Shadovar minions. “Where is Barrabus?” he asked. The three looked to each other, unsure, and obviously fearful.
“Go and find him!” Alegni demanded. “Bring him to me!”
The trio fell all over each other trying to scramble away, and as they scattered, they spoke to other Shadovar they passed, who glanced at Alegni before they, too, ran off.
Herzgo Alegni waited until all were out of sight before allowing himself a grin at the spectacle of his power.
In short order, the one man in his command who didn’t scramble at his every word strolled up to him. Fully a foot shorter than Alegni, and with few ornaments on his small frame—just a diamond-shaped belt buckle and a seemingly unremarkable sword and dagger on opposite hips—this black-haired, grayish-skinned man somehow didn’t seem diminished in the presence of the mighty Netherese tiefling. He stood with one arm cocked so that his forearm rested on the hilt of his sword, the other hanging at his side, his fingers rolling an unbitten green apple, which he occasionally tossed and caught without even glancing at it.
“The scouts have returned from the dwarven halls,” Alegni informed him.
“I know. Our enemies have failed.”
“You spoke with them?” Herzgo Alegni demanded, his red eyes flashing with rage and disappointment. “They spoke with you?”
“They usually do,” he answered anyway.
Barrabus the Gray could barely contain his smile. It pleased him to know that Alegni would severely punish the returned scouts for such a breach of etiquette—perhaps he would even kill a few of them. The thought of a few Shadovar tortured to death didn’t trouble Barrabus the Gray. Quite the opposite.
Of course, he hadn’t spoken to anyone. Why would he need to, to deduce such a simple riddle as the one before him in the form of the puffed-up Netherese lord? The failure of Sylora’s minions was hardly unexpected. He’d seen her enemies, including Drizzt Do’Urden and Bruenor Battlehammer, in Sylora’s own scrying pool.
Herzgo Alegni grumbled a few curses. “The moment is upon us,” he said. “Our enemy is reeling, and would be more so if you had not failed in the task I commanded.”
Barrabus didn’t respond, other than to give a graceful bow. Indeed, he had been sent to kill Sylora, and should have done so, and would have done so had not that image in the scrying pool interfered, filling him with such confusion and rekindling such long-buried emotions that he had nearly dropped from the high branch into the midst of Sylora’s encampment.
He shook that image away, not daring to get caught up in the implications with an angry Herzgo Alegni so close at hand.
“Perhaps I should send you back to her, to finish the deed,” Alegni said.
“The guard, already impenetrable, will no doubt be redoubled.”
“Surely that doesn’t frighten one as cunning and powerful as Barrabus the Gray,” came the sarcastic, and wholly expected, reply.
Barrabus shrugged. “You would rally your charges instead, and assail Sylora’s minions full on,” he reasoned.
“The thought has occurred to me.”
“And to me, and to Sylora as well, no doubt. The sorceress is no fool.”
“You do not think it the time to strike?”
“I think that Sylora must strike, and quickly,” said Barrabus. “She has lost her catastrophe and needs to create a new one.”
Alegni looked at him, curious.
“She serves Szass Tam, or so you’ve told me,” Barrabus explained. “She seeks to complete her Dread Ring. I’ve heard it whispered that Szass Tam does not accept failure well.”
Clearly intrigued, Herzgo Alegni paced to the oak then moved around its thick trunk.
“She’ll attack us?” he asked as he came around to face Barrabus once more.
“And if you were in her position?” Barrabus said. “Your Dread Ring demands to be fed. You need carnage on a large scale, and quickly. Would you attack an army awaiting your ranks?”
A grin spread on Alegni’s face. “With a city full of men and women so near …” he said, catching on. “Sylora will soon go against Neverwinter.”
Barrabus shrugged again.
“Go out and confirm it!” Alegni yelled.
Barrabus the Gray smiled and bowed, more than happy to take his leave. He’d barely gone a few steps, though, when he turned back to regard the tiefling.
“You’re welcome,” Barrabus the Gray remarked.
“I didn’t thank you.”
“But you know my worth. Your frustration reveals as much. That’s thanks enough.”
Alegni scoffed at the notion, and scoffed all the more when Barrabus added, “I will have my dagger back, my master, that I might serve you all the better.”
A scowl enveloped Alegni’s face.
“You’ll come to see the wisdom of it,” Barrabus promised,