查看完整版本: 魔晶仆从[小白试译，第三章，初稿完]

魔晶仆从[小白试译，第三章，初稿完]

第三章

一场耻辱的相遇
出处：[url=http://wuyiwujade.bokee.com/]离恨天[/url]
翻译：无一物


他夺回了自己原来的房间，甚至也回复了真正的姓名。路斯坎那些达官贵人们的记忆并不像他们所宣称的那样长久。

早些年，盗贼莫里克曾被控告企图谋杀英勇船只海灵号那可敬的船长杜德蒙，一位有名的海盗猎人。因为在千帆之城被指控几乎就完全等同于宣告有罪，莫里克不得不面对一种将在囚犯狂欢节的公开展示集会上被处死的可怕前景。事实上当他正处于最终的酷刑折磨之中时，是杜德蒙船长深深感到了那可怕景象的残忍恐怖，从而宽恕了他的罪行。

不管有没有被宽恕，莫里克都被永远逐出了路斯坎，对他来说这是死亡一样的痛苦。当然，不管怎么说后来他还是回来了。一开始他用伪造的身份作为伪装，但逐渐地他恢复了自己原来的服饰、真正的生活习惯、他在街道的关系网、他的房间，最后是自己的姓名和它所带来的旧有名声。那些高官也知道这些，但有太多太多的其他暴徒等着他们去折磨至死，他们看起来毫不关心这一切。

现在他已经能用一种幽默的眼光去回顾囚犯狂欢节那可怕的一天了。当有如此之多的罪行能正当地宣告自己有罪之时他却因一桩莫须有的控告而饱受折磨之苦，在莫里克看来这真是一种绝妙的讽刺。

现在一切都已经成为回忆，一段关于以沃夫加之名阴谋与危机旋风的回忆。他已经再次恢复盗贼莫里克的身份，而一切也已回到原来的轨道……至少几乎是这样。

因为眼下一个新的变数，一个诱人同时也带有极大危险的变数，进入了莫里克的生活。他小心翼翼走向自己房间的房门，同时一个劲儿向狭窄的走廊四下张望，仔细检视一处处阴影。当确信现在自己是独自一人了，他快步走近房门，把它遮蔽保护起来以避开任何魔法形式的窥视魔眼，然后开始动手沿着门柱的两侧从顶上到底下解除将近一打的致命陷阱。这一步也完成之后，他取出一串钥匙打开门锁——一重，两重，三重的锁——然后咔哒一声开了门。他又解除了另外一个陷阱——这个是爆炸性的——然后进了房间，关上门并且再次把它遮蔽起来，所有的陷阱也都恢复原状。整个过程花了他比十分钟还多的时间，但每当回家的时候他还是会按全部程序不厌其烦做一遍。黑暗精灵们毫无预警不请自来地闯进了莫里克的生活。他们向他许诺只要完成交付的任务就能得到一个国王所能拥有的财富，同时也作出了保证、向他展示了那枚诱人金币抛掷起来所显露出的另一面。

莫里克检查了一遍靠近门边的一个小小的基座。他点点头，很满意地看到广口花瓶里的小球还在原处。这器皿涂上了一层接触性毒药而且安装有一个灵敏的压力触发陷阱。他为这个特殊的小球付了一大笔钱——那笔数目庞大的金子他必须辛勤偷盗一年才能赚得回来——但以莫里克恐惧的眼光来看，这东西很能值得这个天价。它被施予了一个防止次元门在这房间里开启的强大反魔法咒文，这能防止法师们以另一种途径——一个传送法术——闯进来。

盗贼莫里克绝对不希望再被一个站在他床边并且居高临下慢慢浮现出来的黑暗精灵从睡梦里惊醒了。

所有的锁都牢牢锁上了，他的小球静躺在保护容器里，然而还是有些微妙的蛛丝马迹，一种无形的暗涌，颈后头发的些微搔痒，向莫里克暗示着有些事情不对劲。他环视四周，目光从一处阴影游移到另一处阴影，又转向他那很久以前用砖头封死的窗户上静静挂着的窗帘。他望向自己的床铺，被子铺得整整齐齐，床缘下没有挂着毯子。莫里克稍微弯下腰仔细扫视了床底。没有人藏在那里。

这时他想到了窗帘，于是迂回路线朝着那个大方向开始移动以免遭到入侵者的任何攻击。一次突然的转弯之后他一个箭步冲到窗帘前，手里紧握着匕首，然后一把拉开窗帘用力刺了下去，却只看见空气。大大松了口气的同时莫里克因自己的多疑笑出声来。当那些黑暗精灵到来之后他的世界变得多么不同啊。现在他每天都处在神经高度紧绷的边缘。他总共不过见过卓尔五次，其中还包括早已过去的那次他们最初遭遇的情形，那时沃夫加刚在城里崭露头角，而他们，因着某些莫里克至今也没完全弄明白的理由，要求他密切注意这个巨大的野蛮人。

他总是保持着非比寻常的敏锐，总是十分机警，但他提醒着自己与卓尔合作所可能带来的潜在暴利。从所能推论出的种种来看，他之所以能再次成为盗贼莫里克，其中一部分原因就和贾拉索众多党羽之一与某一位当局者的某次会面脱不开干系。

他深感安慰地叹了口气，把窗帘又拉了回去，就在那时，当一只手捂住了他的嘴而一把匕首的锐利锋刃紧紧抵上了他咽喉，他不由在惊骇之中呆若木鸡。

“那些宝石已经到手了？”一个声音在他耳边低声问道，尽管语调平淡，却依然显示出令人难以置信的力量与冷静。那只手从他的嘴滑下又向上游移到前额，迫使他的头充分后仰以提醒他他的咽喉是多么毫无防范和易受攻击。

莫里克没有作出回答，虽然他脑子里已经电光火石般闪过了许多可能——试图逃跑看起来是最不可行的，因为控制着他的那只手显示出令人恐惧的力量，而握着匕首抵住他咽喉的另一只则是异乎寻常地坚定不移。不管攻击者是谁，莫里克立刻就明白自己已经被打败了。

“我只再问一次，然后一切就都结束了。”那耳语再次响起。

“你不是卓尔。”，莫里克答道，尽可能地争取一些时间以确保这个人类——他知道这是个人类而肯定不是黑暗精灵——不会作出任何轻率的举动。

“也许我是，但处于某种法师法术的伪装之下。”攻击者说，“但那是不可能的——或者可能？——因为在这房间里没有魔法能够生效。”说完他随意一推莫里克，然后一边退后一边抓着这受惊盗贼的肩把他转过身来。

莫里克不认识这个人，但他还是明白自己处于迫在眉睫的危险之中。他垂下目光看向自己的匕首，和他对手持有的华贵而有着镶宝石把柄的武器相比它看起来真的很可怜——莫里克有些畏缩地意识到，那几乎可以说是它们各自的持有者相对力量的反映。

