Regis nodded and swallowed hard, and forced Catti-brie to look him in the eye, his expression very serious, which confused the woman.
“Wulfgar has agreed to come with me,” Regis explained.
For a moment, Catti-brie seemed unbalanced, as if she would simply fall off the side of her magically summoned mount. She steadied herself quickly, though, and managed a nod.
“He has agreed to stand beside me in my journeys,” Regis explained. “Perhaps he feels as if our trials together in the Underdark. .”
“He owes you a life debt.”
“One for which I would never demand payment.”
“He is happy to repay you. Likely, he is happy to find the open road and more conquests. . of various natures.”
“Say nothing, I beg you,” Regis was quick to reply, as if Catti-brie’s remarks had reminded him of something. “Well, we will go to Drizzt and Bruenor together, but for now, it is our secret. Agreed?”
“Why?”
Regis motioned forward with his chin, leading Catti-brie’s gaze to Wulfgar, and to the Knight-Commander of Silverymoon.
“Aleina Brightlance is quite smitten with him,” Regis explained.
“Perhaps she will go with you.”
Regis was shaking his head before Catti-brie finished the thought. “Her duty is to Silverymoon. There are rumors that she will be given command of Sundabar when it is rebuilt.”
“You have chosen love,” the woman reminded. “Perhaps she. .”
“I do not think Wulfgar would want her to come,” Regis explained. “He’s. . different now. I don’t believe he desires a family-he already had one, in his previous life. Children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren- he knew them all. He outlived many of them. He had already mentioned to me that his biggest regret in the road I have chosen is that he’ll not travel with you back through Longsaddle.”
“Penelope Harpell,” Catti-brie said with a laugh.
Regis shrugged. “Our secret?”
“One we have to share soon with Drizzt and Bruenor, that we can all properly prepare to say good-bye.”
The halfling nodded and turned his focus once more on the road ahead. He had to do that, Catti-brie knew, to make sure she didn’t see the tears that were welling in his eyes.
Later that day, the great marching force split, with the elves turning east to the River Surbrin, where their boats waited to ferry them and the thousands from Citadel Adbar across to the Glimmerwood.
King Emerus and his charges of Citadel Felbarr could have gone that way as well, but he opted to march farther south, to the Surbrin Bridge, beside his friend Bruenor so they could further discuss this great adventure that awaited the dwarves in the most ancient Delzoun home of all.
That very night, Catti-brie and Regis found Bruenor, Wulfgar, and Drizzt alone by a fire. They took their seats beside their friends, with food and drink all about.
“Call in Guenhwyvar,” Regis bade Drizzt.
The drow looked at him curiously, for it seemed a strange request. “Ain’t none in the world to attack the army about us,” Bruenor said. But Regis looked to Drizzt and nodded, and Catti-brie did, too, and so the drow pulled out his onyx figurine and brought in the sixth member of the Companions of the Hall.
All gathered then, Regis and Wulfgar announced their plans, and Bruenor’s cry of dismay split the night and turned many nearby eyes their way.
“It’s me greatest quest!” the dwarf protested, on the edge of desperation. “I can’no be doin’ it without ye!”
“Yes you can,” Catti-brie answered. “We can. Drizzt and I will be beside you, and thousands of your sturdy kin as well.”
Bruenor looked at her sharply, clearly feeling he had been deceived, or as if he was the last to know.
“They have to go,” Catti-brie insisted. “Their business-Regis’s business in particular-is no less urgent than your own. More urgent than your own, I say, for Gauntlgrym has been there for thousands of years, and will be there for thousands more, no doubt, but Donnola. .”
She looked at Regis, who nodded his gratitude.
“Yer girl?” Bruenor asked incredulously, as if the thought of chasing a woman when such a grand adventure lay in front of them was perfectly ludicrous.
“The woman I will make my wife,” said Regis. “Perhaps we will name our first child Bruenor, though I fear his beard will disappoint you.”
Bruenor started to argue, but the halfling’s words turned that into a sputter, then a laugh.
And so they ate and so they drank, and many cheers and flagons of ale were lifted into the night air, and many promises that they would see each other again, in Gauntlgrym likely. This was no good-bye, they all declared, but merely a temporary parting of the ways.
How many have made those often futile promises?
“Are we disturbing your private gathering?” came an unexpected voice. Jarlaxle walked into the firelight, flanked by the sisters Tazmikella and Ilnezhara.
“We’ve room for more,” Drizzt said quickly, before Bruenor could protest. He slid along the log he had taken as a bench, making room for the newcomers.
“A drink?” Drizzt asked, looking to Bruenor, who scowled for a heartbeat, but produced another flagon.
Ilnezhara handed the first flagon along to Jarlaxle and explained, “I prefer blood,” as Bruenor reached behind his shield once more. The dwarf stopped and stared at her.
“You walk openly among the dwarves and others,” Drizzt said quietly to Jarlaxle.
“The war is over and so I have come to try to mend relations between the races, ostensibly,” the drow mercenary replied and took a sip of the ale. “Though, of course, I am here as a spy for Matron Mother Baenre, to whom I will, of course, provide a complete accounting.”
Wulfgar bristled and Bruenor hopped up at that declaration.
To which Jarlaxle merely shrugged and smiled, and looked to Drizzt. “My use of ‘of course’ two times in one sentence did not properly relay my sarcasm?”
“It’s been a long year,” Drizzt replied.
“Ah,” Jarlaxle agreed. “Well, good dwarf and man-giant, do be at ease,” he said. “I will tell Menzoberranzan nothing more than that which they already know. The dwarves won, the orcs fled, the human kingdom will be built anew, and for all of our-of their-efforts, this war Menzoberranzan prodded onto the Silver Marches has done little more than strengthen the bonds of the alliance of Luruar.”
“That’s what ye’re meaning to tell ’em, eh?” asked Bruenor.
“Aye,” Jarlaxle answered. “In exchange for a small favor.”
Bruenor straightened at that, and cast a sour look Drizzt’s way, but Drizzt held up his hand, begging the dwarf for patience.
“I have two associates, both known to you, who are intrigued at the prospect of your intended reclamation of Gauntlgrym,” the drow explained.
“Them two?” Bruenor asked, pointing to the sisters.
“Try not to be so foolish,” Tazmikella said.
“Good dwarf, we are already long bored,” Ilnezhara agreed.
“Not them,” Jarlaxle explained, “but dwarves, including the newest member of Bregan D’aerthe. Both have asked for a leave, that they might march beside you to your homeland, and given all that they have done, I would be a terrible leader and a worse friend to refuse them.” He lifted his hand and motioned, and into the firelight hopped Ambergris and Athrogate, holding hands and grinning hopefully.
“Ye want me to take these two?” Bruenor asked.
“Powerful allies,” Jarlaxle said.
Bruenor seemed at a loss. He looked from the drow to the dwarves to Drizzt, then back and forth again. “Aye, I can’no deny the truth o’ that."
“I been granted back me old home o’ Felbarr,” said Athrogate.
“And meself can return to Adbar and all’s forgiven,” added Amber Gristle O’Maul, of the Adbar O’Mauls. “And we’re owing ye all for that.”
“Aye, and we’d rather be takin’ the road aside ye,” Athrogate said. “Fore’er more.”