At that same moment, the priestess farthest from them, on the far side of the table, screamed in protest. “Matron Mother Shakti, you dare disturb us!”
But Entreri didn’t hesitate to answer the woman, who was obviously Matron Mother Zhindia. He drew his blades and leaped ahead-Jarlaxle had told them not to hesitate!-and the nearest Melarni priestess fell dead before she even realized she was being attacked.
A twist of Drizzt’s wrist on his belt buckle brought Taulmaril to his hand, an arrow going to it and flying away, and the priestess next to Entreri’s victim gasped and folded over the table, neither her wards nor her enchanted robes sufficient to defeat the power of Drizzt’s lightning missile.
“Down!” Jarlaxle yelled, and Entreri dived to the side and Drizzt went to one knee, setting another arrow.
Jarlaxle reached inside the front of his blousy white shirt and brought forth a large red gem, which he hurled into the midst of the gathering of priestesses, bouncing it right under the table, where it exploded into a devastating fireball.
In the flames, Drizzt could still pick out a second target. Away went his next arrow, and another priestess tumbled.
As the flames abated, Entreri went forward-and it was Entreri now. He tore the mask from his face, reverting to his human form. He leaped into the midst of a pair of priestesses, standing along the right hand side of the table, both of them with wisps of smoke rising from their gowns, both of them clearly shaken, but also beginning their spellcasting.
Charon’s Claw and that deadly jeweled dagger went to work, though, and the two Melarni priestesses became too concerned with diving away to continue their spells.
A third arrow led Drizzt’s way to the table, but his intended target, the matron mother directly across the way, already had a powerful ward in place. The arrow exploded in a firework burst of multicolored lights before it could reach its mark. Drizzt hardly noticed. He dropped his bow and drew out his blades, leaping over to the table’s left hand side.
But the moment of surprise was over. If these had been common drow, all eight in the room would have been slain in short order, dead before they could begin to react. But these were priestesses of the Spider Queen, zealots all, including the Matron Mother of House Melarn and the first priestess of the powerful House.
Three were down, one by Entreri’s blades, two by Drizzt’s arrows. A fourth had been wounded in Entreri’s charge, but still fought, and a fifth was on the floor, having dived from the assassin’s charge, and there she knelt, fingers gesturing.
Behind them, the doors exploded open once more, compelled by a countering spell from Matron Mother Zhindia, and Drizzt heard the charge of Melarni reinforcements.
And he and his companions had nowhere to run.
CHAPTER 14
I am so pleased that you extended the invitation to include the wizards of Longsaddle,” Penelope Harpell said to Catti-brie. The two worked in an open tent near the reconstruction of the trunk of the Hosttower of the Arcane. Dwarves bustled all around, bringing in chunks of the fallen tower, cataloguing them and bringing them to another huge tent where the puzzle was being placed back together. Fortunately, thus far at least, it seemed as if the parts nearer the place of destruction were the lower pieces of the tower.
“Your input here, as in Gauntlgrym, has helped so much and given me strength,” Catti-brie replied. She paused then and looked out at the hustle off to the side, where some dwarves were arguing, hands on hips, with Lady Avelyere. Yes, Catti-brie thought, Penelope’s presence did lend her strength, as did the person of Lady Avelyere. Despite their unorthodox, unbalanced relationship, Catti-brie couldn’t deny her affection for the sorcerer.
Avelyere looked truly flustered as the dwarves bounced and waved and pointed all around her. She glanced at Catti-brie and Penelope, who was now also watching, and gave a helpless sigh and shrug.
The two women shared a laugh at that.
“Her work has been tremendous,” Penelope remarked, turning back to the maps of the North, Luskan to Neverwinter, they had spread upon the table. They had drawn the location of Gauntlgrym on one copy, and Catti-brie had traced in lines to represent the tendrils of the Hosttower that carried the water and the elemental power to the primordial pit.
“Your insight seems plausible,” Penelope admitted, nodding. Catti-brie had raised the possibility that they could detect those underground tendrils by following the lines of forest between the two locations. “Particularly the willows! Is there anything in all the world that chases water more determinedly than a willow?”
“As determinedly as a dragon chases gold,” Catti-brie replied.
“Or a dwarf chases ale,” Penelope added with a smile.
“Or Penelope chases men,” Catti-brie remarked, stealing the mirth, for a moment at least, as Penelope looked up at her curiously.
“I mean no offense.”
“You have found a unique manner of proving that.”
“Am I wrong about you and Wulfgar?”
“Does it bother you?” Penelope asked.
“No,” Catti-brie replied. “Truly, no. I apologize. Let us pretend that I never made the remark. Like an elf chases stars, I should have said.”
“Why?”
Catti-brie looked at her closely.
“Why, then?” Penelope reiterated. “I do believe that you meant no offense, and so I take none, but your words were no slip of the tongue. They came from somewhere, yes?”
“Curiosity,” Catti-brie admitted.
“You already know of the tryst between me and Wulfgar.”
“And he wasn’t the first.”
“The first?” Penelope laughed. “Oh, by the gods no!”
“Even though you are married.”
“Oh,” Penelope said, catching on. “Yes, well, my marriage is a different arrangement than you have perhaps encountered before. There is nothing deceptive about my … adventures, however I choose to find and enjoy them.”
“And Dowell?” Catti-brie asked, referring to her husband, a most gracious man and friend to Catti-brie in the years she had spent at the Ivy Mansion.
“His life is exciting, too, I assure you.”
“Then what about love?”
Catti-brie appreciated the sincerity in the sympathetic, but surely not superior look Penelope offered.
“I choose to separate the adventure of new relationships and the deep and abiding love I share with Dowell,” the Harpell explained. “I will live once. My healthy years of adulthood will span perhaps fifty, perhaps longer if I am careful, or if an enemy does not kill me, or if I can find some magic to extend my time.”
“There is such magic. Would you use it?”
“Of course!”
“Many would not,” Catti-brie said, and it was certainly true enough. Potions of longevity and the like were not nearly as commonplace as Penelope’s attitude would indicate, nor were spells of resurrection.
“Many expect a better existence beyond this life we know.”
“There is,” Catti-brie replied with some certainty.
“And I do not diminish or doubt your beliefs,” said Penelope. “For me, this is what I know, and I choose to enjoy it-in every way I can. I find joy in meeting new people, and in exploring more deeply with those I meet and come to like.”
“With the men, you mean.”
Penelope shrugged and grinned, letting Catti-brie know that perhaps that didn’t matter quite as much as she supposed.
“For carnal pleasures,” Catti-brie clarified.
Penelope shrugged. “Sometimes.”
“As with Wulfgar.”
“They are called pleasures for a reason, my friend.”
Catti-brie started to respond, but Penelope cut her short with an upraised hand. “Perhaps now I should be taking offense?” she asked. “Or is your obvious frustration with me now an honest inquisition or, as it seems, a judgment?”