The Last Threshold

“Drizzt!” it said with the same timbre, lifting its other limb and similarly shaking it.

“Relax, dear lady,” Jarlaxle cooed, patting his hands in the air above the creature, which seemed to be growing quite agitated.

“Bwahahaha!” the yochlol cried ominously.

“What?” Draygo Quick asked. “Tiago?”

“Tiago Baenre,” Jarlaxle explained, and hurriedly scooped up the portable hole, which became a piece of black cloth once more, and stuffed it back into place inside his hat. “A powerful noble son of the First House of Menzoberranzan. He has decided to take it upon himself to hunt down and kill Drizzt Do’Urden.”

“With the blessing of the matron mother?”

“Ah, there’s the rub,” Jarlaxle replied. “Matron Mother Quenthel does not hinder him, but I suspect that she does not even know of his intent. He has a minor priestess of Lolth at his side, however, though surely Lolth would cackle with glee if she favored Drizzt in this fight. Irony, chaos … they are the calling cards of that vicious one, after all.”

“Then how is this relevant? Why should I care?”

“This confrontation will bring the questions filtering around the rogue to the forefront, and will demand a resolution,” Jarlaxle explained. “Consider, if Tiago Baenre kills Drizzt, and Drizzt is favored by Lolth, the fallout will be clear and swift. And if Drizzt kills a favored son of House Baenre, the House will react violently—or it will not, and that will prove quite telling, given the matron mother’s relationship with the Spider Queen. Simply put, Lord Draygo, your imprisonment of Drizzt is denying me the answer to a question I have been asking for a century and more, and indeed, denying you the answer to that very question you ask.”

Lord Draygo stared at him incredulously. “You presume much.”

“You have him,” Jarlaxle stated.

“So you have claimed.”

“He is dead, then, and our discussion is moot,” Jarlaxle replied, and he dramatically spun and waved his arm toward the room’s doorway, and the descending circular hallway beyond that would lead back to the grand entry hall of the castle. “When first I entered, I noted your castle guard holding Taulmaril, Drizzt’s bow, the bow used by Drizzt’s dead wife. He would not part with it for all the gold on Toril, nor would he allow any other to wield it. If you truly do not know the whereabouts of Drizzt Do’Urden, Lord Draygo, then take care, for I assure you that there is a very dangerous drow ranger lurking about your estate, intent on, and likely capable of, killing anyone standing between him and that particularly bow.”

Draygo Quick stared at Jarlaxle for just a moment, then gave a sharp whistle. The room’s door swung open and a pair of Draygo Quick’s attendants, warlocks both, judging from their robes, hurriedly entered the chamber.

“Escort our guest to the west wing dining room and see that he is fed,” Draygo Quick ordered. “I will not keep you waiting long,” he promised Jarlaxle, “but I have some business to attend to.”

Jarlaxle bowed low and followed his escorts out of the room and down the tower stairs, crossing back over the checkerboard-floored grand hall—where he listened most attentively for any sounds from below—and into the dining room opposite, where he was left alone.

So his hosts believed.

Draygo Quick will speak with Ulfbinder, Kimmuriel telepathically relayed to Jarlaxle. Perhaps even to Quenthel.

Not Quenthel, Jarlaxle silently replied. He has no means to get to her as of now. You have found them?

Yes.

All of them? Jarlaxle asked, focusing his thoughts on the first word for clear emphasis.

Two alive, three as stone, Kimmuriel confirmed.

Jarlaxle winced, then sighed.

If Draygo Quick releases Drizzt, you will not execute the attack, Kimmuriel relayed to him in no uncertain terms. Not for the sake of humans and an elf!

Jarlaxle blew another sigh, then looked up and painted a disarming smile on his face as an attendant entered with a tray of food.

Do you understand? Kimmuriel demanded.

“Yes,” Jarlaxle said enthusiastically. “Truly I had not realized the extent of my hunger.”

Kimmuriel relayed that he understood the double use of the affirmation, and then he was gone from Jarlaxle’s mind, likely to let his disembodied thoughts wander the ways of Castle Draygo some more.

Jarlaxle could only hope, as Kimmuriel surely was, that the powerful Netherese warlock was not attuned to, or familiar with, or prepared against, such psionic intrusions.

So far, at least, all seemed well. Now, given Kimmuriel’s last order, all Jarlaxle had to do was figure out a way to ensure that Lord Draygo would not let go of Drizzt without a fight.

“The handmaiden was an illusion,” Draygo Quick told Parise Ulfbinder through his crystal ball.

“Jarlaxle lied to you, then, and apparently for the sake of Drizzt Do’Urden,” Parise replied.

“But why? Is Drizzt more aligned to Bregan D’aerthe than we believe?”

Parise shook his head. “I would guess that this is more personal than professional with Jarlaxle. He is a curious one, full of many layers of intrigue all working in concert to form a meticulous spider web. The whole of Bregan D’aerthe is, above all else, pragmatic. By all accounts, they are a professional, if brutal, organization. I cannot believe that they would risk such a lucrative potential as the deal we signed for the sake of Drizzt Do’Urden.”