即使以路斯坎这个充斥着盗贼的城市而言，在街道上盗贼莫里克也算是一个出色的贼。他的名声，虽然因高明的诈骗手段而增长，却也已经在城市内部大大传扬。眼前的这个人类，也许比莫里克年长十岁以上，以一种如此冷静和安定的姿态站在他面前……

这个人进入了他的房间并且毫不为人所察地逗留在这里，尽管莫里克努力地检查过了四周。这时莫里克注意到他的被子已经变得乱七八糟——但是刚才当他检查的时候，它不是铺得十分平整吗？

“你不是卓尔。”莫里克大着胆子重复了一次。

“并不是贾拉索所有的代理者都是黑暗精灵，不是这样吗，盗贼莫里克？”人类回答道。

莫里克点点头轻轻把匕首收回腰带上的鞘里，一个意在缓和紧张气氛的动作，这是莫里克拼命想达到的目的。

“宝石呢？”那人问。

莫里克无法掩饰脸上的惊慌神情。

“那应该是你从Telsburgher手里买进的，”人类评价说，“渠道畅通无阻，要做到这一点并不难。”

“本来是畅通无阻的，”莫里克纠正道，“但有一个地方小官和我有旧仇。”

入侵者又开始了凝视，既没有耍阴谋的迹象也没有流露出怒气，莫里克根本无从得知他到底有没有兴趣听自己的任何借口。

“Telsburgher已经准备要卖给我了，”盗贼很快补充道，“以我们早就谈妥的价格。他所唯一犹豫的大概是担心那小官Jharkheld的报复。那个麻烦的家伙很记仇。他知道我回到了城里而且想把我弄回囚犯狂欢节上去，但听说因为上级的命令他做不到这一点。这还得感谢贾拉索。”

“你对贾拉索表示感谢的方式应该是完美地按照命令去做。”人类回答，而莫里克紧张地把身体重心从一只脚转移到另一只脚。“他出手帮你是为了充实他的钱包，不是为了把他的心塞满那些慷慨的同情。”

莫里克点头。“我没胆量和Jharkheld斗。”他解释说，“我发动攻击而又不招致路斯坎更高层权威愤怒的代价会是多么高昂，从而最终将给贾拉索的钱包带来损失？”

“Jharkheld不构成威胁。”那人回答以一种如此确定的口气以至莫里克发现自己完全对对方的话深信不疑。“去完成这桩交易。”

“但是……”莫里克试着开口。

“就在今晚。”这就是答案，而人类已经转身开始走向房门。

就在莫里克眼前，那人的手以一种令人惊异的灵巧纯熟开始翻转作业，一个接一个陷阱被解除然后门锁被打开。即使是莫里克，要通过这扇门和这些他所设置的复杂陷阱也要花上好几分钟的时间，而且他还使用了钥匙来打开那三把理论上很难撬开的门锁，然而，在不过两分钟的时间里，现在门已经被大大推开了。

人类回头一瞥同时把什么东西抛到莫里克脚边的地板上。

那是一段金属丝。

“你最底下陷阱上的这玩意儿太长了，根本没用，”人类解释道，“我帮你把它修整过了。”

然后他走出去关上门，盗贼听见所有的锁和陷阱有效复原时发出了咔哒轻响和嵌板转动的声音。

莫里克谨慎地走近他的床把被子掀到一旁。床垫上被挖出了一个洞，大小正好能让入侵者藏身。盗贼无可奈何地笑起来，这一切更增长了他对贾拉索佣兵团的敬意。他甚至不必走近去检查陷阱花瓶就能知道现在那里面的小球只不过是个假货，而真的那个刚才已经出了他的房门。

当走进路斯坎下午晚些时候的阳光里时，恩崔立不禁眨了眨眼。他把手插到口袋里，触摸到他刚才从莫里克那儿带走的魔法物品。这个小球阻挠了莱基。当他试图亲自拜访莫里克的时候它使得他的法术完全无法生效，很可能就像它现在所做的一样。仅仅这个念头也让杀手感到满足不已。达耶特独立佣兵团几乎花费了一整个十日来调查莫里克突然隔绝魔法的原因，这个人到底是怎么使法师们的窥视魔眼无法达到他房间的。因此，恩崔立被派遣前来。他不认为这个指令和他的高超的盗贼技能有关，更确切地说，这只是因为黑暗精灵们不确定莫里克的抵抗力究竟怎样，只因他们不希望自己的任何同伴在这次查探中冒险。当然，贾拉索不会乐意见到莱基和金穆瑞强迫恩崔立去执行这次任务，但那对同僚很清楚杀手不会向佣兵头子透露这件事。

因此，恩崔立是为这两个强大而又可恨的黑暗精灵充当了消息传递人。

他所接到的带走小球和了结与莫里克的交易的指令十分明确。现在他应该把小球放到一旁然后用莱基交给他的魔法信号口哨通知身在千里之外卡林港的黑暗精灵们，但他一点也不急着这么做。

他知道自己应该杀了莫里克，既因为这个人试图自保的鲁莽行径也由于他没能交出必需的宝石。当然莱基和金穆瑞会要求这样的惩罚。现在他得证明自己保护莫里克的行为是正确的。

杀手十分清楚地了解路斯坎，他曾途经这座城市好几次，其中还包括就在不久之前当他独自和其他几个卓尔代理者了解到莫里克那魔法设计物品的真相时那一次长期的拜访。漫步街头，他很快就听到了囚犯狂欢节的叫喊和举杯欢庆声。他走进露天广场后方的时候某个可怜的蠢货正肚破肠流好像拖着一根长长的绳索。恩崔立几乎没有留意这公开展示的景象，转而集中注意力于那正在主持这场酷刑的面部特征鲜明、身材矮小罩着长袍的身形。

那个人对垂死挣扎的牺牲者高声叫喊，喝令对方在一切无可挽回之前供出自己的同伙、犯罪的地点和时间。“为你能有一个更加愉快的后半生着想！”官员尖叫道，他的声音正和他的怒气、他棱角分明的脸一样突出。“就是现在！在你死之前！”

囚犯只是哀号着。对恩崔立而言看起来就像是他早已经无法领会官员话语的任何含义了。

他很快就死了，然后展示结束。人们开始簇拥着走出广场，大多数人点头笑着，兴奋地谈论今天Jharkheld的精彩展示。

那就是恩崔立所需要听到的一切。

他从一片阴影游移到另一片阴影，尾随着官员走下从广场后方通向一座高塔的短短步道。那座塔里设有囚犯狂欢节相关官员的住处和办公处，同时地牢里也关着即将面对公开酷刑的那些犯人。

