永呈现出一种隐形的状态，从视觉上彻底消失。莱基转回右面继续他的工作，现在是瞄准女人发出了一个意在影响心智的法术来控制住目标，以便更快地抓住这间谍。
有一会儿女人表现得有些畏首畏尾，似乎是被控制住了，但她很快挣脱出来并紧张地扫视四周，现在很明显已经处于警惕状态。
莱基牢骚满腹地再次开始施展法术。隐形的卓尔战士带着一种几乎是嘲弄的笑容注视着他——是的，隐形状态还是有好处的！法师向来都贬低人类，对他们称呼以每一种适用于渣滓和腐肉的卓尔名。一方面，柏殷永很明显地惊诧于这个人类抵抗住了控制法术——这是毫不轻松的精神作业——但另一方面，他注意到，这喋喋不休的法师准备了不止一个的法术。如果没有遭到抵抗，一个应该就足够了。
这一次，女人采取了行动：她快速走开了。
快上！金穆瑞手指一个示意。就在他打手势的同时，他的精神力在三个卓尔和那女人之间打开了一扇门。虽然仍然置身街道，但她忽然离他们就只有几步的距离了。柏殷永一跃而出抓住了她，猛的把她拖进了这个异次元空间，然后心灵异能者关闭了通道。
这一切发生得如此之快以致于对于街道上任何目睹这一幕的人来说，看起来就像那女人单单是凭空消失了。
心灵异能者把他灵巧黑皮肤的手举上牺牲者的额头，开始与她的精神融为一体。他能感觉到那心灵充满了恐惧，因为虽然她物质性的躯体被莱基的静止法术牢牢固定住了，但她的思维还在运作而且也确实明白现在自己正站在黑暗精灵面前。
金穆瑞花了一些时间来尽情享受那恐惧，对此感到十分满意。然后他向她注入精神力量，使用一种他曾经在恩崔立与崔斯特·杜垩登的战斗中完美使用过的技巧以在她身周铸起吸收动力的能量防御。
当完成的时候，他点了点头。
柏殷永几乎是立刻就再度显形了，因为他那精美的卓尔长剑猛地横砍在女人的喉咙上，这凶狠的一击解除了莱基隐形法术的防御魔法。卓尔战士进入一种令人目不暇接的舞蹈状态，用他做工精细的双剑大力挥砍和抽插，猛烈穿刺，甚至有一次使用双剑的猛砍重重落到了女人头上。
但没有鲜血向外喷出，牺牲者也没有发出痛苦的呻吟，因为心灵异能者的防御承受了每一击，捕获并保持住了来自卓尔战士兽性舞蹈的巨大能量。
这一幕持续了好几分钟，直到莱基警告说控制法术已经快要失效了。柏殷永向后退开，当法师又开始另一次施法时金穆瑞再次闭上了双眼。
当莱基一边拿出一个用蝙蝠粪做成散发着硫磺气味的小球用手指硬塞到女人嘴里，一边施放出法术，两个旁观者，金穆瑞和柏殷永，不约而同坏笑起来。女人嘴里腾起一阵火光的闪动，又随着滑落下喉咙而消失了。
人行道再次近在眼前显露出来，因为心灵异能者打开了第二条通向街头同一个地点的次元入口，然后莱基一把把女人推了出去。
金穆瑞关上了门，他们一起兴致勃勃地观望着。
控制法术首先解除了，女人的身体开始摇晃。她试图高声叫喊，但由于喉咙里的烧灼而只能粗声咳嗽。她的脸上浮现出一种奇怪的表情，一种全然的恐惧。
她感觉到了动力障壁中饱含的能量，金穆瑞解释说。我已经没有再加以控制——只有她自己的意志能防止它释放出来。
要多久？莱基关心地问，但金穆瑞只是笑了笑，用手势示意他们仔细观看并且尽情享受。
女人开始踉跄奔跑。三个卓尔注意到她周围出没的人之中有一些人开始谨慎地靠近——很可能是其他间谍——而另一些则只是好奇地旁观。还有一些人开始高声示警并试图从她身边逃开。
她一直在努力试着叫喊，但因喉咙里的持续烧灼而只能发出一些狂乱而破碎的声音。她的眼睛瞪得滚圆，大睁到一种极度惊骇而又令卓尔们心满意足的程度！她能感觉到自己体内的巨大能量正在乞求被释放出来，而她完全不明白自己怎么能做到这一点。
无法再控制那动力障壁，她最初对这个噩梦的认知从恐惧转为了混乱。然后卓尔战士加在她身上的所有骇人攻击都急遽释放出来。所有的猛砍和穿刺，强烈的砍剁和绞扭心脏的抽戳，全都在这个无助的女人身上爆发出来。对那些旁观者而言，看起来几乎就像她只不过是忽然支离破碎了，无数的鲜血从她的脸上、头上和胸膛里猛烈地喷涌出来。
她几乎是立刻就倒了下去，但甚至就在任何旁人来得及作出反应、能逃开或是向她伸出援手之前，莱基的最后一个法术，一个延时火球，爆裂开来焚尽了已死的女人和她那些身边的人。
外界的爆炸，间谍同伴和旁观者们望着那些焦尸时大睁双眼的凝视，极端恐惧的表情，这一切真切满足了三个残忍的黑暗精灵。
一场精彩的表演。的确值得一看。
对柏殷永来说，这副景象对他造成了第二个效果，那是对他一个清晰的暗示：当他与这对副手同僚共事的时候必须加倍小心。即使以卓尔拷打和谋杀的高水准来看，这两个人也是异常老练的，真正的个中高手。
[此章完]
这一章，除了老贾的厉害和对阿恩的花痴之外，我最深刻的印象是：……真是完美卓尔风格的杀鸡敬猴啊>< 杀的人虽然不是很多（其实也不少了……），关键在于手法的巧妙和残忍造成了极具视觉震撼力的效果，真是难为他们怎么想来^o^ 不过，可怜的卡林港路人……
以下为原文：
Chapter 2
LIFE IN THE DARK LANE
Faster! Faster, I say!" Jarlaxle howled. His arm flashed
repeatedly, and a seemingly endless stream of daggers spewed
forth at the dodging and rolling assassin.
Entreri worked his jeweled dagger and his sword-a drow-
fashioned blade that he was not particularly enamored of-
furiously, with in and out vertical rolls to catch the
missiles and flip them aside. All the while he kept his feet
moving, skittering about, looking for an opening in
