'Drow,' Catti-brie interrupted. Wulfgar and Bruenor turned on her, Wulfgar's clear eyes flashing with anger at being interrupted, but only for the moment it took him to understand the gravity of what Catti-brie had announced.
'The elf had a bow that'd fit this?' Bruenor balked.
'Not Drizzt,' Catti-brie corrected grimly, 'other drow.' Wulfgar and Bruenor screwed up their faces in obvious doubt, but Catti-brie felt certain of her guess. Many times in the past, back in Icewind Dale on the empty slopes of Kelvin's Cairn, Drizzt had told her of his homeland, had told her of the remarkable accomplishments and exotic artifacts of the dark elf nation. Among those artifacts was the most favored weapon of the dark elves, hand-held crossbows, with quarrels usually tipped in poison.
Wulfgar and Bruenor looked to each other, each hopeful that the other would find some logic to defeat Catti-brie's grim assertions. Bruenor only shrugged, tucked the quarrel away, and started for the outside passage. Wulfgar looked back to the young woman, his face flushed with concern.
Neither of them spoke-neither had to-for they both knew well the horror-filled tales of marauding dark elves. The implications seemed grave indeed if Catti-brie's guess proved correct, if drow elves had come to Mithril Hall.
There was something more in Wulfgar's expression that troubled Catti-brie, though, a possessive protectiveness that the young woman was beginning to believe would get them all in trouble. She pushed past the huge man, dipping low and exiting the chamber, leaving Wulfgar in the dark with his inner turmoil.
The caravan made its slow but steady way through the tunnels, the passageways becoming ever more natural. Drizzt still wore his armor but had been stripped of his weapons and had his hands tightly bound behind his back by some magical cord that would not loosen in the least, no matter how he managed to twist his wrists.
Dinin, eight legs clicking on the stone, led the troupe, with Vierna and Jarlaxle a short way behind. Several in the twenty-drow party had fallen into formation behind them, including the two keeping watch over Drizzt. They intersected once with the larger, flanking band of House Baenre soldiers, Jarlaxle issuing quiet orders and the second drow force slipping, melting, away into the shadows.
Only then did Drizzt begin to understand the import of the raid on Mithril Hall. By his count, somewhere between two and three score dark elves had come up from Menzoberranzan, a formidable raiding party indeed.
And it had all been for him.
What of Entreri? Drizzt wondered. How did the assassin fit into this? He seemed to mesh so well with the dark elves. Of similar build and temperament, the assassin moved along with the drow ranks easily, inconspicuously.
Too well, Drizzt thought.
Entreri spent some time with the shaven-headed mercenary and Vierna, but then dropped back rank by rank, making his way inevitably toward his most-hated enemy.
'Well met,' he said coyly when he at last fell into step beside Drizzt. A look from the human sent the two closest dark elf guards moving respectfully away.
Drizzt eyed the assassin closely for a moment, looking for clues, then pointedly turned away.
'What?' Entreri insisted, grabbing the obstinate drow's shoulder and turning him back. Drizzt stopped abruptly, drawing concerned looks from the drow flanking him, particularly Vierna. He started moving again immediately, though, not liking the attention and, gradually, the other dark elves settled into their comfortable pace around him.
'I do not understand,' Drizzt remarked offhandedly to Entreri. 'You had the mask, had Regis, and knew where I could be found. Why then did you ally with Vierna and her gang?'
'You presume that the choice was mine to make,' Entreri replied. 'Your sister found me-I did not seek her out.'
'Then you are a prisoner,' Drizzt reasoned.
'Hardly,' Entreri replied without hesitation, chuckling as he spoke. 'You said it correctly the first time. I am an ally.'
'Where my kin are concerned, the two are much the same.'
Again Entreri chuckled, apparently seeing the bait for what it was. Drizzt winced at the sincerity in the assassin's laughter, because he then realized the strength in the bonds of his enemies, ties he had hoped, in a fleeting moment of any hope, he might stretch and exploit.
'I deal with Jarlaxle, actually,' the assassin explained, 'not your volatile sister. Jarlaxle, the pragmatic mercenary, the opportunist. That one, I understand. He and I are much alike!'
'When you are no longer needed-' Drizzt began ominously.
'But I am and shall continue to be!' Entreri interrupted. 'Jarlaxle, the opportunist,' he reiterated loudly, drawing an approving nod from the mercenary, who apparently understood well the Common tongue of the surface. 'What gain would Jarlaxle find in killing me? I am a valuable tie to the surface, am I not? The head of a thieves' guild in exotic Calimport, an ally that might well prove useful in the future. I have dealt with Jarlaxle's kind all my life, guild-masters from a dozen cities along the Sword Coast.'
'Drow have been known to kill for the simple pleasure of killing,' Drizzt protested, not willing to let go of this one loose strand so easily.
'Agreed,' Entreri replied, 'but they do not kill when they stand to gain by not killing. Pragmatic. You will not shake this alliance, doomed Drizzt. It is of mutual benefit, you see, to your inevitable loss.'
Drizzt paused a long while to digest the information, to find some way to regain that potentially unwinding strand, that loose end that he believed always existed when treacherous individuals came together on any cause.
'Not mutual benefit,' he said quietly, noting Entreri's curious glance his way.
'Explain,' Entreri bade him after a long moment of silence.
'I know why you came after me,' Drizzt reasoned. 'It was not to have me killed, but to kill me yourself. And not just to kill me, but to defeat me in even combat. That
possibility seems less likely now, in these tunnels beside merciless Vierna and her desires for simple sacrifice.'
'So formidable even when all is lost,' Entreri remarked, his superior tones pulling that elusive strand from Drizzt's reach once more. 'Defeat you in combat, I will-that is the deal, you see. In a chamber not so far from here, your kin and I will part company, but not until you and I have settled our rivalry.'
'Vierna would not let you kill me,' Drizzt retorted.
'But she would allow me to defeat you,' Entreri answered. 'She desires that very thing, desires that your humiliation be complete. After I have settled our business, then she will give you to Lloth… with my blessings.
'Come now, my friend,' Entreri purred, seeing no response coming from Drizzt, seeing Drizzt's face screwed up in an uncharacteristic pout.
'I am not your friend,' Drizzt growled back.
'My kindred, then,' Entreri teased, his delight absolute when Drizzt turned an angry glower at him.
'Never.'
'We fight,' Entreri explained. 'We both fight so very well, and fight to win, though our purposes for battle may vary. I have told you before that you cannot escape me, cannot escape who you are.'
Drizzt had no answer for that, not in a corridor surrounded by enemies and with his hands tied behind his back. Entreri had indeed made these claims before, and Drizzt had reconciled them, had come to terms with the decisions of his life and with the path he had chosen as his own.
But seeing the obvious pleasure on the evil assassin's face disturbed the honorable drow nonetheless. Whatever else he might do in this seemingly hopeless situation, Drizzt Do'Urden determined then not to give Entreri his satisfaction.
They came to an area of many side passages, winding, scalloped tunnels, worm holes, they seemed, meandering and rolling about in every direction at once. Entreri had said that the room, the parting of ways, was close, and Drizzt knew he was running out of time.
He dove headlong to the floor, tucked his feet in tight, and slipped his arms over them, then brought them back in front, as he rolled to a standing position. By the time he turned back, the ever-alert Entreri already had his sword and dagger in hand, but Drizzt charged him anyway. Weaponless, the drow had no practical chance, but he
