through, so that it would not hit one of her friends. If she was not
perfect, she realized, or even if she simply was not lucky, the arrow might deflect badly, and then they'd have another seriously wounded companion lying on the deck beside Regis. With that thought in mind Catti-brie relaxed her bowstring a bit, but then Regis whimpered again, and she understood that her poor little friend was fast running out of time.
She drew back, took perfect aim, and left fly, the blinding, lightning-streaking arrow sizzling right through the shaft cleanly, and soaring into, and through the opposite deck wall and off across the river.
Drizzt, stunned by the sudden flash even though he had expected the shot, held in place for just a moment. After allowing his senses to catch up with the scene he handed the broken piece of the shaft to Bumpo.
'Lift him gently,' the drow instructed Bruenor, who did so, raising the halfling's injured shoulder slowly from the deck.
Then, with a plaintive and helpless look to all about, the drow grasped the remaining piece of shaft firmly and began to push.
Regis howled and screamed and wriggled too much for sympathetic Drizzt to continue. At a loss, he let go of the shaft and held his hands out helplessly to Bruenor.
'The ruby pendant,' Catti-brie remarked suddenly, dropping to her knees beside her friends. 'We'll get him thinking of better things.' She moved quickly as Bruenor lifted the groaning Regis a bit higher, reaching into the front of the halfling's shirt and pulling forth the dazzling ruby pendant.
'Watch it close,' Catti-brie said to Regis several times. She held the gemstone, spinning alluringly at the end of its chain before the halfling's half-closed eyes. Regis's head started to droop, but Catti-brie grabbed him by the chin and forced him steady.
'Ye remember the party after we rescued ye from Pook?' she asked calmly, forcing a wide smile across her face.
Gradually she brought him into her words with more coaxing, more reminding of that enjoyable affair, one in which Regis had become quite intoxicated. And intoxicated was what the halfling seemed to be now. He was groaning no more, his gaze locked on the spinning gemstone.
'Ah, but didn't ye have the fun of it in the pillowed room?' the woman said, speaking of the harem in Pook's house. 'We thought ye'd never come forth!' As she spoke, she looked to Drizzt and nodded. The drow took up the remaining piece of embedded shaft once more and, with a look to Bruenor to make certain that the dwarf had Regis properly secured and braced, he slowly began to push.
Regis winced as the rest of the wide-bladed head tore through the front of his shoulder but offered no real resistance and no screaming. Drizzt soon had the spear fully extracted.
It came out with a gush of blood, and both Drizzt and Bruenor had to work fast and furiously to stem the flow. Even then, as they lay Regis gently on his back, they saw his arm discoloring.
'He's bleeding inside,' Bruenor said through gritted
teeth. 'We'll be taking the arm off if we can't fix it!'
Drizzt didn't respond, just went back to work on his small friend, moving aside the bandages and trying to reach his nimble fingers right into the wound to pinch the blood flow.
Catti-brie kept up her soothing talk, doing a marvelous job of distracting the halfling, concentrating so fully on the task before her that she managed to minimize her nervous glances Drizzt's way.
Had Regis seen the drow's face the spell of the ruby pendant might have shattered. For Drizzt understood the trouble here and understood that his little friend was in real danger. He couldn't stop the flow. Bruenor's drastic measure of amputating the arm might be necessary, and even that, Drizzt understood, would likely kill the halfling.
'Ye got it?' Bruenor asked again and again. 'Ye got it?'
Drizzt grimaced, looking pointedly at Bruenor's already bloodstained axe blade, and went at his work more determinedly. Finally, he relaxed his grip on the vein just a bit, easing, easing, breathing a bit easier as he lessened the pressure and felt no more blood spurting from the tear.
'I'm taking the damned arm!' Bruenor declared, misinterpreting Drizzt's resigned look.
The drow held up his hand and shook his head. 'It is stemmed,' he announced.
'But for how long?' Catti-brie asked, genuinely concerned.
