无一物 2006-3-17 16:46
魔晶仆从[小白试译，序章，初稿完]
魔晶仆从
R.A.萨尔瓦多
（“被遗忘的国度”系列小说，黑暗之路，第三部）
序章
出处：[url=http://wuyiwujade.bokee.com/]离恨天[/url]
翻译：无一物
他在正午阳光令人难以忍受的热力中滑行，犹如在阴影掩护下移动过空旷的所在，就仿佛这永远在肆虐着的风沙根本无法触及他一般。开放市场人头攒动——这里总是挤满了人——包括不停叫卖着的商人和斤斤计较的主顾。小偷将自己藏身于最有利又最繁忙之处，在那里他们可以不被人觉察地偷走一个钱包，或者，当他们被发现的时候，能迅速融入一片由明亮色彩和涌动长袍所汇成的人潮。
阿提密斯·恩崔立很清楚地注意到了这一切。杀手只需要一瞥就能分辨出在那儿的人谁在交易而谁又想偷窃，他也并不躲避这后一类人。他故意选择自己的行进路线以接近每一个他所留意到的小偷，掀开深色斗篷的一角露出他鼓鼓囊囊的钱包——同时也显露出珠宝——那使他的钱包和本人都异常安全的装饰华贵的威胁。那是他已成为明显标志的武器，一把在卡林港所有危险街道上最令人惧怕的匕首。
恩崔立享受着那些年轻盗贼向他表示出的敬畏，更甚之，他要求得到这样的敬畏。他花了若干年时间来换取作为卡林港顶级杀手的名声，但他渐渐老了，或许正在失去这光耀的锋芒。因此他若无其事地外出——远超过他在年轻时代所做的——挑衅他们，他们中的任何人，来为他提供一次试炼。
[以上三段看得我那个心酸~阿恩我们表管小黑了好不好，自从遇见他，你浪费了多少时间吃了多少苦丧失了多少想拼命维持的东西啊555]
他走过繁忙的街道，朝一个在宽大遮棚下安置着许多圆桌的露天酒馆走去。这是一个热闹的地方，但杀手立刻从人群中辨认出他要接触的对象，爱炫耀的Sha'lazzi Ozoule与其标志明显的亮黄色头巾。他径直走向那张桌子。Sha'lazzi并非独自坐着，对杀手而言很明显与他坐在一起的三个男人不是他的朋友，甚至他根本不认识。其余人在私下交谈，喋喋不休着低声地笑，而Sha'lazzi靠着椅背，正在四下里打量。
恩崔立走近桌旁，当杀手看起来似乎对三位不速之客有些许怀疑时Sha'lazzi回以他一个紧张且不自然的耸肩。
“你没告诉他们这张桌子是为我们的午餐而保留的？”恩崔立冷静地问。
三个男人停止了交谈，奇怪地抬头望向他。
“我曾试着解释……”Sha'lazzi开口，擦着他那暗色皮肤前额上的汗水。
杀手举起了一只手让这个人安静下来，同时目光犀利地凝视三个非法侵入者。“我们有交易。”他说。
“而我们有食物和饮料。”其中一个人答话道。
恩崔立没有回答，除了牢牢盯着这个人之外他也将凝视的目光锁定了其余两人。 [恩，other than应该是“除了”，虽然我也觉得这句话翻得貌似有点怪，汗]
另外两个人说了些什么，但杀手完全忽略了他们而只是一直深深注视第一个挑战者。时间一分一秒地过去，他一直保持着专注，甚至使它变得更强烈，如锥子一般的凝视穿透着这个男人，显示出其现在所面对的这意志的力量，这出色的决心和自制。 [啊啊啊阿恩你用这样的目光杀死我吧，炸]
“这是怎么回事？”另外两人之一问道，在恩崔立身边站起身来。
Sha'lazzi开始喃喃低语一段祷告。
“我在问你呢。”这个人推搡着，伸出手来推杀手的肩。 [这厮……根本不把自己的小命当回事嘛|||]
杀手迅速抬手，抓住那正接近自己的手的拇指并将其翻转过去然后把它压下来，以一种很痛苦的方式将这个人禁锢住。
在此期间他毫无闪避，甚至根本没将注视的目光挪开一分一毫，看上去只是一直以那种骇人的凝视锁定了坐在他正对面的第一个人。 [喔喔好利落从容><]
当杀手施压时，站在他身侧那人低声地痛苦哼哼着，将自由的那只手伸向腰带，以抵御他那几乎被折弯了腰的痛苦危险。
Sha'lazzi开始喃喃祷告的另一行。
桌子对面的人在杀手致命的凝视下很快回过神来，提醒他的朋友保持冷静并将手从武器上挪开。
恩崔立向他点一下头，示意他带着朋友离开，同时放开了身侧那个被紧紧抓住脆弱拇指、正凶狠瞪着他的家伙。那人与他的伙伴都不再攻击杀手，转而收拾杯盘狼狈离开。他们并不曾认出他，但他兵不血刃地向他们揭示了他的真实身份。
