She reached for an arrow, then shifted her bow out in front of her in defense as a glob of greenish goo erupted from the wand and flew at her.
Catti-brie's bow was suddenly tight against her chest, and she was flying, to smack hard against the wall. One arm was pinned tightly against her chest, the other tightly to her hip, and she could not move her legs. She could not even fall from the wall!
She tried to call out, but her jaw would not work, and one eye would not open. She could see, barely, with the other eye, and she somehow managed to continue to draw breath.
Entreri spun about, sword and dagger coming to the ready. He dove to the side, to the middle of the room, in front of Catti-brie, when he saw the three drow females enter, two of them aiming loaded hand crossbows his way.
The agile assassin rolled back to his feet and started forward, rising up as if he would leap into his attackers. Then he dove low, sword leading.
The skilled drow females held their shots through the assassin's feint, then brought their hands in line. The first dart hit Entreri's shoulder and jolted him more than he would have expected. Sud denly, his momentum was stolen and he was standing straighter. Black arcs of electricity, writhing like sparking tentacles, shot out from the dart, burning him, jolting him back a few steps.
The second dart got him in the belly and, though the initial hit did not pain the assassin too greatly, a huge electrical blast followed, hurling him backward to the floor. His sword went flying, narrowly missing the trapped Catti-brie.
Entreri came to a stop at the young woman's feet. He still clutched his jeweled dagger, and thought immediately that he might have to throw the thing. But he could only watch in astonish ment as the fingers of that hand twitched involuntarily, his grasp on the dagger weakening. He willed his arm to heave the blade, but his muscles would not respond, and the dagger soon toppled out of his trembling hand.
He lay on the stone at Catti-brie's feet, confused and scared. For the first time in his life, those finely honed warrior muscles would not answer his call.
It was the third female, in the middle of the trio, that held Drizzt's attention: Vendes Baenre, Duk Tak, his merciless torturer for all these long days. Drizzt stood very still, holding the coat of chain mail in front of him, not even daring to blink. The females flanking the cruel Baenre daughter put away their hand crossbows and drew two shining swords each.
Drizzt expected to be blown away, or held by some magical intrusion, as Vendes quickly chanted under her breath.
"Valiant friends, " the wicked noble remarked sarcastically, using perfect surface Common.
Drizzt understood the nature of her spell then, a dweomer that allowed her to communicate with Entreri and Catti-brie.
Entreri's mouth moved weirdly, and the expression on his face revealed what he was trying to say more than any decipherable words. "High ritual?"
"Indeed, " Vendes replied. "My mother and sisters, and many visiting matron mothers, are gathered in the chapel. I was excused from the initial ceremonies and was instructed to bring Drizzt Do'Urden in to them later." She eyed Drizzt and seemed perfectly content. "I see that your friends have saved me the trouble of for cing the healing potions down your throat.
"Did you really expect to so easily walk into House Baenre, steal our most valuable prisoner, and walk out?" Vendes asked Entreri. "You were seen before you ever crossed the web fence, and there will be inquiries as to how you got your unclean hands on my brother's mask! Gromph, or perhaps that dangerous Jarlaxle, will have many questions to answer.
"I am surprised at you, too, assassin, " she went on. "Your repu tation precedes you, I would have expected a better performance. Did you not understand the significance of mere males guarding our prized catch?"
She looked to Drizzt and shook her head. "Those pretend guards I put in place were expendable, of course, " she said. Drizzt made no move, showed no reply in his features. He felt the strength returning to him as the healing potions did their work, but that strength would make little difference, he realized, facing the likes of Vendes and two supremely armed and trained females. The ranger looked to his coat of armor disdainfully, it would do him little good held in his hands.
Entreri's mind was working more clearly now, but his body was not. The electrical impulses continued, defeating any coordinated attempt at movement. He did manage to drop one hand into his pouch, though, in response to something Vendes had said, some hint at fleeting hope.
"We suspected that the human woman was alive, " Vendes explained, "in the clutches of Jarlaxle, most likely, and we hardly hoped that she would be so easily delivered to us.