Jarlaxle's superb defensive posture-a stance made all the
more powerful by the constant stream of spinning daggers.
"An opening!" the drow mercenary cried, letting fly one,
two, three more daggers.
Entreri sent his sword back the other way but knew that
his opponent's assessment was correct. He dived into a roll
instead, tucking his head and his arms in tight to cover any
vital areas.
"Oh, well done!" Jarlaxle congratulated as Entreri came
to his feet after taking only a single hit, and that a
dagger sticking into the trailing fold of his cloak instead
of his skin.
Entreri felt the dagger swing in against the back of his
leg as he stood up. Fearing that it might trip him, he
tossed his own dagger into the air, then quickly pulled the
cloak from his shoulders, and in the same fluid movement,
started to toss it aside.
An idea came to him, though, and he didn't discard the
cloak but rather caught his deadly dagger and set it between
his teeth. He stalked a semicircle about the drow, waving
his cloak, a drow piwafwi, slowly about as a shield against
the missiles.
Jarlaxle smiled at him. "Improvisation," he said with
obvious admiration. 'The mark of a true warrior." Even as he
finished, though, the drow's arm starting moving yet again.
A quartet of daggers soared at the assassin.
Entreri bobbed and spun a complete circuit, but tossed
his cloak as he did and caught it as he came back around.
One dagger skidded across the floor, another passed over
Entreri's head, narrowly missing, and the other two got
caught in the fabric, along with the previous one.
Entreri continued to wave the cloak, but it wasn't
flowing wide anymore, weighted as it was by the three
daggers. "Not so good a shield, perhaps," Jarlaxle
commented. "You talk better than you fight," Entreri
countered. "A bad combination."
"I talk because I so enjoy the fight, my quick friend,"
Jarlaxle replied.
His arm went back again, but Entreri was already moving.
The human held his arm out wide to keep the cloak from
tripping him, and dived into a roll right toward the
mercenary, closing the gap between them in the blink of an
eye.
Jarlaxle did let fly one dagger. It skipped off
Entreri's back, but the drow mercenary caught the next one
sliding out of his magical bracer into his hand and snapped
his wrist, speaking a command word. The dagger responded at
once, elongating into a sword. As Entreri came over, his
sword predictably angled up to gut Jarlaxle, the drow had
the parry in place.
