苦尽甘来
赫菲斯托斯是一条睿智的龙，它足够聪明以精通很多强大的法术、掌握一打其他种族的语言以及击败许许多多胆敢与之对抗的敌人。它已经活了很多世纪并因之累积起属于龙族的智慧，这卓绝的智慧使其意识到不该注目于碎魔晶放射不绝能量的光辉。
但它无法从这耀眼的光芒、这它所见过最最绝对光耀及纯粹的力量中移开视线。
当一个骷髅的影子摇晃着走出那光彩夺目的造物，接着是第二个，第三个，接连不断直到七个毁灭已久巫妖的鬼魂围绕着被摧毁的魔晶蹒跚起舞正如在其黑暗的创造过程中它们所做过的那样，这巨龙不由大吃一惊。
然后，它们一个接一个地消散于虚空。
仿佛一种移情作用，当龙狐疑地注视着一个弯腰驼背、完全被悲哀所压倒的人类影象从那造物里慢慢浮现出时，它清晰感觉到了一种最真挚的情感。逝亡已久酋长那被偷走的灵魂坐在地板上，凝视着被遗弃的石头，一种氛围散溢出那影象，如此纯粹的毁灭氛围，即使是冷血赫菲斯托斯那冷酷的心中也感应到一阵巨大的悲恸。
这最后的幽灵也变淡变薄终至虚空，终于，碎魔晶的光芒黯淡了下来。
直到这时赫菲斯托斯才意识到自己最不可挽回的错误。直到这时这远古红龙才发现它已经完全失明了，被源源释放的纯粹能量彻底毁掉了双眼。
巨龙咆哮起来——咆哮得多么惊天动地！饱含恼火与愤怒，那是永远狂暴的赫菲斯托斯所曾发出最强的悲鸣。这咆哮声也流露出某种恐惧与悔恨，某种认知：这巨龙不再有胆量离开巢穴去追击那些把这邪恶造物带到它面前的入侵者，无法离开自己的地盘而去到那除了需要其他敏锐知觉同时也需要双眼以真正成长和生存的开阔世界。
嗅觉告诉赫菲斯托斯，它最终还是消灭了片刻之前站在走廊里的卓尔和灵吸怪。意识到这一认知所带来的满足很可能是在这天里唯一令自己满意的事，巨龙撤回了主睡眠大厅背后用魔法隐藏起来的巨大秘密房间，这个房间只有一个可能的入口，里面储藏着大堆大堆属于它的黄金、珠玉、宝石和其他小装饰品。
在那里，这条愤怒而挫败的巨龙在自己的宝藏堆间再次蜷缩起来，渴求着一场安宁的长眠，希望流逝的岁月会治愈自己被灼伤的双眼。它会梦见——是的它当然会——自己大肆屠杀那些入侵者；如果睡眠无法带来期望中的治疗效果，它也会运用卓越的智慧来好好解决失明带来的种种问题。
* * * * *
来者的身形冲出地道时凯德立几乎高兴得跳起来，但当他认出那个正在狂奔的人是阿提密斯·恩崔立并注意到对方肩上横扛着的女人一动不动满身是血，牧师的心立刻沉了下去。
“你对她干了些什么？！”伊凡咆哮着迎上前去，却发现自己移动得非常缓慢简直像是在梦游。他望向派克，发现自己的兄弟也正以一种不自然的呆滞动作移动着。
“放轻松些，”贾拉索对他们说，“丹妮卡身上的伤不是恩崔立造成的。”
“你怎么知道？”伊凡强硬地反问。
“他原本可以把她扔在黑暗里任其死掉。”卓尔的理由很充分，这简单的逻辑的确使这对性情急噪的兄弟稍微冷静了一些。
但凯德立还是跑着迎了上去。因为当贾拉索施放出法术的时候他已经不在作用范围内，他的速度一点也没有减慢。牧师奔向恩崔立，而后者一见到他接近就停下脚步放低一边肩膀，把丹妮卡挪到一个站立——或者至少是倚靠着——的位置。
“是卓尔长剑造成的。”当凯德立靠得足够近以看清楚伤口并且几乎要以为那是他的杰作时，杀手说道。
牧师立刻开始救治，吟唱起德耐的圣歌，用尽了他所具有的一切治疗能量。当发现自己爱人的伤势并不是那么危急因而肯定能很快好转，他确实大大松了一口气。
忙完这一切，Bouldershoulders和贾拉索也赶了过来。凯德立抬头望向矮人们，微笑着点了点头，然后一脸困惑地转向杀手。
“她在地道里救了我一命，”恩崔立阴沉地说，“我不喜欢欠任何人人情。”说完，他头也不回地走开了。
那天晚些时候，当所有人都坚信显然赫菲斯托斯不会离开自己的巢穴进行追击之后，凯德立及同伴们——其中也包括丹妮卡——追上了杀手和卓尔。
“我们要借助来时用过的法术回到高飞之灵，” 牧师对他们说，“如果我不提供你们回程的法术传送的话可能至少也算有些无礼吧。”
贾拉索好奇地注视着他。
“这不是陷阱。”凯德立向这精明的卓尔断然保证，“我不想找你们的麻烦，因为自从来到我的领地之后你们的所作所为几乎可以说是值得尊敬的。但我也要警告你们，我不会容忍——”
“我们为什么要希望和你们一起回去？”阿提密斯·恩崔立打断了他，“你那虚情假意的洞窟里有什么能给我们带来利益？”
牧师几乎是立刻开始作出各种反击。他想对着这个人大叫，强迫其屈服，想改变这个人的信仰，甚至想将其毁灭——任何他所能做到用以反击这突如其来的抗拒性高墙的事。最终，他选择了沉默，因为的确，在高飞之灵又有什么能给这两个人带来好处呢？
那样的存在在那里有很多，他假想着，如果他们渴望救赎其灵魂修正其道路的话。恩崔立对丹妮卡所采取的行动的确暗示了在未来千真万确有着这样的一种可能。突发奇想下，牧师又开始了德耐的圣歌吟唱同时施展出一个显示出他的观察对象精神总貌的小法术。
在快速看了恩崔立和贾拉索一眼之后，他就确信了如果这两位去往相反方向，那么高飞之灵、卡顿、席尔明斯特森林乃至落雪山脉附近所有其他地域才能有更好的前景。
“那么再会了。”他倾了倾帽沿说，“至少在那可悲的存在中你找准时机做了一件高尚的事，阿提密斯·恩崔立。”然后他走回伊凡和派克身边和他们并肩而行。
虽然每走一步都注视着杀手，但丹妮卡仍表现得十分从容不迫。“对于你在我被伤痛压倒时所做的一切，我并不是不心存感激。”她承认，“但我也不会为结束那在赫菲斯托斯巢穴底下地道里我们所开始的事而感到羞愧。”
恩崔立几乎就要质问道“结束什么？”，但在第一个字脱口而出前他改变了主意。杀手只是耸了耸肩，微笑着，任由女人走过去。
“恩崔立的一个新对手？”当那四个人消失之后贾拉索说，“也许是作为崔斯特的替代者？”
“不可能。”人类回答道。
“那就是说她不配？”
杀手只是耸耸肩，对于费心去确定她是或不是这一念头毫不在意。
俑兵头子的大笑把他从沉思中拉回了现实。
“事态总是会变化和发展的。”卓尔评论说。
“警告你，我不会再容忍你的任何胡乱推测。”人类回答。
贾拉索笑得越发厉害了。“这么说你打算和我待在一起。”
恩崔立严酷地凝视前者直到对方慢慢止住笑意，他在思考着这个自己无法马上回答出口的问题。
“那么，很好。”卓尔悠闲自如地说，看起来他似乎把这沉默当作默许了，“但我也警告你，如果你反对我，我将不得不杀掉你。”
“那会比死还难。”人类保证说。
贾拉索再次笑起来。“我还年轻的时候，”他开口道，“我的一个朋友，一个其根本挫败在于他相信我是更加出色的战士的武技长——虽然事实上，我打败他的那一次好运道比高超技艺起了更重要作用——告诉我，他终于找到了一个终将成长至至少能与我匹敌甚至可能超越我的孩子，一个真正比以往任何人都展现出更耀眼战士天赋的人。”
“那个武技长的名字叫做札克纳梵——你也许听说过这个人。”卓尔继续说。
杀手摇了摇头。
“他所提到的那个年轻战士除了崔斯特·杜垩登以外不可能是任何其他人。”贾拉索解释着，露齿一笑。
恩崔立尽力不显露出任何情感波动，但他内心被这一惊人消息所激起的情绪还是轻微地背叛了自己的心，而当然，即使只是这样的微妙之处也足以让贾拉索捕捉到了。“札克纳梵的预言成真了？”人类问。
“如果它是真的，会不会给阿提密斯·恩崔立带来什么启示？”俑兵头子狡猾地问，“因为对崔斯特和贾拉索之间相对力量的这一发现有没有对恩崔立提出任何中肯的意见？阿提密斯·恩崔立凭什么自信能与崔斯特·杜垩登力量对等？”然后他提出了一个尖锐的问题：“恩崔立真的自信打败了崔斯特吗？”
杀手长久而目光犀利地凝视卓尔，然而在凝视的同时，他的表情无可抑止地柔和起来。“那又怎样？”他回答，而这恰恰正是卓尔最想从自己的新同伴——而且以他的思维方式而言，这人类也将是他的长久搭档——那里得到的答案。
“我们在这个地方还有事情没了结。”这时贾拉索宣布，很唐突地换了个话题，“附近还逗留着一小伙恐惧而且深感愤怒的家伙。他们的首领不肯就此罢休，无法忍受他们所遭遇的一切而乖乖逃走。”
恩崔立什么也没问，只是跟着卓尔沿山石裸露的岩层向前走。当看见后者先前所提及的那一小伙人，杀手后退了几步：以一个危险的心灵异能者为首的四个黑暗精灵。恩崔立立刻把双手扶上自己那致命匕首和长剑的柄。一小段距离之外，贾拉索和金穆瑞用卓尔语交谈起来，但人类能听懂他们的绝大部分对话。
“我们要开战吗？”当佣兵头子靠得更近时，金穆瑞·欧布罗扎问道。
“莱基死了，碎魔晶也已经被摧毁，”贾拉索回答，“我们有什么理由那么干？”
杀手留意到心灵异能者对这两项宣言都毫无退缩之意。
“哈，但我猜你已经尝到力量的甜头了，对吧？”佣兵头子吃吃笑着问，“现在你稳坐达耶特独立佣兵团第一把交椅，这看起来就像——而你也猜想，一切都是你自己办到的。你无意放弃已经取得的地位吧？”
金穆瑞开始摇头——在恩崔立看来很显然他正试图在这种情况下和贾拉索维持一种平和的关系——但总是不按常理出牌的贾拉索忽然打断了对方的回答。“那么很好！”佣兵头子戏剧性地说，“我不想再打一场，金穆瑞，我承认而且也明白如果想作为领导者回归的话自己最近的所作所为很可能已经在达耶特独立佣兵团团队里树了不少敌人。”
“你是在投降吗？”心灵异能者怀疑地问，同时，他和站在他身后的步兵们似乎都加倍警惕起来。
“当然不是。”贾拉索报以又一声低笑，“警告你，如果你继续与我为敌，或者甚至哪怕只是跟踪我、追踪我的下落，我真的会挑战这个你新近得到的地位。”
杀手专注听着，摇了摇头，他确信自己一定是把这番话中的至少某些部分理解得大错特错了。
金穆瑞想开口作答却结结巴巴说不清楚，最后只好认命地大大叹了口气。
“用心领导佣兵团，”佣兵头子警告说，“总有一天我会再加入而且向你要求分享领导权。我想找到一个由和我现在能很放心交托背后的这个人一样强大的唯利是图者组建成的团队。”他看向其余三人。“要向他致以敬意。”
“我们决不会再在卡林港相遇，”心灵异能者向他保证，“也不会是在这该死地表的任何其它地方。我要回家，贾拉索，回到那真正属于我们领土的洞窟深处。”
后者和那三个步兵一起点点头。
“那你呢？”金穆瑞问。
唯利是图的前领导者只是再次耸肩微笑起来。“我不可能知道自己最想去什么地方因为我还没有看到所有的景致。”
又一次，金穆瑞只能好奇地看着他的前上司。最后，他只点了点头，随着一声响指和一个念动，心灵异能者打开一个空间入口把自己和三个部下传送走。
“为什么？”恩崔立一边走近自己意外得来的同伴一边问。
“什么为什么？”卓尔重复道。
“你本来能和他们一起回去，”杀手开门见山地说，“虽然我决不会和你一起。你选择了不回家，不恢复对团队的控制。为什么你会放弃这一切而留在这里，和我在一起？”
贾拉索仔细考虑了好一会儿。然后，他用恩崔立本人曾经说过的话笑着回答，“也许相对人类而言我还是更痛恨卓尔。”
在那一刻，阿提密斯·恩崔立脚软得几乎一阵微风就能吹倒。他甚至不想知道这卓尔是怎么得知这句话的。
[本章完]
首先要说，可怜的龙龙^^bbb 无视某G阵营四人组中……
老贾同学，你你你那句向他致敬真是深得我心呀啊啊^^ 不过，老萨，难道是我思想邪恶？我怎么觉得你一再地暗示……= =/// 我不承认我绝对不承认><
原文：
Chapter 25
THE LIGHT AT THE END
OF THE TUNNEL
Hephaestus was an intelligent dragon, smart enough to
master many powerful spells, to speak the tongues of a dozen
races, to defeat all of the many, many foes who had come
against it. The dragon had lived for centuries, gaining
wisdom as dragons do, and in that depth of wisdom,
Hephaestus recognized that it should not be staring at the
brilliance of the Crystal Shard's released energy.
But the dragon could not turn away from the brilliance,
from the sheerest and brightest, the purest power it had
ever seen.
The wyrm marveled as a skeletal shadow rolled out of the
brilliantly glowing object, then another, and a third, and
so on, until the specters of seven long-consumed liches
danced about the destroyed Crystal Shard, as they had danced
around the object during its dark creation.
Then, one by one, they dissipated into nothingness.
The dragon stared incredulously, feeling the honest
emotions as clearly as if it were empathically bound to the
next form that flowed out of the artifact, the shadow of a
man, hunched and broken with sadness. The stolen soul of the
long-dead sheik sat on the floor, staring at the stone
forlornly, an aura so devastated flowing out from the shadow
that Hephaestus the Merciless felt a twinge in its cold
heart.