他沉思着自己拿到莫里克那小球的好运气，因为它能提供他某种保护以避开任何参与守卫高塔的雇佣法师。这使得他前进的路上只剩下一些岗哨和机械陷阱需要应付。

两者都不对阿提密斯·恩崔立构成丝毫威胁。

当太阳消失在西边天际的时候，他走进了塔门。

                        * * * * *

“他们有很多同盟。”莱基坚持着。

“他们会无声无息消失掉，”贾拉索笑容满面地回答，“仅仅只是消失了。”

莱基呻吟着摇了摇头，而金穆瑞走过房间在一张豪华的椅子上舒舒服服地坐下来，把一条腿搭到加了衬垫的扶手上，抬头望着天花板翻了个白眼。

“你们还是怀疑我？”贾拉索问，他的声调轻柔而无害，丝毫不带威胁的意味，“想一想我们已经在卡林港和跨越地表所做到的所有这些事。我们在很多主要城市设有代理人，甚至包括深水城在内。”

“我们在别的城市找到了很多代理，”莱基纠正道，“所有人都在为我们好好工作，只除了一个，路斯坎的那个小贼。”他停下来扫一眼心灵异能者同伴，笑了起来。“也许是这样。”

一想到他们的第二位代理——贾拉索还不知道那个人类已经离开了卡林港——现在正在路斯坎辛勤工作，金穆瑞不由得吃吃笑出声来。

“其他人都还在起步阶段，”法师继续道，“其中一些很有前途，而另一些就不见得了，但现在还没有一个能称得上代理人这个头衔。”

“那么，也快了。”贾拉索说着，径直走向他自己的舒适座椅，“非常快！他们会成为有利可图的合伙人，否则我们就另外再找一些——在贪婪的人类中这不算什么太棘手的事。而卡林港这边的情形……看看四周。难道你能怀疑我们来到这儿的高明之处？珠宝美玉正源源不断地流进我们口袋，一条卓族急欲扩张领土到魔索布莱那有限财富之外的坦途。”

“如果契德·纳撒城的最高家族没有认为这是在切断他们的财路，我们就够幸运了。”来自其他卓尔城市的莱基辛辣地评价道。

对此佣兵头子只是报以嘲笑。

“我不否认卡林港的收益性。”法师副官继续说，“在我们最初计划前往地表的旅程时我们就都认同了它将带来直接而丰厚的利润。同样地我们也都达成了一致见解，这很可能只是一个短时期，而在最初的收益之后，我们应该好好认清自己的立场并且很可能撤回自己的领土，只适当留下获益最丰的贸易往来和代理。”

“所以现在我们应该重新考虑，而我已经这么做了。”贾拉索说，“看起来很明显我们低估了这次地表行动的潜能。扩张！我提议，扩张。”

金穆瑞再次露出了沮丧的神情。他还是看着天花板，好像以此作为一种对佣兵头子所提建议的可怜反对方式。

“便衣们希望我们能把交易限定于这一区域。”贾拉索提醒道，“然而能提供更多奇异货物——那些很可能在魔索布莱大受欢迎的货物——的工匠都在目前我们控制的区域之外。”

“那我们就和他们做一笔交易，让那些人也参与到这个他们以前没有插手、崭新而又有利可图的市场中来分一杯羹。”莱基提出了一项以达耶特独立佣兵团——一个永远想方设法把“相互受益”作为自己的商业信条、唯利是图又机会主义的团队——的历史来看绝妙而又完全合情合理的建议。

“他们不足为虑。”贾拉索回答道，同时向面前的空气中伸出拇指和食指然后把它们挤到一起仿佛正在挤去一个不必要的小小瑕疵，“他们只会简单地消失。”

“这不是一项你看起来所相信那样简单的任务。”门口传来一个娇媚的声音，三个卓尔匆匆一瞥，看见夏洛塔·维斯帕正身着一件开叉很高、露出一条曲线优美大腿的长袍袅袅婷婷走进房间。“便衣们向来都因他们的组织网覆盖之深广而自傲。你无法摧毁他们所有的机构和他们所有已知的代理，甚至所有和他们那些代理有交易往来的人，总是会留下很多目击者的。”

“谁又会做那种事呢？”贾拉索问，他仍是微笑着，甚至拍了拍自己的椅子示意夏洛塔过去和他坐在一起，而那个女人也的确这么做了，亲密地蜷着身子靠在他身旁。这副景象使得莱基再次扫一眼金穆瑞。他们两个都清楚贾拉索把这人类女人——和恩崔立同为旧巴萨多尼工会最强大的幸存者——作为了自己的床伴，而他们都不喜欢看到这样的事态发展。夏洛塔是一个狡猾的人，以人类而言，几乎已经狡猾得甚至能被卓尔社会所接受。她已掌握了卓尔的语言而且现在也能以黑暗精灵无声的复杂手势进行交流。莱基十分厌恶她，而金穆瑞，虽然觉得这女人很有异国情调，却也不喜欢她在贾拉索耳边偷偷提出些危险的建议。

然而在这件特殊的事上，就他们两者看来似乎夏洛塔是和他们意见一致的，所以他们并不曾像过去常常做的那样试图阻挠她。

“那些目击者会告诉每一个残存的工会，”夏洛塔解释说，“他们也将通知卡林珊的更高层权威。便衣工会的毁灭暗示着一股真正强大的势力早已经秘密入驻卡林港。”

“我们的确是这样做的没错。”贾拉索说着露齿一笑。

“而这势力的强大力量是基于保持隐秘的基础之上。”女人回答说。

贾拉索把她从自己膝盖上推下椅子去，于是女人不得不急急忙忙把她那修长匀称的双腿放下地来以防止狼狈地坐倒在地。

然后惟利是图的佣兵头子也站起身来，从夏洛塔身边径自走了过去，似乎她的意见根本无关紧要，他走近对自己而言更为重要的副官们。“我曾把达耶特独立佣兵团在地表所扮演的角色定位于进出口商，”他解释道，“这一点我们已经轻易地做到了。现在我已经看清了这个由人类所支配的社会的真面目，而那也揭示出关于其弱点的真相。我们能更进一步——我们必须这么做。”

“去征服？”莱基尖刻而又辛辣地问。

“和班瑞家族对秘银厅的图谋不同。”贾拉索急切地说明道，“不仅仅是吸收而已。”他脸上再次浮现出邪恶的笑容。“对于那些将要参与到这计划中的人而言。”

“也包括那些不会简单消失掉的人？”莱基问，但看起来贾拉索毫不为他的讽刺所动，只是越来越开怀地笑着。

“就在前几天你自己不就杀了一个便衣间谍吗？”贾拉索问。

“保守秘密和扩张势力范围，这两者有很大的差别。”法师回答说。

“从语义的角度来说是这样没错。”佣兵头子大笑着说，“仅仅是语义。”