Entreri had to wonder if Jarlaxle had double crossed him. Had the mercenary concocted this elaborate plan for no better reason than to deliver Catti-brie to House Baenre? It made no sense to Entreri, but little about Jarlaxle's actions these last hours made sense to him.
The mention of Catti-brie brought a measure of fire to Drizzt's eyes. He couldn't believe that the young woman was here, in Men zoberranzan, that she had risked so much to come after him. Where was Guenhwyvar? he wondered. And had Bruenor or Regis come along beside Catti-brie?
He winced as he eyed the young woman, wrapped in greenish goo. How vulnerable she seemed, how utterly helpless.
The fires burned brighter in Drizzt's lavender eyes when he returned his gaze to Vendes. Gone was his fear of his torturer; gone was his resignation about how things had to end.
In one swift motion, Drizzt dropped the suit of armor and snapped out his scimitars.
On a nod from Vendes, the two females were on Drizzt, one cir cling to each side. One tapped her sword against Twinkle's curving blade, indicating that Drizzt should drop the weapon. He looked down to Twinkle, and all logic told him to comply.
He spun the scimitar in a wild arc instead, swishing the female's sword aside. His second blade came up suddenly, defeating a thrust from the other side before it ever began.
"0 fool!" Vendes cried at him in obvious glee. "I do so wish to see you fight, Drizzt Do'Urden, since Dantrag is so intent on slaughtering you!"
The way she said it made Drizzt wonder who Vendes would want to win that potential fight. He had no time to ponder the con tinuing intrigue of the chaotic world, though, not with two drow females pressing him so.
Vendes reverted to the Drow language then, commanding her soldiers to beat Drizzt fiercely, but not to kill him.
Drizzt turned a sudden spin, like a screw, his blades weaving a dangerous pattern on all sides. He came out of it suddenly, viciously, snapping a thrust at the female on his left. He scored a minor hit, doing no real damage against the fabulous drow armor, armor that Drizzt was not wearing.
That point was driven home by the tip of a sword that then nicked Drizzt from the right. He grimaced and pivoted back, his backhanded cut taking the sword away before it could do any real damage.
Entreri prayed that Vendes was as intent on the fight as her sol diers, for every movement he made seemed so very clumsy and obvious. Somehow, he managed to get the spider mask out of his pouch and over his trembling hand, and then he reached up and grabbed Catti-brie's belt.
His trembling fingers could not support the hold, though, and he fell back to the floor.
Vendes glanced casually his way, snickered, apparently not noticing the mask, and turned back to the fight.
Entreri sat half propped by the wall, trying to find some inner control to ward off the nasty drow enchantment, but all his efforts proved useless; his muscles continued their involuntary twitching.
Swords cut in at Drizzt from every angle. One drew a line on his cheek, stinging him painfully. The skilled females, working per fectly in concert, kept him pinned near the corner, gave him no room to maneuver. Still, Drizzt's parrying work was excellent, and Vendes applauded his outstanding, if futile, efforts.
Drizzt knew that he was in serious trouble. Unarmored and still weak (though the magical potions continued to flow through his veins), he had few tricks that could get him past so powerful a tan dem.
A sword cut low; Drizzt hopped the blade. Another chopped down, from the other side, but Drizzt, crouching as he leaped, got Twinkle up to deflect it. His other scimitar snapped back and forth in front of him, defeating the two middle height attacks, one from each female, and completing the four parry.
But Drizzt could not counter with any offensive routines as the relentless barrage continued, forcing him back on his heels, forcing him to react in awkward angles.
He hopped and ducked, spun his blades this way and that, and somehow managed to keep those stinging swords from cutting any deep holes in his vulnerable body, though the minor hits were beginning to add up.
The ranger glanced forlornly at Catti-brie, terrified at the prospects of what she would soon face.
Entreri continued to wage his futile war, then finally slumped low, defeated, thinking that he could not possibly fight his way past the powerful enchantment.
But the assassin had not survived the streets of dangerous Calimport, had not risen to a position of leadership in the evil underworld of the southern city, by accepting defeat. He changed his thinking, decided that he had to work within the parameters offered to him.
Entreri's arm shot up above him. His fingers did not grasp, he did not try to grasp, but rather, he slapped his arm hard against the binding goo.