“Yet he has done just that,” said Draygo Quick. “I did not mask my annoyance, and still he persisted.”

“Then there is something more.”

Draygo Quick shrugged and did not disagree.

“Dangerous creatures are these drow,” Parise Ulfbinder added.

“Are you hinting that I should release Drizzt to them?”

“Nay!” Parise replied without hesitation. “I would advise just the opposite. Admit nothing and release no one, and then we will scrutinize the reactions of Bregan D’aerthe henceforth. If Jarlaxle’s claims are grounded even remotely in truth, then his failed attempt to secure Drizzt’s release will likely be taken up by a higher authority.”

“House Baenre,” Draygo Quick reasoned.

“It would seem as if they hold a greater stake here, given the involvement of this young Tiago.”

“It would seem prudent for them to have me keep Drizzt away from that one.”

“Who can tell with these curious drow?” Parise replied. “We seek information above all else, and holding tight our cards will bring us many revelations, I expect.”

“Revelations or enmity?” Draygo Quick reminded.

“Either way, we will learn much. If they push harder, then we can hand him over, and perhaps learn even more in the subsequent events. If House Baenre bothers to come for him, then we can be confident that the Spider Queen is involved, and perhaps then this battle between Drizzt and Tiago Baenre, of which Jarlaxle hinted, will indeed prove instructive.”

“Until then, we hold the upper hand,” Draygo Quick remarked.

“Do we?” Parise was quick to ask. “You have studied the sonnet.”

Draygo Quick started to respond, but again merely shrugged.

The old shade draped the cloth over the crystal ball again, severing the connection, then sat back in his chair and glanced over at the glowing cage holding the shrunken Guenhwyvar.

So many gains, it seemed to him, had proven to be no more than illusion.

Chapter 23: A Towering Victory

YOU SHOULD JUST LET HIM GO,” JARLAXLE SAID TO LORD DRAYGO, THE two standing in the checkerboard entry hall.

Draygo Quick put on an amused expression. He had just bid Jarlaxle farewell, after informing the drow that they had nothing further to discuss.

“You will better find your answers in that case,” Jarlaxle continued. “And truly, if Drizzt is so favored by one god or another, what gain to you to keep him prisoner?”

“You presume much,” Draygo Quick replied, a phrase he had thrown Jarlaxle’s way on several occasions. Indeed, in their hours together, the Netherese lord had never admitted that Drizzt was within his castle.

But Jarlaxle knew better, for Kimmuriel had found Drizzt, and the young tiefling warlock, as well, in separate locked rooms in the western wing of the castle. Kimmuriel had found the others, statues all, as well, in a room not far from this very spot.

“If I am errant in my suspicions, then of course—” Jarlaxle started.

“And you annoy me even more,” Draygo Quick continued. “Do be on your way, Jarlaxle, before I am tempted to speak with Lord Ulfbinder and nullify our agreement. Do not come to me again unless you are invited, or unless your request to pay a visit is accepted. Now, if you’ll excuse me, or even if you will not, I have much work to do.”

Jarlaxle bowed low. Draygo Quick acknowledged him with just a curt nod, and walked off across the floor to the doorway that would lead him to his tower and private quarters. Jarlaxle watched him, then glanced back at the sweeping stairwell in the rear of the hall, climbing up twenty feet and breaking left and right behind decorated railings.

No shortage of Shadovar guards stood up there, looking back at him, including one holding Taulmaril and another, amazingly, standing at the top of the staircase with one of Drizzt’s scimitars strapped to his hip.

He is taunting me, Jarlaxle thought, and in his mind, he could sense Kimmuriel’s discomfort as clearly as if the psionicist were standing beside him and groaning. Tell me when, Jarlaxle bade as Draygo Quick exited the room.

There are guards at the door in front of you, and more outside as well, Kimmuriel silently warned.

Jarlaxle bowed to the stern-faced sentries on the balcony, conveniently sweeping off his hat as he did.

Do not kill the lord, Kimmuriel telepathically cried.

Then guide my opening salvos properly, Jarlaxle replied. His hand slipped inconspicuously inside the hat, gripping the edge of the portable hole.

“I’ll not be using your door,” Jarlaxle announced to the guards as he turned back as if to exit the castle. “I have my own gate available.”

“Just be gone, as Lord Draygo instructed,” the guard commander on the stairs, the one with Drizzt’s scimitar, shouted down.

Jarlaxle smiled and pulled forth the portable hole, set his hat back on his bald head, and flipped the spinning and elongating hole in the general direction of the guards flanking the castle exit. The two widened their eyes in unison and hustled aside in fear, but the hole plopped down on the floor short of them without any overtly ill effects, and now seemed no more than an actual hole in the castle floor.

With the obvious distraction demanding the attention of all in the grand hall, Jarlaxle slipped his hand into a pouch and produced a small cube—and reminded himself that his brother Gromph had promised him all sorts of pain if he ruined this particular device.

Draygo is safely ascending his tower, Kimmuriel imparted.

Jarlaxle was already grinning, seeing the door sentries edging over to the curious pit, unable to resist the urge to peek in. The mercenary tossed the cube toward the door where Draygo Quick had exited, and turned back to the guards on the balcony.