The wind whipped Entreri's hair and buffeted his cloak as the nightmare charged on, fiery hooves tearing at the soft tundra.
When dawn broke, the companions were still running, their steeds showing no sign of tiring though they had put many, many miles between themselves and the wagons.
Even with that, however, they found that they were not alone.
"The woman spoke truthfully," Jarlaxle remarked when a line of horsemen appeared behind them and to the side, riding hard and with purpose. "Let us hope that the Bloodstone Lands are filled with places to hide!"
The horses would not catch them, however hard their riders drove them. The hellish steeds were too powerful and did not tire. Soon the pair were running free again, and they knew they were much closer to the Vaasan Gate.
"We could seek the protection of King Gareth," Jarlaxle remarked.
"Until he learns that we killed his niece."
"We?"
Entreri turned his head, and if Jarlaxle hadn't been grinning at that moment, Entreri would have leaped across and throttled him.
"If the Citadel of Assassins hunts us, then King Gareth will likely embrace us even more," said the drow. "I am not fond of relying on such things, but until we can sort out the potential of our new power, it will have to do. Well, that and the dragon sisters, who I'm sure will look upon us with new respect."
"Respect or hatred?"
"They are not as different as you seem to believe."
Entreri moved to reply, but before he could get a word out, the air around the riding pair shimmered weirdly, like a wave of soft blue cloth.
Their summoned horses disappeared out from under them.
Entreri hit the ground hard, bouncing and rolling, scraping his face and nearly shattering his jaw. As he at last came around, finally controlling the roll, he saw Jarlaxle drift by, the drow still upright and levitating through the momentum of the fall.
"That was no accident, nor did the duration of the magic of the mounts run out simultaneously," the drow called back, from far ahead.
Entreri looked around, his hands going to his weapons.
"To the foothills, and quickly," Jarlaxle insisted. "The Citadel mustn't catch us out in the open."
They rushed back to retrieve their mounts, merely obsidian figurines once more. Then they scrambled to the west, where the ground began to slope up, and great tumbled boulders from the Galenas offered them some cover. They were still climbing when far in the distance to the north, they spotted the unmistakable dust and movement of many galloping horses.
"How did they do that?" Entreri asked when they pulled up with their backs against a huge stone for a much-needed break. "Was it an ambush? Is there a wizard about?"
"Was it even them?" Jarlaxle asked.
"If not, then this troupe should ride right past us," Entreri reasoned.
Both he and Jarlaxle took that cue to peer around the boulder down to the flat plain, where the truth of it all became quite evident. For the pursuers had slowed, with some already turning to the west and filtering into the foothills north of their current position.
"We should find a defensible spot," Jarlaxle suggested.
Entreri didn't blink. "When they close on us, you will just turn to shadowstuff and melt into a crack in the stones, no doubt," he said.
Jarlaxle considered the words for a moment, but given the incident in the dracolich's cave, he really wasn't in any position to promise differently.
"Come," the drow offered. "All hope is not lost. There are caves, perhaps."
"None that will suit your needs," came a voice, and the two turned their heads very slowly to see an older man, well-groomed and dressed in splendid robes of purple and red, and with not a speck of mud on him. The way he held himself, the tilt of his head, and the obvious reverence with which those several guards around him, including a dwarf both of them knew too well, told them exactly who he was before he even introduced himself as Archmage Knellict.
"I do not know that I would name Canthan as a friend," Knellict said. "He was an annoying one, who seemed to find even more annoying companions."
"That'd be me," Athrogate proudly announced, and no one was amused.
"But he was an asset to my organization," Knellict continued. "A valuable one, and one lost to me."
"If I had known that, I would have let him kill me," Entreri quipped.
"Bwahaha!"
"Shut up, dwarf," said Knellict, and when Athrogate immediately buttoned his lip, shifted nervously, and averted his gaze to the ground, it occurred to Entreri and Jarlaxle that the archmage was all his reputation claimed, and more.
"Commander Ellery was no small asset, as well," Knellict said. "A liaison to the happenings of the crown—mostly an unwitting and stupid asset, but an asset nonetheless."
"Ah, and now you seek to reclaim that which you have lost," Jarlaxle replied.
"Do I?" Knellict began walking around to the side, studying them both as he went. "You were stronger than Canthan, obviously, since you vanquished him," he said. "And no doubt King Gareth will now welcome you into his court, since you have saved Palishchuk and defeated the magic of Zhengyi."
"I think we just volunteered," Entreri remarked.
"You prefer the alternative?" Jarlaxle came right back.
"I need not explain the details to you, of course," Knellict said. "You are both well aware of the rules. We understand each other?"
"I have created such organizations," Jarlaxle assured him.
Knellict burst into movement. Entreri went for his weapons, but Jarlaxle, recognizing the gesture, grabbed his friend's arm.
A great wind came up and dust swirled around them, blinding them momentarily. And when it was gone, the two stood alone.
"They were never really here," Jarlaxle said. "Knellict projected the image and sounds of the entire group to us. He is a powerful one."
"But we really had that conversation?"
"We heard them and they heard us," Jarlaxle assured him. The drow cast a few quick spells and tapped his eye patch more than once.
"And now we work for the Citadel of Assassins?" Entreri asked.
"And the dragon sisters. We would not be wise to forget that pair."
"You seem pleased by it all."
"The easiest road to gaining control is one walked beside those who currently rule."
"I thought it was Jarlaxle who was always in control," Entreri remarked, and his voice took a sudden sharp edge to it.
The drow looked at him curiously, catching that razor line.
"Even when he should not be in control," the assassin went on. "Even in those instances when he is taking control of something that does not concern him."
"When did you take to speaking in riddles?"
"When did you presume to so manipulate me?"
"Manipulate?" Jarlaxle gave a little laugh. "Why, my friend, is that not the nature of our relationship? Mutual manipulation for personal gain?"
"Is it?"
"Are we to spend this entire conversation asking questions without answers?"
In reply, Entreri pulled forth Idalia's flute and tossed it at Jarlaxle's feet.
"I did not give you that," the drow stated.
"Truly?" asked Entreri. "Was it not a gift from the sisters, with Jarlaxle's understanding and agreement?"
"It is a precious instrument, a gift that most would appreciate."
"It is a manipulation of the heart, and you knew it."
The drow put on an innocent look but couldn't hold it and just gave a little laugh instead.