R. Salvatore - The Last Threshold

“And I,” Dahlia remarked.

“You two alone, then, and leave me out of it,” a surprised and annoyed Entreri muttered.

“Not so,” Drizzt corrected him. “You and I have business there anyway.”

That surprised Entreri, and he returned a suspicious look.

Drizzt put a hand to his right hip, the same location where Artemis Entreri used to wear his jeweled dagger, and nodded.

“Lead on,” said the assassin.

“I have anticipated this day,” Drizzt said to Dorwyllan and a few others near to him. “I have contacts in Luskan. Artemis Entreri is correct. They know something is happening here in the south, though perhaps remain ignorant that it is Port Llast and not just Neverwinter that is growing strong once more. They understand that those farmers departed the fields around Luskan in an exodus to the south and they will learn the truth soon enough. You might well see Luskar sails outside your harbor any day now.”

“They’ll not cross the wall into the city as enemies,” Dorwyllan decreed.

“Not at first, with a ship or two. But if it comes to blows.…” Drizzt left that thought hanging in the open. All in attendance understood that mighty Luskan could crush Port Llast with little effort if the City of Sails so desired.

“I will go and serve as emissary.”

“And if that fails?” asked Dovos Dothwintyl, the city’s current lord, but one who had been all but invisible through the reclamation efforts.

“Then perhaps we all go to Neverwinter, and seek the suffrage of Jelvus Grinch, who I am confident will welcome us warmly.”

Some of the group began to grumble about that-hadn’t they held on to their town through all these years, after all?

Dorwyllan calmed them. “It had to come to a climax,” he said in a matter-of-fact, yet soothing voice. “Our stalemate with the sea devils was a slow death. Our victory over them grants us Port Llast returned or full retreat. If Drizzt is not successful in Luskan, we shall appeal to Neverwinter and Waterdeep for protection against Luskan.”

“Let’s hope that won’t be necessary,” Drizzt said, and he nodded and started away, motioning for Entreri to follow. In truth, Drizzt didn’t think it would come to blows. He had made inroads into the ascendant Ship Kurth, after all.

Dahlia moved off with Drizzt and Entreri, but the drow blocked her. “We have two mounts, and must ride with all speed to beat any armada Luskan might launch at Port Llast. And I need you here.”

“I will ride with you, hardly slowing mighty Andahar,” she argued.

But Drizzt shook his head and would not be swayed. “I would have all of Luskan agreeing to leave us in peace, including Ship Rethnor ,” he said bluntly, emphasizing those last three words to remind Dahlia that she had more than a little history, and not all of it favorable, with the powers of Luskan.

Dahlia narrowed her eyes, her face a mask of contempt and a warning to Drizzt that this, and his other inattentiveness of late, was not strengthening their relationship.

Surprisingly to Drizzt, that didn’t bother him profoundly. Indeed, hardly at all.

No matter how hard he tried, Beniago couldn’t look quite as uncomfortable as grizzled old Advisor Klutarch, shifting from foot to foot. They were, after all, in a cellar in Luskan surrounded by a handful of drow mercenaries.

“Thus we return,” Kimmuriel said. “We have renewed interest in the area, to the benefit of Ship Kurth and the others.”

“And ye’ve met with the others, then?” Klutarch asked.

“Need I?” Kimmuriel replied.

Klutarch looked surprised, but Beniago, of course, knew the truth of it.

“Well, they’re-” Klutarch started.

“Irrelevant,” Beniago finished for him. “Our good friend Kimmuriel here has just informed us that Bregan D’aerthe’s return to Luskan will signal the ascent of Ship Kurth above the others. The other high captains will agree, or their successors will.”

It took a moment for Klutarch to digest that, judging by his expression, but when he caught on to the implications behind the confident statement, his face brightened, albeit briefly.

Briefly, for clearly implied in Beniago’s words loomed a similar threat against House Kurth.

“We should go to High Captain Kurth,” Klutarch said.

“You go,” Kimmuriel answered, and he turned to stare at Beniago, who cleared his throat and waved Klutarch away.

“There is more, then?” Beniago asked when he was alone with the dark elves.

“You grow comfortable in your light skin, I see,” Kimmuriel replied.

With a chuckle, Beniago reached up and pulled off his earring, dispelling the illusion, and he stood before Kimmuriel in his true drow form.

“Kurth will agree,” Kimmuriel stated more than asked.

“He is stubborn and headstrong, but ultimately pragmatic,” Beniago answered anyway.

“If he doesn’t, are you ready to assume the mantle of high captain?”

Beniago wasn’t thrilled at that prospect, but said, “As you command, of course.”

“Let us hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“Then there is more,” Beniago reasoned

“Your cousin, Tiago Baenre, has settled in with the Xorlarrins in the ruins of Gauntlgrym,” Kimmuriel explained. “Their expedition appears to be going along splendidly.”

“Thus, Bregan D’aerthe’s renewed interest in the region.”

“Of course, but there is a potential problem. Your cousin Tiago has taken an interest with a rogue from Menzoberranzan known to be wandering the region.”

Beniago sighed, understanding the implications all too well. “Drizzt Do’Urden will kill him, and Quenthel will go to war over it.”

“And war, in this case, is not good for business,” said Kimmuriel.

“What would you have me do?”

“Get Drizzt out of the way.”

Beniago looked at his leader with incredulity, and not a small amount of terror. Drizzt would prove formidable enough by himself, of course, as Beniago knew from personal experience, and even more so given the characters with whom he had surrounded himself, and even if Beniago-Beniago Baenre- could somehow find a way to dispatch the rogue, Jarlaxle had made it quite clear to all of them that such an event would trigger harsh retribution. No drow, particularly no drow of Bregan D’aerthe, cared to cross Jarlaxle.

“Not to kill him, you fool,” Kimmuriel remarked, and Beniago breathed a sigh of relief.

“Be clever,” Kimmuriel explained. “Find a way to keep Drizzt and Tiago apart, for the foreseeable future at least.”

“You could go to Tiago.”

“We have,” said Kimmuriel. “Jarlaxle himself spoke with him.”

“And he is as stubborn, prideful, and headstrong as ever,” Beniago presumed. Kimmuriel didn’t bother responding, so Beniago asked, “Where is Drizzt?”

“In Port Llast.”

That perked up Beniago, for Port Llast was becoming the focus of the discussion about Luskan over the last few days. The situation had just become more complicated, he feared, but when he got past that initial reaction, he saw as well a glimmer of hope.

He was a lieutenant of Bregan D’aerthe, he reminded himself, and though with many peers, he was outranked only by Kimmuriel, Jarlaxle, and the independent Valas Hune in the organization’s hierarchy. Luskan was his post, and Luskan was about to become very, very important to the organization once more.

This was Beniago’s chance to elevate himself above the many other lieutenants. He wasn’t about to let his miserable cousin Tiago, whose father had betrayed Beniago and had him driven from the Baenre ranks to the waiting arms of Bregan D’aerthe in the first place, spoil it.

“Make Kurth agree,” Beniago bade Kimmuriel. “I can better serve our interests from my current position. Instruct Kurth to grant me leeway in negotiating the disposition of Port Llast.”