his hand and motioned, and into the firelight hopped Ambergris and Athrogate, holding hands and grinning hopefully.
“Ye want me to take these two?” Bruenor asked.
“Powerful allies,” Jarlaxle said.
Bruenor seemed at a loss. He looked from the drow to the dwarves to Drizzt, then back and forth again. “Aye, I can’no deny the truth o’ that."
“I been granted back me old home o’ Felbarr,” said Athrogate.
“And meself can return to Adbar and all’s forgiven,” added Amber Gristle O’Maul, of the Adbar O’Mauls. “And we’re owing ye all for that.”
“Aye, and we’d rather be takin’ the road aside ye,” Athrogate said. “Fore’er more.”
“And what of yourself?” Drizzt asked Jarlaxle.
The mercenary shrugged. “I’ve to report to the matron mother, of course, and then I have another road before me.”
“He’s off to find Effron, don’t ye know?” Ambergris interjected. “Aye, to find the poor boy and give him a hug for meself.”
“Do we have an agreement?” Jarlaxle asked.
“And if I’m sayin’ no?” Bruenor asked.
“Then I will report the same tale to the matron mother, but you will have lost a pair of fine and powerful companions.”
Bruenor looked to Drizzt. “What says yerself, elf?”
“In a fight, those are two dwarves I would want on my side.”
“Good enough, then, and glad to have ye,” Bruenor said to the pair, who grinned all the wider, bowed, and moved back out into the darkness between the campfires.
“And now I must be off,” Jarlaxle said, draining his flagon, tipping his cap, and rising. “Farewell and not good-bye, for I’ve no doubt that our roads will cross again, my friends.” He started to bow, but Tazmikella grabbed him by the sleeve and with frightening ease pulled him back down to sit beside her. She began whispering in his ear, and pointed across the firelight to Wulfgar.
Jarlaxle laughed.
The big man scowled.
“My friend here is wondering if you are in need of a fine bed this night,” Jarlaxle said.
The stunned Wulfgar seemed at a loss, muttering “umm” repeatedly.
“She’s a dragon, boy,” Bruenor said to him.
“Why does everyone keep saying that as if it is a bad thing?” Jarlaxle asked. He looked to Wulfgar and grinned slyly. “Enticing, yes?”
But Regis answered before Wulfgar could. “Aleina is not far, and she is expecting you,” he reminded, and the growing smirk disappeared from the big man’s face.
“I . . . with sincere gratitude . . .” Wulfgar stammered, but the sisters laughed at him and stood up, hoisting Jarlaxle between them and tugging him away.
“I will have to suffer greater trials for your absence,” Jarlaxle said with feigned regret. He tried to bow again, but was off the ground, lifted over the log, and easily slung over Ilnezhara’s shoulder.
“Alas,” he said with great lament, and he awkwardly managed to tip his outrageous hat.
“Dragons . . .” Catti-brie said incredulously, and she looked to Wulfgar and shook her head with disgust.
“It does present an intriguing . . .” Drizzt kidded, and he ducked fast from Catti-brie’s good-natured slap.
To Wulfgar, though, there remained a look of clear interest as he watched the trio depart. He considered the beautiful sisters and what he, surprisingly, found to be an intriguing offer. And he looked, too, at Jarlaxle, envying the carefree, self-serving drow.
Had Jarlaxle found what Wulfgar sought?
Horns blew and the cadence of a drumbeat was matched perfectly by the thousand dwarves of Citadel Felbarr, stomping across the Surbrin Bridge, escorted away by the cheering of their Battlehammer kin.
“He’s supporting you with everything he can,” Drizzt remarked to
Bruenor as they watched Emerus Warcrown depart.
“He’s a good man, is me friend Emerus,” Bruenor replied solemnly.
“He’ll be generous when we meet at the year’s turn. Many who’re marchin’ beside us, elf, will be from Citadel Felbarr, don’t ye
“Ye want me to take these two?” Bruenor asked.
“Powerful allies,” Jarlaxle said.
Bruenor seemed at a loss. He looked from the drow to the dwarves to Drizzt, then back and forth again. “Aye, I can’no deny the truth o’ that."
“I been granted back me old home o’ Felbarr,” said Athrogate.
“And meself can return to Adbar and all’s forgiven,” added Amber Gristle O’Maul, of the Adbar O’Mauls. “And we’re owing ye all for that.”
“Aye, and we’d rather be takin’ the road aside ye,” Athrogate said. “Fore’er more.”
“And what of yourself?” Drizzt asked Jarlaxle.
The mercenary shrugged. “I’ve to report to the matron mother, of course, and then I have another road before me.”
“He’s off to find Effron, don’t ye know?” Ambergris interjected. “Aye, to find the poor boy and give him a hug for meself.”
“Do we have an agreement?” Jarlaxle asked.
“And if I’m sayin’ no?” Bruenor asked.
“Then I will report the same tale to the matron mother, but you will have lost a pair of fine and powerful companions.”
Bruenor looked to Drizzt. “What says yerself, elf?”
“In a fight, those are two dwarves I would want on my side.”
“Good enough, then, and glad to have ye,” Bruenor said to the pair, who grinned all the wider, bowed, and moved back out into the darkness between the campfires.
“And now I must be off,” Jarlaxle said, draining his flagon, tipping his cap, and rising. “Farewell and not good-bye, for I’ve no doubt that our roads will cross again, my friends.” He started to bow, but Tazmikella grabbed him by the sleeve and with frightening ease pulled him back down to sit beside her. She began whispering in his ear, and pointed across the firelight to Wulfgar.
Jarlaxle laughed.
The big man scowled.
“My friend here is wondering if you are in need of a fine bed this night,” Jarlaxle said.
The stunned Wulfgar seemed at a loss, muttering “umm” repeatedly.
“She’s a dragon, boy,” Bruenor said to him.
“Why does everyone keep saying that as if it is a bad thing?” Jarlaxle asked. He looked to Wulfgar and grinned slyly. “Enticing, yes?”
But Regis answered before Wulfgar could. “Aleina is not far, and she is expecting you,” he reminded, and the growing smirk disappeared from the big man’s face.
“I . . . with sincere gratitude . . .” Wulfgar stammered, but the sisters laughed at him and stood up, hoisting Jarlaxle between them and tugging him away.
“I will have to suffer greater trials for your absence,” Jarlaxle said with feigned regret. He tried to bow again, but was off the ground, lifted over the log, and easily slung over Ilnezhara’s shoulder.
“Alas,” he said with great lament, and he awkwardly managed to tip his outrageous hat.
“Dragons . . .” Catti-brie said incredulously, and she looked to Wulfgar and shook her head with disgust.
“It does present an intriguing . . .” Drizzt kidded, and he ducked fast from Catti-brie’s good-natured slap.
To Wulfgar, though, there remained a look of clear interest as he watched the trio depart. He considered the beautiful sisters and what he, surprisingly, found to be an intriguing offer. And he looked, too, at Jarlaxle, envying the carefree, self-serving drow.
Had Jarlaxle found what Wulfgar sought?
Horns blew and the cadence of a drumbeat was matched perfectly by the thousand dwarves of Citadel Felbarr, stomping across the Surbrin Bridge, escorted away by the cheering of their Battlehammer kin.
“He’s supporting you with everything he can,” Drizzt remarked to
Bruenor as they watched Emerus Warcrown depart.
“He’s a good man, is me friend Emerus,” Bruenor replied solemnly.
“He’ll be generous when we meet at the year’s turn. Many who’re marchin’ beside us, elf, will be from Citadel Felbarr, don’t ye
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