That last specter, too, thinned to nothingness, and,
finally, the light of the Crystal Shard dimmed.
Only then did Hephaestus recognize the depth of its
mistake. Only then did the ancient red dragon realize that
it was now totally blind, its eyes utterly destroyed by the
pureness of the power released.
The dragon roared-how it roared! The greatest scream of
anger, of rage, that ever-angry Hephaestus had ever issued.
In that roar, too, was a measure of fear, of regret, of the
realization that the wyrm could not dare go forth from its
lair to pursue the intruders who had brought this cursed
item before it, could not go out from the confines to the
open world where it would need its eyes as well as those
other keen senses to truly thrive, indeed to survive.
Hephaestus's olfactory senses told the wyrm that it had
at least destroyed the drow and the illithid that had been
standing in the corridor a few moments before. Taking that
satisfaction in the realization that it was likely the only
satisfaction Hephaestus could hope to find this day, the
wyrm retreated to the large chamber secretly and magically
concealed behind its main sleeping hall, the chamber where
there was only one possible entrance, and the one where the
dragon kept its piled hoard of gold, gems, jewels, and
trinkets.
There the outraged but defeated wyrm curled up again,
desiring sleep, peaceful slumber among its hoarded riches,
hoping that the passing years would cure its burned eyes. It
would dream, yes it would, of consuming those intruders, and
it would set its great intelligent mind to work at solving
the problem of blindness if the slumber did not bring the
desired cure.
* * * * *
Cadderly nearly leaped for joy when the form came
rushing out of the tunnels, but when he recognized the
running man for who he was, Artemis Entreri, and noted that
the woman slung across his shoulders was hardly moving and
was covered in blood, his heart sank fast.
"What'd ye do to her?" Ivan roared, starting forward,
but he found that he was moving slowly, as if in a dream. He
looked to Pikel and found that his brother, too, was moving
with unnatural sluggishness.
"Be at ease," Jarlaxle said to them. "Danica's wounds
are not of Entreri's doing."
"How can ye know?" Ivan demanded.
"He would have left her dead in the darkness," the drow
reasoned, and the simple logic of it did indeed calm the
volatile brothers a bit.
Cadderly, though, ran on. As he was beyond the
parameters of Jarlaxle's spell when it was cast, he was not
slowed in the least. He rushed up to Entreri, who, upon
seeing his approach, had stopped and turned one shoulder
down, moving Danica to a standing, or at least leaning,
position.
"Drow blade," the assassin said as soon as Cadderly got
close enough to see the wound-and the feeble attempt at
tying it off the assassin had made.
The priest went to work at once, falling into the song
of Deneir, bringing forth all the healing energies he could
find. Indeed, he discovered to his absolute relief that his
love's wounds were not so critical, that she would certainly
mend and quickly enough.
By the time he finished, the Bouldershoulders and
Jarlaxle had arrived. Cadderly looked up at the dwarves and
smiled and nodded, and turned a puzzled expression on the
assassin.
"Her actions saved me in the tunnels," Entreri said
sourly. "I do not enjoy being in anyone's debt." That said,
he walked away, not once looking back.
Cadderly and his companions, including Danica, caught up
to Entreri and Jarlaxle later on that day, after it became
apparent, to everyone's relief, that Hephaestus would not be
coming out of its lair in pursuit.
"We are returning to the Spirit Soaring with the same
spell that brought us here," the priest announced. "It would
be impolite, at least, if I did not offer you magical
transport for the journey back."
Jarlaxle looked at him curiously.
"No tricks," Cadderly assured the cagey drow. "I hold no
trials over either of you, for your actions have been no
less than honorable since you came to my domain. I do warn
you both, however, that I will tolerate no-"
"Why would we wish to return with you?" Artemis Entreri
cut him short. "What in your hole of falsehood is for our
gain?"
Cadderly started to respond-in many directions all at
once. He wanted to yell at the man, to coerce the man, to
convert the man, to destroy the man-anything he could do
against that sudden wall of negativism. In the end, he said
not a word, for indeed, what at the Spirit Soaring would be
for the benefit of these two?
Much, he supposed, if they desired to mend their souls
and their ways. Entreri's actions with Danica did hint that
there might indeed be a possibility of that in the future.
On a whim, the priest entered Deneir's song and brought
forth a minor spell, one that revealed the general weal of
those he surveyed.
A quick look at Entreri and Jarlaxle was all he needed
to confirm that the Spirit Soaring, Carradoon, Shilmista
Forest, and all the region about that section of the
Snowflake Mountains would be better off if these two went in
the opposite direction.
"Farewell, then," he said with a tip of his hat. "At
least you found the opportunity to do one noble act in your
wretched existence, Artemis Entreri." He walked by the pair,
Ivan and Pikel in tow.
Danica took her time, though, eyeing Entreri with every
step. "I am not ungrateful for what you did when my wound
overcame me," she admitted, "but neither would I shy from
finishing that which we started in the tunnels below
Hephaestus's lair."
Entreri started to say, "To what end?" but changed his
mind before the first word had escaped his lips. He merely
shrugged, smiled, and let the woman pass.
"A new rival for Entreri?" Jarlaxle remarked when the
four had gone. "A replacement for Drizzt, perhaps?"
"Hardly," Entreri replied.
"She is not worthy, then?"
The assassin only shrugged, not caring enough to try to
determine whether she was or not.
Jarlaxle's laugh brought him from his contemplation.
"Growth," the drow remarked.
"I warn you that I'll tolerate little of your
judgments," Entreri replied.
Jarlaxle laughed all the harder. "Then you plan to
remain with me."
Entreri looked at him hard, stealing the mirth,
considering a question that he could not immediately answer.
"Very well, then," Jarlaxle said lightheartedly, as if
he took the silence as confirmation. "But I warn you, if you
cross me, I will have to kill you."
"That will be difficult to do from beyond the grave,"
Entreri promised.
Jarlaxle laughed once more. "When I was young," he
began, "a friend of mine, a weapon master whose ultimate
frustration was that he believed I was the better fighter-
though in truth, the one time I bested him was more good
fortune than superior skill-remarked to me that at last he
had found one who would grow to be at least my equal, and
perhaps my superior, a child, really, who showed more
promise as a warrior than any before.
"That weapon master's name was Zaknafein-you may have
heard of him," Jarlaxle went on.
Entreri shook his head.
"The young warrior he spoke of was none other than
Drizzt Do'Urden," Jarlaxle explained with a grin.
Entreri tried hard to show no emotion, but his inner
feelings at the surprise betrayed him a tiny bit, and
certainly enough for Jarlaxle to note it. "And did the
prophecy of Zaknafein come true?" Entreri asked.
"If it did, does that hold any revelation for Artemis
Entreri?" Jarlaxle asked slyly. "For would discovering the
relative strength of Drizzt and Jarlaxle tell Entreri
anything pertinent? How does Artemis Entreri believe he
measures up against Drizzt Do'Urden?" Then the critical
question: "Does Entreri believe he truly defeated Drizzt?"
Entreri looked at Jarlaxle long and hard, but as he
stared, his expression inevitably softened. "Does it
matter?" he answered, and that indeed was the answer that
Jarlaxle most wanted to hear from his new, and, to his way
of thinking, long-term companion.
"We are not yet done here," Jarlaxle announced then,
changing the subject abruptly. "There is one group lingering
about, fearful and angry. Their leader has decided that he
cannot leave yet, not with things as they stand."
Entreri didn't ask, but just followed Jarlaxle as the
dark elf made his way around the outcroppings of mountain
stone. The assassin fell back a few steps when he saw the
group Jarlaxle had spoken of: four dark elves led by a
dangerous psionicist. Entreri put his hands immediately to
the hilt of his deadly dagger and sword. A short distance
away, Jarlaxle and Kimmuriel spoke in the drow tongue, but
Entreri could make out most of their words.
"Do we battle now?" Kimmuriel Oblodra asked when
Jarlaxle neared.
"Rai-guy is dead, the Crystal Shard destroyed," Jarlaxle
replied. "What would be the purpose?"
Entreri noted that Kimmuriel did not wince at either
proclamation.
"Ah, but I guess that you have tasted the sweetness of
power, yes?" Jarlaxle asked with a chuckle. "You are seated
at the head of Bregan D'aerthe now, it would seem, and you
suppose all by yourself. You have little desire to
relinquish your garnered position?"
Kimmuriel started to shake his head-it was obvious to
Entreri that he was about to try to make peace here with
Jarlaxle-but the surprising Jarlaxle cut short Kim-muriel's
response. "Very well then!" Jarlaxle said dramatically. "I
have little desire for yet another fight, Kimmuriel, and I
accept and understand that my actions of late have likely
earned me too many enemies within the ranks of Bregan
D'aerthe for my return as leader."
"You are surrendering?" Kimmuriel asked doubtfully, and
he seemed even more on his guard then, as did the foot-
soldiers standing behind him.
"Hardly," Jarlaxle replied with another chuckle. "And I
warn you, if you continue to do battle with me, or even to
pursue me and track my whereabouts, I will indeed challenge
you for the position you have rightly earned."
Entreri listened intently, shaking his head, certain
that he must be getting some of the words, at least, very
wrong.
Kimmuriel started to respond, but stuttered over a few
words, and just gave up with a great sigh.
"Do well with Bregan D'aerthe," Jarlaxle warned. "I will
rejoin you one day and will demand of you that we share the
leadership. I expect to find a band of mercenaries as strong
as the one I now willingly leave behind." He looked to the
other three. "Serve him with honor."
"Any reunion between us will not be in Calimport,"
Kimmuriel assured him, "nor anywhere else on the cursed
surface. I am bound for home, Jarlaxle, back to the caverns
that are our true domain."
Jarlaxle nodded, as did the three foot-soldiers.
"And you?" Kimmuriel asked.
The former mercenary leader only shrugged and smiled
again. "I cannot know where I most wish to be because I have
not seen all that there is."
Again, Kimmuriel could only stare at his former leader
curiously. In the end, he merely nodded and, with a snap of
his fingers and a thought, opened a dimensional portal
through which he and his three minions passed.
"Why?" Entreri asked, moving up beside his unexpected
companion.
"Why?" Jarlaxle echoed.
"You could have returned with them," the assassin
clarified, "though I'd have never gone with you. You chose
not to go, not to resume control of your band. Why would you
give that up to remain out here, to remain beside me?"
Jarlaxle thought it over for a few moments. Then, using
words that Entreri himself had used before, he said with a
laugh, "Perhaps I hate drow more than I hate humans."
In that instant, Artemis Entreri could have been blown
over by a gentle breeze. He didn't even want to know how
Jarlaxle had known to say that.
