The Last Threshold

 

Thanks to their enchanted mounts, they reached Luskan the next night, and neither found any problem in secretly climbing over the wall. Drizzt knew that Beniago would be more than willing to meet with him. He got his bearings and led Entreri through the city’s alleyways.

 

“I don’t know you,” Beniago remarked a short while later, having turned down the alleyway to the appointed spot where he expected to meet Drizzt, only to find a small man leaning easily on the wall of the alleyway, appearing rather bored.

 

“That dagger you carry on your hip is mine,” the small man replied. “And I would have it back.”

 

“I have carried this for many years.”

 

“Where did you get it?”

 

“That’s not important.”

 

“It is to me.”

 

“I hardly remember.”

 

Entreri kept his distance, but narrowed his eyes to let this man Beniago clearly see his building anger. “I will have it back.”

 

“I cannot give it to you.”

 

“Your corpse will not hold it so tightly, and if it does so, then I will merely chop off your fingers.”

 

Beniago laughed, but betrayed a bit of concern with his posture and movements.

 

“He really will kill you,” came a voice from above, and Beniago froze, and slowly looked up to see Drizzt Do’Urden sitting comfortably along a narrow ledge along the building to his left, legs outstretched before him, fingers locked behind his head as he rested against the structure’s chimney.

 

“I have seen you fight, and witnessed this man, Artemis Entreri, in combat many times,” Drizzt went on. “You will hold your ground against him for a short while—perhaps longer because he knows to beware your dagger. But soon enough he will overwhelm you, and you’ll feel the killing blow before you ever see it coming.”

 

“You betrayed me,” Beniago said. “You lured me out here to an ambush!”

 

“Not so. Only so if you make it so.”

 

“And I suppose your panther prowls nearby in case I try to flee.”

 

“You know the way I prepare a battlefield,” Drizzt replied and dropped down easily from his perch, landing lightly in the alleyway just a few strides from Beniago. “But I did not lure you out here for any ambush, or indeed for any fight. It wasn’t until we saw you coming that my companion recognized your dagger as the one he carried many years ago.” The statement was true enough, though Drizzt left out the part that he and Entreri had known of the item, and indeed that was why he brought Entreri along.

 

“I’ve grown quite fond of it,” Beniago replied.

 

“More than you are fond of breathing?” Entreri asked.

 

“It’s not worth it,” Drizzt said to the tall, red-headed man. “Artemis Entreri’s claim to the dagger is as legitimate as his ability to take it from you, should you choose that course.”

 

Beniago looked from Drizzt to Entreri, then back to the drow. “I am a businessman,” he said.

 

“I counted on that.”

 

“Then what do you offer,” Beniago asked, and he looked to Entreri and remarked, before Entreri could, “in addition to my life?”

 

“That which you once asked of me,” said Drizzt. “I, and Dahlia, and my friend Entreri here, can serve House Kurth quite valuably, from afar. We are in a position now to give High Captain Kurth a tremendous advantage over his peers.”

 

“Pray tell,” Beniago prompted.

 

“We come as emissaries of Port Llast.”

 

Beniago appeared greatly surprised at that. “Port Llast? It is a name I am hearing more often in the last few tendays.”

 

“And you will hear more of it in the future, I assure you,” said Drizzt. “The populace grows in number and in strength. They are reclaiming their city from the minions of Umberlee, and indeed have brought their city limits to water’s edge once more.”

 

“It is a rival city to Luskan’s designs.”

 

“No more,” said Drizzt. “The tides will not favor Port Llast. She will not rise as a trading port, but from her cold waters comes a bountiful harvest of shellfish and other delicacies, and fine rocks from her quarry. There is nothing in Port Llast to threaten Luskan, but plenty of opportunity for one wise enough to see far ahead.”

 

“That would be Ship Kurth,” Beniago said.

 

“That would be your choice,” said Drizzt. “And you would have the eyes you once claimed to want. My eyes, Dahlia’s eyes.”

 

“Why? You don’t seem like the type who would throw in with Ship Kurth, as you made clear in our last encounter.”

 

“I’m not, but is one crew better than another here in Luskan? I don’t intend to fight for you, nor to provide you anything you might use against undeserving innocents. But I expect that I can stay within my moral boundaries and still be of use to a … businessman.”

 

“Persuasive,” Beniago admitted. “And so I would be a fool not to take that bargain. I assume that in exchange for this arrangement, Ship Kurth should not accede to any coordinated attacks on Port Llast from Luskan.”

 

“Correct, and if you change your mind, understand that Port Llast is much better defended, and with far more capable hands, than her small size would indicate.”

 

Beniago laughed at that unveiled threat.

 

“Then we are agreed?” Drizzt asked.

 

“I have to speak with my high captain, but it seems reasonable.”

 

“And the dagger?” Drizzt asked

 

“And your life?” Entreri interjected.

 

“The deal is separate, I think,” said Beniago, “now that I understand that you won’t let your friend attack me. Without me, your tie to Ship Kurth is greatly diminished, of course, and since my associates know that I came out to find you at your request, if I turn up dead or missing they will be more likely to initiate an action against Port Llast, don’t you think?”

 

“I’m growing bored,” Entreri warned, but Drizzt held up his hand to keep the dangerous man at bay.

 

“We have prisoners from Luskan who assaulted a caravan bearing refugees to Port Llast,” he told Beniago. “They are unharmed, and are being treated well. We want no war with Luskan. They are from at least three of the other Ships, as well as one man from your own.”

 

“And you will give them to me,” said Beniago, and Drizzt nodded.

 

“Their rescue, by you, will buy you good will and capital, I expect.”

 

Beniago considered it for a few moments, then nodded. “It’s a good start. But I need something else, and you are just the drow to do it. I have a ship of goods sailing for Baldur’s Gate as soon as winter fully breaks—perhaps four tendays. She will be well-armed and manned, a crack crew, but I would have some of my own mercenaries aboard her for extra protection of certain … interests I have on the boat.”

 

“You ask me to run guard on a merchant ship?” Drizzt asked incredulously.

 

“She will see no trouble on the seas.”

 

“Then why—?”

 

“There are things aboard I would have doubly protected, perhaps from other mercenaries aboard. But again, you will likely find no trouble. None in Luskan would move against Drizzt Do’Urden without more support than they might find on a small boat.”

 

“Ship Rethnor might disagree with that assessment, particularly if Dahlia accompanies me.”

 

“There will be no Rethnor agents aboard. I promise that much.”

 

“My dagger?” asked an impatient Entreri.

 

“It is a valuable dagger,” said Beniago. “I hate to part with it.”

 

“You have no choice,” said Entreri, and he started forward.

 

“Drizzt?” Beniago asked.

 

“Deal,” said the drow.

 

Beniago drew out the jeweled dagger, flipped it over, and handed it out hilt first to Entreri.

 

“Do I ride with you back to Port Llast to retrieve the prisoners?” Beniago asked.

 

“You haven’t a steed that can pace us,” Drizzt replied. “You, or your emissaries, ride out in two days. Our wagon with the prisoners should meet you on the road about halfway to the city.”

 

Drizzt glanced at Entreri, who stood holding his jeweled dagger before him, staring at it, his expression filled as much with confusion as relief at having it back in his hand. Drizzt understood that; surely feeling the weight of the jeweled dagger again was evoking in Artemis Entreri a flood of memories, some good, many not so good.

 

The two were back on the road soon after, riding hard to the south on their untiring mounts. Artemis Entreri didn’t utter a word all the way back to Port Llast.

 

And Drizzt didn’t press him.

 

 

 

R. A. Salvatore's books