And indeed, the citizens of Neverwinter exuded excitement and joy at this time. Nearly the entire population of the settlers had gathered along the streets outside the inn, and among their front lines stood Genevieve and the man who had helped her drag their wounded companion from the sewers.
That sight gave Drizzt profound peace. Perhaps the death of Alegni and the retreat of the Shadovar was a bigger gain for the future of Neverwinter, but personalizing such a victory to the level of the three saved aboleth slaves settled well on the shoulders of Drizzt Do’Urden.
Weapons and fists lifted into the air defiantly, a cry of freedom regained. When Drizzt considered the recent history of this settlement, he came to understand and appreciate the exuberance.
He had come through Neverwinter beside Bruenor not so long ago, before the revelation of the Thayan and Netherese presence even, and had found the citizens besieged by the strange, shriveled zombie victims of the cataclysmic volcano. They hadn’t known the source of the threat, of the Dread Ring then, and the nefarious powers behind the unsettling and dangerous events.
But now it had played out and the Thayans were in disarray, perhaps even gone from the region. And Alegni and his Netherese had been driven from the city, the beast beheaded.
Had the prospects for a new Neverwinter, post-apocalypse, ever looked any brighter?
Perhaps they were laying that victory too much onto the shoulders of Drizzt and his two companions, the drow thought, for it was the work of these many folk that had really won the day. Drizzt and his companions had defeated Alegni and had kept that twisted necromancer at bay, but the bulk of the fighting had been done, and won, by the people now cheering. When Drizzt considered his own role in it all, mostly trying to simply stay alive against a possessed Artemis Entreri, it seemed laughable to him that he would be viewed on such a figurative pedestal.
But to no harm, any of it, the drow knew from decades of similar experience. He had seen this type of celebration in Ten-Towns, surely, and in Mithral Hall, and across the lands. It was a collective expression of relief and victory, and whatever symbols-Drizzt and his two companions, in this instance-were purely irrelevant to that needed emotional release. He looked directly at Genevieve and nodded, and her beaming smile back at him warmed him indeed.
“Well met again, Drizzt Do’Urden,” Jelvus Grinch said, stepping out ahead of the crowd and moving right before the trio. “I trust your dwarf companion is well.”
Drizzt didn’t wince at the reference to Bruenor, whom Jelvus Grinch had met briefly under an assumed name. For a moment, his reaction surprised him, and when he thought about it, his reaction pleased him. He missed Bruenor sorely, but he was indeed at peace about the dwarf.
He merely nodded to Jelvus Grinch, not wishing to go into detail over something the man didn’t really care about anyway.
“Once before, I asked you to stay with us,” Jelvus Grinch said. “Perhaps now you understand how great your value to Neverwinter might prove…”
“We’re leaving,” Artemis Entreri coldly interrupted.
Jelvus Grinch fell back and looked at the man curiously.
“Now,” Entreri added.
“We don’t know how far the Shadovar have retreated,” Jelvus Grinch pleaded. “Many went through the gates their wizards enacted-and perhaps they can come back through those same gates!”
“Then you should remain vigilant,” Entreri replied. “Or leave.”
“You know more about them than we do,” Jelvus Grinch shot back, now with a hint of anger in his tone.
“I know nothing of them or of the dark place they call home,” Entreri spat back at him before he could gain any momentum. “They’re gone, Alegni is dead. That’s all I care about.”
“And you have his sword,” Jelvus Grinch said, glancing over at the weapon strapped diagonally across Drizzt’s thin back.
Artemis Entreri laughed, a condescending and mocking tone clearly telling the Neverwinter man that he couldn’t begin to understand the implications of his last words.
“We must go,” Drizzt interjected calmly. “We have urgent business that cannot wait. Keep your guard strong, though I doubt the Netherese will return anytime soon. From what I have seen, they are obedient to strong leaders, and with Alegni gone, would any other Netherese lord deem to replace him in a place so dangerous and hostile as Neverwinter?”
“We cannot know,” Jelvus Grinch said.
Drizzt dropped a hand on the man’s strong shoulder. “Hold your faith in your fellow citizens,” Drizzt advised. “The region is full of dangers, as you knew when first you returned.”
“And you’ll remain?” the man asked hopefully.
“Not too far for now, I expect,” Drizzt assured him.
“Then don’t remain a stranger to the folk of Neverwinter, I beg. You, all three, are ever welcome here.”
A great cheer arose behind him, affirming the sentiment.
The gathering followed the trio across the city, across the winged wyvern bridge.
“We will name it again the Walk of Barrabus!” Jelvus Grinch proclaimed, and the cheering renewed.
“Barrabus is dead,” Artemis Entreri replied, cutting Grinch’s grin off short. “I killed him. Don’t remind me of him with your foolish names.”
It sounded as a clear threat to everyone who heard it, and Entreri followed it by staring hard at Jelvus Grinch, by silently letting the man know that if he named the bridge as he’d just promised, Entreri really would come back and kill him.
Drizzt noted it all. He knew that look-frozen, utterly uncaring, uncompromisingly removed from sympathy-from a century before, and the poignant reminder of the truth of Artemis Entreri slapped the drow’s romantic nostalgia quite decidedly, and shook him profoundly in his current time and place.
Drizzt looked to Jelvus Grinch to view his reaction, and the way the blood drained from the strong man’s face revealed that Artemis Entreri had lost none of his charm.
The First Citizen of Neverwinter cleared his throat several times before mustering the courage to resume speaking, this time to Drizzt. “Have you found better fortune with your panther?”
Drizzt shook his head.
“I suggest you speak to Arunika,” said Jelvus Grinch. “She is investigating this, at my insistence. The woman is quite wise in the ways of magic, and knows the workings of the various planes.”
Drizzt glanced at his companions, who offered no obvious opinion.
“Where do I find her?” he asked.
“We’re ready for the road,” Artemis Entreri remarked.
“We can wait,” Dahlia said.
“No, we can’t,” said Entreri. “If you wish to go and find the red-haired woman, then do so, but we’ll be on our way up the northern road. I trust you’ll ride hard to find us.”
Drizzt turned to Jelvus Grinch, who indicated the inn behind him. “Arunika has been given a room there, that she could better tend to your companion.”
The drow turned and regarded Entreri and Dahlia one last time, to see Entreri’s harsh expression and obvious agitation at the thought of any delays, and conversely, Dahlia’s almost frantically-darting eyes, as if looking for some way to forestall this expedition. Drizzt had never expected anything quite like that from Dahlia, whether she wore her hard-visage braid and woad, or the softer image she now painted upon her pretty face.
Guenhwyvar’s plight was more important, and he rushed into the inn. He had barely said the name “Arunika,” before the innkeeper directed him to a room down the first floor hallway.
Arunika opened the door before he had even knocked, and he understood the reception when he entered, for her room looked out on the gathering in the street and the window was open. Even as Drizzt noted that, Arunika moved over and closed it.