不管不管了，反正就一个多小时涂抹出来的东西，就这样吧，泪扔~
“……两位大人有劳在此稍候，我家公子即刻便至，且请稍安勿躁。”
白衣少年微一点头间，老者早躬身悄然退出室外又小心带上了房门。不多时小僮献茶毕，至此，来客方得以细细打量室间。显见得此为家主书房，除去门右首靠墙两张花梨藤心扶手椅及同色梅花式茶几，房内家什不过一案一椅一屏并一书格，然古朴精致不失大气端庄，主人用心良深，委实可叹。一案乃黄花梨填漆海水江崖纹书案，案头笔墨纸砚色色俱全，几本书页已淡淡灰暗古旧书籍叠放于左，最上一本题曰《将苑》。案后一张花梨四出头官帽椅，紫檀边座百宝嵌梅花图插屏设于案前。最为可观者，房内向西整面房壁大半掩于一高大黑漆嵌螺钿描金如意云头纹书格之后，落日余晖闲然穿东壁格窗映照其上，藏卷浩瀚，犹有墨香。
抬眼间案后壁上一幅裱字映入眼帘，少年由衷默赞好字，不由放下茶盏缓步上前，细看之下墨迹淋漓龙蛇飞动，却是一首《鹧鸪天》：
“青杏时节聊点矰①，
洛林峰头笑拾磴②。
贪景误上千千丈，
莺歌绝断雁残声。
烟峦重，云崖冷，
瀚海森森苍枝横。
却喜小藤轻狂处，
敢把点翠向天征。”
“好一个‘却喜小藤轻狂处，敢把点翠向天征’！”身侧男子轻笑道，“葛蔓枯藤本天生不材人尽可践之物，然身无堂堂百丈之躯而不甘雌伏，攀缘外力而上奋然目指向天，其情可叹，其狂可畏！以此喻志，胸中自有沟壑，只怕赋者也绝非甘愿一生困窘匍匐的碌碌之辈呢。”说罢细看题款处，眉梢一挑，又是一笑。
款书“莱兹”，继之“年四百五十八惊蛰登游洛林”，字字分明。
少年尚不及答言，忽闻有人推门而入朗声长笑：“参谋大人言重了。” 风尘仆仆戎装不改，正是月余前所识刚嘎拉御守莱兹。
只见来者笑望二人当胸抱拳。“此诗乃下官十五年前拙作，少年人原本玩笑心性，到底也辞浅意狂了些，然字却极自爱，终究存了下来，是以为念，倒惹得两位大人见笑了。”语罢肃容，以手点肩向少年微微躬身作礼，“下官来迟，怠慢之处还请苍龙大人恕罪。”
“御守大人不必多礼。”虽对方官阶在己之下，然终究为地方驻官不受王军管辖，故而普拉提纳亦略微躬身还礼，“日前决堤之策致使城中闲人淹留甚众，带累大人辛劳，原也难免，却谈何恕罪。”
“此下官分内之事，何须挂齿。然下官斗胆，不知尊驾今日微服突访寒舍，可是有何要事。”
杰度欣欣然一摆手，不着痕迹接过话头。“哪里哪里。不过因洪水当前，第六军不得已叨扰贵地，诸多劳顿，Platina sama坚持要来向御守大人您致歉呢。”言语间紫晶深处锐利光亮瞬息微露，“况在下以为，当日大人当机立断，不惜水漫罗亚阻得叛军锋芒，好一手李代桃僵！胆识担待过人之处着实可敬可佩，既至城中，不相往来才是真的怠慢呢。”
闻言莱兹漫不经心垂头，双眼于如血短发之后略掩一掩，再抬眸时目光淡定：“什么胆识担待，不过尽我所有罢了。人言旭王此次举兵原是醉翁之意不在酒，若教此人得了天下，只怕奈落并整个阿庞格朗佛都不免山雨欲来。下官冒失独断原当军法论处，所幸功过相当，得安王大人宽大为怀不予追究。参谋大人此言真真折杀下官了。”
杰度也并不深究，浅淡一笑径自将话题牵扯开去，又轻轻引得普拉提纳言谈。略坐片时，两相话别不表。
回营一路只闻马蹄声声，心腹侍卫两三人远远逶迤于后。默对良久，终是某人先开了口：“今日造访，Platina sama可有所感？”
少年若有所思轻带马缰，胯下御赐塔哈奇贡马名追风的，原本良驹灵性异常，立时心领神会缓缓停步。杰度也勒住坐骑踏雪。静默抬眼。时值八月中，皓月当空凝辉飞彩，看在两人眼底却尽是苍凉清冷。
追风纹丝不动静立着，任夜风扬起银丝般马尾乃至额鬃。
沉吟一番，普拉提纳声音低低道：“原本我也只有些讶然，以刚嘎拉而言，既无王军也无郡属军队留驻，城中不过地方驻军三四千，然当日为第一军一兵部围城多日仍得坚守以待援兵，可知御守当真不俗。近日炸堤更是铤而走险几近妄为，我军若非得飞鸽传书后即刻日夜兼程避至官道以北，早恐一并受困洪流中，而他通报之责亦尽，便是王都追究起来也可避重就轻推托一二，况以他手段，会否终身偏安一隅也未可知。背后原委若非他所言，恐怕此人……”
“静不露机，云雷屯也。”另一人颌首，神色极之严正端凝，“时旧制岌岌乱世争雄之际，比之穷奇一干饭袋酒囊山鸡舞镜之鼠辈，罗亚一省，恐当以此人为要。”
纤长指间懒懒把玩着四节细小竹管。
案前几步之外，第一军飞奴使长正静默以右膝跪地，右拳点地左手屈于左腿垂首躬身，心内兀自忐忑不已。飞奴使乃奈落王军必设机构之一，其下着专人驯养军鸽以为传递军情之用，其数十人中惟资历最深技艺最高者方可号为长。今日此人参见王将大人，便正是因着米亚会战之前军中所遣前往劝服其余四省缔结联盟的使节有了传书回音。时洪水尚未退尽，大军受困诺奇，军情紧急，然王将大人却似不甚在意，意态惫懒，直教旁人如堕九里云雾里。
原来深知各侯为人，塞雷斯早已是心明如镜，又片时，终剥去蜡封取密信略尽人事次第翻看一遍，也就挥挥手遣帐中众人各自散了。此次人人皆知时局堪忧，便是不羁如罗德也难得乖巧，只静静细看那消瘦侧影一眼便安守本分默然退出，一座凝重大帐即刻空荡下来。
不出所料。除赴南使节结盟牒书在手可传捷报，余者莫不谨慎言辞惶然缄口。原来此次出使游说，各省反响各个不同，然除波卡那鱼米棉粮依赖伽米利太过而免遭反目外，终有五省之三效忠王室正统，诸侯于旭王所为更是热讽冷嘲不一而足。其中尤以噶帕执政侯建王卡兹性烈威严，措辞更激：“苍龙虽极年少，然本王老朽，亦尝闻其英武决断知识义理处，可以托六尺之孤，可以寄百里之命，临大节而不可夺也。反观贼子以亲王并执政侯之尊，犯上作乱，令人齿冷。古语有云，‘义战必胜’，噶帕岂可逆天而行。”语毕径自着人将其撵出塔哈奇省会并行省首府札兰，竟是严词拒绝当场。只可怜那小小说客，既不敢以建王原话作答，又无法一笔带过只字不提，传书所禀不免支支吾吾困苦难言。
以手拄额疲然闭目，凝神片刻。此番结盟虽成绩寥落，然他原非执意于此，决裂在即非友即敌，此举不过迫得诸侯表明阵营罢了，又因其不免向众多野望勃勃者公告大乱已至，料得浑水摸鱼乱中渔利之人不日定当群起，其时风云动荡，恐更胜人力可及……
不知何时起，夜风中不知何处竟隐隐有乐音飘忽而来。初时旭王几乎不曾以为自己心思如麻以致生幻，然则侧耳听来，声声笳吟如泣如诉，吹的竟是撒纳坊间自己与那人少年时耳熟能详的调调！惊觉此，这强横逆天男子不由倔强握拳大睁双目，眸光微动，良久，终究自持向空冷冷一笑：“粉饰太平，略微探草惊蛇即两分天下，你的好臣子，你的好国民！其间有几人全心助我？又有几人是出于真意站在你一边？……王兄，这些荒唐物事竟真值得你沥血至此？”
虚空不语。万籁俱寂中惟有游丝般一缕笳声细细呜咽了整夜，孤绝凄清，催人断魂。
[注1：“矰”，古代射鸟用的栓着丝绳的箭。
注2：“磴”，山路上的石台阶。]
第一次看动画到这个镜头就很有感觉。可惜做得不是很好，不过某很喜欢这个氛围的说^^bbb
以下为添加了热情LOGO的版本，笑~
或许有些存在真的可以穿越时光，然而，不管那沉淀下来的曾经怎样熟识，终究不复当初模样。
戏已散场。
曾每天乘车经过最后对望的街角。说是对望倒也不确切，你目光闪躲。那或许并不是真正的话别吧。而更早的……是昏暗的影院还是灰色城市的天空下，记不清。
总是记不清。
那些温暖或是心酸，早已记不清。孤单却留了下来，执拗而淡然。还有距离，模糊的，看不穿的山水人心。深信终至怀疑，爱曾成恨，伸出的手无人交握就此冻结在半空，最后默默收回来，没心没肺笑着，抱紧自己。
做过一个梦。没有想到一切已尘埃落定如此之久以后，竟然还会梦见那些日子。
梦里校园简单依旧。天晴，篮球场边梧桐树高高，我们一起站在树下望。我说你还记得以前么，那时雨后球场上总是有小洼的积水，我们用竹子的大扫帚把水抹开了，然后打球。沉默。
当时确乎是安心的，连天空都是当年熟悉的蓝，你就在我左侧，微风温暖柔和。
然而现在回想起来，梦里只剩下沉默。
拼命想也想不起来那一刻你在看着什么。
当我说着想去那个城市的时候，我是认真的。
那么自然就想要随着去到那里了，一如四年前。但我还能追回什么？电话里老友惊诧的口吻说这么多年了。多可笑，都这么多年了。QQ头像相对静默，短信自话自说。你看多可笑，这么多年过去我还是如此笨拙。
明明自知没有期待没有失望没有前路，还是如此笨拙。
同样认真地决定放弃。删了手机号拖黑了Q，梦着自己的梦，而彼此曾经说过的话，你忘了，我也不再记得。
如果默契褪色成习惯终至模式。如果热烈渐渐冷却。
如果我望着的并不是完整的你，你拥抱的也不是全部的我，曾有的美好，大约也算谎言。潜意识中自我欺瞒，坚信我们终究是和旁人不同的，貌似诚恳，到最后，连对方也有那么一瞬终于相信。
而真实又是什么时候被埋葬在哪里呢？
他们说不值得。他们说该长大了。他们说长大就要学会取舍，理智选择。
你说不可能了。
隔着蒙尘的车窗玻璃，你不看我。
没有回音的短信和静默的Q。
梦里只剩沉默。
回望。来路空荡。那里已经没有任何人了。
END
2006-3-10
满篇没有力度的句子，大约这样的心境本也是苍白的吧。权作，嗯，某些不得不说的碎碎念而已，不得不说，却也不必谁来听，对着安静的空气说出来，也就罢了。
今天把壁纸换成了大二那年高中同学会大家的合影。来路早就空无一人，我们都已经向前走出很远了，追不上步伐却也不必去追。这样也好。真的很好。
接下来怎样？
恶魔们的绝对丑陋中包含着一种朴素的美。在人们对待这些造物这方面，没有丁点含糊、犹豫或是误解的余地。你不会和恶魔赌博。你不会听信它们的谎言。你将它们逐出，毁灭它们，把它们从这个世界清除掉——即使面对着利用它们的力量去拯救他人这种勉强可认为算是善良行为的诱惑。
这对于很多人来说是一个很难领会的观念，而且导致了很多错误地召唤恶魔并且允许那些造物背离他们初衷——那最初的目的也许只是为某个问题求得答案——而行动的法师和牧师们的身败名裂，因为他们被这造物所能提供的力量所蛊惑。那些遭到毁灭的施法者中有很多人坚信自己是在通过强迫恶魔们随侍左右、通过支撑他们的那些理想、通过由恶魔战士建成的大军，做正确的事。他们认为，如果最终结果被证明是更好的话，那又有什么坏处呢？如果有小妖精威胁到自己国土的话，难道一位贤明的君主不会善加考虑把一些“受到约束的”恶魔加入到他的国家防卫力量中去吗？
我想不会，因为对善良的保护如果有赖于利用这样显而易见且不可救药的邪恶去击退另一种邪恶，那也就已经没有什么真正值得去捍卫了。
因此，恶魔们的唯一用处只在于，当它们必须背叛罪恶之源而且身处高度控制之下以致无望逃脱时，将其推上第一战线。我确信凯德立在高飞之灵那安全的召唤室里正是这么做的，正如无数牧师和法师曾经做过的一样。但这样的召唤并不是没有风险，即使防护圈形成得十分完美，因为有一种诱惑始终存在：拥有足够的操纵力量去奴役一个巴洛魔或是判魂魔。
在这诱惑中一定长存着某种不可救药邪恶的实现。不可救药。不存任何希望。在任何这种交易中报偿的概念都是至关重要的决定性一环。一旦报偿成为可能，锻造刀刃使其更加致命，当履行的时机迫在眉睫时握紧武器，然后在敌人无望偿还时毫不怜悯地发起猛烈攻击。
我怀疑就这个尺度而言，阿提密斯•恩崔立会处于一个怎样的位置？这个人类真的是那么不可救药毫无希望吗？
以前我坚信事实就是这样，之后却又不那么肯定了。没人会向阿提密斯•恩崔立伸出援手因为这个人类决不会接受任何帮助。他最大的缺点就是他的骄傲——不同于很多逊色于他的战士们吹嘘的自傲，那是一种绝对独立不屈自恃的骄傲。我原本能向他指出他的错误，正如曾以任何方式认识他的任何人所能做的一样，但他不会听取我的忠告。
然而对这个人类来说或许还是存在着某种被救赎的希望。我不知道他的愤怒之源在哪里，但那一定是十分骇人的遭遇。但我决不会允许那个原由——不管它曾有多么艰辛和可怕——以任何方式为这个人类的所作所为释罪。恩崔立那长剑和标志性匕首上沾染的鲜血是他必须以一己之力背负的重荷。
相信他承受这个并不是那么轻松的事。它如黑龙的喷吐一样烧灼他的皮肤，贪婪啃噬他内心的一切。在我们最后一场遭遇战中，我看清了他黯色双眼深处那沉静而阴郁的痛苦。我打败了他，本来能杀掉他，事实上我相信从很多角度来讲他希望我乐于这么做，希望我终结掉他那在很大程度上是自愿选择承受的苦难。
那痛苦使我止住了自己的刀，我内心存有一丝希望：在阿提密斯•恩崔立灵魂深处某个地方已经有所认知，他的生活方式需要作出改变，他现在正依循前行的道路如此空虚并将最终通向绝望。双刀在手站在这个毫无防备的人类面前，许许多多念头飞快掠过我的脑海。当看到他双眼深藏的痛苦并且明白那很可能是救赎的前兆，我怎能就此发起攻击？然而，当清楚意识到放任阿提密斯•恩崔立走出水晶塔可能招致其他人的厄运我又怎能不这样做？
这的确是个两难的选择，一个良知与平衡的转捩。我发觉在那临界瞬间自己得出的答案竟然是关于我的父亲札克纳凡。我明白就恩崔立而言他和札克并不是那么不同，而事实上这两者也的确有着相似之处。他们都是一个敌意环境下的幸存者，都向各自所认知的邪恶作出了某种妥协。同时，以各自的认知而言，这两者又都没有背弃自己的原则而杀掉任何一个不该杀的人。难道那些为卡林港卑劣帕夏搏命的战士和杀手们比之卓尔家族士兵而言，处境就能说是更好吗？所以，从很多角度来说，札克的行动和这人类杀手的所作所为真的没什么不同。都只不过是在一个充满阴谋、危机和邪恶的世界中挣扎求存罢了。两者同样借助残酷无情的手段从各自的禁锢中幸存下来。当恩崔立环视他的世界，他的牢狱，他是否满怀厌恶和沮丧一如札克环视魔索布莱？到那时这杀手是否会失掉他惯常的冰冷面具，一如那个在担任杜垩登家族侍父期间杀死无数黑暗精灵的武技长曾经所为一般？
当我追击将瑞吉斯当作囚犯带走的杀手而第一次来到卡林港（我必须承认，即使当时他采取那种行动也确实是正当的），我意识到自己情不自禁把这两个人进行了对比，而这样的对比真的让人非常困扰。从高超的武技和表面上看来毫不迟疑的杀戮欲来看，他们是多么的相近？那么，当我能挥刀对恩崔立砍下那一刻，使我止住了手中弯刀的是否正是自己内心深处那因札克而生的莫名情绪？
不，我说不，而且我必须坚信这一点，因为父亲在谁该杀谁不该杀这个问题上远有更强的分辨力。我了解札克的真心，清楚他还拥有去爱的能力，而仅仅这一点就是阿提密斯•恩崔立的真实自我所无法与之相提并论的。
至少以他目前的状态而言是这样，但掩藏在杀手那残忍的行为方式下，这个人类还有望能找到一线光明吗？
也许吧，如果能听说他伸开双臂紧紧拥抱住了光明我真会非常高兴。然而，事实上我怀疑永远没有任何人或事物能穿透阿提密斯•恩崔立目前那厚重而看似难以渗入的冷漠盔甲、激发出他最后一息怜悯与同情。
——崔斯特•杜垩登
[TBC]
再一个半成品，原因同前：本章余部貌似都是凯德立和某女亲切交谈中……T T
不过，小黑对阿恩的某一些评价让我很开心喔^o^
以下为原文：
Part 3
NOW WHAT?
There is a simple beauty in the absolute ugliness of
demons. There is no ambiguity there, no hesitation, no
misconception, about how one must deal with such creatures.