在他身后，夏洛塔·维斯帕轻轻咬住下唇摇了摇头，她担心自己最新找到的这个支持者将会犯下一个巨大而又极其危险的过错。

                        * * * * *

在不远处的一条小巷里，恩崔立侧耳倾听着从高塔传出的呼喊和骚动。当进入塔内的时候，他首先下楼去释放了一个讨人厌的囚犯。当向那人指出位于地牢后面那条相对比较安全的开放隧道之后，他沿着楼梯回到第一楼，然后继续往上走，有意沿着火把通明的阴凉走廊安静地移动。

找到Jharkheld的房间易如反掌。

那房门甚至没有上锁。

要不是正好目睹了这官员在囚犯狂欢节上的所作所为，阿提密斯·恩崔立可能会就莫里克的事对他进行劝服。现在莫里克完成自己任务和提供出宝石的门路非常清楚了。

恩崔立想知道那个逃脱的囚犯——卑鄙的Jharkheld那显而易见的谋杀者——是不是已经在隧道的迷宫之中被发现了。那个人将面临着多么悲惨的前景。杀手脸上不知不觉浮现出一个扭曲的笑容，因为他对自己出于自身利益而利用了那个不幸的人没有感到丝毫的负疚。毕竟那个白痴本该更加有所觉悟才对。为什么会有人毫无预警而且带着很明显的个人目的地前去救他？为什么当恩崔立把他从镣铐中释放出来的时候他没有向杀手开口询问？为什么，如果他足够聪明而值得活下去的话，没有试着就势抓住杀手，把这个不请自来的无名救助者锁上镣铐顶替自己的位置去面对那些刽子手？地牢里有这么多的囚犯进进出出以致于看守很可能根本就不会注意到这小小的改变。

所以，他完全是罪有应得，而且在恩崔立看来，这命运也归咎于那些他自己所曾做过的。当然，这个凶手会声称有其他某人帮助了他出逃然后妥善安排这所有一切使得那桩谋杀看起来像是他所做的。囚犯狂欢节根本不关心这样的申辩。阿提密斯·恩崔立也不。

他把这一切念头挥出脑海，机警地环视四周以确保现在自己是独自一人，然后把魔法反法术小球放到小巷的一侧。他走到巷子对侧然后吹响了魔法口哨。这时杀手很好奇于这玩意儿到底能怎么起作用。当然，要让他回到卡林港魔法终究是必需的，但如果他不得不带着那小球上路的话这一切该怎么生效呢？它所附的咒文只会简单地解除传送吗？

一道蓝色的光幕浮现在他身旁。那是一扇魔法门，不是由莱基所造而是出自金穆瑞之手。所以这就是答案，他沉思着。也许这小球无法与心灵异能相抗衡。

或者也许它可以，当走过去拣起这东西时这个念头使得向来坚定不移的杀手感到深深的不安。如果这小球由于某种未知的原因能够影响到金穆瑞的次元扭曲，结果会变成怎样？也许他会被传送到错误的地点——甚至是真实存在的其他位面？

恩崔立摇头把这个想法也赶出脑海。不管有没有和卓尔或是魔法球扯上关系，生活总是伴随着危机。他小心地把小球秘密藏到口袋里，这样的话任何窥视魔眼都得花上相当一段时间才能看清暗巷里的情形。然后他大步流星快速走向入口，一次简单的深呼吸之后，他穿过了门。

杀手头晕目眩地重新出现在千里之外卡林港工会建筑的秘密魔法大厅里，竭力保持着平衡。

金穆瑞和莱基站在那儿，严酷地注视着他。

“宝石呢？”莱基用恩崔立勉强能懂的卓尔语问。

“很快就到。”杀手用他那并不太流畅的地底卓族语言回答，“曾经出过些问题。”

两个黑暗精灵都惊奇地扬起了白色眉毛。

“只是曾经。”恩崔立强调，“莫里克不久就会买到那些宝石了。”

“这么说莫里克还活着。”金穆瑞尖锐地指出，“他想要躲开我们的愚蠢尝试该怎么处置？”

“那尝试更多是出于地方官员们想要把他对外界势力封锁起来。”恩崔立说了谎，“某一个地方官员。”他很快纠正说，同时看见对方脸上变得怒气冲冲。“我已经对事件结局作出补救了。”

看起来两个卓尔都没因这番话而变得高兴些，但也没人公然地出言抱怨。

“而这个地方官用魔法把莫里克的房间对外界窥视魔眼封锁了起来？”莱基问。

“还有所有的其他魔法。”恩崔立答道，“这个问题已经解决了。”

“用那个球？”金穆瑞追问。

“莫里克持有那小球。”莱基眯着眼评论道。

“很显然他并不清楚自己买了什么。”杀手面无惧色地冷静说，因为他意识到自己的策略已经生效了。

当然法师和心灵异能者会怀疑这一切都是莫里克在捣鬼而并非任何小官的杰作。他们会猜想恩崔立扭曲了事实以满足他的私欲，但杀手明白自己并没有给他们留下什么足够明显以使其得以采取行动的把柄——至少，在不增加贾拉索的愤怒这一前提下没有。

再一次地，恩崔立意识到他的安全几乎完全是维系在这惟利是图的佣兵头子身上，这个认知并不令他感到愉快。他不喜欢变得依赖，视这个词等同于软弱。

他必须改变这处境。

“你持有那小球。”莱基伸出一只修长的手说，那手看起来有一种欺骗性的病弱感。

“它留在我这儿比交给你更好。”杀手大着胆子回答，这番声明使得两个黑暗精灵都后退了一步。

然而就在他话音刚落的时候，恩崔立感觉到了口袋里传来的麻刺感。他伸手摸上小球，敏感的手指感觉到一种细微的振动从这魔法物品内部深处传出。杀手凝视的目光定在金穆瑞身上。卓尔正闭眼静立着，处于一种深沉的集中状态。

于是他明白了。这球的附魔根本无法对抗心灵异能者那可怕的精神力量，而且杀手以前曾经看过这样的心灵异能把戏。金穆瑞正在把精神力延伸入小球内部的潜在能量然后将它激发到爆炸性的程度。

恩崔立半真半假地想着他可以耐心等待直到最后一刻然后把球对着金穆瑞的脸狠狠扔过去。这卑劣的卓尔尝到自己众多把戏之一的苦头，这景象将会多么令人满足！

心灵异能者挥手打开了一个次元入口从这房间通往外面几近荒废满是灰尘的街道。它的开口对小球来说足够大了，但却没法让杀手通过。

杀手感觉到那能量正在增强，不断地增强……那振动早已不再那么轻微了。他仍然克制着，注视着金穆瑞——只是注视和等待着，告诉卓尔自己毫不畏惧。

这实在算不上是意志的较量。恩崔立口袋里正在酝酿着一场不断增长的爆炸，而金穆瑞站得足够远因此除了杀手喷溅的鲜血之外他只会受到很轻微的波及。杀手再次开始考虑把球扔向心灵异能者的脸，但再一次地，他意识到这种行为的徒劳。

