way out of your actions at the Cutlass,” Jarlaxle said, “but I doubt this breach of etiquette will be accepted. Szass Tam takes such things seriously. In any case, you’ll never convince Sylora to excuse your limited role in the fight at the Cutlass.”
The elf woman stared hard at him.
“So you have crossed through a one-way door,” Jarlaxle finished. “There is no turning back for you now, Dahlia. You have abandoned Sylora Salm. You have abandoned Szass Tam. You have abandoned Thay.”
“I can only hope all three of them think me dead.”
Jarlaxle spent a few moments looking Dahlia over, trying to get a read of her intentions. But she was a hard one to decipher. Overlaying her obvious charms was a layer of coldness, a perpetual guard against stray emotions. It occurred to him that she would make a good drow.
“And now where, Lady Dahlia?”
Dahlia looked at him, her eyes dark and serious. “Who is your drow friend?”
“I have many.”
“The one in the bar,” Dahlia clarified. “I watched the fight. Briefly. He is a true two-handed fighter, even by drow standards.”
“Athrogate would take offense at your singling out of the drow.”
“The dwarf is a different matter. What he lacks in ability he covers with brute force. There is little grace to his dance, and while he is no doubt dangerous, that drow is far more skilled with his blades than Athrogate is with his morningstars.”
“Truly,” Jarlaxle agreed. “He could have been among the greatest of weapons masters Menzoberranzan ever knew, as was his father.”
“Who is he?”
Jarlaxle looked away, imagining he could see Drizzt in the distance at that very moment. “He is the one who escaped,” he said.
“From?”
He looked back at her directly. “From his heritage. His name is Drizzt Do’Urden, and he is welcomed in Waterdeep and Silverymoon alike …”
Dahlia stopped him with an upraised hand. “So that is the one they call Drizzt,” she said. “I suspected as much.”
“He has earned his reputation, I assure you.”
“And you are his friend?”
“More than he would admit, perhaps, or at least, more than he might understand.”
Dahlia looked at him curiously, and indeed, when he reflected on that look, Jarlaxle, too, found himself a bit surprised.
“Why?” Dahlia asked, a simple question rooted in deep and complex emotions.
“Because he is the one who escaped,” Jarlaxle answered.
Dahlia paused, nodding, then asked, “And his dwarf friend?”
“King Bruenor Battlehammer of Mithral Hall, though now he travels under an alias. He abdicated his throne to find that which we have already visited.”
“So you mean to use that to trick him to accompany you on your return to Gauntlgrym, for of course, you mean to return.”
“Yes … no, I mean, and yes to the end. I do not mean to trick them. I mean to tell them. I already have, in fact.”
“And they will run into the arms of an awakening primordial?”
“They are possessed of too much honor for their own sakes, I fear,” Jarlaxle said with a wry grin. That smile disappeared, though, replaced by a very serious expression as he added, “And you?”
“What of me?”
“You have betrayed Sylora Salm, Szass Tam, and Thay herself.”
“Your words, not mine.”
“You used the ring to run away. But the Dahlia I know relishes the thrill of the fight.”
“The Dahlia you know stays alive because she’s careful and smart.”
“But perhaps not so much where Sylora is concerned.”
“You fancy yourself as perceptive, I expect,” she replied.
“You accepted the ring, and you used it. You betrayed Sylora when it most counted. Perhaps the arrival of Dahlia—not the image of Dahlia, but the actual warrior—would have changed the outcome of the fight in the Cutlass. Yet you chose not to finish your mission.”
“What do you know of my mission?”
“That you were sent here to see if any would respond to the growing earthquakes,” Jarlaxle replied without hesitation. “To learn if I meant to return to Gauntlgrym.”
Dahlia grinned.
“Well, now you know,” the drow said. “I do, and I am not without allies.”
“Should I go tell Sylora as much?”
“I expect she will know soon enough, since some of your Ashmadai minions escaped the tavern.”
“You know of the Ashmadai?”
Jarlaxle raised an eyebrow, and the corner of his mouth.
“The tunnels have collapsed,” Dahlia said, changing the subject. “There is no way back to Gauntlgrym.”
“I know a way,” Jarlaxle said.
Dahlia’s blue eyes flashed for just a moment before she fully suppressed her intrigue.
“And I will lead you there,” the drow said, revealing to her that he had seen her slip.
“You presume much.”
“And yet I presume correctly. What gain is