Both the dwarf and the drow were known in the village, of course, for Athrogate's morningstars had made quite an impression on the folk at the Vaasan Gate, just to the north, and Jarlaxle was, after all, a drow!
The glances that came their way that day, however, were ones full of suspicion, something that didn't escape the notice of either of the companions.
"Word of Gareth's pardon has not yet reached them, it seems," Jarlaxle remarked, sliding into a chair against the far wall of the common room.
" 'Tweren't no pardon," Athrogate said. "Though I'm not for thinking that a banishing from the Bloodstone Lands is a bad thing. Not with the Citadel lookin' to pay ye back for Knellict and all."
"Yes, there is that," said the drow. He hid his smile in a motion to the barmaid.
The two had barely ordered their first round—wine for the drow and honey mead for the dwarf—when a couple of Jarlaxle's acquaintances unexpectedly walked in through the Last Respite's front door.
"Ain't many times I seen ye lookin' surprised," Athrogate remarked.
"It is not a common occurrence, I assure you," Jarlaxle replied, his eyes never leaving the new arrivals, a pair of sisters who, he knew, were much more than they seemed.
"Ye got a fancy, do ye?" Athrogate said, following that gaze, and he gave a great laugh that only intensified as the two women moved to join them.
"Lady Ilnezhara and dear Tazmikella," Jarlaxle said, rising politely. "I meant to speak with you in Heliogabalus on my road south out of the realm."
There were only three chairs around the small table, and Tazmikella took the empty one, motioning for Jarlaxle to sit down. Ilnezhara looked at Athrogate.
"We must speak with Jarlaxle," she told the dwarf.
"Bwahaha!" Athrogate bellowed back. "Well, I'm for listening! Ain't like he can make the both of ye grin, now can—?"
He almost finished the question before Ilnezhara grabbed him by the front of the tunic, and with just one hand, hoisted him easily into the air and held him there.
Athrogate sputtered and wriggled about. "Here now, drow!" he said. "She's got an arm on her! Bwahaha!"
Ilnezhara glared at him, and the fact that almost everyone in the tavern stared at the spectacle of a lithe woman holding a heavily armored, two-hundred-pound dwarf up in the air at the end of one slender arm seemed not to disturb her in the least.
"Now, pretty girl, I'm guessin' ye got yerself a potion or a spell, mighten even a girdle like me own," Athrogate said. "But I'm also thinking that ye'd be a smart wench to know yer place and put me down."
Jarlaxle winced.
"As you wish," Ilnezhara replied. She glanced around, seeking a clear path, and with a flick of her wrist, launched the dwarf across the common room where he crashed through an empty table and took it and a couple of chairs hard into the wall with him.
He leaped up, enraged, but his eyes rolled and he tumbled down in a heap.
Ilnezhara took his seat without a second look at him.
"Please don't break him," said Jarlaxle. "He cost me greatly."
"You are leaving our employ," Tazmikella said.
"There is no choice in the matter," replied the drow. "At least not for me. Your King Gareth made it quite clear that his hospitality has reached its limit."
"Through no fault of your own, no doubt."
"Your sarcasm is well placed," Jarlaxle admitted.
"You have something we want," Ilnezhara said.
Jarlaxle put on his wounded expression. "My lady, I have given it to you many times." He was glad when that brought a smile to Ilnezhara's face, for Jarlaxle knew that he was treading on dangerous ground, and with extremely dangerous characters.
"We know what you have," Tazmikella cut in before her sister and the drow could get sidetracked. "Both items—one from Herminicle's tower, and one from the castle."
"The more valuable one from the castle," Ilnezhara agreed.
"Urshula would agree," Jarlaxle admitted. "This Witch-King who once ruled here was a clever sort, indeed."
"Then you admit possession?"
"Skull gems," said Jarlaxle. "A human one from the tower, that of a dragon from the castle, of course. But then, you knew as much when you dispatched me to Vaasa."
"And you acquired them?" reasoned Ilnezhara.
"Both, yes."
"Then give them over."
"There is no room for bargaining in this," Tazmikella warned.
"I don't have them."
The dragon sisters exchanged concerned glances, and turned their doubtful stares at Jarlaxle.
Across the room, Athrogate pulled himself up to his knees and shook his hairy head. Still wobbly, he gained his feet, and staggered a step back toward the table.
"To escape King Gareth, I had to call upon old friends," said Jarlaxle. He paused and looked at Ilnezhara. "You are well versed in divine magic, are you not?" he asked. "Cast upon me an enchantment to discern whether I am speaking the truth, for I would have you believe my every word."
"The Jarlaxle I know would not readily part with such powerful artifacts," Ilnezhara replied. Still, she did launch into spellcasting, as he had requested.
"That is only because you do not know of Bregan D'aerthe."
"D'aerthe? Is that not what you named your castle?" Tazmikella asked as soon as her sister finished and indicated that her dweomer was complete.
"It is, and it was named after a band of independent… entrepreneurs from my homeland of Menzoberranzan. I called upon them, of course, to escape King Gareth's army, and to facilitate the release of Lady Calihye from the Citadel of Assassins."
"We heard that you delivered Knellict's head to Gareth," said Tazmikella.
Behind Ilnezhara, Athrogate lowered his head, and fell forward as much as charged. He ran into the woman's upraised hand, and stopped as surely as if he had hit a rocky mountain wall. He bounced back just a bit, standing dazed, and Ilnezhara faced him squarely and blew upon him, sending him into a backward roll that left him on his belly in the middle of the floor. He propped himself up on his elbows, staring incredulously at the woman, unaware of her real nature, of course.
"Got to get meself a girdle like hers, I'm thinking," he said, and collapsed.
"It was an expensive proposition," Jarlaxle said when the excitement was over. "But I could not let Lady Calihye die and I needed the bargaining chip to facilitate the release of my friend…" He paused and considered Athrogate. "My friends," he corrected, "from King Gareth's dungeon."
"You gave the skull gems to your drow associates from the Underdark?" Tazmikella asked.
"I had no further use for them," said Jarlaxle. "And the Underdark is a good place for such artifacts. They cause nothing but mischief here in the sunlit world."
"They will cause nothing but mischief in the Underdark," said Ilnezhara.
"All the better," said Jarlaxle, and he lifted his glass in toast.
Tazmikella looked to her sister, who spent a few moments staring at Jarlaxle, before slowly nodding.
"We will study this further," Tazmikella said to the drow, turning back.
Jarlaxle hardly heard her, though, for another call had come to him suddenly, in his thoughts.
"Indeed, I would be disappointed if you did not," he said after he sorted through her words. "But pray excuse me, for I have business to attend."
He stood up and tipped his hat.
"We did not dismiss you," Tazmikella said.
"Dear lady, I pray you allow me to go."
"We are tasked by Master Kane to fly you from these lands," said Ilnezhara.
"At sunrise."