You do not parlay with demons. You do not hear their lies.
You cast them out, destroy them, rid the world of them-even
if the temptation is present to utilize their powers to save
what you perceive to be a little corner of goodness.
This is a difficult concept for many to grasp and has
been the downfall of many wizards and priests who have
errantly summoned demons and allowed the creatures to move
beyond their initial purpose-the answering of a question,
perhaps-because they were tempted by the power offered by
the creature. Many of these doomed spellcasters thought they
would be doing good by forcing the demons to their side, by
bolstering their cause, their army, with demonic soldiers.
What ill, they supposed, if the end result proved to the
greater good? Would not a goodly king be well advised to add
"controlled" demons to his cause if goblins threatened his
lands?
I think not, because if the preservation of goodness
relies upon the use of such obvious and irredeemable evil to
defeat evil, then there is nothing, truly, worth saving.
The sole use of demons, then, is to bring them forth
only in times when they must betray the cause of evil, and
only in a setting so controlled that there is no hope of
their escape. Cadderly has done this within the secure
summoning chamber of the Spirit Soaring, as have, I am sure,
countless priests and wizards. Such a summoning is not
without peril, though, even if the circle of protection is
perfectly formed, for there is always a temptation that goes
with the manipulation of powers such as a balor or a
nalfeshnie.
Within that temptation must always lie the realization
of irredeemable evil. Irredeemable. Without hope. That
concept, redemption, must be the crucial determinant in any
such dealings. Temper your blade when redemption is
possible, hold it when redemption is at hand, and strike
hard and without remorse when your opponent is beyond any
hope of redemption.
Where on that scale does Artemis Entreri lie, I wonder?
Is the man truly beyond help and hope?
Yes, to the former, I believe, and no to the latter.
There is no help for Artemis Entreri because the man would
never accept any. His greatest flaw is his pride- not the
boasting pride of so many lesser warriors, but the pride of
absolute independence and unbending self-reliance. I could
tell him his errors, as could anyone who has come to know
him in any way, but he would not hear my words.
Yet perhaps there may be hope of some redemption for the
man. I know not the source of his anger, though it must have
been great. And yet I will not allow that the source,
however difficult and terrible it might have been, in any
way excuses the man from his actions. The blood on Entreri's
sword and trademark dagger is his own to wear.
He does not wear it well, I believe. It burns at his
skin as might the breath of a black dragon and gnaws at all
that is within him. I saw that during our last encounter, a
quiet and dull ache at the side of his dark eyes. I had him
beaten, could have killed him, and I believe that in many
ways he hoped I would finish the task and be done with it,
and end his mostly self-imposed suffering.
That ache is what held my blade, that hope within me
that somewhere deep inside Artemis Entreri there is the
understanding that his path needs to change, that the road
he currently walks is one of emptiness and ultimate despair.
Many thoughts coursed my mind as I stood there, weapons in
hand, with him defenseless before me. How could I strike
when I saw that pain in his eyes and knew that such pain
might well be the precursor to redemption? And yet how could
I not, when I was well
aware that letting Artemis Entreri walk out of that
crystalline tower might spell the doom of others?
Truly it was a dilemma, a crisis of conscience and of
balance. I found my answer in that critical moment in the
memory of my father, Zaknafein. To Entreri's thinking, I
know, he and Zaknafein are not so different, and there are
indeed similarities. Both existed in an environment hostile
and to their respective perceptions evil. Neither, to their
perceptions, did either go out of his way to kill anyone who
did not deserve it. Are the warriors and assassins who fight
for the wretched pashas of Calimport any better than the
soldiers of the drow houses? Thus, in many ways, the actions
of Zaknafein and those of Artemis Entreri are quite similar.
Both existed in a world of intrigue, danger, and evil. Both
survived their imprisonment through ruthless means. If
Entreri views his world, his prison, as full of wretchedness
as Zaknafein viewed Menzoberranzan, then is not Entreri as
entitled to his manner as was Zaknafein, the weapons master
who killed many, many dark elves in his tenure as patron of
House Do'Urden?
It is a comparison I realized when first I went to
Calimport, in pursuit of Entreri, who had taken Regis as
prisoner (and even that act had justification, I must
admit), and a comparison that truly troubled me. How close
are they, given their abilities with the blade and their
apparent willingness to kill? Was it, then, some inner
feelings for Zaknafein that stayed my blade when I could
have cut Entreri down?
No, I say, and I must believe, for Zaknafein was far
more discerning in whom he would kill or would not kill. I
know the truth of Zaknafein's heart. I know that Zaknafein
was possessed of the ability to love, and the reality of
Artemis Entreri simply cannot hold up against that.
Not in his present incarnation, at least, but is there
hope that the man will find a light beneath the murderous
form of the assassin?
Perhaps, and I would be glad indeed to hear that the man
so embraced that light. In truth, though, I doubt that
anyone or anything will ever be able to pull that lost
flame of compassion through the thick and seemingly
impenetrable armor of dispassion that Artemis Entreri now
wears.
-Drizzt Do'Urden
数种前路，数种可能
恩崔立藏身于门口的阴影中，按捺住满心好奇侧耳倾听着正从房间里传出的一阵自言自语。他只能弄明白这番话的一小部分含义。贾拉索正兴奋地用卓尔语飞快说着什么。而恩崔立除了对地底卓尔语的词汇掌握十分有限之外，从目前这个距离他也根本听不清每一个词。
“他们不会长期保持领先于我们，因为我们的动作太快了。”这个惟利是图的领导者说。杀手听清了这一句而且总算是能把整个句子逐词翻译过来，因为看起来贾拉索似乎是在鼓励某人。“是啊，他们会一条街道一条街道地垮台。有谁能和我们联手的力量相抗衡呢？”
“我们联手？”杀手无声重复着，翻来覆去咀嚼这个卓尔词汇以确保自己的翻译是恰当的。我们？佣兵头子不可能是在说他和恩崔立的合作，甚至也不是指巴萨多尼公会的残余势力。相对达耶特独立佣兵团的力量而言，这些不过是次要的附庸。那么，难道贾拉索在恩崔立没有觉察的情况下进行了某种新的交易？也许那是一桩和某个帕夏达成的协议，或者甚至是和一种更强力量进行的密约？
杀手倾身靠得更近，留意听着可能出现的任何恶魔或魔鬼的名字——或者可能是灵吸怪。他忍不住因这三个念头而战栗起来。恶魔们太不可预知、太原始野蛮以致无法真正很好地服务于任何联盟。在某些特殊时刻它们会不惜一切代价满足自己的某些私欲而毫不关心联盟的利益。魔鬼则更可预知——可预知得过头了。就那个种族等级森严的世界观看来，它们自己难免盘踞在金字塔的顶端。
尽管如此，与杀手兴起的第三个念头——事关某些灵吸怪——相比，他几乎希望自己能听见佣兵头子提到一只强大恶魔的名字。在受困魔索布莱的那些日子里恩崔立曾被迫和灵吸怪打交道——夺心魔是卓尔城市生活中不可避免的一部分——他绝对永远永远也不想再见到任何这种有着黏糊糊脑袋的卑劣生物了。
他又偷听了一会儿，贾拉索似乎已经冷静下来并且舒舒服服坐回椅子里。当惟利是图者仍在自说自话着便衣公会那迫在眉睫的覆亡时，杀手大步走进房间。
“就你一个人？”他装作若无其事地问，“我还以为听见有谁在跟你说话。”
人类有些宽慰地注意到这天佣兵头子并没有戴着那个魔法的防护性眼罩，那么很可能这个卓尔刚才并没有会见任何灵吸怪，或者在短时间里也没有这个打算。这个眼罩能防护心灵魔法，而整个世界没有什么比那些可怕的夺心魔更擅长这一类招数了。
“只是整理一些思路，”贾拉索解释道，他说起地表通用语来轻松自如，流畅得就像在说自己的母语，“有太多事正在改变。”
“而且通常都伴随危机。”恩崔立回答。
“对有些人而言是这样没错。”卓尔吃吃笑着说。
杀手狐疑地注视着他。
“当然你不会相信便衣工会能与我们的力量相抗衡吧？”惟利是图者怀疑地问。
“在正面的战斗中那是不可能的。”杀手说，“但这正说明了它能与其他势力共存多年的手段。在明刀明枪的情况下他们没办法和很多力量斗，但他们总是能找到某种办法幸存下来。”
“那只是因为运气罢了。”
“那是因为他们错综复杂关联着很多更强大的势力，”恩崔立纠正道，“如果一个人处于巨人的保护下就没必要追求体格上的强有力。”
“除非那个巨人与某个敌人有更深厚的友谊，”佣兵头子打断了他，“而众所周知巨人们是靠不住的。”
“你和卡林港的那些大领主们谈好了？”人类毫不信服地问，“对方是谁？为什么我没有涉入协商？”
贾拉索只高深莫测地耸了耸肩。
“不可能，”杀手下结论说，“就算你对他们之中某一个或者更多人作出警告，便衣公会已经存在太久了，早就成为卡林珊权力之网中牢固而不可撼动的一部分，对他们这种程度的背叛是不可能成功的。他们自有同盟来保护对抗其他同盟。当屠杀他们时，针对地区权力结构这样一个突然而不稳定的变化而出现的敌对势力就算是贾拉索和达耶特独立佣兵团也没法彻底铲除。”
“也许我和卡林港有史以来最强大的存在结成了同盟。”贾拉索以他那种典型的摸棱两可夸张地说。
恩崔立眯起黯色的眼睛专注凝视这个令人忍无可忍的卓尔，寻找着某些蛛丝马迹，任何线索，试图推断出这不寻常的行为所揭示的内幕。贾拉索通常都是秘密而隐匿的，一直保持着神秘，而且不管在任何时候都准备抓住时机为自己赢得更大的力量和利益，然而，这件事还是有什么地方似乎有些不对劲。在杀手看来，对便衣公会迫在眉睫的攻击是一个传奇的贾拉索决不会犯的大错。那么，很显然这诡诈的卓尔的确找到了某种强大的同盟，或者对整个时局有了某种更高深的理解。恩崔立很怀疑后一种可能，因为与卡林港街道联系最紧密的人不是佣兵头子而是他本人。
但即使是以这种种可能之一来看，杀手还是觉得有什么地方不太对劲。贾拉索表现得自大而傲慢——而且这卓尔的确是那么认为的！——然而以前他从没见过这种自信，特别是在现在这种具有潜在爆炸性的情况下。
一旦恩崔立想到便衣公会垮台的必然性更深一层，整个局势似乎只能用更具爆炸性来形容。他太清楚黑暗精灵的毁灭性力量，也毫不怀疑佣兵团会屠杀敌对公会，但这必然的胜利中暗藏了太多内幕——的确太多了，因为这个卓尔表现得这样悠闲自若。
“你在这场战斗中的任务已经决定了吗？”佣兵头子问。
“跟我无关，”杀手回答的语调无疑说明他对此感到非常满意，“莱基和金穆瑞指派了所有的人但是把我排除在外。”
贾拉索放声大笑起来，因为这番陈述背后的事实——恩崔立竟然乐意被排斥——表现得太明显了。
杀手眼睛一眨不眨地注视着他，没有露出丝毫笑容。惟利是图者必须明白自己刚走进了怎样的险境，这潜在的悲惨处境会把他和整个佣兵团赶回魔索布莱的黑暗洞窟中。也许有另一种可能，他沉思着。也许贾拉索想要返回故乡于是狡猾地推动这场迁移。仅仅这个想法就让恩崔立退缩起来。如果这卓尔要把他拖回那个鬼地方，还不如痛快杀了他。
也许杀手会被委任为一个代理，就像路斯坎的莫里克一样。不，杀手暗自下了结论，那是不够的。卡林港远比路斯坎要危险，如果卓尔兵团的力量被迫撤离，他决不会这样铤而走险。有太多强大的敌人会被留下来。
“很快就要开始了，如果说现在还没开始的话。”贾拉索说，“这样一切很快就会结束。”
比你所相信的还要快，恩崔立想，但他保持了沉默。这个人类通过深思熟虑、通过小心翼翼权衡一言一行的后果而求存。他如某种精神上的同类般了解贾拉索，但他无法认同这个夜晚所上演的眼前一切，不管从哪个角度来看，这都像是一场代价高昂而多此一举的赌博。
贾拉索到底知道什么他没察觉到的事？
* * * * *
……
[TBC]
如标题，这只是一章的1/4，后面貌似都没有阿恩的份，于是寒假里就是在这章没了动力^^bbb（旁：喂喂，不要找客观借口= =++）
目前TOB进行中，可是，当很久不摸这个，不管小兹对小依说了什么，心里终究会有点空。想起某个总是沉默潜行的身影……
以下为原文：
Chapter 4
MANY ROADS TO MANY PLACES
Entreri stood in the shadows of the doorway, listening
with great curiosity to the soliloquy taking place in the
room. He could only make out small pieces of the oration.
The speaker, Jarlaxle, was talking quickly and excitedly in
the drow tongue. Entreri, in addition to his limited Deep
Drow vocabulary, couldn't hear every word from this
distance.
"They will not stay ahead of us, because we move too
quickly," the mercenary leader remarked. Entreri heard and
was able to translate every word of that line, for it seemed
as if Jarlaxle was cheering someone on. "Yes, street by
street they will fall. Who can stand against us joined?"
"Us joined?" the assassin silently echoed, repeating the
drow word over and over to make sure that he was translating
it properly. Us? Jarlaxle could not be speaking of his
alliance with Entreri, or even with the remnants of the
Basadoni Guild. Compared to the strength of Bregan D'aerthe,
these were minor additions. Had Jarlaxle made some new deal,
then, without Entreri's knowledge? A deal with some pasha,
perhaps, or an even greater power?
The assassin bent in closer, listening particularly for
any names of demons or devils-or of illithids, perhaps. He
shuddered at the thought of any of the three. Demons were
too unpredictable and too savage to serve any alliance. They
would do whatever served their specific needs at any
particular moment, without regard for the greater benefit to
the alliance. Devils were more predictable- were too
predictable. In their hierarchical view of the world, they
inevitably sat on top of the pile.
Still, compared to the third notion that had come to
him, that of the illithids, Entreri was almost hoping to
hear Jarlaxle utter the name of a mighty demon. Entreri had
been forced to deal with illithids during his stay in
Menzoberranzan-the mind flayers were an unavoidable side of
life in the drow city-and he had no desire to ever, ever,
see one of the squishy-headed, wretched creatures again.