Entreri stayed low and skittered forward instead,
swinging his cloak in a roundabout manner to wrap it behind
Jarlaxle's legs. The mercenary quick-stepped and almost got
out of the way, but one of the daggers hooked his boot and
he fell over backward. Jarlaxle was as agile as any drow,
but so too was Entreri. The human came up over the drow,
sword thrusting.
Jarlaxle parried fast, his blade slapping against
Entreri's. To the drow's surprise, the assassin's sword went
flying away. Jarlaxle understood soon enough, though, for
Entreri's now free hand came forward, clasping Jarlaxle's
forearm and holding the drow's weapon out wide.
And there loomed the assassin's other hand, holding
again that deadly jeweled dagger.
Entreri had the opening and had the strike, and Jarlaxle
couldn't block it or begin to move away from it. A wave of
such despair, an overwhelming barrage of complete and utter
hopelessness, washed over Entreri. He felt as if someone had
just entered his brain and began scattering all of his
thoughts, starting and stopping all of his reflexes. In the
inevitable pause, Jarlaxle brought his other arm forward,
launching a dagger that smacked Entreri in the gut and
bounced away.
The barrage of discordant, paralyzing emotions continued
to blast away in Entreri's mind, and he stumbled back. He
hardly felt the motion and was somewhat confused a moment
later, as the fuzziness began to clear, to find that he was
on the other side of the small room sitting against the wall
and facing a smiling Jarlaxle.
Entreri closed his eyes and at last forced the confusing
jumble of thoughts completely away. He assumed that Rai-guy,
the drow wizard who had imbued both Entreri and Jarlaxle
with stoneskin spells that they could spar with all of their
hearts without fear of injuring each other, had intervened.
When he glanced that way, he saw that the wizard was nowhere
to be seen. He turned back to Jarlaxle, guessing then that
the mercenary had used yet another in his seemingly endless
bag of tricks. Perhaps he had used his newest magical
acquisition, the powerful Crenshinibon, to overwhelm
Entreri's concentration.
"Perhaps you are slowing down, my friend," Jarlaxle
remarked. "What a pity that would be. It is good that you
defeated your avowed enemy when you did, for Drizzt Do'Urden
has many centuries of youthful speed left in him."
Entreri scoffed at the words, though in truth, the
thought gnawed at him. He had lived his entire life on the
very edge of perfection and preparedness. Even now, in the
middle years of his life, he was confident that he could
defeat almost any foe-with pure skill or by out-thinking any
enemy, by properly preparing any battlefield-but Entreri
didn't want to slow down. He didn't want to lose that edge
of fighting brilliance that had so marked his life.
He wanted to deny Jarlaxle's words, but he could not,
for he knew in his heart that he had truly lost that fight
with Drizzt, that if Kimmuriel Oblodra had not intervened
with his psionic powers, then Drizzt would have been
declared the victor.
"You did not outmatch me with speed," the assassin
started to argue, shaking his head.
Jarlaxle came forward, his glowing eyes narrowing
dangerously-a threatening expression, a look of rage, that
the assassin rarely saw upon the handsome face of the
always-in-control dark elf mercenary leader.
"I have this!" Jarlaxle announced, pulling wide his
cloak and showing Entreri the tip of the artifact,
Crenshinibon, the Crystal Shard, tucked neatly into one
pocket. "Never forget that. Without it, I could likely still
defeat you, though you are good, my friend-better than any
human I have ever known. But with this in my possession . .
. you are but a mere mortal. Joined in Crenshinibon, I can
destroy you with but a thought. Never forget that."
Entreri lowered his gaze, digesting the words and the
tone, sharpening that image of the uncharacteristic
expression on Jarlaxle's always smiling face. Joined in
Crenshinibon? . . . but a mere mortal? What in the Nine
Hells did that mean? Never forget that, Jarlaxle had said,
and indeed, this was a lesson that Artemis Entreri would not
soon dismiss.
When he looked back up again, Entreri saw Jarlaxle
wearing his typical expression, that sly, slightly amused
look that conferred to all who saw it that this cunning drow
knew more than he did, knew more than he possibly could.
Seeing Jarlaxle relaxed again also reminded Entreri of
the novelty of these sparring events. The mercenary leader
would not spar with any other. Rai-guy was stunned when
Jarlaxle had told him that he meant to battle Entreri on a
regular basis.
Entreri understood the logic behind that thinking.
Jarlaxle survived, in part, by remaining mysterious, even to
those around him. No one could ever really get a good look
at the mercenary leader. He kept allies and opponents alike
off-balance and wondering, always wondering, and yet, here
he was, revealing so much to Artemis Entreri.
