'Four are dead,' Vierna corrected, her gaze leading the assassin to Drizzt's victim lying beside the revealed chute.
'Ak'hafta went after your brother,' Jarlaxle quickly put in.
'Then five are dead,' Vierna replied grimly, 'but my brother is below us and must get through us to rejoin his friends.'
She began talking to the other drow in their native tongue, and, though he had not come close to mastering the language, Entreri realized that Vierna was organizing the departure down the chute in pursuit of Drizzt.
'What of my deal?' he interrupted.
Vierna's reply was to the point. 'You have had your fight. We allow you your freedom, as agreed.'
Entreri acted pleased by that reply; he was worldly enough to understand that to show his outrage would be to join the other fast-cooling forms on the floor. But the assassin was not about to accept his losses so readily. He looked around frantically, searching for some distraction, some way to alter the apparently done deal.
Entreri had planned things perfectly to this point, except that, in the commotion, he hadn't been able to get into the chute behind Drizzt. Alone down below, he and his arch rival would have had the time to settle things once and for all, but now the prospect of getting Drizzt alone for a fight seemed remote and moving farther away with every second.
The wily assassin had wormed his way through more precarious predicaments than this-except, he prudently reminded himself, that this time he was dealing with dark elves, the masters of intrigue.
'Shhh!' Bruenor hissed at Wulfgar and Catti-brie, though it was Thibbledorf Pwent, deep in sleep and snoring as only a dwarf can snore, who was making all the noise. 'I think I heared something!'
Wulfgar angled the battlerager's helmet point against the wall, slapped one hand under Pwent's chin, closing the battlerager's mouth, then clamped his fingers around Pwent's wide nose. Pwent's cheeks bulged weirdly a couple of times, and a strange squeaky-smacking type of noise came out from somewhere. Wulfgar and Catti-brie exchanged looks; Wulfgar even bent to the side, wonder ing if the outrageous dwarf had just snored out of his ears!
Bruenor cringed at the unexpected blast, but was too intent to turn and scold his companions. From down the corridor there came another slight shuffling noise, barely perceptible, and then another, still closer, Bruenor knew they soon would be found; how could they escape when both Wulfgar and Catti-brie needed torchlight to navigate the twisting runnels?
Another scuffle came, just outside the small chamber.
'Well, come on out, ye pointy-eared ore kisser!' the frus trated and frightened dwarf king roared, hopping through the small opening around the slab Wulfgar had used to partially block the passageway. The dwarf lifted his great axe high above his head.
He saw the black form, as expected, and tried to chop, but the form was by him too quickly, springing into the small chamber with hardly a whisper of noise.
'What?' the startled dwarf, axe still high, balked, swinging himself around and nearly spinning to the floor.
'Guenhwyvar!' he heard Catti-brie call from beyond the slab.
Bruenor rambled back into the chamber just as the mighty panther opened its maw wide and let drop the valuable figurine-along with the ebon-skinned hand of the unfortunate dark elf who had grabbed for it when Guenhwyvar had made the break.
Catti-brie gave a sour look and kicked the disembodied hand far from the figurine.
'Damn good cat,' Bruenor admitted, and the rugged dwarf was truly relieved that a new and powerful ally had been found.
Guenhwyvar roared in reply, the mighty growl rever berating off the tunnel walls for many, many yards in every direction. Pwent opened his weary eyes at the sound. Wide those dark orbs popped indeed when the battlerager caught sight of the six-hundred-pound panther sitting only three feet away!
Adrenaline soaring to new heights, the wild battlerager flubbed out sixteen words at once as he scrambled and kicked to regain his footing (inadvertently kneeing himself in the shin and drawing some blood). He almost got there, until Guenhwyvar apparently realized his intent and absently slapped a paw, claws retracted, across his face.
Pwent's helmet rung out a clear note as he rebounded off the wall, and he thought then that another nap might do him good. But he was a battlerager, he reminded him self, and, by his estimation, a most wild battle was about to be fought he produced a large flask from under his cloak and took a hearty swig, then whipped his head about to clear the cobwebs, his thick lips flapping noisily. Somehow seeming revived, the battlerager set his feet firmly under him for a charge.
Wulfgar grabbed him by the helmet point and hoisted him off the floor, Pwent's stubby legs pumping helplessly.
'What're ye about?' the battlerager snarled in protest.
but even Thibbledorf Pwent had his bluster drained, along with the blood in his face, when Guenhwyvar looked to him and growled, ears flattened and pearly teeth bared.
'The panther is a friend,' Wulfgar explained.
'The wh-who is… the damn cat?' Pwent stuttered.
'Damn good cat,' Bruenor corrected, ending the debate. The dwarf king went back to watching the hall then, glad to have Guenhwyvar beside them, knowing that they would need everything Guenhwyvar could give, and perhaps a little bit more.
Entreri noticed one wounded drow propped against the wall, being tended by two others, the bandages they applied quickly growing hot with spilling blood. He recognized the injured dark elf as one that had reached for the statuette soon after Drizzt had called for the cat, and the reminder of Guenhwyvar gave the assassin a new ploy to try.
'Drizzt's friends will pursue you, even down the chute,' Entreri remarked grimly, interrupting Vierna once more.
The priestess turned to him, obviously concerned about his reasoning-as was the mercenary standing beside her.
'Do not underestimate them,' Entreri continued. 'I know them, and they are loyal beyond anything in the dark elf world-except of course for a priestess's loyalty to the Spider Queen,' he added, in deference to Vierna because he didn't want his skin peeled off as a drow trophy. 'You plan now to go after your brother, but even if you catch him at once and head with all speed for Menzoberranzan, his loyal friends will chase you.'
'They were but a few,' Vierna retorted.
'But they will be back with many more, especially if that dwarf under the wall was Bruenor Battlehammer,' Entreri countered.
Vierna looked to Jarlaxle for confirmation of the assassin's claims, and the more worldly dark elf only shrugged and shook his head in helpless ignorance.
'They will come better equipped and better armed,' Entreri went on, his new scheme formulating, his banter building momentum. 'With wizards, perhaps. With many clerics, surely. And with that deadly bow'-he glanced at the body near the wall-'and the barbarian's warhammer.'
'The tunnels are many,' Vierna reasoned, seemingly dismissing the argument. 'They could not follow our course.' She turned, as if her argument had satisfied her, to go back to formulating her initial plans.
'They have the panther!' Entreri growled at her. 'The panther that is the dearest friend of all to your brother. Guenhwyvar would pursue you to the Abyss itself if there you carried Drizzt's body.'
Again distressed, Vierna looked to Jarlaxle. 'What say you?' she demanded.
Jarlaxle rubbed a hand across his pointy chin. 'The panther was well known among the scouting groups when your brother lived in the city,' he admitted. 'Our raiding party is not large-and apparently five fewer now.'
Vierna turned back sharply on Entreri. 'You who seem to know the ways of these people so well,' she prompted with more than a bit of sarcasm, 'what do you suggest we do?'
'Go after the fleeing band,' Entreri replied, pointing to the blackened corridor beyond the blasted door. 'Catch them and kill them before they can get back to the dwarven complex and muster support. I will find your brother for you.'
Vierna eyed him suspiciously, a look Entreri most certainly did not like.