金穆瑞将单单只是停止激发球里的潜在能量，完全中止这场爆炸正如把一个火把浸到水里熄灭那燃烧的火焰。而恩崔立将给予法师和心灵异能者他们所需要以彻底毁灭他的所有正当借口。贾拉索可能会发怒，但他不能也不会否认他们自卫的权利。

阿提密斯·恩崔立还没有准备好这样的一场战斗。

不是现在。

他把小球掷出那洞开的门然后观望着，片刻之后一声爆炸传来，它爆裂开来化为尘土。

魔法门消失了。

“你在玩火。”莱基评价道。

“是你的卓尔朋友引发了这场爆炸。”恩崔立漫不经心地回答。

“我说的不是这个。”法师反驳说，“在你们人类之中有一句俗话，‘派一个小孩去做大人的工作是有勇无谋’。我们也有一种相似的说法，‘派一个人类去做卓尔的工作是有勇无谋’。”

恩崔立严酷地注视他，沉默不语。整个情形感觉起来开始有点像是那些他被抓去魔索布莱的日子，那时他明白，在一个有着两万黑暗精灵的城市，不管他变得有多出色，不管他的技艺是多么完美，他永远也不会被认为在那两万零一中拥有任何稍高的社会地位。

莱基和金穆瑞引用了一些他们的习语，极尽羞辱之能事，那些粗鲁，那些阴险，全都是针对恩崔立。

他把这一切忍受下来，一字一句每一个细节，而没有说任何话，因为他无法说任何话。他持续考虑着有关Dallabad绿洲和一把特殊的长剑及其配套的防护手套的事。

他接受了他们那些污蔑的话，因为他不得不如此。

现在不得不如此。


[此章完]

漫长的一章，翻译过来近一万字~ 如果说前1/3看得很兴奋，那么后1/3就是怒了……
不多说什么了，阿恩，去拿卡隆之爪！拿了它，然后揭了那两张臭黑皮！！= =||||||

