CURIOSER AND CURIOSER
WHY’RE YE WALKIN’?” ATHROGATE ASKED. “BACK AND FORTH AND BACK again. If ye’re meaning to dig a trench in the floor, get me a pick!”
“There’s something afoot,” Jarlaxle answered Athrogate.
“Well, have out with it, then,” Athrogate replied, waggling his fat toes as he placed his feet comfortably on the ottoman, grinning as if that movement was directly in response to Jarlaxle’s terminology.
“It will not much concern us,” Jarlaxle replied. “Other than the trade agreement, which seems secured now.”
“Eh?” Athrogate clearly hadn’t expected that answer.
“It is an interesting time,” Jarlaxle clarified. “I envy these Netherese lords in their endeavors and grand searches. Would that I had the time to join them!”
“Eh?” an even more confused Athrogate asked.
“Indeed,” said Jarlaxle. “And I know that if we remain here any longer, I will surely be drawn into Parise Ulfbinder’s work far more than I can afford. We will take our leave this very night.”
“Eh?” Athrogate asked again, now seeming alarmed and not very happy.
“Indeed,” was all that Jarlaxle would answer.
And that very night, Jarlaxle and Athrogate rode across the rolling ground of the region that had once been the great desert of Anauroch, Jarlaxle on his nightmare, Athrogate on his hellboar. Jarlaxle rejected Athrogate’s desire to find a proper shelter, and instead camped out on the open plain. The two sat across an open fire, Athrogate cooking some fine stew, their magical mounts standing around as sentries.
“Could’ve stayed,” Athrogate mumbled. He had been silent, but clearly annoyed, throughout the ride.
“There is something afoot,” Jarlaxle replied. “Something important.”
“Yeah, yeah, and it’d keep ye too busy and all that rot ye already said.”
“You understand that Parise Ulfbinder was watching us in our room, of course,” the drow replied.
“Eh?”
“That again? Yes, I assure you,” Jarlaxle said, and he tapped his eyepatch to reinforce the strength of his claim, for that magical item was well-known to protect against telepathic or clairvoyant intrusions. “Something important is afoot. Something connected to the Spellplague and the fall of the Weave.”
“Spellplague,” Athrogate muttered. “I keep hearing that name, but I ain’t much knowing what ye’re talkin’ about.”
“As subtle as the darkness,” the drow explained. “As quiet as the shadow. For some reason, with the fall of the Weave, we are bound to the Shadowfell and her dark minions.”
“Aye, seen too many o’ the damn shadow things. So what’re ye thinking’s happening, then?”
Jarlaxle shook his head. “Our friends of Shade Enclave might be making a move at domination.”
“Of?”
“Everything?” Jarlaxle asked as much as stated. “They are spending great energy in examining the old gods. Parise asked me if Drizzt might perhaps be a Chosen of Lolth.”
“Aye, he asked me a few things about that one, as well.”
That news surprised Jarlaxle. “When did you speak—?” he started to ask.
“When yerself went to him th’other day,” Athrogate answered. “He come to me right before yerself returned, wantin’ to know about that damned ranger.”
“And what did you tell him?”
“Unicorn lady, Mylickin’ or something—”
“Mielikki,” Jarlaxle corrected.
“Aye, that’s me thinking. Heard Drizzt claim as much.”
Jarlaxle nodded, but remained intrigued by the other theory, that Lolth secretly considered Drizzt her champion of chaos, and indeed, that rogue had lived up to the billing as far as the city of Menzoberranzan was concerned.
“So ye’re thinkin’ that them shadow lords’re studying the gods and them Chosen such to find some plan o’ attack against us all?”
Jarlaxle was impressed that Athrogate had gone so quickly to that reasoning, and he reminded himself that this particular dwarf was no fool, despite his nonsensical rhyming and frivolous laughter, particularly in matters of battle strategies.
“Be interestin’ to see where we might fit into such plans of domination, eh?” the dwarf added, and Jarlaxle nodded.
Interesting indeed.