the mercenary corrected, and he swept a low and apolo getic bow.
Still the out of place assassin didn't blink. Might he regain a measure of pride by killing one of these legendary drow warriors? he wondered. Or would he lose again, and, worse than being killed, be forced to live with that fact?
Entreri snapped the sword down and slipped it into its scab bard. He had never been so hesitant, so unsure. Even as a young boy, surviving on the brutal streets of Calimshan's crowded cities, Entreri had brimmed with confidence, and had used that confidence to advantage. But not here, not in this place.
"Your soldiers taunt me, " he snapped suddenly, transferring his frustration the mercenary's way.
Jarlaxle laughed and put his hat back on his bald head. "Kill a few, " he offered, and Entreri couldn't tell if the cold, calculating drow was kidding or not. "The rest will then leave you alone."
Entreri spat on the floor. Leave him alone? The rest would wait until he was asleep, then cut him into little pieces to feed to the spi ders of Donigarten. That thought broke the assassin's narrow eyed concentration, forced him to wince. He had killed a female (which, in Menzoberranzan, was much worse than killing a male), and some house in the city might be starving their spiders right now in antici pation of a human feast.
"Ah, but you are so crude, " the mercenary said, as though he pitied the man. Entreri sighed and looked away, bringing a hand up to rub his saliva wetted lips. What was he becoming? In Calimport, in the guilds, even among the pashas and those others that called themselves his masters, he had been in control. He was a killer hired by the most treacherous, double dealing thieves in all the Realms, and yet, not one had ever tried to cross Artemis Entreri. How he longed to see the pale sky of Calimport again!
"Fear not, my abbil, " Jarlaxle said, using the drow word for trusted friend. "You will again see the sunrise." The mercenary smiled widely at Entreri's expression, apparently understanding that he had just read the assassin's very thoughts. "You and I will watch the dawn from the doorstep of Mithril Hall."
They were going back after Drizzt, Entreri realized. This time, judging from the lights in Menzoberranzan, which he now came to understand, Clan Battlehammer itself would be crushed!
"That is, " Jarlaxle continued teasingly, "unless House Horlbar takes the time to discover that it was you who slew one of its matron mothers. ~
With a click of his boot and a tip of his hat, Jarlaxle spun out of the room.
Jarlaxle knew! And the female had been a matron mother! Feel ing perfectly miserable, Entreri leaned heavily against the wall. How was he to know that the wicked beast in the alley was a damned matron mother?
The walls seemed to close in on the man, suffocating him. Cold sweat beaded on his normally cool brow, and he labored to draw breath. All his thoughts centered on possible escape, but they inevitably slammed against unyielding stone walls. He was caught by logistics as much as by drow blades.
He had tried to escape once, had run out of Menzoberranzan through the eastern exit, beyond Donigarten. But where could he go? The Underdark was a maze of dangerous tunnels and deep holes filled with monsters the assassin did not know how to fight. Entreri was a creature of the very different surface world. He did not understand the wild Underdark, could not hope to survive there for long. Certainly he would never find his own way back to the surface. He was trapped, caged, stripped of his pride and his dig nity, and, sooner or later, he was going to be horribly killed.
Chapter 12 RISING TO THE OCCASION
We can drop this whole section, " General Dagna re marked as he poked a stubby finger against the map spread on the table.
"Drop it?" bellowed the battlerager. "If ye drop it, then how're we to kill the stinking drow?"
Regis, who had arranged this meeting, looked incredulously to Dagna and the other three dwarven commanders huddled about the table. Then he looked back to Pwent. "The ceiling will kill the stink ing drow/' he explained.
"Bah, sandstone!" huffed the battlerager. "What fun do ye call that? I got to grease up me armor with some drow blood, I do, but