以下为原文：


Chapter 3
                  A HUMBLING ENCOUNTER

   He had his old room back. He even had his name back. The
memories of the authorities in Luskan were not as long as
they claimed.
   The previous year, Morik the Rogue had been accused of
attempting to murder the honorable Captain Deudermont of the
good ship Sea Sprite, a famous pirate hunter. Since in
Luskan accusation and conviction were pretty much the same
thing, Morik had faced the prospect of a horrible death in
the public spectacle of Prisoner's Carnival. He had actually
been in the process of realizing that ultimate torture when
Captain Deudermont, horrified by the gruesome scene, had
offered a pardon.
   Pardoned or not, Morik had been forever banned from
Luskan on pain of death. He had returned anyway, of course,
the following year. At first he'd taken on an assumed
identity, but gradually he had regained his old trappings,
his true mannerisms, his connections on the streets, his
apartment, and, finally, his name and the reputation it
carried. The authorities knew it too, but having plenty of
other thugs to torture to death, they didn't seem to care.
   Morik could look back on that awful day at Prisoner's
Carnival with a sense of humor now. He thought it perfectly
ironic that he had been tortured for a crime that he hadn't
even committed when there were so many crimes of which he
could be rightly convicted.
   It was all a memory now, the memory of a whirlwind of
intrigue and danger by the name of Wulfgar. He was Morik the
Rogue once more, and all was as it had once been ... almost.
   For now there was another element, an intriguing and
also terrifying element, that had come into Morik's life. He
walked up to the door of his room cautiously, glancing all
about the narrow hallway, studying the shadows. When he was
confident that he was alone, he walked up tight to the door,
shielding it from any magically prying eyes, and began the
process of undoing nearly a dozen deadly traps, top to
bottom along both sides of the jamb. That done, he took out
a ring of keys and undid the locks-one, two, three-then he
clicked open the door. He disarmed yet another trap-this one
explosive-then entered, closing and securing the door and
resetting all the traps. The complete process took him more
than ten minutes, yet he performed this ritual every time he
came home. The dark elves had come into Morik's life,
unannounced and uninvited. While they had promised him the
treasure of a king if he performed their tasks, they had
also promised him and had shown him the flip side of that
golden coin as well.
   Morik checked the small pedestal at the side of the door
next. He nodded, satisfied to see that the orb was still in
place in the wide vase. The vessel was coated with contact
poison and maintained a sensitive pressure release trap. He
had paid dearly for that particular orb- an enormous amount
of gold that would take him a year of hard thievery to
retrieve-but in Morik's fearful eyes, the item was well
worth the price. It was enchanted with a powerful anti-magic
dweomer that would prevent dimensional doors from opening in
his room, that would prevent wizards from strolling in on
the other side of a teleportation spell.
   Never again did Morik the Rogue wish to be awakened by a
dark elf standing at the side of his bed, looming over him.
   All of his locks were in place, his orb rested in its
protected vessel, and yet some subtle signal, an intangible
breeze, a tickling on the hairs at the back of his neck,
told Morik that something was out of place. He glanced all
around, from shadow to shadow, to the drapes that still hung
over the window he had long ago bricked up. He looked to his
bed, to the tightly tucked sheets, with no blankets hanging
below the edge. Bending just a bit, Morik saw right through
the bottom of the bed. There was no one hiding under there.
   The drapes, then, he thought, and he moved in that
general direction but took a circuitous route so that he
wouldn't force any action from the intruder. A sudden shift
and quick-step brought him there, dagger revealed, and he
pulled the drapes aside and struck hard, catching only air.
Morik laughed in relief and at his own paranoia. How
different his world had become since the arrival of the dark
elves. Always now he was on the edge of his nerves. He had
seen the drow a total of only five times, including their
initial encounter way back when Wulfgar was new to the city
and they, for some reason that Morik still did not
completely understand, wanted him to keep an eye on the huge
barbarian.
   He was always on his edge, always wary, but he reminded
himself of the potential gains his alliance with the drow
would bring. Part of the reason that he was Morik the Rogue
again, from what he had been able to deduce, had to do with
a visit to a particular authority by one of Jarlaxle's
henchmen.
   He gave a sigh of relief and let the drapes swing back,
then froze in surprise and fear as a hand clamped over his
mouth and the fine edge of a dagger came tight against his
throat.
   "You have the jewels?" a voice whispered in his ear, a
voice showing incredible strength and calm despite its quiet
tone. The hand slipped off of his mouth and up to his
forehead, forcing his head back just enough to remind him of
how vulnerable and open his throat was.
   Morik didn't answer, his mind racing through many
possibilities-the least likely of which seeming to be his
potential escape, for that hand holding him revealed
frightening strength and the hand holding the dagger at his
throat was too, too steady. Whoever his attacker might be,
Morik understood immediately that he was overmatched.
   "I ask one more time; then I end my frustration," came
the whisper.
   "You are not drow," Morik replied, as much to buy some
time as to ensure that this man-and he knew that it was a
man and certainly no dark elf-would not act rashly.
   "Perhaps I am, though under the guise of a wizard's
spell," the assailant replied. "But that could not be-or
could it?-since no magic will work in this room." As he
finished, he roughly pushed Morik away, then grabbed his
shoulder to spin the frightened rogue around as he fell
back.
   Morik didn't recognize the man, though he still
understood that he was in imminent danger. He glanced down
at his own dagger, and it seemed a pitiful thing indeed
against the magnificent, jewel-handled blade his opponent
carried-almost a reflection of the relative strengths of
their wielders, Morik recognized with a wince.
   Morik the Rogue was as good a thief as roamed the
streets of Luskan, a city full of thieves. His reputation,
though bloated by bluff, had been well-earned across the
bowels of the city. This man before him, older than Morik by
a decade, perhaps, and standing so calm and so balanced . .
.
   This man had gotten into his apartment and had remained
there unobserved despite Morik's attempted scrutiny. Morik
noted then that the bed sheets were rumpled-but hadn't he
just looked at them, to see them perfectly smooth?
   "You are not drow," Morik dared to say again.
   "Not all of Jarlaxle's agents are dark elves, are they,
Morik the Rogue?" the man replied.
   Morik nodded and slipped his dagger into its sheath at
his belt, a move designed to alleviate the tension,
something that Morik desperately wanted to do.
   "The jewels?" the man asked.
   Morik could not hide the panic from his face.
   "You should have purchased them from Telsburgher," the
man remarked. "The way was clear and the assignment was not
difficult."
   "The way would have been clear," Morik corrected, "but
for a minor magistrate who holds old grudges."
   The intruder continued to stare, showing neither
intrigue nor anger, telling Morik nothing at all about
whether or not he was even interested in any excuses.
   "Telsburgher is ready to sell them to me," Morik quickly
added, "at the agreed price. His hesitation is only a matter
of his fear that there will be retribution from Magistrate
Jharkheld. The evil man holds an old grudge. He knows that I
am back in town and wishes to drag me back to his Prisoner's
Carnival, but he cannot, by word of his superiors, I am
told. Thank Jarlaxle for me."
   "You thank Jarlaxle by performing as instructed," the
man replied, and Morik nervously shifted from foot to foot.
"He helps you to fill his purse, not to fill his heart with
good feelings."
   Morik nodded. "I fear to go after Jharkheld," he
explained. "How high might I strike without incurring the
wrath of the greater powers of Luskan, thus ultimately
wounding Jarlaxle's purse?"
   "Jharkheld is not a concern," the man answered with a
tone so assured that Morik found that he believed every
word. "Complete the transaction."
   "But..." Morik started to reply.
   "This night," came the answer, and the man turned away
and started for the door.
   His hands worked in amazing circles right before Morik's
eyes as trap after trap after lock fell open. It had taken
Morik several minutes to get through that door, and that
with an intricate knowledge of every trap-which he had set-
and with the keys for the three supposedly difficult locks,
and yet, within the span of two minutes, the door now swung
open wide.
   The man glanced back and tossed something to the floor
at Morik's feet.
   A wire.
   "The one on your bottom trap had stretched beyond
usefulness," the man explained. "I repaired it for you."
   He went out then and closed the door, and Morik heard
the clicks and sliding panels as all the locks and traps
were efficiently reset.
   Morik went to his bed cautiously and pulled the bed
sheets aside. A hole had been cut into his mattress,
perfectly sized to hold the intruder. Morik gave a helpless
laugh, his respect for Jarlaxle's band multiplying. He
didn't even have to go over to his trapped vase to know that
the orb now within it was a fake and that the real one had
just walked out his door.
   Entreri blinked as he walked out into the late afternoon
Luskan sun. He dropped a hand into his pocket, to feel the
enchanted device he had just taken from Morik. This small
orb had frustrated Rai-guy. It defeated his magic when he'd
tried to visit Morik himself, as it was likely doing now.
That thought alone pleased Entreri greatly. It had taken
Bregan D'aerthe nearly a ten day to discern the source of
Morik's sudden distance, how the man had made his room
inaccessible to the prying eyes of the wizards. Thus,
Entreri had been sent. He held no illusions that his trip
had to do with his thieving prowess, but rather, it was
simply because the dark elves weren't certain of how
resistant Morik might be and simply hadn't wished to risk
any of their brethren in the exploration. Certainly Jarlaxle
wouldn't have been pleased to learn that Rai-guy and
Kimmuriel had forced Entreri to go, but the pair knew that
Entreri wouldn't go to Jarlaxle with the information.
   So Entreri had played message boy for the two
formidable, hated dark elves.
   His instructions upon taking the orb and finishing his
business with Morik had been explicit and precise. He was to
place the orb aside and use the magical signal whistle Rai-
guy had given him to call to the dark elves in faraway
Calimport, but he wasn't in any hurry.
   He knew that he should have killed Morik, both for the
man's impertinence in trying to shield himself and for
failing to produce the required jewels. Rai-guy and
Kimmuriel would demand such punishment, of course. Now he'd
have to justify his actions, to protect Morik somewhat.
   He knew Luskan fairly well, having been through the city
several times, including an extended visit only a few days
before, when he, along with several other drow agents, had
learned the truth of Morik's magic-blocking device.
Wandering the streets, he soon heard the shouts and cheers
of the vicious Prisoner's Carnival. He entered the back of
the open square just as some poor fool was having his
intestines pulled out like a great length of rope. Entreri
hardly noticed the spectacle, concentrating instead on the
sharp-featured, diminutive, robed figure presiding over the
torture.
   The man screamed at the writhing victim, telling him to
surrender his associates, there and then, before it was too
late. "Secure a chance for a more pleasant afterlife!" the
magistrate screeched, his voice as sharp as his angry,
angular features. "Now! Before you die!"
   The man only wailed. It seemed to Entreri as if he was
far beyond any point of even comprehending the magistrate's
words.
   He died soon enough and the show was over. The people
began filtering out of the square, most nodding their heads
and smiling, speaking excitedly of Jharkheld's fine show
this day.
   That was all Entreri needed to hear.
   He moved shadow to shadow, following the magistrate down
the short walk from the back of the square to the tower that
housed the quarters of the officials of Prisoner's Carnival
as well as the dungeons holding those who would soon face
the public tortures.
   He mused at his own good fortune in carrying Morik's
orb, for it gave him some measure of protection from any
wizard hired to further secure the tower. That left only
sentries and mechanical traps in his way.
   Artemis Entreri feared neither.
   He went into the tower as the sun disappeared in the
west.

