Elaine Cunningham - The Best of the Realms, Book I

Sure enough, within an hour, the two came upon a cleararea of trail, lined by only a couple of trees, and there they were predictablyaccosted.

"Stand where you are!" came the order fromthe boughs of one of the trees.

"It took you long enough to discover us,"Jarlaxle called back.

"There are a dozen bows trained upon you!"

"Then at least four of your fellows are holdingtwo, which would leave them quite ineffective, I would wager," said thedark elf.

"You are a wealth of information," Entreriremarked.

"Impress them with intellect."

"Tell them everything we know," Entrericorrected. "And perhaps our life's tale that brought us to this point.What next, Jarlaxle? Will you draw them a map to your mother's house?"

Jarlaxle's lips curled at the amusing notion ofsending a stream of surface dwellers trotting happily to House Baenre inMenzoberranzan.

Entreri dropped his arguing and glanced around, tonote that several of the bandits were about, a couple with bows and allscrambling for a better angle on the pair. The one who had verbally accostedthem dropped down from the tree, then, and started forward, sword in hand.

Entreri measured the balance (or lack thereof) of thatstep, and figured that he could have the man dead in three moves, should itcome to a fight.

"Strip yourself of your weapons, your coin, andeven your clothing," the man demanded in a falsely haughty voice, a toneof sophistication that did not match reality, both the friends knew, and onedesigned to convey superiority over his slobbering fellow robbers."Perhaps my friends and me will let you walk away."

"And I," Jarlaxle corrected.

"Aye, yourself as well."

"No no, you said 'my friends and me,' but theproper-"

"Let it go," Entreri interrupted.

"Quit yer whispering!" the man demanded,reverting to an accent that seemed far more fitting to one of his lowly anduneducated stature. "Now go ahead and start dropping the goods."

"Now, now, friend," said Jarlaxle. "Wecome not as enemies, and surely not as victims. We have been watching you andyour fellows for some time now, and have decided that a joining of ourresources might prove a valuable alliance."

"Eh?" the man responded, his face blank.

"Oh, wonderful," Entreri remarked.

"They have not shot their bows yet, havethey?" whispered the dark elf.

"All owing to the brilliant diplomacy ofJarlaxle, no doubt."

"Enough o' that, both of ye!" the highwaymanyelled. "Now I'm warning you for the last time to start dropping thegoods!"

"It will be the last time if I choose to cut outyour throat, to be sure," Entreri replied.

He saw Jarlaxle explode into motion before he ever finishedthe sentence, and heard as well the twang of bows.

But Jarlaxle was the quicker, pulling a black discfrom his mightily magical hat, spinning it (and hugely elongating it in theprocess), then throwing it down at their feet, creating an extra-dimensionalpocket, a portable hole.

Entreri and the drow dropped in as the arrows zoomedoverhead.

The human assassin landed easily, dropping fast into acrouch, while Jarlaxle, with hardly a thought, it seemed, caught himself withlevitation and lightly touched down beside him.

Up came Entreri, up and forward, and Jarlaxle threwhimself against the hole's front wall and turned fast, cupping his hands infront of him and offering Entreri a boost. The assassin light-stepped ontothose delicate but surprisingly strong fingers and Jarlaxle hoisted him.

He came out of the hole in a dead run at one very surprisedhighwayman.

Entreri fell into a roll, threw himself over sideways,then scissored his legs around the highwayman's, tripping him up. The man hadbarely hit the ground before Entreri was over him, that devilish jeweled daggerat his throat.

"Tell them we are your friends," Entrerisaid, and when the man hesitated, he pushed the dagger's tip in Just a bit.

But enough for him to activate the enchanted weapon'slife-stealing ability.

The would-be robber's eyes widened with horror as he realizedthat his very life force was suddenly being sucked out of him.

"Tell them," said Entreri, and the man beganto shout for the others to stand fast.

Entreri pulled the man up roughly and rolled aroundbehind him, using him as a shield against any of the archers. He saw Jarlaxlefloat up out of the hole then, standing perfectly still and perfectly calm.

"Drow elf." one of the others yelled andthey all began firing their bows, lines of arrows streaking at the dark elf,who didn't flinch in the least.

Every arrow went right through him-or right throughthe illusion of him that he had brought forth from the hole.

"Are you quite done?" the drow asked, whenat last the firing subsided.

"Very well, then," he added when there cameno response, and no further arrows.

Entreri stood up and pulled his captive to his feetbefore him, then roughly shoved the man away and flipped his dagger back intoits sheath in one fluid motion.

"We wish to join your band," the assassinremarked, "not thin your ranks so that there might be room for us."

Entreri's attention went back to the hole, whereanother Jarlaxle was floating up to stand beside the illusionary. He lookedout wide to both sides, to see the archers nervously fumbling with their bows,though none offered a shot.

"Have they learned?" came a call from withinthe hole.

"They seem willing to talk first, at least,"Entreri answered, and a third illusion of Jarlaxle drifted up from the hole.

When a few moments passed and the archers still madeno move to fire, a fourth image of the dark elf appeared, and immediately beganinspecting the other three, nodding his head admiringly before he finally madehis way to the side of the hole, stepped onto solid ground and lifted theextra-dimensional device.

The three images began to slowly fade.

"Very well then," Jarlaxle said, moving toEntreri and the befuddled and terrified would-be robber. "Lead on."

"I–I will have y-your weapons," the manstammered, trying futilely to sound as if he was back in control as his fellowsclosed in.

"In your throat or your chest?" Entreriasked. The man gulped audibly and said no more about it.

Entreri sat on a ledge, nearly twenty feet up from thefloor of the cave that his newly-adopted band of cutthroats used as theirlair. It was a large and airy chamber, and the band had been quite adept atadding homey comforts. Many beds sat on the different levels of the shelvedmain cavern and there was a complete cooking area, with a well-constructed firepit, counters, and cabinets. Numbering fourteen, with the addition of Jarlaxleand Entreri, the rogue band had plenty of space.

There was only one separate chamber, used by Pagg, theband's leader, a tough if somewhat simple ruffian with more scars than Jarlaxlehad magical devices.

Even with the comforts offered by the cave, it didn'ttake Entreri long to come to wonder why in the world the band had decided uponthat particular location for their base. They were off the main merchantroutes, and the only towns around were poor farming and fishing communities.Even if they cleaned out every village within a twenty mile radius of every valuable,the robbers would still be poor.

Entreri watched with amusement as a game of dicecontinued on the main floor of the cave. Jarlaxle was playing, and winning ofcourse, as was evidenced by the continuing growls and complaints of the others.

Entreri shook his head and wondered if the drow wouldpush his winnings far enough to start a terrible row-and Entreri honestlywished that he would. They had been among the band of ruffians for the betterpart of two tendays, and Entreri was growing dreadfully bored. He had been outon the road twice with Jarlaxle and some others, and once they had even managedto overtake a merchant wagon, relieving the terrified man, a baker, of hisgoods. The ruffians had then moved to murder the man, but Jarlaxle had stoppedthem, explaining that doing so would only incite the wrath of authorities.