laughed aloud; so many troubles could have been avoided just by his going through a more conspicuous gate to the compound. Everyone, Triel included, knew full well that he would be there. It was all a game of pretense and intrigue, with Matron Baenre as the controlling player.
"Z'ress!" the mercenary cried, the drow word for strength and the password for this mound, and he pushed on the stone door, which retracted immediately into the top of its jamb.
Jarlaxle tipped his hat to the unseen guards (probably huge minotaur slaves, Matron Baenre's favorites) as he passed along the narrow entry corridor, between several slits, no doubt lined with readied death lances.
The inside of the mound was lighted, forcing Jarlaxle to pause and allow his eyes to shift back to the visible light spectrum. Dozens of female dark elves moved about, their silver and black Baenre uniforms tightly fitting their firm and alluring bodies. All eyes turned toward the newcomer, the leader of Bregan D'aerthe was considered a fine catch in Menzoberranzan, and the lewd way the females scrutinized him, hardly looking at his face at all, made Jar laxle bite back a laugh. Some male dark elves resented such leers, but to Jarlaxle's thinking, these females' obvious hunger afforded him even more power.
The mercenary moved to the large black pillar in the heart of the central circular chamber. He felt along the smooth marble and located the pressure plate that opened a section of the curving wall.
Jarlaxle found Dantrag Baenre, the house weapon master, lean ing casually against the wall inside. Jarlaxle quickly discerned that the fighter had been waiting for him. Like his younger brother, Dantrag was handsome, tall (closer to six feet than to five), and lean, his muscles finely tuned. His eyes were unusually amber, though they shifted toward red when he grew excited. He wore his white hair pulled back tightly into a ponytail.
As weapon master of House Baenre, Dantrag was better outfit ted for battle than any other drow in the city. Dantrag's shimmering black coat of mesh mail glistened as he turned, conforming to the angles of his body so perfectly that it seemed a second skin. He wore two swords on his jeweled belt. Curiously, only one of these was of drow make, as fine a sword as Jarlaxle had ever seen. The other, reportedly taken from a surface dweller, was said to possess a hunger of its own and could shave the edges off hard stone without dulling in the least.
The cocky fighter lifted one arm to salute the mercenary. As he did so, he prominently displayed one of his magical bracers, tight straps of black material lined with gleaming mithril rings. Dantrag had never told what purpose those bracers served. Some thought that they offered magical protection. Jarlaxle had seen Dantrag in battle and didn't disagree, for such defensive bracers were not uncommon. What amazed the mercenary even more was the fact that, in combat, Dantrag struck at his opponent first more often than not.
Jarlaxle couldn't be sure of his suspicions, for even without the bracers and any other magic, Dantrag Baenre was one of the finest fighters in Menzoberranzan. His principal rival had been Zak'nafein Do'Urden, father and mentor of Drizzt, but Zak'nafein was dead now, sacrificed for blasphemous acts against the Spider Queen. That left only Uthegental, the huge and strong weapon master of House Barrison Del'Armgo, the city's second house, as a suitable rival for dangerous Dantrag. Knowing both fighters' pride, Jarlaxle sus pected that one day the two would secretly meet in a battle to the death, just to see who was the better.
The thought of such a spectacle intrigued Jarlaxle, though he never understood such destructive pride. Many who had seen the mercenary leader in battle would argue that he was a match for either of the two, but Jarlaxle would never play into such intrigue. To Jarlaxle it seemed that pride was a silly thing to fight for, espe cially when such fine weapons and skill could be used to bring more substantive treasures. Like those bracers, perhaps? Jarlaxle mused. Or would those fabulous bracers aid Dantrag in looting Uthegen tal's corpse?
With magic, anything was possible. Jarlaxle smiled as he contin ued to study Dantrag; the mercenary loved exotic magic, and nowhere in all the Underdark was there a finer collection of magical items than in House Baenre.