He listened a bit longer, and Jarlaxle seemed to calm
down and to settle more comfortably into his seat. The
mercenary leader was still talking, just muttering to
himself about the impending downfall of the Rakers, when
Entreri strode into the room.
"Alone?" the assassin asked innocently. "I thought I
heard voices."
He noted with some relief that Jarlaxle wasn't wearing
his magical, protective eye patch this day, which made it
unlikely that the drow had just encountered, or soon planned
to encounter, any illithids. The eye patch protected against
mind magic, and none in all the world were more proficient
at such things as the dreaded mind flayers.
"Sorting things out," Jarlaxle explained, and his ease
with the common tongue of the surface world seemed no less
fluent than that of his native language. "There is so much
afoot."
"Danger, mostly," Entreri replied.
"For some," said Jarlaxle with a chuckle.
Entreri looked at him doubtfully.
"Surely you do not believe that the Rakers can match our
power?" the mercenary leader asked incredulously.
"Not in open battle," Entreri answered, "but that is how
it has been with them for many years. They cannot match
many, blade to blade, and yet they have ever found a way to
survive."
"Because they are fortunate."
"Because they are intricately tied to greater powers,"
Entreri corrected. "A man need not be physically powerful if
he is guarded by a giant."
"Unless the giant has more tightly befriended a rival,"
Jarlaxle interjected. "And giants are known to be
unreliable."
"You have arranged this with the greater lords of
Calimport?" Entreri asked, unconvinced. "With whom, and why
was I not involved in such a negotiation?"
Jarlaxle shrugged, offering not a clue.
"Impossible," Entreri decided. "Even if you threatened
one or more of them, the Rakers are too long-standing, too
entrenched in the power web of all Calimshan, for such
treachery against them to prosper. They have allies to
protect them against other allies. There is no way that even
Jarlaxle and Bregan D'aerthe could have cleared the
opposition to such a sudden and destabilizing shift in the
power structure of the region as the decimation of the
Rakers."
"Perhaps I have allied with the most powerful being ever
to come to Calimport," Jarlaxle said dramatically, and
typically, cryptically.
Entreri narrowed his dark eyes and stared at the
outrageous drow, looking for clues, any clues, as to what
this uncharacteristic behavior might herald. Jarlaxle was
often cryptic, always mysterious, and ever ready to grab at
an opportunity that would bring him greater power or
profits, and yet, something seemed out of place here. To
Entreri's thinking, the impending assault on the Rakers was
a blunder, which was something the legendary Jarlaxle never
did. It seemed obvious, then, that the cunning drow had
indeed made some powerful connection or ally, or was
possessed of some deeper understanding of the situation.
This Entreri doubted since he, not Jarlaxle, was the best
connected person on Calimport's streets.
Even given one of those possibilities, though, something
just didn't seem quite right to Entreri. Jarlaxle was cocky
and arrogant-of course he was!-but never before had he
seemed this self-assured, especially in a situation as
potentially explosive as this.
The situation seemed only more explosive if Entreri
looked beyond the inevitability of the downfall of the
Rakers. He knew well the murderous power of the dark elves
and held no doubt that Bregan D'aerthe would slaughter the
competing guild, but there were so many implications to that
victory-too many, certainly, for Jarlaxle to be so
comfortable.
"Has your role in this been determined?" Jarlaxle asked.
"No role," Entreri answered, and his tone left no doubt
that he was pleased by that fact. "Rai-guy and Kimmuriel
have all but cast me aside."
Jarlaxle laughed aloud, for the truth behind that
statement-that Entreri had been willingly cast aside- was
all too obvious.
Entreri stared at him and didn't crack a smile. Jarlaxle
had to know the dangers he had just walked into, a
potentially catastrophic situation that could send him and
Bregan D'aerthe fleeing back to the dark hole of
Menzoberranzan. Perhaps that was it, the assassin mused.
Perhaps Jarlaxle longed for home and was slyly facilitating
the move. The mere thought of that made Entreri wince.
Better that Jarlaxle kill him outright than drag him back
there.
Perhaps Entreri would be set up as an agent, as was
Morik in Luskan. No, the assassin decided, that would not
suffice. Calimport was more dangerous than Luskan, and if
the power of Bregan D'aerthe was forced away, he would not
take such a risk. Too many powerful enemies would be left
behind.
"It will begin soon, if it has not already," Jarlaxle
remarked. "Thus, it will be over soon."
Sooner than you believe, Entreri thought, but he kept
silent. He was a man who survived through careful
calculation, by weighing scrupulously the consequences of
every step and every word. He knew Jarlaxle to be a kindred
spirit, but he could not reconcile that with the action that
was being undertaken this very night, which, in searching it
from any angle, seemed a tremendous and unnecessary gamble.
What did Jarlaxle know that he did not?
* * * * *
……
]]>一场耻辱的相遇
他夺回了自己原来的房间，甚至也回复了真正的姓名。路斯坎那些达官贵人们的记忆并不像他们所宣称的那样长久。
早些年，盗贼莫里克曾被控告企图谋杀英勇船只海灵号那可敬的船长杜德蒙，一位有名的海盗猎人。因为在千帆之城被指控几乎就完全等同于宣告有罪，莫里克不得不面对一种将在囚犯狂欢节的公开展示集会上被处死的可怕前景。事实上当他正处于最终的酷刑折磨之中时，是杜德蒙船长深深感到了那可怕景象的残忍恐怖，从而宽恕了他的罪行。
不管有没有被宽恕，莫里克都被永远逐出了路斯坎，对他来说这是死亡一样的痛苦。当然，不管怎么说后来他还是回来了。一开始他用伪造的身份作为伪装，但逐渐地他恢复了自己原来的服饰、真正的生活习惯、他在街道的关系网、他的房间，最后是自己的姓名和它所带来的旧有名声。那些高官也知道这些，但有太多太多的其他暴徒等着他们去折磨至死，他们看起来毫不关心这一切。
现在他已经能用一种幽默的眼光去回顾囚犯狂欢节那可怕的一天了。当有如此之多的罪行能正当地宣告自己有罪之时他却因一桩莫须有的控告而饱受折磨之苦，在莫里克看来这真是一种绝妙的讽刺。
现在一切都已经成为回忆，一段关于以沃夫加之名阴谋与危机旋风的回忆。他已经再次恢复盗贼莫里克的身份，而一切也已回到原来的轨道……至少几乎是这样。
因为眼下一个新的变数，一个诱人同时也带有极大危险的变数，进入了莫里克的生活。他小心翼翼走向自己房间的房门，同时一个劲儿向狭窄的走廊四下张望，仔细检视一处处阴影。当确信现在自己是独自一人了，他快步走近房门，把它遮蔽保护起来以避开任何魔法形式的窥视魔眼，然后开始动手沿着门柱的两侧从顶上到底下解除将近一打的致命陷阱。这一步也完成之后，他取出一串钥匙打开门锁——一重，两重，三重的锁——然后咔哒一声开了门。他又解除了另外一个陷阱——这个是爆炸性的——然后进了房间，关上门并且再次把它遮蔽起来，所有的陷阱也都恢复原状。整个过程花了他比十分钟还多的时间，但每当回家的时候他还是会按全部程序不厌其烦做一遍。黑暗精灵们毫无预警不请自来地闯进了莫里克的生活。他们向他许诺只要完成交付的任务就能得到一个国王所能拥有的财富，同时也作出了保证、向他展示了那枚诱人金币抛掷起来所显露出的另一面。
莫里克检查了一遍靠近门边的一个小小的基座。他点点头，很满意地看到广口花瓶里的小球还在原处。这器皿涂上了一层接触性毒药而且安装有一个灵敏的压力触发陷阱。他为这个特殊的小球付了一大笔钱——那笔数目庞大的金子他必须辛勤偷盗一年才能赚得回来——但以莫里克恐惧的眼光来看，这东西很能值得这个天价。它被施予了一个防止次元门在这房间里开启的强大反魔法咒文，这能防止法师们以另一种途径——一个传送法术——闯进来。
盗贼莫里克绝对不希望再被一个站在他床边并且居高临下慢慢浮现出来的黑暗精灵从睡梦里惊醒了。
所有的锁都牢牢锁上了，他的小球静躺在保护容器里，然而还是有些微妙的蛛丝马迹，一种无形的暗涌，颈后头发的些微搔痒，向莫里克暗示着有些事情不对劲。他环视四周，目光从一处阴影游移到另一处阴影，又转向他那很久以前用砖头封死的窗户上静静挂着的窗帘。他望向自己的床铺，被子铺得整整齐齐，床缘下没有挂着毯子。莫里克稍微弯下腰仔细扫视了床底。没有人藏在那里。
这时他想到了窗帘，于是迂回路线朝着那个大方向开始移动以免遭到入侵者的任何攻击。一次突然的转弯之后他一个箭步冲到窗帘前，手里紧握着匕首，然后一把拉开窗帘用力刺了下去，却只看见空气。大大松了口气的同时莫里克因自己的多疑笑出声来。当那些黑暗精灵到来之后他的世界变得多么不同啊。现在他每天都处在神经高度紧绷的边缘。他总共不过见过卓尔五次，其中还包括早已过去的那次他们最初遭遇的情形，那时沃夫加刚在城里崭露头角，而他们，因着某些莫里克至今也没完全弄明白的理由，要求他密切注意这个巨大的野蛮人。
他总是保持着非比寻常的敏锐，总是十分机警，但他提醒着自己与卓尔合作所可能带来的潜在暴利。从所能推论出的种种来看，他之所以能再次成为盗贼莫里克，其中一部分原因就和贾拉索众多党羽之一与某一位当局者的某次会面脱不开干系。
他深感安慰地叹了口气，把窗帘又拉了回去，就在那时，当一只手捂住了他的嘴而一把匕首的锐利锋刃紧紧抵上了他咽喉，他不由在惊骇之中呆若木鸡。
“那些宝石已经到手了？”一个声音在他耳边低声问道，尽管语调平淡，却依然显示出令人难以置信的力量与冷静。那只手从他的嘴滑下又向上游移到前额，迫使他的头充分后仰以提醒他他的咽喉是多么毫无防范和易受攻击。
莫里克没有作出回答，虽然他脑子里已经电光火石般闪过了许多可能——试图逃跑看起来是最不可行的，因为控制着他的那只手显示出令人恐惧的力量，而握着匕首抵住他咽喉的另一只则是异乎寻常地坚定不移。不管攻击者是谁，莫里克立刻就明白自己已经被打败了。
“我只再问一次，然后一切就都结束了。”那耳语再次响起。
“你不是卓尔。”，莫里克答道，尽可能地争取一些时间以确保这个人类——他知道这是个人类而肯定不是黑暗精灵——不会作出任何轻率的举动。
“也许我是，但处于某种法师法术的伪装之下。”攻击者说，“但那是不可能的——或者可能？——因为在这房间里没有魔法能够生效。”说完他随意一推莫里克，然后一边退后一边抓着这受惊盗贼的肩把他转过身来。
莫里克不认识这个人，但他还是明白自己处于迫在眉睫的危险之中。他垂下目光看向自己的匕首，和他对手持有的华贵而有着镶宝石把柄的武器相比它看起来真的很可怜——莫里克有些畏缩地意识到，那几乎可以说是它们各自的持有者相对力量的反映。
即使以路斯坎这个充斥着盗贼的城市而言，在街道上盗贼莫里克也算是一个出色的贼。他的名声，虽然因高明的诈骗手段而增长，却也已经在城市内部大大传扬。眼前的这个人类，也许比莫里克年长十岁以上，以一种如此冷静和安定的姿态站在他面前……
这个人进入了他的房间并且毫不为人所察地逗留在这里，尽管莫里克努力地检查过了四周。这时莫里克注意到他的被子已经变得乱七八糟——但是刚才当他检查的时候，它不是铺得十分平整吗？
“你不是卓尔。”莫里克大着胆子重复了一次。
“并不是贾拉索所有的代理者都是黑暗精灵，不是这样吗，盗贼莫里克？”人类回答道。
莫里克点点头轻轻把匕首收回腰带上的鞘里，一个意在缓和紧张气氛的动作，这是莫里克拼命想达到的目的。
“宝石呢？”那人问。
莫里克无法掩饰脸上的惊慌神情。
“那应该是你从Telsburgher手里买进的，”人类评价说，“渠道畅通无阻，要做到这一点并不难。”
“本来是畅通无阻的，”莫里克纠正道，“但有一个地方小官和我有旧仇。”
入侵者又开始了凝视，既没有耍阴谋的迹象也没有流露出怒气，莫里克根本无从得知他到底有没有兴趣听自己的任何借口。
“Telsburgher已经准备要卖给我了，”盗贼很快补充道，“以我们早就谈妥的价格。他所唯一犹豫的大概是担心那小官Jharkheld的报复。那个麻烦的家伙很记仇。他知道我回到了城里而且想把我弄回囚犯狂欢节上去，但听说因为上级的命令他做不到这一点。这还得感谢贾拉索。”
“你对贾拉索表示感谢的方式应该是完美地按照命令去做。”人类回答，而莫里克紧张地把身体重心从一只脚转移到另一只脚。“他出手帮你是为了充实他的钱包，不是为了把他的心塞满那些慷慨的同情。”
莫里克点头。“我没胆量和Jharkheld斗。”他解释说，“我发动攻击而又不招致路斯坎更高层权威愤怒的代价会是多么高昂，从而最终将给贾拉索的钱包带来损失？”
“Jharkheld不构成威胁。”那人回答以一种如此确定的口气以至莫里克发现自己完全对对方的话深信不疑。“去完成这桩交易。”
“但是……”莫里克试着开口。
“就在今晚。”这就是答案，而人类已经转身开始走向房门。
就在莫里克眼前，那人的手以一种令人惊异的灵巧纯熟开始翻转作业，一个接一个陷阱被解除然后门锁被打开。即使是莫里克，要通过这扇门和这些他所设置的复杂陷阱也要花上好几分钟的时间，而且他还使用了钥匙来打开那三把理论上很难撬开的门锁，然而，在不过两分钟的时间里，现在门已经被大大推开了。
人类回头一瞥同时把什么东西抛到莫里克脚边的地板上。
那是一段金属丝。
“你最底下陷阱上的这玩意儿太长了，根本没用，”人类解释道，“我帮你把它修整过了。”
然后他走出去关上门，盗贼听见所有的锁和陷阱有效复原时发出了咔哒轻响和嵌板转动的声音。
莫里克谨慎地走近他的床把被子掀到一旁。床垫上被挖出了一个洞，大小正好能让入侵者藏身。盗贼无可奈何地笑起来，这一切更增长了他对贾拉索佣兵团的敬意。他甚至不必走近去检查陷阱花瓶就能知道现在那里面的小球只不过是个假货，而真的那个刚才已经出了他的房门。