“我本来也打算这样做的。”当这三个人离开，而杀手在对面的座位上坐下来时，Sha'lazzi低笑着评论道。
恩崔立只是看着他，观察着这人所一贯表现出的轻浮样子。Sha'lazzi有一个其大无比的脑袋和一张大大的圆脸，而这一切又搭配着一个瘦骨嶙峋以至显得憔悴的身体。此外，这张大圆脸上永远都挂着笑容，对比着深色皮肤与黑眼睛的是大大的方形白牙所发出的微光。
Sha'lazzi又清了清嗓子。“我很惊讶你竟来赴这次约。”他说，“在窜升的过程中你已经在巴萨多尼工会树立了很多敌人。难道你就不怕被背叛，强大的人？”他嘲讽地说完，然后又开始浅笑。
杀手只是持续着注视，事实上他的确对被背叛的可能有所顾忌，但他需要与Sha'lazzi交谈。金穆瑞·欧布罗扎，贾拉索手下的卓尔心灵异能者，已经彻底查探了Sha'lazzi的思想并得出了并无阴谋筹划的结论。
当然，考虑到这消息的来源——一个对恩崔立并不保持好感的黑暗精灵——杀手并不能因这报告而放松警惕。
“你能了解，对强者而言这可能成为一个囚牢，”Sha'lazzi以闲聊的口吻道，“一个很坚固的囚牢，对吧？因此很多帕夏没有百人护卫的随从就不敢离开他们的家。”
“我并不是帕夏。”
“的确你不是，但巴萨多尼属于你与夏洛塔，”Sha'lazzi回答，提到了夏洛塔·维斯帕。这个女人靠耍手腕当上了巴萨多尼帕夏的助手并在卓尔的接手下作为工会徒有虚名的首领幸存下来，而工会也一夜之间强大到超乎想象的地步。“众所周知，”Sha'lazzi又发出一声恼人的低笑，“我一向都认为你很出色，我的朋友，但不是以这样的方式。”
恩崔立报以一笑，但事实上他的欢娱源自将他的匕首插进Sha'lazzi那皮包骨的咽喉的想象，没有比他只是单纯地无法忍受这个寄生虫更好的理由了。
然而杀手告诫自己他需要Sha'lazzi——这也恰恰是这个声名狼藉的线人赖以生存的资本。Sha'lazzi很有技巧地依靠向任何人提供任何对方需要的情报维生——当然是以一个合理的价钱——而且他是如此长于他的本行，如此息息相关于卡林港的统治家族乃至街头恶棍，以致于他对那些忧患重重的工会而言极有价值而免于被谋杀。
“那么告诉我隐藏在巴萨多尼统治背后的势力吧。”Sha'lazzi提出，同时大大地露齿一笑，“当然它确实存在，对吧？”
恩崔立努力使自己保持不动声色，他知道回应的笑容会泄露太多秘密——而眼前这人对新巴萨多尼真实现状的坦率无知使他想要微笑。Sha'lazzi决不可能得知一支黑暗精灵的军队已将势力扩展到了卡林港，而巴萨多尼工会正是它的前哨。
“我想我们约定的是谈论Dallabad绿洲？”杀手不笑反问。
Sha'lazzi叹着气耸了耸肩。“有很多有趣的事可谈，”他说，“但恐怕不包括Dallabad。”
“对你来说是这样没错。”
“那里二十年来毫无改变，”线人答道，“对它我所知的并不比你知道的更多，多年来就是这样。”
“Kohrin Soulez扔持有卡隆之爪吗？”杀手问。
Sha'lazzi点了点头。“当然。”他笑着回答，“现在是，而且永远如此。它已经陪伴了他四十年，而毫无疑问当Soulez死后他那三十个儿子之一将会继承它，除非那个卑鄙的Ahdania Soulez抢先得手。Kohrin Soulez的这个女儿可真是野心勃勃啊！当你来向我询问他是否会失掉它，你就早该清楚答案了。我们真该谈谈一些更有趣的事，比如巴萨多尼工会。”
只是一瞬间，恩崔立又恢复了先前的冷酷凝视。
“老Soulez为什么要现在卖掉它呢？”线人边问边戏剧性地挥动着他那双骨瘦如柴的手臂——当那手臂举到硕大的脑袋旁时显得极不协调，“这么说，我的朋友，你在第三次尝试买下那把好剑？是，是的！第一次时你还是个乳臭未干的小子，只有几百金币——一个来自巴萨多尼的礼物，恩？——躺在你那破破烂烂的口袋。”
恩崔立不自觉退缩了一下，不是因为他自己，不是因为他关于Sha'lazzi的认知，这个人尽管有着其它种种过失，但仍是全卡林港最擅长察觉蛛丝马迹进而推论出这些表象下所掩藏的真相的人。混合了关于许多近期事件的回忆静静在杀手心里激起涟漪。在那遥远的过去某天，帕夏巴萨多尼的确曾给了他额外的金币作为一个给自己最有前途的副手的礼物。当杀手回忆起这个，他意识到或许巴萨多尼是唯一一个向他送出礼物却不求回报的人。