Again Drizzt shook his head helplessly.
'We should be going,' Bumpo Thunderpuncher remarked, seeing that the commotion about Regis had subsided. 'Them goblins might not be far.'
'Not yet,' Drizzt insisted. 'We cannot move him until we're sure the wound will not reopen.'
Bumpo gave a concerned look to his brother. Then both of them glanced nervously at their thrice-removed cousins.
But Drizzt was right, of course, and Regis could not be immediately moved. All three friends stayed close to him; Catti-brie kept the ruby pendant in hand, should its calming hypnosis prove necessary. For the time being, though, Regis knew nothing at all, nothing beyond the relieving blackness of unconsciousness.
'You are nervous,' Kimmuriel Oblodra remarked, obviously taking great pleasure in seeing the normally unshakable Jarlaxle pacing the floor.
Jarlaxle stopped and stared at the psionicist incredulously. 'Nonsense,' he insisted. 'Baeltimazifas performed his impersonation of Pasha Basadoni perfectly.'
It was true enough. At the important meeting that same morning, the doppleganger had impersonated Pasha Basadoni perfectly, no small feat considering that the man was dead and Baeltimazifas could not probe his mind for the subtle details. Of course, his role in the meeting was minor-hindered, so Sharlotta had explained to the other guildmasters, by the fact that he was very old and not in
good health. Pasha Wroning had been convinced by the doppelganger's performance. With the powerful Wroning satisfied, Domo Quillilo of the wererats and the younger and more nervous leaders of the Rakers could hardly protest. Calm had returned to Calimport's streets, and all, as far as the others were concerned, was as it had been.
'He told the other guildmasters that which they desired to hear,' Kimmuriel said.
'And so we shall do the same with Drizzt and his friends,' Jarlaxle assured the psionicist.
'Ah, but you know that the target this time is more dangerous,' said the ever-observant Kimmuriel. 'More alert, and more … drow.'
Jarlaxle stopped and stared hard at the Oblodran, then laughed aloud, admitting his edginess. 'Ever has it proven interesting where Drizzt Do'Urden is concerned,' he explained. 'This one has again and again outrun, outsmarted, or merely out-lucked the most powerful enemies one can imagine. And look at him,' he added, motioning to the magical reflective pool Rai'gy had left in place. 'Still he survives, nay, thrives. Matron Baenre herself wanted to make a trophy of that one's head, and she, not he, has passed from this world.'
'We do not desire his death,' Kimmuriel reminded. 'Though that, too, might prove quite profitable.'
Jarlaxle shook his head fiercely. 'Never that,' he said determinedly.
Kimmuriel spent a long while studying the mercenary leader. 'Could it be that you have come to like this outcast?' he asked. 'That is the way of Jarlaxle, is it not?'
Jarlaxle laughed again. ' 'Respect' would be a better word.'
'He would never join Bregan D'aerthe,' the psionicist reminded.
'Not knowingly,' the opportunistic mercenary replied. 'Not knowingly.'
Kimmuriel didn't press the point but rather motioned to the reflective pool excitedly. 'Pray that Baeltimazifas lives up to his fees,' he said.
Jarlaxle, who had witnessed the catastrophe of many futile attempts against the likes of Drizzt Do'Urden, certainly was praying.
Artemis Entreri entered the room then, as Jarlaxle had bade him. He took one look at the two dark elves, then moved cautiously to the side of the reflecting pool-and his eyes widened when he saw the image displayed within, the image of his greatest adversary.
'Why are you so surprised?' Jarlaxle asked. 'I told you I can deliver to you that which you most desire.'
Entreri worked hard to keep his breathing steady, not wanting the mercenary to draw too much enjoyment from his obvious excitement. He recognized the truth of it all now, that Jarlaxle-damned Jarlaxle! — had been right. There in the pool stood the source of Entreri's apathy, the symbol that his life had been a lie. There stood
