"Bring us to her, Olgerkhan," Wingham said. "You did well in coming to us."
He shouted some orders at his compatriots, telling them to take over his barker's spot, and he, Mariabronne, and Olgerkhan rushed out from the wagon ring and back into Palishchuk.
CHAPTER SEVEN
DREAMERS
Entreri rocked his chair up on two legs and leaned back against the wall. He sipped his wine as he watched the interaction between Jarlaxle and Commander Ellery. The woman had sought the drow out specifically, Entreri knew from her movements, though it was obvious to him that she was trying to appear as if she had not. She wasn't dressed in her armor, nor in any uniform of the Army of Bloodstone, and seemed quite the lady in her pink dress, subtly striped with silvery thread that shimmered with every step. A padded light gray vest completed the outfit, cut and tightly fitted to enhance her womanly charms. She carried no weapon—openly, at least—and it had taken Entreri a few minutes to even recognize her when first he'd spotted her among the milling crowd. Even on the field when she had arrived in full armor, dirty from the road, Entreri had thought her attractive, but now he could hardly pull his eyes from her.
When he realized the truth of his feelings it bothered him more than a little. When had he ever before been distracted by such things?
He studied her movements as she spoke to Jarlaxle, the way she leaned forward, the way her eyes widened, sparkling with interest. A smile, resigned and helpless, spread across the assassin's face and he briefly held out his glass in a secret toast to his dark elf companion.
"This chair and that chair free o' bums?" a gruff voice asked, and Entreri looked to the side to see a pair of dirty dwarves staring back at him.
"Well?" the other one asked, indicating one of the three empty chairs.
"Have the whole table," Entreri bade them.
He finished his drink with a gulp then slipped from his seat and moved away along the back wall. He took a roundabout route so as to not interrupt Jarlaxle's conversation.
"Well met to you, Comman—Lady Ellery," Jarlaxle said, and he tipped his glass of wine to her.
"And now you will claim that you didn't even recognize me, I expect."
"You underestimate the unique aspect of your eyes, good lady," said the drow. "In a full-face helm, I expect I would not miss that singular beauty."
Ellery started to respond but rocked back on her heels for just an instant.
Jarlaxle did well to mask his grin.
"There are questions I would ask of you," Ellery began, and her voice gained urgency when the drow turned away.
He spun right back, though, holding a second glass of wine he had apparently found waiting on the bar. He held it out to the woman, and she narrowed her eyes and glanced around suspiciously. How was it that the second glass of wine had been waiting there?
Yes, I knew you would come to me, Jarlaxle's smile clearly revealed when Ellery accepted the drink.
"Questions?" the drow prompted the obviously flabbergasted woman a few moments later.
Ellery tried to play it calm and collected, but she managed to dribble a bit of wine from the corner of her mouth and thought herself quite the clod while wiping it.
"I have never met a dark elf before, though I have seen a pair from afar and have heard tales of a half-drow making a reputation for herself in Damara."
"We do have a way of doing that, for good or for ill."
"I have heard many tales, though," Ellery blurted.
"Ah, and you are intrigued by the reputation of my dark race?"
She studied him carefully, her eyes roaming from his head to his feet and back up again. "You do not appear so formidable."
"Perhaps that is the greatest advantage of all."
"Are you a warrior or a wizard?"
"Of course," the drow said as he took another sip.
The woman's face crinkled for a brief moment. "It is said that drow are masters of the arts martial," she said after she recovered. "It is said that only the finest elf warriors could do individual battle against the likes of a drow."
"I expect that no elves who sought to prove such a theory are alive to confirm or deny."
Ellery's quick smile in response clued Jarlaxle in to the fact that she was catching on to his wit—a manner that was always a bit too dry and unrelenting for most surface dwellers.
"Is that a confirmation or a boast?" she asked.
"It just is."
A wicked smile grew on the woman's face. "Then I say again, you do not look so formidable."
"Is that an honest observation or a challenge?"
"It just is."
Jarlaxle held out his glass and Ellery tapped hers against it. "Some day, perhaps, you will happen upon me in Vaasa and have your answer," Jarlaxle said. "My friend and I have found some success in our hunts out there."
"I have noted your trophies," she said, and again her eyes scanned the drow head to toe.
Jarlaxle laughed aloud. He quieted quickly, though, under the intensity of Ellery's stare, her bright eyes boring into his.
"Questions?" he asked.
"Many," she answered, "but not here. Do you think that your friend will be well enough without you?"
As she asked, both she and Jarlaxle turned to the table in the back corner, where the drow had left Entreri, only to find that he was gone.
When they looked back at each other, Jarlaxle shrugged and said, "Answers."
They left the bustle of Muddy Boots and Bloody Blades behind, Jarlaxle following the woman as she easily navigated the myriad corridors and hallways of the wall complex. They moved down one side passage and crossed through the room where monster ears were exchanged for bounty. Moving toward the door at the rear of the chamber gave the drow an angle to see behind the desks, and he spotted a small chest.
He made a note of that one.
The door led the pair into another corridor. A right turn at a four-way intersection led them to another door.
Ellery casually fished a key out of a small belt pouch, and Jarlaxle watched her curiously, his senses more acutely attuning to his surroundings. Had the warrior woman planned their encounter from the beginning?
"A long way to walk for the answers to a few questions," he remarked, but Ellery just glanced back at him, smiling.
She grabbed a nearby torch and took it with her into the next chamber, moving along the wall to light several others.
Jarlaxle's smile widened along with his curiosity as he came to recognize the purpose of the room. Dummies stood silently around the perimeter and archery targets lined the far wall. Several racks were set here and there, all sporting wooden replicas of various weapons.
Ellery moved to one such rack and drew forth a wooden long sword. She studied it for a moment then tossed it to Jarlaxle, who caught it in one hand and sent it into an easy swing.
Ellery drew out a second blade and lifted a wooden shield.
"No such shield for me?" the drow asked.
With a giggle, Ellery tossed the second sword his way. "I have heard that your race favors a two-bladed fighting style."
Jarlaxle caught the tossed blade with the edge of the first wooden sword, breaking its fall, balancing it, then sending it into a controlled spin.
"Some do," he replied. "Some are quite adept with long blades of equal length."
A flick of his wrist sent the second sword spinning skyward, and the drow immediately disregarded it, looking over at Ellery, placing his remaining sword tip down on the floor, tucking one foot behind his other ankle and assuming a casual pose on the planted blade.
"Myself, I prefer variety," he added with more than a little suggestion in his tone.
As he finished, he caught the dropping second blade in his free hand.