而恩崔立杀了那个人，就在几个月之前。
“是，是啊。”Sha'lazzi与其说是跟杀手说话不如说是在自言自语，“当帕夏普克一死你就第二次询问了关于这把剑的事。哈，但话说回来那家伙垮台得可真彻底呀！”
杀手只是注视着他。线人显然刚刚开始意识到自己可能把危险的杀手推得太远，他清了清嗓子，变得有点焦虑。
“我告诉你这不可能，”他总结道，“决不可能。”
“我现在有更多的钱。”恩崔立静静地说。
“即使是全世界的钱加起来也不够！”Sha'lazzi尖叫起来。
杀手连眼睛都不眨一下。“Sha'lazzi，你知道全世界的钱加起来有多少吗？”他冷静地问——几乎太过冷静了，“你知道巴萨多尼工会金库里的钱有多少吗？”
“你说巴萨多尼工会。”对方指出。
恩崔立没有否认，Sha'lazzi的眼睛瞪大了。这几乎已经清楚解释了线人所想了解的事。有传言说老巴萨多尼已经死了，夏洛塔·维斯帕与其余代理工会首领形同傀儡，而真正在幕后操纵的人正是阿提密斯·恩崔立。
“卡隆之爪，”Sha'lazzi沉吟着，脸上浮现出一抹笑容，“那么，巴萨多尼宝座背后的力量是恩崔立，而恩崔立背后的力量是……好吧，我猜是个法师，因为你如此迫切地想要得到卡隆之爪。一个法师，是的，而且有某个人渐渐有些危险了，是吧？”
“随你怎么猜。”恩崔立答道。
“或许我能求证？”
“如果你那么做，我将不得不杀了你。”杀手说，依旧是那种可怕而冷静的语调，“告诉Sheik Soulez，让他开一个价。”
“他不会开价的。”Sha'lazzi坚持道。
恩崔立电光火石般趋前，一只手拍在线人肩上，另一只手扶上了那把致命的镶宝石匕首，他的脸离后者不超过一英寸。
“那样的话可就太不幸了，”恩崔立说，“对你而言。”
杀手将线人推回座位上，然后直直站起身来环顾四周，仿佛刚才在他内心有某种潜在的渴望被唤醒了，而他现在正在寻找某个猎物来满足这欲望。他只回头瞥了Sha'lazzi一眼，便走出遮篷下，消失在市场的熙攘人潮里。
当他冷静下来回顾这次会面，恩崔立不由得暗暗自责。他的沮丧开始在成就感的边缘蔓延。他不应该在涉及问题实质的时候表现得比急切想购入魔法长剑更加明显。此外更重要的是，这件武器与其配套的防护手套是为那些战斗法师所设计的。
或许也包括心灵异能者？
因为杀手的死对头，莱基和金穆瑞——贾拉索在达耶特独立佣兵团的副手——一个是法师而另一个是心灵异能者。杀手深恨着他们俩，而更重要的是他知道他们也恨他。更糟糕的是恩崔立明白他唯一可与这危险搭档抗衡的防卫只有贾拉索本人。当他出乎自己原本意料地逐渐开始谨慎信赖这个惟利是图的黑暗精灵，他很怀疑贾拉索的保护会不会永远持续下去。
意外事端终究还是发生了。
恩崔立需要保护，但他不得不以一贯的耐心与智慧去处理很多事务，掩饰事态端倪以使得不为人所察，以身处卡林港危机四伏街道之前多年来所完善的方式战斗，同时将微妙的一重重真假情报完全混杂在一起以致于不管是他的朋友还是敌人都无法正确分辨出它们。当只有他才知道事情的真相，那么他，也只有他，才能控制全局。
审慎地看，他将那一次与敏锐的Sha'lazzi不尽理想的会面作为一个明确的警告，以提醒自己若要在黑暗精灵中挣扎求存就必须保持绝对的自我控制。事实上，线人几乎已经了解到他现在所处的困境，至少，已经弄清了真实情况的一部分。那个口无遮拦的家伙 [piefaced这词我没查到，但pie作名词是“馅饼, 杂乱, 喜鹊, 爱说话的人”，作动词是“弄乱”，而faced常用以构成复合词，表示“具有...脸型的,有...表面的,有...贴边的, 饰面的, 砌面的, 复面的”，所以估计这个合成词可以这样理解？] 无疑将把这情报提供给任何愿为它支付优厚报酬的人。这段日子以来卡林港的街头巷尾有很多人争相想弄清巴萨多尼工会急遽而迅猛的窜升的秘密所在。
Sha'lazzi已经了解了它的一部分 [……又开始怨念小黑，看看他把阿恩拖到一个怎样的泥潭里了T T不知他何时才会出手相助啊><] ，因此所有常见的可疑对象都会被考虑到：一个强力的大法师，或者人才跻跻的法师行会。