"Those daggers," Entreri said, coming back at ease and
putting on his own sly expression. "They were merely
illusions."
"In your mind, perhaps," the dark elf replied in his
typically cryptic manner.
"They were," the assassin pressed. "You could not
possibly carry so many, nor could any magic create them that
quickly."
"As you say," Jarlaxle replied. "Though you heard the
clang as your own weapons connected with them and felt the
weight as they punctured your cloak."
"I thought I heard the clang," Entreri corrected,
wondering if he had at last found a chink in the mercenary's
never-ending guessing game.
"Is that not the same thing?" Jarlaxle replied with a
laugh, but it seemed to Entreri as if there was a darker
side to that chuckle.
Entreri lifted that cloak, to see several of the
daggers- solid metal daggers-still sticking in its fabric
folds, and to find several more holes in the cloth. "Some
were illusions, then," he argued unconvincingly.
Jarlaxle merely shrugged, never willing to give anything
away.
With an exasperated sigh, Entreri started out of the
room.
"Do keep ever present in your thoughts, my friend, that
an illusion can kill you if you believe in it," Jarlaxle
called after him.
Entreri paused and glanced back, his expression grim. He
wasn't used to being so openly warned or threatened, but he
knew that with this one particular companion, the threats
were never, ever idle.
"And the real thing can kill you whether you believe in
it or not," Entreri replied, and he turned back for the
door.
The assassin departed with a shake of his head,
frustrated and yet intrigued. That was always the way with
Jarlaxle, Entreri mused, and what surprised him even more
was that he found that aspect of the clever drow mercenary
particularly compelling.
* * * * *
That is the one, Kimmuriel Oblodra signaled to his two
companions, Rai-guy and Berg'inyon Baenre, the most recent
addition to the surface army of Bregan D'aerthe.
The favored son of the most powerful house in
Menzoberranzan, Berg'inyon had grown up with all the drow
world open before him-to the level that a drow male in
Menzoberranzan could achieve, at least-but his mother, the
powerful Matron Baenre, had led a disastrous assault on a
dwarven kingdom, ending in her death and throwing all the
great drow city into utter chaos. In that time of ultimate
confusion and apprehension, Berg'inyon had thrown his hand
in with Jarlaxle and the ever elusive mercenary band of
Bregan D'aerthe. Among the finest of fighters in all the
city, and with familial connections to still-mighty House
Baenre, Berg'inyon was welcomed openly and quickly promoted,
elevated to the status of high lieutenant. Thus, he was not
here now serving Rai-guy and Kimmuriel, but as their peer,
taken out on a sort of training mission.
He considered the human Kimmuriel had targeted, a
shapely woman posing in the dress of a common street whore.
You have read her thoughts'? Rai-guy signaled back, his
fingers weaving an intricate pattern, perfectly
complementing the various expressions and contortions of his
handsome and angular drow features.
Raker spy, Kimmuriel silently assured his companion. The
coordinator of their group. All pass her by, reporting their
finds.
Berg'inyon shifted nervously from foot to foot,
uncomfortable around the revelations of the strange and
strangely powerful Kimmuriel. He hoped that Kimmuriel wasn't
reading his thoughts at that moment, for he was wondering
how Jarlaxle could ever feel safe with this one about.
Kimmuriel could walk into someone's mind, it seemed, as
easily as Berg'inyon could walk through an open doorway. He
chuckled then but disguised it as a cough, when he
considered that clever Jarlaxle likely had that doorway
somehow trapped. Berg'inyon decided that he'd have to learn
the technique, if there was one, to keep Kimmuriel at bay.
Do we know where the others might be? Berg'inyon's hands
silently asked.
Would the show be complete if we did not? came Rat-guy's
responding gestures. The wizard smiled widely, and soon all
three of the dark elves wore sly, hungry expressions.
Kimmuriel closed his eyes and steadied himself with
long, slow breaths.
Rai-guy took the cue, pulling an eyelash encased in a
bit of gum arabic out of one of his several belt pouches. He
turned to Berg'inyon and began waggling his fingers. The
drow warrior flinched reflexively-as most sane people would
do when a drow wizard began casting in their direction.
The first spell went off, and Berg'inyon, rendered
invisible, faded from view. Rai-guy went right back to work,
now aiming a spell designed mentally to grab at the target,
to hold the spy fast.
The woman flinched and seemed to hold for a second, but
shook out of it and glanced around nervously, now obviously
on her guard.