                        * * * * *

   "They have too many allies," Rai-guy insisted.
   "They would be gone without a trace," Jarlaxle replied
with a wide smile. "Simply gone."
   Rai-guy groaned and shook his head, and Kimmuriel,
across the room and sitting comfortably in a plush chair,
one leg thrown over the cushioning arm, looked up at the
ceiling and rolled his eyes.
   "You continue to doubt me?" Jarlaxle asked, his tone
light and innocent, not threatening. "Consider all that we
have already accomplished here in Calimport and across the
surface. We have agents in several major cities, including
Waterdeep."
   "We are exploring agents in other cities," Rai-guy
corrected. "We have but one currently working, the little
rogue in Luskan." He paused and glanced over at his
psionicist counterpart and smiled. "Perhaps."
   Kimmuriel chuckled as he considered their second agent
now working in Luskan, the one Jarlaxle did not know had
left Calimport.
   The others are preliminary," Rai-guy went on. "Some are
promising, others not so, but none are worthy of the title
of agent at this time."
   "Soon, then," said Jarlaxle, coming forward in his own
comfortable chair. "Soon! They will become profitable
partners or we will find others-not so difficult a thing to
do among the greedy humans. The situation here in
Calimport... look around you. Can you doubt our wisdom in
coming here? The gems and jewels are flowing fast, a direct
line to a drow population eager to expand their possessions
beyond the limited wealth of Menzoberranzan."
   "Fortunate are we if the houses of Ched Nasad determine
that we are undercutting their economy," Rai-guy, who hailed
from that other drow city, remarked sarcastically.
   Jarlaxle scoffed at the notion.
   "I cannot deny the profitability of Calimport," the
wizard lieutenant went on, "yet when we first planned our
journey to the surface, we all agreed that it would show
immediate and strong returns. As we all agreed it would
likely be a short tenure, and that, after the initial
profits, we would do well to reconsider our position and
perhaps retreat to our own land, leaving only the best of
the trading connections and agents in place."
   "So we should reconsider, and so I have," said Jarlaxle.
"It seems obvious to me that we underestimated the potential
of our surface operations. Expand! Expand, I say."
   Again came the disheartened expressions. Kimmuriel was
still staring at the ceiling, as if in abject denial of what
Jarlaxle was proposing.
   "The Rakers desire that we limit our trade to this one
section," Jarlaxle reminded, "yet many of the craftsmen of
the more exotic goods-merchandise that would likely prove
most attractive in Menzoberranzan-are outside of that
region."
   "Then we cut a deal with the Rakers, let them in on the
take for this new and profitable market to which they have
no access," said Rai-guy, a perfectly reasonable suggestion
in light of the history of Bregan D'aerthe, a mercenary and
opportunistic band that always tried to use the words
"mutually beneficial" as their business credo.
   "They are pimples," Jarlaxle replied, extending his
thumb and index finger in the air before him and pressing
them together as if he was squeezing away an unwanted
blemish. "They will simply disappear."
   "Not as easy a task as you seem to believe," came a
feminine voice from the doorway, and the three glanced over
to see Sharlotta Vespers gliding into the room, dressed in a
long gown slit high enough to reveal one very shapely leg.
"The Rakers pride themselves on spreading their
organizational lines far and wide. You could destroy all of
their houses and all of their known agents, even all of the
people dealing with all of their agents, and still leave
many witnesses."
   "Who would do what?" Jarlaxle asked, but he was still
smiling, even patting his chair for Sharlotta to go over and
sit with him, which she did, curling about him familiarly.
The sight of it made Rai-guy glance again at Kimmuriel. Both
knew that Jarlaxle was bedding the human woman, the most
powerful remnant-along with Entreri- of the old Basadoni
Guild, and neither of them liked the idea. Sharlotta was a
sly one, as humans go, almost sly enough to be accepted
among the society of drow. She had even mastered the
language of the drow and was now working on the intricate
hand signals of the dark elven silent code. Rai-guy found
her perfectly repulsive, and Kimmuriel, though seeing her as
exotic, did not like the idea of having her whispering
dangerous suggestions into Jarlaxle's ear.
   In this particular matter, though, it seemed to both of
them that Sharlotta was on their side, so they didn't try to
interrupt her as they usually did.
   "Witnesses who would tell every remaining guild,"
Sharlotta explained, "and who would inform the greater
powers of Calimshan. The destruction of the Rakers Guild
would imply that a truly great power had secretly come to
Calimport."
   "One has," Jarlaxle said with a grin.
   "One whose greatest strength lies in remaining secret,"
Sharlotta replied.
   Jarlaxle pushed her from his lap, right off the chair,
so that she had to move quickly to get her shapely legs
under her in time to prevent falling unceremoniously on her
rump.
   The mercenary leader then rose as well, pushing right
past Sharlotta as if her opinion mattered not at all, and
moving closer to his more important lieutenants. "I once
envisioned Bregan D'aerthe's role on the surface as that of
importer and exporter," he explained. "This we have easily
achieved. Now I see the truth of the human dominated
societies, and that is a truth of weakness. We can go
further- we must go further."
   "Conquest?" Rai-guy asked sourly, sarcastically.
   "Not as Baenre attempted with Mithral Hall," Jarlaxle
eagerly explained. "More a matter of absorption." Again came
that wicked smile. "For those who will play."
   "And those who will not simply disappear?" Rai-guy
asked, but his sarcasm seemed lost on Jarlaxle, who only
smiled all the wider.
   "Did you not execute a Raker spy only the other day?"
Jarlaxle asked.
   "There is a profound difference in defending our privacy
and trying to expand our borders," the wizard replied.
   "Semantics," Jarlaxle said with a laugh. "Simply
semantics."
   Behind him, Sharlotta Vespers bit her lip and shook her
head, fearing that her newfound benefactors might be about
to make a tremendous and very dangerous blunder.