尽管情绪低落，但当杀手一想象到如果线人意识到巴萨多尼宝座背后秘密的其余——黑暗精灵们已经大批大批在卡林港留驻下来——后的表情，仍不由忍俊不禁。 [喔喔，小小促狭的阿恩~！可爱到飞><]
当然，他对那个家伙的威胁并非虚言。一旦Sha'lazzi涉入此事，恩崔立，或者贾拉索手下千多探子中的任何一个，都无疑将杀掉他。
* * * * *
Sha'lazzi Ozoule在小圆桌旁坐了很长一段时间来重温杀手的一言一行。他清楚自己假设的大致框架——一个法师保有巴萨多尼窜升幕后的真正力量——是正确的，但那并不是太出人意料的事。考虑到它崛起的优势及其对竞争的工会所展现出的毁灭性打击程度，常识告诉他一个法师，或者更可能是许多法师，涉入在内。
然而给了他启示的是恩崔立下意识的反应。
阿提密斯·恩崔立，自我控制的高手，死亡之影，在此前从未如此显露过他内心的混乱——也许，那甚至可说是恐惧？以前杀手曾以身体接触的方式向人施压吗？不，过去他总是以犀利的目光注视着对方，使其明白无误了解到自己是在自寻死路。如果那个罪魁祸首仍然坚持，杀手不会再有进一步的威胁，不会有抓取或者殴打。
只有迅速的死亡。
这异常的反应无疑激起了Sha'lazzi的兴趣。他是如此想弄清楚到底是什么事使杀手如此紧张以致促成了这样的行为——但同时，杀手的态度依然是一个清晰而可怕的警告。他清楚地意识到不管那是什么，既然能使杀手如此失去自制，它就能简单地，太简单地，毁掉他自己。
这状况真是有趣，同时，也让他深深地恐惧。
[此章完]
初稿，参考坦克兄的翻译作了个别修改，汗，总算把之前弄得我焦头烂额的几个句子搞定了，如果坦克兄能看到这里的话，谢谢先^^
以下是英文原文~
Servant of the Shard
R.A.Salvatore
(Forgotten Realms novell. Path of Darkness. Book III)
Prologue
He glided through the noonday sunshine's oppressive
heat, moving as if always cloaked in shadows, though the
place had few, and as if even the ever-present dust could
not touch him. The open market was crowded-it was always
crowded-with yelling merchants and customers bargaining for
every copper piece. Thieves were positioning themselves in
all the best and busiest places, where they might cut a
purse string without ever being noticed, or if they were
discovered, where they could melt away into a swirling crowd
of bright colors and flowing robes.
Artemis Entreri noted the thieves clearly. He could tell
with a glance who was there to shop and who was there to
steal, and he didn't avoid the latter group. He purposely
set his course to bring him right by every thief he could
find, and he'd pushed back one side of his dark cloak,
revealing his ample purse-revealing, too, the jewel-
decorated dagger that kept his purse and his person