当走进路斯坎下午晚些时候的阳光里时，恩崔立不禁眨了眨眼。他把手插到口袋里，触摸到他刚才从莫里克那儿带走的魔法物品。这个小球阻挠了莱基。当他试图亲自拜访莫里克的时候它使得他的法术完全无法生效，很可能就像它现在所做的一样。仅仅这个念头也让杀手感到满足不已。达耶特独立佣兵团几乎花费了一整个十日来调查莫里克突然隔绝魔法的原因，这个人到底是怎么使法师们的窥视魔眼无法达到他房间的。因此，恩崔立被派遣前来。他不认为这个指令和他的高超的盗贼技能有关，更确切地说，这只是因为黑暗精灵们不确定莫里克的抵抗力究竟怎样，只因他们不希望自己的任何同伴在这次查探中冒险。当然，贾拉索不会乐意见到莱基和金穆瑞强迫恩崔立去执行这次任务，但那对同僚很清楚杀手不会向佣兵头子透露这件事。
因此，恩崔立是为这两个强大而又可恨的黑暗精灵充当了消息传递人。
他所接到的带走小球和了结与莫里克的交易的指令十分明确。现在他应该把小球放到一旁然后用莱基交给他的魔法信号口哨通知身在千里之外卡林港的黑暗精灵们，但他一点也不急着这么做。
他知道自己应该杀了莫里克，既因为这个人试图自保的鲁莽行径也由于他没能交出必需的宝石。当然莱基和金穆瑞会要求这样的惩罚。现在他得证明自己保护莫里克的行为是正确的。
杀手十分清楚地了解路斯坎，他曾途经这座城市好几次，其中还包括就在不久之前当他独自和其他几个卓尔代理者了解到莫里克那魔法设计物品的真相时那一次长期的拜访。漫步街头，他很快就听到了囚犯狂欢节的叫喊和举杯欢庆声。他走进露天广场后方的时候某个可怜的蠢货正肚破肠流好像拖着一根长长的绳索。恩崔立几乎没有留意这公开展示的景象，转而集中注意力于那正在主持这场酷刑的面部特征鲜明、身材矮小罩着长袍的身形。
那个人对垂死挣扎的牺牲者高声叫喊，喝令对方在一切无可挽回之前供出自己的同伙、犯罪的地点和时间。“为你能有一个更加愉快的后半生着想！”官员尖叫道，他的声音正和他的怒气、他棱角分明的脸一样突出。“就是现在！在你死之前！”
囚犯只是哀号着。对恩崔立而言看起来就像是他早已经无法领会官员话语的任何含义了。
他很快就死了，然后展示结束。人们开始簇拥着走出广场，大多数人点头笑着，兴奋地谈论今天Jharkheld的精彩展示。
那就是恩崔立所需要听到的一切。
他从一片阴影游移到另一片阴影，尾随着官员走下从广场后方通向一座高塔的短短步道。那座塔里设有囚犯狂欢节相关官员的住处和办公处，同时地牢里也关着即将面对公开酷刑的那些犯人。
他沉思着自己拿到莫里克那小球的好运气，因为它能提供他某种保护以避开任何参与守卫高塔的雇佣法师。这使得他前进的路上只剩下一些岗哨和机械陷阱需要应付。
两者都不对阿提密斯·恩崔立构成丝毫威胁。
当太阳消失在西边天际的时候，他走进了塔门。
* * * * *
“他们有很多同盟。”莱基坚持着。
“他们会无声无息消失掉，”贾拉索笑容满面地回答，“仅仅只是消失了。”
莱基呻吟着摇了摇头，而金穆瑞走过房间在一张豪华的椅子上舒舒服服地坐下来，把一条腿搭到加了衬垫的扶手上，抬头望着天花板翻了个白眼。
“你们还是怀疑我？”贾拉索问，他的声调轻柔而无害，丝毫不带威胁的意味，“想一想我们已经在卡林港和跨越地表所做到的所有这些事。我们在很多主要城市设有代理人，甚至包括深水城在内。”
“我们在别的城市找到了很多代理，”莱基纠正道，“所有人都在为我们好好工作，只除了一个，路斯坎的那个小贼。”他停下来扫一眼心灵异能者同伴，笑了起来。“也许是这样。”
一想到他们的第二位代理——贾拉索还不知道那个人类已经离开了卡林港——现在正在路斯坎辛勤工作，金穆瑞不由得吃吃笑出声来。
“其他人都还在起步阶段，”法师继续道，“其中一些很有前途，而另一些就不见得了，但现在还没有一个能称得上代理人这个头衔。”
“那么，也快了。”贾拉索说着，径直走向他自己的舒适座椅，“非常快！他们会成为有利可图的合伙人，否则我们就另外再找一些——在贪婪的人类中这不算什么太棘手的事。而卡林港这边的情形……看看四周。难道你能怀疑我们来到这儿的高明之处？珠宝美玉正源源不断地流进我们口袋，一条卓族急欲扩张领土到魔索布莱那有限财富之外的坦途。”
“如果契德·纳撒城的最高家族没有认为这是在切断他们的财路，我们就够幸运了。”来自其他卓尔城市的莱基辛辣地评价道。
对此佣兵头子只是报以嘲笑。
“我不否认卡林港的收益性。”法师副官继续说，“在我们最初计划前往地表的旅程时我们就都认同了它将带来直接而丰厚的利润。同样地我们也都达成了一致见解，这很可能只是一个短时期，而在最初的收益之后，我们应该好好认清自己的立场并且很可能撤回自己的领土，只适当留下获益最丰的贸易往来和代理。”
“所以现在我们应该重新考虑，而我已经这么做了。”贾拉索说，“看起来很明显我们低估了这次地表行动的潜能。扩张！我提议，扩张。”
金穆瑞再次露出了沮丧的神情。他还是看着天花板，好像以此作为一种对佣兵头子所提建议的可怜反对方式。
“便衣们希望我们能把交易限定于这一区域。”贾拉索提醒道，“然而能提供更多奇异货物——那些很可能在魔索布莱大受欢迎的货物——的工匠都在目前我们控制的区域之外。”
“那我们就和他们做一笔交易，让那些人也参与到这个他们以前没有插手、崭新而又有利可图的市场中来分一杯羹。”莱基提出了一项以达耶特独立佣兵团——一个永远想方设法把“相互受益”作为自己的商业信条、唯利是图又机会主义的团队——的历史来看绝妙而又完全合情合理的建议。
“他们不足为虑。”贾拉索回答道，同时向面前的空气中伸出拇指和食指然后把它们挤到一起仿佛正在挤去一个不必要的小小瑕疵，“他们只会简单地消失。”
“这不是一项你看起来所相信那样简单的任务。”门口传来一个娇媚的声音，三个卓尔匆匆一瞥，看见夏洛塔·维斯帕正身着一件开叉很高、露出一条曲线优美大腿的长袍袅袅婷婷走进房间。“便衣们向来都因他们的组织网覆盖之深广而自傲。你无法摧毁他们所有的机构和他们所有已知的代理，甚至所有和他们那些代理有交易往来的人，总是会留下很多目击者的。”
“谁又会做那种事呢？”贾拉索问，他仍是微笑着，甚至拍了拍自己的椅子示意夏洛塔过去和他坐在一起，而那个女人也的确这么做了，亲密地蜷着身子靠在他身旁。这副景象使得莱基再次扫一眼金穆瑞。他们两个都清楚贾拉索把这人类女人——和恩崔立同为旧巴萨多尼工会最强大的幸存者——作为了自己的床伴，而他们都不喜欢看到这样的事态发展。夏洛塔是一个狡猾的人，以人类而言，几乎已经狡猾得甚至能被卓尔社会所接受。她已掌握了卓尔的语言而且现在也能以黑暗精灵无声的复杂手势进行交流。莱基十分厌恶她，而金穆瑞，虽然觉得这女人很有异国情调，却也不喜欢她在贾拉索耳边偷偷提出些危险的建议。
然而在这件特殊的事上，就他们两者看来似乎夏洛塔是和他们意见一致的，所以他们并不曾像过去常常做的那样试图阻挠她。
“那些目击者会告诉每一个残存的工会，”夏洛塔解释说，“他们也将通知卡林珊的更高层权威。便衣工会的毁灭暗示着一股真正强大的势力早已经秘密入驻卡林港。”
“我们的确是这样做的没错。”贾拉索说着露齿一笑。
“而这势力的强大力量是基于保持隐秘的基础之上。”女人回答说。
贾拉索把她从自己膝盖上推下椅子去，于是女人不得不急急忙忙把她那修长匀称的双腿放下地来以防止狼狈地坐倒在地。
然后惟利是图的佣兵头子也站起身来，从夏洛塔身边径自走了过去，似乎她的意见根本无关紧要，他走近对自己而言更为重要的副官们。“我曾把达耶特独立佣兵团在地表所扮演的角色定位于进出口商，”他解释道，“这一点我们已经轻易地做到了。现在我已经看清了这个由人类所支配的社会的真面目，而那也揭示出关于其弱点的真相。我们能更进一步——我们必须这么做。”
“去征服？”莱基尖刻而又辛辣地问。
“和班瑞家族对秘银厅的图谋不同。”贾拉索急切地说明道，“不仅仅是吸收而已。”他脸上再次浮现出邪恶的笑容。“对于那些将要参与到这计划中的人而言。”
“也包括那些不会简单消失掉的人？”莱基问，但看起来贾拉索毫不为他的讽刺所动，只是越来越开怀地笑着。
“就在前几天你自己不就杀了一个便衣间谍吗？”贾拉索问。
“保守秘密和扩张势力范围，这两者有很大的差别。”法师回答说。
“从语义的角度来说是这样没错。”佣兵头子大笑着说，“仅仅是语义。”
在他身后，夏洛塔·维斯帕轻轻咬住下唇摇了摇头，她担心自己最新找到的这个支持者将会犯下一个巨大而又极其危险的过错。
* * * * *
在不远处的一条小巷里，恩崔立侧耳倾听着从高塔传出的呼喊和骚动。当进入塔内的时候，他首先下楼去释放了一个讨人厌的囚犯。当向那人指出位于地牢后面那条相对比较安全的开放隧道之后，他沿着楼梯回到第一楼，然后继续往上走，有意沿着火把通明的阴凉走廊安静地移动。
找到Jharkheld的房间易如反掌。
那房门甚至没有上锁。
要不是正好目睹了这官员在囚犯狂欢节上的所作所为，阿提密斯·恩崔立可能会就莫里克的事对他进行劝服。现在莫里克完成自己任务和提供出宝石的门路非常清楚了。
恩崔立想知道那个逃脱的囚犯——卑鄙的Jharkheld那显而易见的谋杀者——是不是已经在隧道的迷宫之中被发现了。那个人将面临着多么悲惨的前景。杀手脸上不知不觉浮现出一个扭曲的笑容，因为他对自己出于自身利益而利用了那个不幸的人没有感到丝毫的负疚。毕竟那个白痴本该更加有所觉悟才对。为什么会有人毫无预警而且带着很明显的个人目的地前去救他？为什么当恩崔立把他从镣铐中释放出来的时候他没有向杀手开口询问？为什么，如果他足够聪明而值得活下去的话，没有试着就势抓住杀手，把这个不请自来的无名救助者锁上镣铐顶替自己的位置去面对那些刽子手？地牢里有这么多的囚犯进进出出以致于看守很可能根本就不会注意到这小小的改变。
所以，他完全是罪有应得，而且在恩崔立看来，这命运也归咎于那些他自己所曾做过的。当然，这个凶手会声称有其他某人帮助了他出逃然后妥善安排这所有一切使得那桩谋杀看起来像是他所做的。囚犯狂欢节根本不关心这样的申辩。阿提密斯·恩崔立也不。
他把这一切念头挥出脑海，机警地环视四周以确保现在自己是独自一人，然后把魔法反法术小球放到小巷的一侧。他走到巷子对侧然后吹响了魔法口哨。这时杀手很好奇于这玩意儿到底能怎么起作用。当然，要让他回到卡林港魔法终究是必需的，但如果他不得不带着那小球上路的话这一切该怎么生效呢？它所附的咒文只会简单地解除传送吗？
一道蓝色的光幕浮现在他身旁。那是一扇魔法门，不是由莱基所造而是出自金穆瑞之手。所以这就是答案，他沉思着。也许这小球无法与心灵异能相抗衡。
或者也许它可以，当走过去拣起这东西时这个念头使得向来坚定不移的杀手感到深深的不安。如果这小球由于某种未知的原因能够影响到金穆瑞的次元扭曲，结果会变成怎样？也许他会被传送到错误的地点——甚至是真实存在的其他位面？
恩崔立摇头把这个想法也赶出脑海。不管有没有和卓尔或是魔法球扯上关系，生活总是伴随着危机。他小心地把小球秘密藏到口袋里，这样的话任何窥视魔眼都得花上相当一段时间才能看清暗巷里的情形。然后他大步流星快速走向入口，一次简单的深呼吸之后，他穿过了门。
杀手头晕目眩地重新出现在千里之外卡林港工会建筑的秘密魔法大厅里，竭力保持着平衡。
金穆瑞和莱基站在那儿，严酷地注视着他。
“宝石呢？”莱基用恩崔立勉强能懂的卓尔语问。
“很快就到。”杀手用他那并不太流畅的地底卓族语言回答，“曾经出过些问题。”
两个黑暗精灵都惊奇地扬起了白色眉毛。
“只是曾经。”恩崔立强调，“莫里克不久就会买到那些宝石了。”
“这么说莫里克还活着。”金穆瑞尖锐地指出，“他想要躲开我们的愚蠢尝试该怎么处置？”
“那尝试更多是出于地方官员们想要把他对外界势力封锁起来。”恩崔立说了谎，“某一个地方官员。”他很快纠正说，同时看见对方脸上变得怒气冲冲。“我已经对事件结局作出补救了。”
看起来两个卓尔都没因这番话而变得高兴些，但也没人公然地出言抱怨。
“而这个地方官用魔法把莫里克的房间对外界窥视魔眼封锁了起来？”莱基问。
“还有所有的其他魔法。”恩崔立答道，“这个问题已经解决了。”
“用那个球？”金穆瑞追问。
“莫里克持有那小球。”莱基眯着眼评论道。
“很显然他并不清楚自己买了什么。”杀手面无惧色地冷静说，因为他意识到自己的策略已经生效了。
当然法师和心灵异能者会怀疑这一切都是莫里克在捣鬼而并非任何小官的杰作。他们会猜想恩崔立扭曲了事实以满足他的私欲，但杀手明白自己并没有给他们留下什么足够明显以使其得以采取行动的把柄——至少，在不增加贾拉索的愤怒这一前提下没有。
再一次地，恩崔立意识到他的安全几乎完全是维系在这惟利是图的佣兵头子身上，这个认知并不令他感到愉快。他不喜欢变得依赖，视这个词等同于软弱。
他必须改变这处境。
“你持有那小球。”莱基伸出一只修长的手说，那手看起来有一种欺骗性的病弱感。
“它留在我这儿比交给你更好。”杀手大着胆子回答，这番声明使得两个黑暗精灵都后退了一步。
然而就在他话音刚落的时候，恩崔立感觉到了口袋里传来的麻刺感。他伸手摸上小球，敏感的手指感觉到一种细微的振动从这魔法物品内部深处传出。杀手凝视的目光定在金穆瑞身上。卓尔正闭眼静立着，处于一种深沉的集中状态。
于是他明白了。这球的附魔根本无法对抗心灵异能者那可怕的精神力量，而且杀手以前曾经看过这样的心灵异能把戏。金穆瑞正在把精神力延伸入小球内部的潜在能量然后将它激发到爆炸性的程度。
恩崔立半真半假地想着他可以耐心等待直到最后一刻然后把球对着金穆瑞的脸狠狠扔过去。这卑劣的卓尔尝到自己众多把戏之一的苦头，这景象将会多么令人满足！
心灵异能者挥手打开了一个次元入口从这房间通往外面几近荒废满是灰尘的街道。它的开口对小球来说足够大了，但却没法让杀手通过。
杀手感觉到那能量正在增强，不断地增强……那振动早已不再那么轻微了。他仍然克制着，注视着金穆瑞——只是注视和等待着，告诉卓尔自己毫不畏惧。
这实在算不上是意志的较量。恩崔立口袋里正在酝酿着一场不断增长的爆炸，而金穆瑞站得足够远因此除了杀手喷溅的鲜血之外他只会受到很轻微的波及。杀手再次开始考虑把球扔向心灵异能者的脸，但再一次地，他意识到这种行为的徒劳。
金穆瑞将单单只是停止激发球里的潜在能量，完全中止这场爆炸正如把一个火把浸到水里熄灭那燃烧的火焰。而恩崔立将给予法师和心灵异能者他们所需要以彻底毁灭他的所有正当借口。贾拉索可能会发怒，但他不能也不会否认他们自卫的权利。
阿提密斯·恩崔立还没有准备好这样的一场战斗。
不是现在。
他把小球掷出那洞开的门然后观望着，片刻之后一声爆炸传来，它爆裂开来化为尘土。
魔法门消失了。
“你在玩火。”莱基评价道。
“是你的卓尔朋友引发了这场爆炸。”恩崔立漫不经心地回答。
“我说的不是这个。”法师反驳说，“在你们人类之中有一句俗话，‘派一个小孩去做大人的工作是有勇无谋’。我们也有一种相似的说法，‘派一个人类去做卓尔的工作是有勇无谋’。”
恩崔立严酷地注视他，沉默不语。整个情形感觉起来开始有点像是那些他被抓去魔索布莱的日子，那时他明白，在一个有着两万黑暗精灵的城市，不管他变得有多出色，不管他的技艺是多么完美，他永远也不会被认为在那两万零一中拥有任何稍高的社会地位。
莱基和金穆瑞引用了一些他们的习语，极尽羞辱之能事，那些粗鲁，那些阴险，全都是针对恩崔立。
他把这一切忍受下来，一字一句每一个细节，而没有说任何话，因为他无法说任何话。他持续考虑着有关Dallabad绿洲和一把特殊的长剑及其配套的防护手套的事。
他接受了他们那些污蔑的话，因为他不得不如此。
现在不得不如此。
[此章完]
漫长的一章，翻译过来近一万字~ 如果说前1/3看得很兴奋，那么后1/3就是怒了……
不多说什么了，阿恩，去拿卡隆之爪！拿了它，然后揭了那两张臭黑皮！！= =||||||
以下为原文：
Chapter 3
A HUMBLING ENCOUNTER
He had his old room back. He even had his name back. The
memories of the authorities in Luskan were not as long as
they claimed.
The previous year, Morik the Rogue had been accused of
attempting to murder the honorable Captain Deudermont of the
good ship Sea Sprite, a famous pirate hunter. Since in
Luskan accusation and conviction were pretty much the same
thing, Morik had faced the prospect of a horrible death in
the public spectacle of Prisoner's Carnival. He had actually
been in the process of realizing that ultimate torture when
Captain Deudermont, horrified by the gruesome scene, had
offered a pardon.
Pardoned or not, Morik had been forever banned from
Luskan on pain of death. He had returned anyway, of course,
the following year. At first he'd taken on an assumed
identity, but gradually he had regained his old trappings,
his true mannerisms, his connections on the streets, his
apartment, and, finally, his name and the reputation it
carried. The authorities knew it too, but having plenty of
other thugs to torture to death, they didn't seem to care.
Morik could look back on that awful day at Prisoner's
Carnival with a sense of humor now. He thought it perfectly
ironic that he had been tortured for a crime that he hadn't
even committed when there were so many crimes of which he
could be rightly convicted.
It was all a memory now, the memory of a whirlwind of
intrigue and danger by the name of Wulfgar. He was Morik the
Rogue once more, and all was as it had once been ... almost.
For now there was another element, an intriguing and
also terrifying element, that had come into Morik's life. He
walked up to the door of his room cautiously, glancing all
about the narrow hallway, studying the shadows. When he was
confident that he was alone, he walked up tight to the door,
shielding it from any magically prying eyes, and began the
process of undoing nearly a dozen deadly traps, top to
bottom along both sides of the jamb. That done, he took out
a ring of keys and undid the locks-one, two, three-then he
clicked open the door. He disarmed yet another trap-this one
explosive-then entered, closing and securing the door and
resetting all the traps. The complete process took him more
than ten minutes, yet he performed this ritual every time he
came home. The dark elves had come into Morik's life,
unannounced and uninvited. While they had promised him the
treasure of a king if he performed their tasks, they had
