with my request," Drizzt replied.
"I will have my stories!" the wizard insisted.
"From someone else," Drizzt answered. He rose to leave, Catti-brie right behind.
The couple nearly made it to the door before Cannabere called out, "He will do it."
Drizzt turned to regard the guildmaster, then the huffing Val-Doussen.
Cannabere looked to the flustered mage, as well, then nodded toward Drizzt. With a great sigh, Val-Doussen went over and took the note. As he began to hold out his hand for the payment, Cannabere added, "As a favor to you, Drizzt Do'Urden, and with our thanks for your work with Sea Sprite.'"
Val-Doussen grumbled again, but he snapped up the note in his hand and spun away.
"Perhaps I will weave a tale or two for you when we meet again," Drizzt said to placate him, as the wizard stormed from the room.
The drow looked to the guildmaster, who merely bowed politely, and Drizzt and Catti-brie went on their way, bound for Luskan's southern gate and the road to Waterdeep.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Tight cords dug deep lines into Le'lorinel's wrists as the elf sat upright on a hard, high, straight-backed wooden chair. A leather band even went about Le'lorinel's neck, holding the elf firmly in place, forcing a grimace.
One eye didn't open all the way, bloated and bruised from the beating, and both shoulders ached and showed purplish bruises, for the elf was no longer wearing a tunic, was no longer wearing many clothes at all.
As the elf's eyes adjusted, Le'lorinel noted that the same four - three brutish guards and a brown-haired woman of medium build - remained in the room. The guards were standing to the side, the woman sitting directly across the way, staring hard at the prisoner.
"My Lady is not fond of having people inquiring about her in public," the woman remarked, her eyes roaming Le'lorinel's finely muscled frame.
"Your lady can not distinguish between friend and foe," Le'lorinel, ever defiant, replied.
"Some things are difficult to distinguish," the woman agreed, and she smiled as she continued her scan.
Le'lorinel gave a derisive snicker, and the woman nodded to the side. A brutish guard was beside the prisoner in a moment, offering a vicious smack across the face.
"Your attitude will get you killed," the woman calmly stated.
Now it was Le'lorinel's turn to stare hard.
"You have been all around Luskan asking about Sheila Kree," the woman went on after a few moments. "What is it about? Are you with the authorities? With that wretch Deudermont perhaps?"
"I am alone, and without friends west of Silverymoon," Le'lorinel replied with equal calm.
"But with the name of a hoped-for contact you carelessly utter to anyone who will listen."
"Not so," the elf answered. "I spoke of Kree only to the one group, and only because I believed they could lead me to her."
Again the woman nodded, and again the brute smacked Le'lorinel across the face.
"Sheila Kree," the woman corrected.
Le'lorinel didn't audibly respond but did give a slight, deferential nod.
"You should explain, then, here and now, and parse your words carefully," the woman explained. "Why do you so seek out my boss?"
"On the directions of a seer," Le'lorinel admitted. "The one who created the sketch for me."
As the elf finished, the woman lifted the parchment that held the symbol of Aegis-fang, the symbol that had become so connected to Sheila Kree's pirate band.
"I come in search of another, a dangerous foe, and one who will seek out Kr - Sheila Kree," Le'lorinel explained. "I know not the time nor the place, but by the words of the seer, I will complete my quest to do battle with this rogue when I am in the company of Sheila Kree, if it is indeed Sheila Kree who now holds the weapon bearing that insignia."
"A dangerous foe?" the woman slyly asked. "Captain Deudermont, perhaps?"
"Drizzt Do'Urden," Le'lorinel stated clearly, seeing no reason to hide the truth - especially since any ill-considered words now could prove disastrous for the quest and for the elf's very life. "A dark elf, and friend to the one who once owned that weapon."
"A drow?" the woman asked skeptically, showing no obvious recognition of the strange name.
"Indeed," Le'lorinel said with a huff. "Hero of the northland. Beloved by many in Icewind Dale - and other locales."
The woman's expression became curious, as if she might have heard of such a drow, but she merely shrugged it away. "And he seeks Sheila Kree?" she asked.
It was Le'lorinel's turn to shrug - had the tight