perfectly safe. The dagger was his trademark weapon, one of
the most feared blades on all of Calimport's dangerous
streets.
Entreri enjoyed the respect the young thieves offered
him, and more than that, he demanded it. He had spent years
earning his reputation as the finest assassin in Calimport,
but he was getting older. He was losing, perhaps, that fine
edge of brilliance. Thus, he came out brazenly-more so than
he ever would have in his younger days-daring them, any of
them, to make a try for him.
He crossed the busy avenue, heading for a small outdoor
tavern that had many round tables set under a great awning.
The place was bustling, but Entreri immediately spotted his
contact, the flamboyant Sha'lazzi Ozoule with his trademark
bright yellow turban. Entreri moved straight for the table.
Sha'lazzi wasn't sitting alone, though it was obvious to
Entreri that the three men seated with him were not friends
of his, were not known to him at all. The others held a
private conversation, chattering and chuckling, while
Sha'lazzi leaned back, glancing all around.
Entreri walked up to the table. Sha'lazzi gave a nervous
and embarrassed shrug as the assassin looked questioningly
at the three uninvited guests.
"You did not tell them that this table was reserved for
our luncheon?" Entreri calmly asked.
The three men stopped their conversation and looked up
at him curiously.
"I tried to explain . . ." Sha'lazzi started, wiping the
sweat from his dark-skinned brow.
Entreri held up his hand to silence the man and fixed
his imposing gaze on the three trespassers. "We have
business," he said.
"And we have food and drink," one of them replied.
Entreri didn't reply, other than to stare hard at the
man, to let his gaze lock with the other's.