also promised him and had shown him the flip side of that
golden coin as well.
Morik checked the small pedestal at the side of the door
next. He nodded, satisfied to see that the orb was still in
place in the wide vase. The vessel was coated with contact
poison and maintained a sensitive pressure release trap. He
had paid dearly for that particular orb- an enormous amount
of gold that would take him a year of hard thievery to
retrieve-but in Morik's fearful eyes, the item was well
worth the price. It was enchanted with a powerful anti-magic
dweomer that would prevent dimensional doors from opening in
his room, that would prevent wizards from strolling in on
the other side of a teleportation spell.
Never again did Morik the Rogue wish to be awakened by a
dark elf standing at the side of his bed, looming over him.
All of his locks were in place, his orb rested in its
protected vessel, and yet some subtle signal, an intangible
breeze, a tickling on the hairs at the back of his neck,
told Morik that something was out of place. He glanced all
around, from shadow to shadow, to the drapes that still hung
over the window he had long ago bricked up. He looked to his
bed, to the tightly tucked sheets, with no blankets hanging
below the edge. Bending just a bit, Morik saw right through
the bottom of the bed. There was no one hiding under there.
The drapes, then, he thought, and he moved in that
general direction but took a circuitous route so that he
wouldn't force any action from the intruder. A sudden shift
and quick-step brought him there, dagger revealed, and he
pulled the drapes aside and struck hard, catching only air.
Morik laughed in relief and at his own paranoia. How
different his world had become since the arrival of the dark
elves. Always now he was on the edge of his nerves. He had
seen the drow a total of only five times, including their
initial encounter way back when Wulfgar was new to the city
and they, for some reason that Morik still did not
completely understand, wanted him to keep an eye on the huge
barbarian.
He was always on his edge, always wary, but he reminded
himself of the potential gains his alliance with the drow
would bring. Part of the reason that he was Morik the Rogue
again, from what he had been able to deduce, had to do with
a visit to a particular authority by one of Jarlaxle's
henchmen.
He gave a sigh of relief and let the drapes swing back,
then froze in surprise and fear as a hand clamped over his
mouth and the fine edge of a dagger came tight against his
throat.
"You have the jewels?" a voice whispered in his ear, a
voice showing incredible strength and calm despite its quiet
tone. The hand slipped off of his mouth and up to his
forehead, forcing his head back just enough to remind him of
how vulnerable and open his throat was.
Morik didn't answer, his mind racing through many
possibilities-the least likely of which seeming to be his
potential escape, for that hand holding him revealed
frightening strength and the hand holding the dagger at his
throat was too, too steady. Whoever his attacker might be,
Morik understood immediately that he was overmatched.
"I ask one more time; then I end my frustration," came
the whisper.
"You are not drow," Morik replied, as much to buy some
time as to ensure that this man-and he knew that it was a
man and certainly no dark elf-would not act rashly.
"Perhaps I am, though under the guise of a wizard's
spell," the assailant replied. "But that could not be-or
could it?-since no magic will work in this room." As he
finished, he roughly pushed Morik away, then grabbed his
shoulder to spin the frightened rogue around as he fell
back.
Morik didn't recognize the man, though he still
understood that he was in imminent danger. He glanced down
at his own dagger, and it seemed a pitiful thing indeed
against the magnificent, jewel-handled blade his opponent
carried-almost a reflection of the relative strengths of
their wielders, Morik recognized with a wince.
Morik the Rogue was as good a thief as roamed the
streets of Luskan, a city full of thieves. His reputation,
though bloated by bluff, had been well-earned across the
bowels of the city. This man before him, older than Morik by
a decade, perhaps, and standing so calm and so balanced . .
.
This man had gotten into his apartment and had remained
there unobserved despite Morik's attempted scrutiny. Morik
noted then that the bed sheets were rumpled-but hadn't he
just looked at them, to see them perfectly smooth?
"You are not drow," Morik dared to say again.
"Not all of Jarlaxle's agents are dark elves, are they,
Morik the Rogue?" the man replied.
Morik nodded and slipped his dagger into its sheath at
his belt, a move designed to alleviate the tension,
something that Morik desperately wanted to do.
"The jewels?" the man asked.
Morik could not hide the panic from his face.
"You should have purchased them from Telsburgher," the
man remarked. "The way was clear and the assignment was not
difficult."
"The way would have been clear," Morik corrected, "but
for a minor magistrate who holds old grudges."
The intruder continued to stare, showing neither
intrigue nor anger, telling Morik nothing at all about
whether or not he was even interested in any excuses.
"Telsburgher is ready to sell them to me," Morik quickly
added, "at the agreed price. His hesitation is only a matter
of his fear that there will be retribution from Magistrate
Jharkheld. The evil man holds an old grudge. He knows that I
am back in town and wishes to drag me back to his Prisoner's
Carnival, but he cannot, by word of his superiors, I am
told. Thank Jarlaxle for me."
"You thank Jarlaxle by performing as instructed," the
man replied, and Morik nervously shifted from foot to foot.
"He helps you to fill his purse, not to fill his heart with
good feelings."
Morik nodded. "I fear to go after Jharkheld," he
explained. "How high might I strike without incurring the
wrath of the greater powers of Luskan, thus ultimately
wounding Jarlaxle's purse?"
"Jharkheld is not a concern," the man answered with a
tone so assured that Morik found that he believed every
word. "Complete the transaction."
"But..." Morik started to reply.
"This night," came the answer, and the man turned away
and started for the door.
His hands worked in amazing circles right before Morik's
eyes as trap after trap after lock fell open. It had taken
Morik several minutes to get through that door, and that
with an intricate knowledge of every trap-which he had set-
and with the keys for the three supposedly difficult locks,
and yet, within the span of two minutes, the door now swung
open wide.
The man glanced back and tossed something to the floor
at Morik's feet.
A wire.
"The one on your bottom trap had stretched beyond
usefulness," the man explained. "I repaired it for you."
He went out then and closed the door, and Morik heard
the clicks and sliding panels as all the locks and traps
were efficiently reset.
Morik went to his bed cautiously and pulled the bed
sheets aside. A hole had been cut into his mattress,
perfectly sized to hold the intruder. Morik gave a helpless
laugh, his respect for Jarlaxle's band multiplying. He
didn't even have to go over to his trapped vase to know that
the orb now within it was a fake and that the real one had
just walked out his door.
Entreri blinked as he walked out into the late afternoon
Luskan sun. He dropped a hand into his pocket, to feel the
enchanted device he had just taken from Morik. This small
orb had frustrated Rai-guy. It defeated his magic when he'd
tried to visit Morik himself, as it was likely doing now.
That thought alone pleased Entreri greatly. It had taken
Bregan D'aerthe nearly a ten day to discern the source of
Morik's sudden distance, how the man had made his room
inaccessible to the prying eyes of the wizards. Thus,
Entreri had been sent. He held no illusions that his trip
had to do with his thieving prowess, but rather, it was
simply because the dark elves weren't certain of how
resistant Morik might be and simply hadn't wished to risk
any of their brethren in the exploration. Certainly Jarlaxle
wouldn't have been pleased to learn that Rai-guy and
Kimmuriel had forced Entreri to go, but the pair knew that
Entreri wouldn't go to Jarlaxle with the information.
So Entreri had played message boy for the two
formidable, hated dark elves.
His instructions upon taking the orb and finishing his
business with Morik had been explicit and precise. He was to
place the orb aside and use the magical signal whistle Rai-
guy had given him to call to the dark elves in faraway
Calimport, but he wasn't in any hurry.
He knew that he should have killed Morik, both for the
man's impertinence in trying to shield himself and for
failing to produce the required jewels. Rai-guy and
Kimmuriel would demand such punishment, of course. Now he'd
have to justify his actions, to protect Morik somewhat.
