“I was told he is patrolling the lower tunnels, as the dwarves attempt to widen their borders.”
Catti-brie nodded. That fit her expectations, though she hadn’t seen Drizzt since they’d split up earlier that morning.
“There are no Xorlarrins out there to concern you,” Jarlaxle added.
“You have seen to that?”
“To some extent, yes. Let us just say that I showed them a better opportunity at this time than some foolish attempt to retake what King Bruenor has secured. I cannot speak for any demons, however. It is my understanding that the Underdark has become thick with the wretched things.”
“What news, then, of the Hosttower?” Catti-brie asked.
“No news,” the mercenary replied.
Again Catti-brie studied him carefully, and when she found no clues there-Jarlaxle stood quite at ease-she bluntly asked, “Why have you come to this place? There is nothing here that concerns you.”
“I disagree, good lady. There is plenty here that concerns me greatly.”
“Me? If so, then perhaps you should get to the point of your visit.”
“More than that,” Jarlaxle said, and he walked over to the edge of the primordial pit, staring down into the watery swirl and to the fiery eye of the beast below the water elementals.
“Perhaps you should stop speaking in cryptic riddles.”
Jarlaxle turned to face her. “Do you know why Artemis Entreri is still alive?” he asked.
The question gave Catti-brie pause. “I do not know why I am still alive,” she replied after a few moments. “Why would I know the cause or purpose of that one’s existence?”
“He was cursed, so we all believed, with his life-force tied to a most wicked and powerful item.”
“The sword, yes,” the woman replied. “Drizzt came with him and Dahlia to this very place, so that Entreri could throw the weapon into the pit to be devoured by the primordial.”
“Believing he would also be destroyed.”
“But he was not,” said Catti-brie. “So it was not the sword after all.”
“Unfortunately, I believe it was,” said Jarlaxle.
“The sword was destroy-” Catti-brie’s declaration caught in her throat and she walked over to stand next to Jarlaxle.
“Was it?” he asked.
Catti-brie looked into the pit, and viewing the orange glow at the bottom, she could keenly feel the insatiable hunger of the great fiery beast. With hardly a thought to the movement, she ran the tips of the thumb and index finger of her right hand over the band she wore on her left.
“If not, it is irretrievable in any case,” she said, “swallowed by the molten stone that gives the primordial form.”
“Are you sure?” Jarlaxle asked.
“What are you proposing?”
“Have you ventured down there?” the drow asked. “You have a bond with the great beast, it is clear. It speaks to you through the ring you wear, and in the voice of the Elemental Plane of Fire, which you understand. So have you gone down there to be near the beast, to better see it, to better know it?”
Catti-brie balked and stepped back from the ledge, but kept her incredulous stare on Jarlaxle. Down there below the water elementals, she would be at the mercy of the primordial. Whatever protective magic she might don, the mighty creature could still swallow her and force her deep into its molten gullet.
“It wouldn’t kill you, though, would it?” Jarlaxle asked. “Not while you wear the ring. You have given the trapped primordial an outlet for its frustrations. It has shown you its secrets and lent you wisps of living flame. It led you to the ancient portal and helped you turn that staff you carry into something more potent.”
“And perhaps it knows that I am trying to keep it forever sealed in its hole,” she retorted.
Jarlaxle shrugged. “Perhaps. But how can you remain so near to such beauty and preternatural power and not be curious?”
“I never said I wasn’t curious.”
“You are not a coward. Of that I am certain.”
“Enough of your games, Jarlaxle!” the woman demanded. “What do you want?”
The mercenary drow reached into a belt pouch and pulled out a large gauntlet, one that seemed far too large to have fit in the pouch, which of course must be magical. Was anything on or about Jarlaxle not magical? Catti-brie wondered. He showed it to Catti-brie, then tossed it to her.
“This is a sister item to the sword Charon’s Claw,” he explained. “Necessary protection from the deadly magic of the weapon.”
“You expect me to go down into that pit and retrieve the sword, which is almost certainly not there?”
“If it is not there, then at least we will know, and then Entreri can rest easy that his longevity is not tied to the sword.”
Catti-brie tossed the gauntlet back. “You are not without magic. Go and get it yourself.”
“It is Catti-brie who has bonded with the primordial. Catti-brie who understands the beast. Catti-brie who has determined that we must act to keep the volcano dormant and what that action must be to achieve such an end. It is Catti-brie, not Jarlaxle, who carries a gift from the primordial, and who coaxes elementals from the flames of the beast’s tendrils.”
“And it is Catti-brie who is wise enough to respect the power of the beast,” she said.
Jarlaxle laughed and bowed. “There is another reason for my request, I admit,” he said, and he tossed the gauntlet back to her as she looked at him curiously. “You claim to know the beast-we are all counting upon your judgment to guide us to a solution for the future dangers you have foretold-but how certain are you of what you have determined? How well do you really know this creature, this living volcano? You have met its offspring and touched its outer edges, but you have not faced it directly. I have spoken to Archmage Gromph about this and we are in agreement. You should face the primordial directly. You should stand before it and let it reveal to you more of its secrets. It may be our only hope in reconstructing the magic that will keep it in place.”
Catti-brie fumbled over her thoughts in light of the dramatic request. “And if I reveal to it my own intentions?” she asked. “Will this great and ancient beast not merely consume me and be done with it? Surely the primordial desires release.”
“We cannot know what such a creature desires,” Jarlaxle said.
Catti-brie had to concede that point. This was not a creature of similar mind to any living being walking the ways of Faerun. This was an ancient, devouring magic, whose goals were unknown and perhaps unknowable to a human or a drow.
“Perhaps there are other ways the beast might find that release,” Jarlaxle offered. “Ways less devastating than a volcanic eruption. Ways that afford us all, even the beast, what we desire. And you are a Chosen of Mielikki, who would understand such a natural catastrophe as a primordial of fire better than perhaps any other god. Surely you can use that discipline and standing to direct the conversation with the primordial in a manner of your own choosing.”
Catti-brie held up the gauntlet. “And since I will be down there anyway …” she said dryly.
“I would be forever grateful,” Jarlaxle said. “Indeed, I will make it worth your while many times over.”
“I am the daughter of a dwarven king,” she reminded him. “Your riches do not interest me.”
Jarlaxle’s smile said otherwise. “I do not speak idly, my good lady. It is a small thing I ask of you, and that in accord with a short journey that may well help us all.”
Catti-brie looked down, her expression doubtful. Even with her magical ring, she could feel the heat of the primordial’s fiery breath, but still she began to cast a spell, using her divine powers to protect her even more from the heat and the flames.
“How am I to even get down there? Where am I to stand in a sea of liquid stone?” She turned back to Jarlaxle as she asked the second question, to find the mercenary holding out to her some black cloth, a folded garment perhaps. Catti-brie looked at it, then at Jarlaxle, for just a moment, then took it and unfolded it to find a shimmering black cape with a high, stiff collar.