The other two made a couple of remarks, but Entreri
ignored them completely and just kept staring hard at the
first challenger. On and on it went, and Entreri kept his
focus, even tightened it, his gaze boring into the man,
showing him the strength of will he now faced, the perfect
determination and control.
"What is this about?" one of the others demanded,
standing up right beside Entreri.
Sha'lazzi muttered the quick beginning of a common
prayer.
"I asked you," the man pushed, and he reached out to
shove Entreri's shoulder.
Up snapped the assassin's hand, catching the approaching
hand by the thumb and spinning it over, then driving it
down, locking the man in a painful hold.
All the while Entreri didn't bunk, didn't glance away at
all, just kept visually holding the first one, who was
sitting directly across from him, in that awful glare.
The man standing at Entreri's side gave a little grunt
as the assassin applied pressure, then brought his free hand
to his belt, to the curved dagger he had secured there.
Sha'lazzi muttered another line of the prayer.
The man across the table, held fast by Entreri's deadly
stare, motioned for his friend to hold calm and to keep his
hand away from the blade.
Entreri nodded to him, then motioned for him to take his
friends and be gone. He released the man at his side, who
clutched at his sore thumb, eyeing Entreri threateningly. He
didn't come at Entreri again, nor did either of his friends
make any move, except to pick up their plates and sidle
away. They hadn't recognized Entreri, yet he had shown them
the truth of who he was without ever drawing his blade.
"I meant to do the same thing," Sha'lazzi remarked with
a chuckle as the three departed and Entreri settled into the
seat opposite him.
Entreri just stared at him, noting how out-of-sorts this
one always appeared. Sha'lazzi had a huge head and a big
round face, and that put on a body so skinny as to appear
emaciated. Furthermore, that big round face was always,
always smiling, with huge, square white teeth glimmering in
contrast to his dark skin and black eyes.
Sha'lazzi cleared his throat again. "Surprised I am that
you came out for this meeting," he said. "You have made many
enemies in your rise with the Basadoni Guild. Do you not
fear treachery, O powerful one?" he finished sarcastically
and again with a chuckle.
Entreri only continued to stare. Indeed he had feared
treachery, but he needed to speak with Sha'lazzi. Kimmuriel
Oblodra, the drow psionicist working for Jarlaxle, had
scoured Sha'lazzi's thoughts completely and had come to the
conclusion that there was no conspiracy afoot.
Of course, considering the source of the information-a
dark elf who held no love for Entreri-the assassin hadn't
been completely comforted by the report.
"It can be a prison to the powerful, you understand,"
Sha'lazzi rambled on. "A prison to be powerful, you see? So
many pashas dare not leave their homes without an entourage
of a hundred guards."
"I am not a pasha."
"No, indeed, but Basadoni belongs to you and to
Sharlotta," Sha'lazzi returned, referring to Sharlotta
Vespers. The woman had used her wiles to become Pasha
Basadoni's second and had survived the drow takeover to
serve as figurehead of the guild. And the guild had suddenly
become more powerful than anyone could imagine. "Everyone
knows this." Sha'lazzi gave another of his annoying
chuckles. "I always understood that you were good, my
friend, but never this good!"
Entreri smiled back, but in truth his amusement came
from a fantasy of sticking his dagger into Sha'lazzi's
skinny throat, for no better reason than the fact that he
simply couldn't stand this parasite.
Entreri had to admit that he needed Sha'lazzi, though-
and that was exactly how the notorious informant managed to
stay alive. Sha'lazzi had made a living, indeed an art, out
of telling anybody anything he wanted to know-for a price-
and so good was he at his craft, so connected to every pulse
beat of Calimport's ruling families and street thugs alike,
that he had made himself too valuable to the often-warring
guilds to be murdered.
"So tell me of the power behind the throne of Basadoni,"
Sha'lazzi remarked, grinning widely. "For surely there is
more, yes?"