Rai-guy growled and went at the spell again. Invisible
Berg'inyon stared at him with an almost mocking smile- yes,
there were advantages to being invisible! Rai-guy
continually demeaned humans, called them every drow name for
offal and carrion. On the one hand, he was obviously
surprised that this one had resisted the hold spell-no easy
mental task-but on the other, Berg'inyon noted, the blustery
wizard had prepared more than one of the spells. One,
without any resistance, should have been enough.
This time, the woman took one step, and held fast in her
walking pose.
Go! Kimmuriel's fingers waved. Even as he gestured, the
powers of his mind opened the doorway between the three drow
and the woman. Suddenly she was there, though she was still
on the street, but only a couple of strides away. Berg'inyon
leaped out and grabbed the woman, tugging her hard into the
extra-dimensional space, and Kimmuriel shut the door.
It had happened so fast that to any watching on the
street, it would have seemed as if the woman had simply
disappeared.
The psionicist raised his delicate black hand up to the
victim's forehead, melding with her mentally. He could feel
the horror in there, for though her physical body had been
locked in Rai-guy's stasis, her mind was working and she
knew indeed that she now stood before dark elves.
Kimmuriel took just a moment to bask in that terror,
thoroughly enjoying the spectacle. Then he imparted psionic
energies to her. He built around her an armor of absorbing
kinetic energy, using a technique he had perfected in
Entreri's battle with Drizzt Do'Urden.
When it was done, he nodded.
Berg'inyon became visible again almost immediately, as
his fine drow sword slashed across the woman's throat, the
offensive strike dispelling the defensive magic of Rai-guy's
invisibility spell. The drow warrior went into a fast dance,
slashing and thrusting with both of his fine swords,
stabbing hard, even chopping once with both blades, a heavy
drop down onto the woman's head.
But no blood spewed forth, no groans of pain came from
the woman, for Kimmuriel's armor accepted each blow,
catching and holding the tremendous energy offered by the
drow warrior's brutal dance.
It went on and on for several minutes, until Rai-guy
warned that the spell of holding was nearing its end.
Berg'inyon backed away, and Kimmuriel closed his eyes again
as Rai-guy began yet another casting.
Both onlookers, Kimmuriel and Berg'inyon, smiled
wickedly as Rai-guy produced a tiny ball of bat guano that
held a sulfuric aroma and shoved it, along with his finger
into the woman's mouth, releasing his spell. A flash of
fiery light appeared in the back of the woman's mouth,
disappearing as it slid down her throat.
The sidewalk was there again, very close, as Kimmuriel
opened a second dimension portal to the same spot on the
street, and Rai-guy roughly shoved the woman back out.
Kimmuriel shut the door, and they watched, amused.
The hold spell released first, and the woman staggered.
She tried to call out, but coughed roughly from the burn in
her throat. A strange expression came over her, one of
absolute horror.
She feels the energy contained in the kinetic barrier,
Kimmuriel explained. I hold it no longer-only her own will
prevents its release.
How long? a concerned Rai-guy asked, but Kimmuriel only
smiled and motioned for them to watch and enjoy.
The woman broke into a run. The three drow noted other
people moving about her, some closing cautiously- other
spies, likely-and others seeming merely curious. Still
others grew alarmed and tried to stay away from her.
All the while, she tried to scream out, but just kept
hacking from the continuing burn in her throat. Her eyes
were wide, so horrifyingly and satisfyingly wide! She could
feel the tremendous energies within her, begging release,
and she had no idea how she might accomplish that.
She couldn't hold the kinetic barrier, and her initial
realization of the problem transformed from horror into
confusion. All of Berg'inyon's terrible beating came out
then, so suddenly. All of the slashes and the stabs, the
great chop and the twisting heart thrust, burst over the
helpless woman. To those watching, it seemed almost as if
she simply fell apart, gallons of blood erupting about her
face, head, and chest.
She went down almost immediately, but before anyone
could even begin to react, could run away or charge to her
aid, Rai-guy's last spell, a delayed fireball, went off,
immolating the already dead woman and many of those around
her.
Outside the blast, wide-eyed stares came at the charred
corpse from comrade and ignorant onlooker alike, expressions
of the sheerest terror that surely pleased the three
merciless dark elves.
A fine display. Worthy indeed.
For Berg'inyon, the spectacle served a second purpose, a
clear reminder to him to take care around these fellow
lieutenants himself. Even taking into consideration the high
drow standards for torture and murder, these two were
particularly adept, true masters of the craft.
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