'I seek one of your kind,' Entreri explained. 'An old friend by the name of Dondon Tiggerwillies.'
The halfling put on a confused look and shook his head, but not before a flicker of recognition has crossed his dark eyes, one the sharp Entreri did not miss.
'Everyone of the streets knows Dondon,' Entreri stated. 'Or once knew of him. You are not a child, and your gaming skills tell me that you have been a regular to the Copper Ante for years. You know, or knew, Dondon. If he is dead, then I wish to hear the story. If not, then I wish to speak with him.'
Grave looks passed from halfling to halfling. 'Dead,' said one across the table, but Entreri knew from the tone and the quick manner in which the diminutive fellow blurted it out that it was a lie, that Dondon, ever the survivor, was indeed alive.
Halflings in Calimport always seemed to stick together, though.
'Who killed him?' Entreri asked, playing along.
'He got sick,' another halfling offered, again in that quick, telltale manner.
'And where is he buried?'
'Who gets buried in Calimport?' the first liar replied.
'Tossed into the sea,' said another.
Entreri nodded with every word. He was actually a bit amused at how these halflings played off each other, building an elaborate lie and one the assassin knew he could
eventually turn against them.
'Well, you have told me much,' he said, releasing the halfling's wrist. The greedy gambler immediately went for the coins, but a jeweled dagger jabbed down between the reaching hand and the desired gems in the blink of a startled eye.
'You promised coins!' the halfling protested.
'For a lie?' Entreri calmly asked. 'I inquired about Dondon outside and was told that he was in here. I know he is alive, for I saw him just yesterday.'
The halflings all glanced at each other, trying to piece together the inconsistencies here. How had they fallen so easily into the trap?
'Then why speak of him in the past tense?' the halfling directly across the table asked, the first to insist that Dondon was dead. This halfling thought himself sly, thought that he had caught Entreri in a lie … as indeed he had.
'Because I know that halflings never reveal the whereabouts of other halflings to one who is not a halfling,' Entreri answered, his demeanor changing suddenly to a lighthearted, laughing expression, something that had never come easily to the assassin. 'I have no fight with Dondon, I assure you. We are old friends, and it has been far too long since we last spoke. Now, tell me where he is and take your payment.'
Again the halflings looked around, and then one, licking his lips and staring hungrily at the small pile of coins, pointed to a door at the back of the large room.
Entreri replaced the dagger in its sheath and gave a gesture that seemed a salute as he moved from the table, walking confidently across the room and pushing through the door without even a knock.
There before him reclined the fattest halfling he had ever seen, a creature wider than it was tall. He and the assassin locked stares, Entreri so intent on the fellow that he hardly noticed the scantily clad female halflings flanking him. It was indeed Dondon Tiggerwillies, Entreri realized to his horror. Despite all the years and all the scores of pounds, he knew the halfling, once the slipperiest and most competent confidence swindler in all of Calimport.
'A knock is often appreciated,' the halfling said, his voice raspy, as though he could hardly force the sounds from his thick neck. 'Suppose that my friends and I were engaged in a more private action.'
Entreri didn't even try to figure out how that might be possible.
'Well, what do you want, then?' Dondon asked, stuffing an enormous bite of pie into his mouth as soon as he finished speaking.
Entreri closed the door and walked into the room, halving the distance between him and the halfling. 'I want to speak with an old associate,' he explained.
Dondon stopped chewing and stared hard. Obviously stunned by recognition, he began violently choking on the pie and wound up spitting a substantial piece of it back onto his plate. His attendants did well to hide their disgust as they moved the plate aside.
'I did not… I mean, Regis was no friend of mine. I mean
. .' Dondon stammered, a fairly common reaction from those faced with the spectre of Artemis Entreri.
'Be at ease, Dondon,' Entreri said firmly. 'I came to speak with you, nothing more. I care not for Regis, nor for any role Dondon might have played in the demise of Pook those years ago. The streets are for the living, are they not, and not the dead?'
'Yes, of course,' Dondon replied, visibly trembling. He rolled forward a bit, trying to at least sit up, and only then did Entreri notice a chain trailing a thick anklet he wore about his left leg. Finally, the fat halfling gave up and just rolled back to his previous position. 'An old wound,' he said with a shrug.
Entreri let the obviously ridiculous excuse slide past. He moved closer to the halfling and went down in a crouch, brushing aside Dondon's robes that he could better see the shackle. 'I have only recently returned,' he explained. 'I hoped that Dondon might enlighten me concerning the current demeanor of the streets.'
'Rough and dangerous, of course,' Dondon answered with a chuckle that became a phlegm-filled cough.
'Who rules?' Entreri asked in a dead serious tone. 'Which houses hold power, and what soldiers champion them?'
'I wish that I could be of help to you, my friend,' Dondon said nervously. 'Of course I do. I would never withhold information from you. Never that! But you see,' he added, lifting up his shackled ankle, 'they do not let me out much anymore.'
'How long have you been in here?'
'Three years.'
Entreri stared incredulously and distastefully at the little wretch, then looked doubtfully at the relatively simple shackle, a lock that the old Dondon could have opened with a piece of hair.
In response, Dondon held up his enormously thick hands, hands so pudgy that he couldn't even bring the higher parts of his fingers together. 'I do not feel much with them anymore,' he explained.
A burning outrage welled inside Entreri. He felt as if he would simply explode into a murderous fit that would have him physically shaving the pounds from Dondon's fat hide with his jeweled dagger. Instead, he went at the lock, turning it roughly to scan for any possible traps, then reaching for a small pick.
'Do not,' came a high-pitched voice behind him. The assassin sensed the presence before he even heard the words. He spun about, rolling into a crouch, dagger in one hand, arm cocked to throw. Another female halfling, this one dressed in a fine tunic and breeches, with thick, curly brown hair and huge brown eyes, stood at the door, hands up and open, her posture completely unthreatening.
'Oh, but that would be a bad thing for me and for you,' the female halfling said with a little grin.
'Do not kill her,' Dondon pleaded with Entreri, trying to grab for the assassin's arm, but missing far short of the mark and rolling back, gasping for breath.
Entreri, ever alert, noticed then that both the female
halflings attending Dondon had slipped hands into secret places, one to a pocket, the other to her generous waist-length hair, both no doubt reaching for weapons of some sort. He understood then that this newcomer was a leader among the group.
'Dwahvel Tiggerwillies, at your service,' she said with a graceful bow. 'At your service, but not at your whim,' she added with a smile.
'Tiggerwillies?' Entreri echoed softly, glancing back at Dondon.
'A cousin,' the fat halfling explained with a shrug. 'The most powerful halfling in all of Calimport and the newest proprietor of the Copper Ante.'
The assassin looked back to see the female halfling completely at ease, hands in her pockets.
'You understand, of course, that I did not come in here alone, not to face a man of Artemis Entreri's reputation,' Dwahvel said.
That brought a grin to Entreri's face as he imagined the many halflings concealed about the room. It struck