Entreri worked hard to keep himself stone-faced, knowing
that a responding grin would give too much away- and how he
wanted to grin at Sha'lazzi's honest ignorance of the truth
of the new Basadoni's. Sha'lazzi would never know that a
dark elf army had set up shop in Calimport, using the
Basadoni Guild as its front.
"I thought we had agreed to discuss Dallabad Oasis?"
Entreri asked in reply.
Sha'lazzi sighed and shrugged. "Many interesting things
to speak of," he said. "Dallabad is not one of them, I
fear."
"In your opinion."
"Nothing has changed there in twenty years," Sha'lazzi
replied. "There is nothing there that I know that you do
not, and have not, for nearly as many years."
"Kohrin Soulez still retains Charon's Claw?" Entreri
asked.
Sha'lazzi nodded. "Of course," he said with a chuckle.
"Still and forever. It has served him for four decades, and
when Soulez is dead, one of his thirty sons will take it, no
doubt, unless the indelicate Ahdania Soulez gets to it
first. An ambitious one is the daughter of Kohrin Soulez! If
you came to ask me if he will part with it, then you already
know the answer. We should indeed speak of more interesting
things, such as the Basadoni Guild."
Entreri's hard stare returned in a heartbeat.
"Why would old Soulez sell it now?" Sha'lazzi asked with
a dramatic wave of his skinny arms-arms that looked so
incongruous when lifted beside that huge head. "What is
this, my friend, the third time you have tried to purchase
that fine sword? Yes, yes! First, when you were a pup with a
few hundred gold pieces-a gift of Basadoni, eh?-in your
ragged pouch."
Entreri winced at that despite himself, despite his
knowledge that Sha'lazzi, for all of his other faults, was
the best in Calimport at reading gestures and expressions
and deriving the truth behind them. Still, the memory,
combined with more recent events, evoked the response from
his heart. Pasha Basadoni had indeed given him the extra
coin that long-ago day, an offering to his most promising
lieutenant for no good reason but simply as a gift. When he
thought about it, Entreri realized that Basadoni was perhaps
the only man who had ever given him a gift without expecting
something in return.
And Entreri had killed Basadoni, only a few months ago.
"Yes, yes," Sha'lazzi said, more to himself than to
Entreri, "then you asked about the sword again soon after
Pasha Pook's demise. Ah, but he fell hard, that one!"
Entreri just stared at the man. Sha'lazzi, apparently
just then beginning to catch on that he might be pushing the
dangerous assassin too far, cleared his throat, embarrassed.
"Then I told you that it was impossible," Sha'lazzi
remarked. "Of course it is impossible."
"I have more coin now," Entreri said quietly.
"There is not enough coin in all of the world!"
Sha'lazzi wailed.
Entreri didn't blink. "Do you know how much coin is in
all the world, Sha'lazzi?" he asked calmly-too calmly. "Do
you know how much coin is in the coffers of House Basadoni?"
"House Entreri, you mean," the man corrected.
Entreri didn't deny it, and Sha'lazzi's eyes widened.
There it was, as clearly spelled out as the informant could
ever have expected to hear it. Rumors had said that old
Basadoni was dead, and that Sharlotta Vespers and the other
acting guildmasters were no more than puppets for the one
who clearly pulled the strings: Artemis Entreri.
"Charon's Claw," Sha'lazzi mused, a smile widening upon
his face. "So, the power behind the throne is Entreri, and
the power behind Entreri is ... well, a mage, I would guess,
since you so badly want that particular sword. A mage, yes,
and one who is getting a bit dangerous, eh?"
"Keep guessing," said Entreri.
"And perhaps I will get it correct?"
"If you do, I will have to kill you," the assassin said,
still in that awful, calm tone. "Speak with Sheik Soulez.
Find his price."
"He has no price," Sha'lazzi insisted.
Entreri came forward quicker than any cat after a mouse.
