Robert Salvatore - The Halfling’s Gem

“Then go to your feast, Rassiter.”

The lanky man bowed again, cast one more glare at the leopard, and skipped from the room.

When the door had closed, Pook ran his fingers over his brow and down through the stylishly matted remains of what once had been a thick tousle of black hair. Then he dropped his chin helplessly into a plump palm and chuckled at his own discomfort in dealing with Rassiter, the wererat.

He looked to the harem door, wondering if he might take his mind off his associate. But he remembered LaValle. The wizard would not have disturbed him, certainly not with Rassiter in the room, unless his news was important.

He gave his pet a final scratch on the chin and moved through the chamber’s southeast door, into the wizard’s dimly lit quarters. LaValle, staring intently into his crystal ball, did not notice him as he entered. Not wanting to disturb the wizard, Pook quietly took the seat across the small table and waited, amusing himself with the curious distortions of LaValle’s scraggly gray beard through the crystal ball as the wizard moved this way and that.

Finally LaValle looked up. He could clearly see the lines of tension still on Pook’s face, not unexpected after a visit from the wererat. “They have killed her, then?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“I despise him,” said Pook.

LaValle nodded in agreement. “But you cannot dismiss the power that Rassiter has brought you.”

The wizard spoke the truth. In the two years since Pook had allied himself with the wererats, his guild had become the most prominent and powerful in the city. He could live well simply from the tithes that the dockside merchants paid him for protection—from his own guild. Even the captains of many of the visiting merchant ships knew enough not to turn away Pook’s collector when he met them on the docks.

And those who didn’t know better learned quickly.

No, Pook couldn’t argue about the benefits of having Rassiter and his fellows around. But the guildmaster had no love for the wretched lycanthropes, human by day and something beastly, half rat and half man, by night. And he wasn’t fond of the way they handled their business.

“Enough of him,” Pook said, dropping his hands to the velvety black tablecloth. “I am certain that I shall need a dozen hours in the harem to get over our meeting!” His grin showed that the thought did not displease him. “But what did you want?”

A wide smile spread over the wizard’s face. “I have spoken with Oberon in Baldur’s Gate this day,” he said with some pride. “I have learned of something that may make you forget all about your discussion with Rassiter.”

Pook waited curiously, allowing LaValle to play out his dramatics. The wizard was a fine and loyal aide, the closest thing the guildmaster had to a friend.

“Your assassin returns!” LaValle proclaimed suddenly.

It took Pook a few moments to think through the meaning and implications of the wizard’s words. But then it hit him, and he sprang up from the table. “Entreri?” he gasped, barely finding his breath.

LaValle nodded and nearly laughed out loud.

Pook ran his hand through his hair. Three years. Entreri, deadliest of the deadly, was returning to him after three long years. He looked curiously at the wizard.

“He has the halfling,” LaValle answered to his unspoken question. Pook’s face lit up in a broad smile. He leaned forward eagerly, his golden teeth shining in the candlelight.

Truly LaValle was glad to please his guildmaster, to give him the news he had waited so very long to hear. “And the ruby pendant!” the wizard proclaimed, banging a fist on the table.

“Yes!” Pook snarled, exploding into laughter. His gem, his most prized possession. With its hypnotic powers, he could rise to even greater heights of prosperity and power. Not only would he dominate all he met, but he would make them glad for the experience. “Ah, Rassiter,” Pook muttered, suddenly thinking of the upper hand he could gain on his associate. “Our relationship is about to change, my rodent friend.”

“How much will you still need him?” LaValle asked.

Pook shrugged and looked to the side of the room, to a small curtain.

The Taros Hoop.

LaValle blanched at the thought of the thing. The Taros Hoop was a mighty relic capable of displacing its owner, or his enemies, through the very planes of existence. But the power of this item was not without price. Thoroughly evil it was, and every one of the few times LaValle had used it, he had felt a part of himself drain away, as though the Taros Hoop gained its power by stealing his life force. LaValle hated Rassiter, but he hoped that the guildmaster would find a better solution than the Taros Hoop.

The wizard looked back to find Pook staring at him. “Tell me more!” Pook insisted eagerly.

LaValle shrugged helplessly and put his hand on the crystal ball. “I have not been able to glimpse them myself,” he said. “Ever has Artemis Entreri been able to dodge my scrying. But by Oberon’s words, they are not too far. Sailing the waters north of Calimshan, if not already within the borders. And they fly on a swift wind, Master. A week or two, no more.”

“And Regis is with him?” Pook asked.

“He is.”

“Alive?”

“Very much alive,” said the wizard.

“Good!” Pook sneered. How he longed to see the treacherous halfling again! To have his plump hands around Regis’s little neck! The guild had fallen on tough times after Regis had run off with the magical pendant. In truth, the problems had come mostly from Pook’s own insecurity in dealing with people without the gem, so long had he been using it, and from the guildmaster’s obsessive—and expensive—hunt to find the halfling. But to Pook, the blame fell squarely upon Regis. He even blamed the halfling for the alliance with the wererats’ guild, for certainly he wouldn’t have needed Rassiter if he had had his pendant.

But now everything would work out for the best, Pook knew. Possessing the pendant and dominating the wererats, perhaps he could even think of expanding his power outside Calimport, with charmed associates and lyncanthrope allies heading guilds throughout the southland.

LaValle seemed more serious when Pook looked back at him. “How do you believe Entreri will feel about our new associates?” he asked grimly.

“Ah, he does not know,” said Pook, realizing the implications. “He has been gone too long.” He thought for a moment then shrugged. “They are in the same business, after all. Entreri should accept them.”

“Rassiter disturbs everyone he meets,” the wizard reminded him. “Suppose that he crosses Entreri?”

Pook laughed at the thought. “I can assure you that Rassiter will cross Artemis Entreri only once, my friend.”

“And then you shall make arrangements with the new head of the wererats,” LaValle snickered.

Pook clapped him on the shoulder and headed for the door. “Learn what you can,” he instructed the wizard. “If you can find them in your crystal ball, call to me. I cannot wait to glimpse the face of Regis the halfling again. So much I owe to that one.”

“And you shall be?”

“In the harem,” Pook answered with a wink. “Tension, you know.”

LaValle slumped back in his chair when Pook had gone and considered again the return of his principal rival. He had gained much in the years since Entreri had left, even rising to this room on the third level as Pook’s chief assistant.

This room, Entreri’s room.

But the wizard never had any problems with the assassin. They had been comfortable associates, if not friends, and had helped each other many times in the past. LaValle couldn’t count the number of times he had shown Entreri the quickest route to a target.