He knew Luskan fairly well, having been through the city
several times, including an extended visit only a few days
before, when he, along with several other drow agents, had
learned the truth of Morik's magic-blocking device.
Wandering the streets, he soon heard the shouts and cheers
of the vicious Prisoner's Carnival. He entered the back of
the open square just as some poor fool was having his
intestines pulled out like a great length of rope. Entreri
hardly noticed the spectacle, concentrating instead on the
sharp-featured, diminutive, robed figure presiding over the
torture.
The man screamed at the writhing victim, telling him to
surrender his associates, there and then, before it was too
late. "Secure a chance for a more pleasant afterlife!" the
magistrate screeched, his voice as sharp as his angry,
angular features. "Now! Before you die!"
The man only wailed. It seemed to Entreri as if he was
far beyond any point of even comprehending the magistrate's
words.
He died soon enough and the show was over. The people
began filtering out of the square, most nodding their heads
and smiling, speaking excitedly of Jharkheld's fine show
this day.
That was all Entreri needed to hear.
He moved shadow to shadow, following the magistrate down
the short walk from the back of the square to the tower that
housed the quarters of the officials of Prisoner's Carnival
as well as the dungeons holding those who would soon face
the public tortures.
He mused at his own good fortune in carrying Morik's
orb, for it gave him some measure of protection from any
wizard hired to further secure the tower. That left only
sentries and mechanical traps in his way.
Artemis Entreri feared neither.
He went into the tower as the sun disappeared in the
west.
* * * * *
"They have too many allies," Rai-guy insisted.
"They would be gone without a trace," Jarlaxle replied
with a wide smile. "Simply gone."
Rai-guy groaned and shook his head, and Kimmuriel,
across the room and sitting comfortably in a plush chair,
one leg thrown over the cushioning arm, looked up at the
ceiling and rolled his eyes.
"You continue to doubt me?" Jarlaxle asked, his tone
light and innocent, not threatening. "Consider all that we
have already accomplished here in Calimport and across the
surface. We have agents in several major cities, including
Waterdeep."
"We are exploring agents in other cities," Rai-guy
corrected. "We have but one currently working, the little
rogue in Luskan." He paused and glanced over at his
psionicist counterpart and smiled. "Perhaps."
Kimmuriel chuckled as he considered their second agent
now working in Luskan, the one Jarlaxle did not know had
left Calimport.
The others are preliminary," Rai-guy went on. "Some are
promising, others not so, but none are worthy of the title
of agent at this time."
"Soon, then," said Jarlaxle, coming forward in his own
comfortable chair. "Soon! They will become profitable
partners or we will find others-not so difficult a thing to
do among the greedy humans. The situation here in
Calimport... look around you. Can you doubt our wisdom in
coming here? The gems and jewels are flowing fast, a direct
line to a drow population eager to expand their possessions
beyond the limited wealth of Menzoberranzan."
"Fortunate are we if the houses of Ched Nasad determine
that we are undercutting their economy," Rai-guy, who hailed
from that other drow city, remarked sarcastically.
Jarlaxle scoffed at the notion.
"I cannot deny the profitability of Calimport," the
wizard lieutenant went on, "yet when we first planned our
journey to the surface, we all agreed that it would show
immediate and strong returns. As we all agreed it would
likely be a short tenure, and that, after the initial
profits, we would do well to reconsider our position and
perhaps retreat to our own land, leaving only the best of
the trading connections and agents in place."
"So we should reconsider, and so I have," said Jarlaxle.
"It seems obvious to me that we underestimated the potential
of our surface operations. Expand! Expand, I say."
Again came the disheartened expressions. Kimmuriel was
still staring at the ceiling, as if in abject denial of what
Jarlaxle was proposing.
"The Rakers desire that we limit our trade to this one
section," Jarlaxle reminded, "yet many of the craftsmen of
the more exotic goods-merchandise that would likely prove
most attractive in Menzoberranzan-are outside of that
region."
"Then we cut a deal with the Rakers, let them in on the
take for this new and profitable market to which they have
no access," said Rai-guy, a perfectly reasonable suggestion
in light of the history of Bregan D'aerthe, a mercenary and
opportunistic band that always tried to use the words
"mutually beneficial" as their business credo.
"They are pimples," Jarlaxle replied, extending his
thumb and index finger in the air before him and pressing
them together as if he was squeezing away an unwanted
blemish. "They will simply disappear."
"Not as easy a task as you seem to believe," came a
feminine voice from the doorway, and the three glanced over
to see Sharlotta Vespers gliding into the room, dressed in a
long gown slit high enough to reveal one very shapely leg.
"The Rakers pride themselves on spreading their
organizational lines far and wide. You could destroy all of
their houses and all of their known agents, even all of the
people dealing with all of their agents, and still leave
many witnesses."
"Who would do what?" Jarlaxle asked, but he was still
smiling, even patting his chair for Sharlotta to go over and
sit with him, which she did, curling about him familiarly.
The sight of it made Rai-guy glance again at Kimmuriel. Both
knew that Jarlaxle was bedding the human woman, the most
powerful remnant-along with Entreri- of the old Basadoni
Guild, and neither of them liked the idea. Sharlotta was a
sly one, as humans go, almost sly enough to be accepted
among the society of drow. She had even mastered the
language of the drow and was now working on the intricate
hand signals of the dark elven silent code. Rai-guy found
her perfectly repulsive, and Kimmuriel, though seeing her as
exotic, did not like the idea of having her whispering
dangerous suggestions into Jarlaxle's ear.
In this particular matter, though, it seemed to both of
them that Sharlotta was on their side, so they didn't try to
interrupt her as they usually did.
"Witnesses who would tell every remaining guild,"
Sharlotta explained, "and who would inform the greater
powers of Calimshan. The destruction of the Rakers Guild
would imply that a truly great power had secretly come to
Calimport."
"One has," Jarlaxle said with a grin.
"One whose greatest strength lies in remaining secret,"
Sharlotta replied.
Jarlaxle pushed her from his lap, right off the chair,
so that she had to move quickly to get her shapely legs
under her in time to prevent falling unceremoniously on her
rump.
The mercenary leader then rose as well, pushing right
past Sharlotta as if her opinion mattered not at all, and
moving closer to his more important lieutenants. "I once
envisioned Bregan D'aerthe's role on the surface as that of
importer and exporter," he explained. "This we have easily
achieved. Now I see the truth of the human dominated
societies, and that is a truth of weakness. We can go
further- we must go further."
"Conquest?" Rai-guy asked sourly, sarcastically.
"Not as Baenre attempted with Mithral Hall," Jarlaxle
eagerly explained. "More a matter of absorption." Again came
that wicked smile. "For those who will play."
"And those who will not simply disappear?" Rai-guy
asked, but his sarcasm seemed lost on Jarlaxle, who only
smiled all the wider.
"Did you not execute a Raker spy only the other day?"
Jarlaxle asked.
"There is a profound difference in defending our privacy
and trying to expand our borders," the wizard replied.
"Semantics," Jarlaxle said with a laugh. "Simply
semantics."
Behind him, Sharlotta Vespers bit her lip and shook her
head, fearing that her newfound benefactors might be about
to make a tremendous and very dangerous blunder.
* * * * *
From an alley not so far away, Entreri listened to the
shouts and confusion coming from the tower. When he had
entered, he'd gone downstairs first, to find a particularly
unpleasant prisoner to free. Once he had ushered the man to
relative safety, to the open tunnels at the back of the
dungeons, he had gone upstairs to the first floor, then up
again, moving quietly and deliberately along the shadowy,
torch-lit corridors.
Finding Jharkheld's room proved easy enough.
The door hadn't even been locked.
Had he not just witnessed the magistrate's work at
Prisoner's Carnival, Artemis Entreri might have reasoned
with him concerning Morik. Now the way was clear for Morik
to complete his task and proffer the jewels.
Entreri wondered if the escaped prisoner, the obvious
murderer of poor Jharkheld, had been found in the maze of
tunnels yet. What misery the man would face. A wry grin
found its way onto Entreri's face, for he hardly felt any
guilt about using the wretch for his own gain. The idiot
should have known better, after all. Why would someone come
in unannounced and at obvious great personal risk to save
him? Why hadn't he even questioned Entreri while the
assassin was releasing him from the shackles? Why, if he was
smart enough to deserve his life, hadn't he tried to capture
Entreri in his place, to put this unasked-for and unknown
savior up in the shackles in his stead, to face the
executioner? So many prisoners came through these dungeons
that the gaolers likely wouldn't even have been aware of the
change.
So, his fate was the thug's own to accept, and in
Entreri's thinking, of his own doing. Of course, the thug
would claim that someone else had helped him to escape, had
set it all up to make it look like it was his doing.
Prisoner's Carnival hardly cared for such excuses. Nor did
Artemis Entreri.
He dismissed all thoughts of those problems, glanced
around to ensure that he was alone, and placed the magic
dispelling orb along the side of the alley. He walked across
the way and blew his whistle. He wondered then how this
might work. Magic would be needed, after all, to get him
back to Calimport, but how might that work if he had to take
the orb along? Wouldn't the orb's dweomer simply dispel the
attempted teleportation?
A blue screen of light appeared beside him. It was a
magical doorway, he knew, and not one of Rai-guy's, but
rather the doing of Kimmuriel Oblodra. So that was it, he
mused. Perhaps the orb wouldn't work against psionics.
Or perhaps it would, and that thought unsettled the
normally unshakable Entreri profoundly as he moved to
collect the item. What would happen if the orb somehow did
affect Kimmuriel's dimension warp? Might he wind up in the
wrong place-even in another plane of existence, perhaps?
Entreri shook that thought away as well. Life was risky
when dealing with drow, magical orbs or not. He took care to
pocket the orb slyly, so that any prying eyes would have a
difficult time making out the movement in the dark alley,
then strode quickly up to the portal, and with a single deep
breath, stepped through.
He came out di, fighting hard to hold his balance, in
the guild hall's private sorcery chambers back in Calimport,
hundreds and hundreds of miles away.
There stood Kimmuriel and Rai-guy, staring at him hard.
"The jewels?" Rai-guy asked in the drow language, which
Entreri understood, though not well.
"Soon," the assassin replied in his shaky command of
Deep Drow. "There was a problem,"
Both dark elves lifted their white eyebrows in surprise.
"Was," Entreri emphasized. "Morik will have the jewels
presently."
"Then Morik lives," Kimmuriel remarked pointedly. "What
of his attempts to hide from us?"
"More the attempts of local magistrates to seal him off
from any outside influences," Entreri lied. "One local
magistrate," he quickly corrected, seeing their faces sour.
"The issue has been remedied."
Neither drow seemed pleased, but neither openly
complained.
"And this local magistrate had magically sealed off
Morik's room from outside, prying eyes?" Rai-guy asked.
"And all other magic," Entreri answered. "It has been
corrected."
"With the orb?" Kimmuriel added.
"Morik proffered the orb," Rai-guy remarked, narrowing
his eyes.
"He apparently did not know what he was buying," Entreri
said calmly, not getting alarmed, for he recognized that his
ploys had worked.
Rai-guy and Kimmuriel would hold their suspicions that
it had been Morik's work, and not that of any minor
official, of course. They would suspect that Entreri had
bent the truth to suit his own needs, but the assassin knew
that he hadn't given them anything overt enough for them to
act upon-at least, not without raising the ire of Jarlaxle.
Again, the realization that his security was almost
wholly based on the mercenary leader did not sit well with
Entreri. He didn't like being dependent, equating the word
with weakness.
He had to turn the situation around.
"You have the orb," Rai-guy remarked, holding out his
slender, deceivingly delicate hand.
"Better for me than for you," the assassin dared to
reply, and that declaration set the two dark elves back on
their heels.
Even as he finished speaking, though, Entreri felt the
tingling in his pocket. He dropped a hand to the orb, and
his sensitive fingers felt a subtle vibration coming from
deep within the enchanted item. Entreri's gaze focused on
Kimmuriel. The drow was standing with his eyes closed, deep
in concentration.
Then he understood. The orb's enchantment would do
nothing against any of Kimmuriel's formidable mind powers,
and Entreri had seen this psionic trick before. Kimmuriel
was reaching into the latent energy within the orb and was
exciting that energy to explosive levels.
Entreri toyed with the idea of waiting until the last
moment then throwing the orb into Kimmuriel's face. How he
would enjoy the sight of that wretched drow caught in one of
his own tricks!
With a wave of his hand, Kimmuriel opened a dimensional
portal, from the room to the nearly deserted dusty street
outside. It was a portal large enough for the orb, but that
would not allow Entreri to step through.
Entreri felt the energy building, building ... the
vibrations were not so subtle any longer. Still he held
back, staring at Kimmuriel-just staring and waiting, letting
the drow know that he was not afraid.
In truth this was no contest of wills. Entreri had a
mounting explosion in his pocket, and Kimmuriel was far
enough away so that he would feel little effect from it
other than the splattering of Entreri's blood. Again the
assassin considered throwing the orb into Kimmuriel's face,
but again he realized the futility of such a course.
Kimmuriel would simply stop exciting the latent energy
within the orb, would shut off the explosion as completely
as dipping a torch into water snuffed out its flame. Entreri
would have given Rai-guy and Kimmuriel all the justification
they needed to utterly destroy him. Jarlaxle might be angry,
but he couldn't and wouldn't deny them their right to defend
themselves.
Artemis Entreri wasn't ready for such a fight.
Not yet.
He tossed the orb out through the open door and watched,
a split second later, as it exploded into dust.
The magical door went away.
"You play dangerous games," Rai-guy remarked.
"Your drow friend is the one who brought on the
explosion," Entreri casually replied.
"I speak not of that," the wizard retorted. "There is a
common saying among your people that it is foolhardy to send
a child to do a man's work. We have a similar saying, that
it is foolhardy to send a human to do a drow's work."
Entreri stared at him hard, having no response. This
whole situation was starting to feel like those days when he
had been trapped down in Menzoberranzan, when he had known
that, in a city of twenty thousand dark elves, no matter how
good he got, no matter how perfect his craft, he would never
be considered any higher in society's rankings than twenty
thousand and one.
Rai-guy and Kimmuriel tossed out a few phrases between
themselves, insults mostly, some crude, some subtle, all
aimed at Entreri.
He took them, every one, and said nothing, because he
could say nothing. He kept thinking of Dallabad Oasis and a
particular sword and gauntlet combination.
He accepted their demeaning words, because he had to.
For now.