One hand slapped down on Sha'lazzi's shoulder, the other
caught hold of that deadly jeweled dagger, and Entreri's
face came within an inch of Sha'lazzi's.
"That would be most unfortunate," Entreri said. "For
you."
The assassin pushed the informant back in his seat, then
stood up straight and glanced around as if some inner hunger
had just awakened within him and he was now seeking some
prey with which to sate it. He looked back at Sha'lazzi only
briefly, then walked out from under the awning, back into
the tumult of the market area.
As he calmed down and considered the meeting, Entreri
silently berated himself. His frustration was beginning to
wear at the edges of perfection. He could not have been more
obvious about the roots of his problem than to so eagerly
ask about purchasing Charon's Claw. Above all else, that
weapon and gauntlet combination had been designed to battle
wizards.
And psionicists, perhaps?
For those were Entreri's tormentors, Rai-guy and
Kimmuriel-Jarlaxle's Bregan D'aerthe lieutenants-one a
wizard and one a psionicist. Entreri hated them both, and
profoundly, but more importantly he knew that they hated
him. To make things worse Entreri understood that his only
armor against the dangerous pair was Jarlaxle himself. While
to his surprise he had cautiously come to trust the
mercenary dark elf, he doubted Jarlaxle's protection would
hold forever.
Accidents did happen, after all.
Entreri needed protection, but he had to go about things
with his customary patience and intelligence, twisting the
trail beyond anyone's ability to follow, fighting the way he
had perfected so many years before on Calimport's tough
streets, using many subtle layers of information and
misinformation and blending the two together so completely
that neither his friends nor his foes could ever truly
unravel them. When only he knew the truth, then he, and only
he, would be in control.
In that sobering light, he took the less than perfect
meeting with perceptive Sha'lazzi as a distinct warning, a
reminder that he could survive his time with the dark elves
only if he kept an absolute level of personal control.
Indeed, Sha'lazzi had come close to figuring out his current
plight, had gotten half of it, at least, correct. The pie-
faced man would obviously offer that information to any
who'd pay well enough for it. On Calimport's streets these
days many were scrambling to figure out the enigma of the
sudden and vicious rise of the Basadoni Guild.
Sha'lazzi had figured out half of it, and so all the
usual suspects would be considered: a powerful arch-mage or
various wizards' guilds.
Despite his dour mood, Entreri chuckled when he pictured
Sha'lazzi's expression should the man ever learn the other
half of that secret behind Basadoni's throne, that the dark
elves had come to Calimport in force!
Of course, his threat to the man had not been an idle
one. Should Sha'lazzi ever make such a connection, Entreri,
or any one of a thousand of Jarlaxle's agents, would surely
kill him.
* * * * *
Sha'lazzi Ozoule sat at the little round table for a
long, long time, replaying Entreri's every word and every
gesture. He knew that his assumption concerning a wizard
holding the true power behind the Basadoni rise was correct,
but that was not really news. Given the expediency of the
rise, and the level of devastation that had been enacted
upon rival houses, common sense dictated that a wizard, or
more likely many wizards, were involved.
What caught Sha'lazzi as a revelation, though, was
Entreri's visceral reaction.
Artemis Entreri, the master of control, the shadow of
death itself, had never before shown him such an inner
turmoil-even fear, perhaps?-as that. When before had Artemis
Entreri ever touched someone in threat? No, he had always
looked at him with that awful gaze, let him know in no
uncertain terms that he was walking the path to ultimate
doom. If the offender persisted, there was no further
threat, no grabbing or beating.
There was only quick death.
The uncharacteristic reaction surely intrigued
Sha'lazzi. How he wanted to know what had so rattled Artemis
Entreri as to facilitate such behavior-but at the same time,
the assassin's demeanor also served as a clear and
frightening warning. Sha'lazzi knew well that anything that
could so unnerve Artemis Entreri could easily, so easily,
destroy Sha'lazzi Ozoule.
It was an interesting situation, and one that scared
Sha'lazzi profoundly.