"Well…" the obviously flustered Hobart started to say, staring at the wand-wielder. "You think.. " Hobart tried to go on. "I mean, is there…?"
"I should have killed you in Calimport," Entreri said to Jarlaxle.
"For the sake of a flustered halfling, of course," the drow replied.
"For the sake of my own sanity."
"Truer than you might realize."
"A-anything else you need to look at on that one?" Hobart finally managed to sputter.
The wand-wielder shook his head so forcefully that his lips made popping and smacking noises.
"Consider my toys," Jarlaxle said to Hobart. "Do you really believe that your ears are of such value to me that I would risk alienating so many entertaining and impressive newfound friends in acquiring them?"
"He's got a point," said the halfling standing next to Hobart.
"All the best to you in your search, good Sir Bracegirdle," said Jarlaxle, taking his hat back and replacing the magical cloth. "My offer for brandy remains."
"I expect you would favor a drink right now," Entreri remarked.
"Though not as much as that one," he added, indicating the flabbergasted, terrified, and stupefied wand-wielder.
"Medicinal purposes," Jarlaxle added, looking at the trembling little halfling.
"He's lucky you didn't strike him blind," added Entreri.
"Would not be the first time."
"Stunning."
CHAPTER SIX
IN WATERS TOO DEEP
Black spots circled and danced before her eyes and a cold sweat was general about her body, glistening, it seemed, from every pore.
Arrayan tried to stand straight and hold fast to her concentration, but those spots! She put one foot in front of the other, barely inching her way to the door across the common room of her tiny home.
Three strides will take me to it, she thought, a sorry attempt at willing herself to shake her state of disorientation and vertigo and just take the quick steps.
The knocking continued even more insistently.
Arrayan smiled despite her condition. From the tempo and frantic urgency of the rapping, she knew it was Olgerkhan. It was always Olgerkhan, caring far too much about her.
The recognition of her dear old friend emboldened Arrayan enough for her to fight through the swirling black dots of dizziness for just a moment and get to the door. She cracked it open, leaning on it but painting an expression that tried hard to deny her weariness.
"Well met," she greeted the large half-orc.
A flash of concern crossed Olgerkhan's face as he regarded her, and it took him a long moment to reply, "And to you."
"It is far too early for a visit," Arrayan said, trying to cover, though she could tell by the position of the sun, a brighter spot in the typically gray Palishchuk sky, that it was well past mid-morning.
"Early?" Olgerkhan looked around. "We will go to Wingham's, yes? As we agreed?"
Arrayan had to pause a moment to suppress a wave of nausea and dizziness that nearly toppled her from the door.
"Yes, of course," she said, "but not now. I need more sleep. It's too early."
"It's later than we agreed."
"I didn't sleep well last night," she said. The effort of merely standing there was starting to take its toll. Arrayan's teeth began to chatter. "You understand, I'm sure."
The large half-orc nodded, glanced around again, and stepped back.
Arrayan moved her hand and the weight of her leaning on the door shut it hard. She turned, knowing she had to get back to her bed, and took a shaky step away, then another. The inching along wouldn't get her there in time, she knew, so she tried a quick charge across the room.
She got one step farther before the floor seemed to reach up and swallow her. She lay there for a long moment, trying to catch her breath, trying with sheer determination to stop the room from spinning. She would have to crawl, she knew, and she fought hard to get to her hands and knees to do just that.
"Arrayan!" came a shout from behind her, and it sounded like it was a hundred miles away.
"Oh my, Arrayan," the voice said in her ear a moment later, cracking with every word. Arrayan hardly registered the voice and barely felt powerful Olgerkhan sweep her into his arms to carry her gently to her bed.
He continued to whisper to her as he pulled a blanket up over her, but she was already far, far away.
"Knellict will not be pleased if we fail in this," Canthan Dolittle said to Athrogate upon the dwarf's return to their small corner table in Muddy Boots and Bloody Blades.
"How many times ye meaning to tell me that, ye dolt?" asked the black-bearded dwarf.
"As many as it takes for you to truly appreciate that—"
Canthan sucked in his breath and held his tongue as Athrogate rose up over the edge of the table, planting both of his calloused hands firmly on the polished wood. The dwarf kept coming forward, leaning over so near to the studious man that the long braids of his beard and the gem-studded ties settled in Canthan's lap. Canthan could feel the heat and smell the stench of the dwarf's breath in his face.
"Knellict is—" Canthan started again.
"A mean son of a pig's arse," Athrogate finished for him. "Yeah, I'm knowin' it all too well, ye skinny dolt. Been the times when I've felt the sting of his crackling fingers, don't ye doubt."
"Then we must not forget."
"Forget?" Athrogate roared in his face.
Canthan blanched as all conversation around their table stopped. The dwarf, too, caught on to the volume of his complaint, and he glanced back over his shoulder to see several sets of curious eyes focusing on him.
"Bah, what're ye lookin' at, lest it be yer doom?" he barked at them. Athrogate held no small reputation for ferocity at the Vaasan Gate, having dominated the hunt for bounty ears for so many months, and having engaged in more than a dozen tavern brawls, all of which had left his opponents far more battered than he. The dwarf narrowed his eyes, accentuating his bushy eyebrows all the more, and gradually sank back into his chair. When the onlookers finally turned their attention elsewhere, Athrogate wheeled back on his partner. "I ain't for forgetting nothing," he assured Canthan.
"Forgive my petulance," said Canthan. "But please, my short and stout friend, never again forget that you are here as my subordinate."
The dwarf glowered at him.
"And I am Knellict's underling," Canthan went on, and this mention of the powerful, merciless archmage did calm Athrogate somewhat.
Canthan was indeed Knellict's man, and if Athrogate moved on Canthan, he'd be facing a very angry and very potent wizard in a short amount of time. Knellict had left the Fugue and gone back to the Citadel of Assassins, but Knellict could move as quickly as he could unexpectedly.
"We ain't to fail in this," the dwarf grumbled, coming back to the original point. "Been watching them two closely."
"They go out into Vaasa almost every day. Do you follow?"
The dwarf snorted and shook his head. "I ain't for meeting no stinking drow elf out there in the wilds," he explained. "I been watching them on their return. That's enough."
"And if they don't return?"
"Then they're dead in the bogs and all the better for us," Athrogate replied.
"They are making quite a reputation in short order," said Canthan. "Every day they come in with ears for bounty. They are outperforming much larger groups, by all reports, and indeed have long since surpassed the amount of coin handed out at the Vaasan Gate for bounty in so short a time—a performance until very recently pinnacled by yourself, I believe."