                        * * * * *

   From an alley not so far away, Entreri listened to the
shouts and confusion coming from the tower. When he had
entered, he'd gone downstairs first, to find a particularly
unpleasant prisoner to free. Once he had ushered the man to
relative safety, to the open tunnels at the back of the
dungeons, he had gone upstairs to the first floor, then up
again, moving quietly and deliberately along the shadowy,
torch-lit corridors.
   Finding Jharkheld's room proved easy enough.
   The door hadn't even been locked.
   Had he not just witnessed the magistrate's work at
Prisoner's Carnival, Artemis Entreri might have reasoned
with him concerning Morik. Now the way was clear for Morik
to complete his task and proffer the jewels.
   Entreri wondered if the escaped prisoner, the obvious
murderer of poor Jharkheld, had been found in the maze of
tunnels yet. What misery the man would face. A wry grin
found its way onto Entreri's face, for he hardly felt any
guilt about using the wretch for his own gain. The idiot
should have known better, after all. Why would someone come
in unannounced and at obvious great personal risk to save
him? Why hadn't he even questioned Entreri while the
assassin was releasing him from the shackles? Why, if he was
smart enough to deserve his life, hadn't he tried to capture
Entreri in his place, to put this unasked-for and unknown
savior up in the shackles in his stead, to face the
executioner? So many prisoners came through these dungeons
that the gaolers likely wouldn't even have been aware of the
change.
   So, his fate was the thug's own to accept, and in
Entreri's thinking, of his own doing. Of course, the thug
would claim that someone else had helped him to escape, had
set it all up to make it look like it was his doing.
Prisoner's Carnival hardly cared for such excuses. Nor did
Artemis Entreri.
   He dismissed all thoughts of those problems, glanced
around to ensure that he was alone, and placed the magic
dispelling orb along the side of the alley. He walked across
the way and blew his whistle. He wondered then how this
might work. Magic would be needed, after all, to get him
back to Calimport, but how might that work if he had to take
the orb along? Wouldn't the orb's dweomer simply dispel the
attempted teleportation?
   A blue screen of light appeared beside him. It was a
magical doorway, he knew, and not one of Rai-guy's, but
rather the doing of Kimmuriel Oblodra. So that was it, he
mused. Perhaps the orb wouldn't work against psionics.
   Or perhaps it would, and that thought unsettled the
normally unshakable Entreri profoundly as he moved to
collect the item. What would happen if the orb somehow did
affect Kimmuriel's dimension warp? Might he wind up in the
wrong place-even in another plane of existence, perhaps?
   Entreri shook that thought away as well. Life was risky
when dealing with drow, magical orbs or not. He took care to
pocket the orb slyly, so that any prying eyes would have a
difficult time making out the movement in the dark alley,
then strode quickly up to the portal, and with a single deep
breath, stepped through.
   He came out di, fighting hard to hold his balance, in
the guild hall's private sorcery chambers back in Calimport,
hundreds and hundreds of miles away.
   There stood Kimmuriel and Rai-guy, staring at him hard.
   "The jewels?" Rai-guy asked in the drow language, which
Entreri understood, though not well.
   "Soon," the assassin replied in his shaky command of
Deep Drow. "There was a problem,"
   Both dark elves lifted their white eyebrows in surprise.
   "Was," Entreri emphasized. "Morik will have the jewels
presently."
   "Then Morik lives," Kimmuriel remarked pointedly. "What
of his attempts to hide from us?"
   "More the attempts of local magistrates to seal him off
from any outside influences," Entreri lied. "One local
magistrate," he quickly corrected, seeing their faces sour.
"The issue has been remedied."
   Neither drow seemed pleased, but neither openly
complained.
   "And this local magistrate had magically sealed off
Morik's room from outside, prying eyes?" Rai-guy asked.
   "And all other magic," Entreri answered. "It has been
corrected."
   "With the orb?" Kimmuriel added.
   "Morik proffered the orb," Rai-guy remarked, narrowing
his eyes.
   "He apparently did not know what he was buying," Entreri
said calmly, not getting alarmed, for he recognized that his
ploys had worked.
   Rai-guy and Kimmuriel would hold their suspicions that
it had been Morik's work, and not that of any minor
official, of course. They would suspect that Entreri had
bent the truth to suit his own needs, but the assassin knew
that he hadn't given them anything overt enough for them to
act upon-at least, not without raising the ire of Jarlaxle.
   Again, the realization that his security was almost
wholly based on the mercenary leader did not sit well with
Entreri. He didn't like being dependent, equating the word
with weakness.
   He had to turn the situation around.
   "You have the orb," Rai-guy remarked, holding out his
slender, deceivingly delicate hand.
   "Better for me than for you," the assassin dared to
reply, and that declaration set the two dark elves back on
their heels.
   Even as he finished speaking, though, Entreri felt the
tingling in his pocket. He dropped a hand to the orb, and
his sensitive fingers felt a subtle vibration coming from
deep within the enchanted item. Entreri's gaze focused on
Kimmuriel. The drow was standing with his eyes closed, deep
in concentration.
   Then he understood. The orb's enchantment would do
nothing against any of Kimmuriel's formidable mind powers,
and Entreri had seen this psionic trick before. Kimmuriel
was reaching into the latent energy within the orb and was
exciting that energy to explosive levels.
   Entreri toyed with the idea of waiting until the last
moment then throwing the orb into Kimmuriel's face. How he
would enjoy the sight of that wretched drow caught in one of
his own tricks!
   With a wave of his hand, Kimmuriel opened a dimensional
portal, from the room to the nearly deserted dusty street
outside. It was a portal large enough for the orb, but that
would not allow Entreri to step through.
   Entreri felt the energy building, building ... the
vibrations were not so subtle any longer. Still he held
back, staring at Kimmuriel-just staring and waiting, letting
the drow know that he was not afraid.
   In truth this was no contest of wills. Entreri had a
mounting explosion in his pocket, and Kimmuriel was far
enough away so that he would feel little effect from it
other than the splattering of Entreri's blood. Again the
assassin considered throwing the orb into Kimmuriel's face,
but again he realized the futility of such a course.
   Kimmuriel would simply stop exciting the latent energy
within the orb, would shut off the explosion as completely
as dipping a torch into water snuffed out its flame. Entreri
would have given Rai-guy and Kimmuriel all the justification
they needed to utterly destroy him. Jarlaxle might be angry,
but he couldn't and wouldn't deny them their right to defend
themselves.
   Artemis Entreri wasn't ready for such a fight.
   Not yet.
   He tossed the orb out through the open door and watched,
a split second later, as it exploded into dust.
   The magical door went away.
   "You play dangerous games," Rai-guy remarked.
   "Your drow friend is the one who brought on the
explosion," Entreri casually replied.
   "I speak not of that," the wizard retorted. "There is a
common saying among your people that it is foolhardy to send
a child to do a man's work. We have a similar saying, that
it is foolhardy to send a human to do a drow's work."
   Entreri stared at him hard, having no response. This
whole situation was starting to feel like those days when he
had been trapped down in Menzoberranzan, when he had known
that, in a city of twenty thousand dark elves, no matter how
good he got, no matter how perfect his craft, he would never
be considered any higher in society's rankings than twenty
thousand and one.
   Rai-guy and Kimmuriel tossed out a few phrases between
themselves, insults mostly, some crude, some subtle, all
aimed at Entreri.
   He took them, every one, and said nothing, because he
could say nothing. He kept thinking of Dallabad Oasis and a
particular sword and gauntlet combination.
   He accepted their demeaning words, because he had to.
   For now.