But its beauty can burn in our hearts eternally.
– Drizzt Do'Urden
Chapter 7 UNSEEMLY COMPANY
The guard blanched ridiculously, seeming as if he would simply fall over dead, when he noted the sylvan features and ebony skin of the visitor to Luskan's gate this rainy morning. He stuttered and stumbled, clenched his polearm so tightly in both hands that his knuckles turned as white as his face, and at last he managed to stammer out, “Halt!”
We're not moving,” Catti-brie replied, looking at the man curiously. “Just standing here, watching yerself sweating.”
The man gave what could have been either a growl or a whimper, then, as if finding his heart, called out for support and boldly stepped in front of the pair, presenting his polearm defensively. “Halt!” he said again, though neither of them had started moving.
“He figured out ye were a drow,” Catti-brie said dryly.
“He does not recognize that even a high elf's skin might darken under the sun,” Drizzt replied with a profound sigh. “The curse of fine summer weather.”
The guard stared at him, perplexed by the foolish words. What do you want?” he demanded. “Why are you here?”
To enter Luskan,” said Catti-brie. “Can't ye be guessing that much yerself?”
Enough of your ridicule!” cried the guard, and he thrust the polearm threateningly in Catti-brie's direction.
A black hand snapped out before the sentry could even register the movement, catching his weapon just below its metal head.
“There is no need of any of this,” Drizzt remarked, striding next to the trapped weapon to better secure his hold. “I, we, are no strangers to Luskan, nor, can I assure you, have we ever been less than welcomed.”
“Well, Drizzt Do'Urden, bless my eyes!” came a call behind the startled sentry, a cry from one of a pair of soldiers rushing up to answer the man's cry. “And Catti-brie, looking less like a dwarf than e'er before!”
“Oh, put your weapon away, you fool, before this pair puts it away for you, in a holder you'd not expect and not much enjoy!” said the other of the newcomers. “Have you not heard of this duo before? Why, they sailed with Sea Sprite for years and brought more pirates in for trial than we've soldiers to guard them!”
The first sentry swallowed hard and, as soon as Drizzt let go of the polearm, hastily retracted it and skittered out of the way. “Your pardon,” he said with an awkward bow. “I did not know. . the sight of a. .” He stopped there, obviously mortified.
“And how might you know?” Drizzt generously returned. “We have not been here in more than a year.”
“I have only served for three months,” the relieved sentry answered.
“And a pity to have to bury one so quickly,” one of the soldiers behind him remarked with a hearty laugh. “Threatening Drizzt and Catti-brie! O, but that will get you in the ground right quick and make yer wife a weeping widow!”
Drizzt and Catti-brie accepted the compliments with a slight grin and a nod, trying to get past it. For the dark elf, compliments sat as uncomfortably as insults, and one of the natural side-products of hunting with Deudermont was a bit of notoriety in the port towns along the northern Sword Coast.
“So what blesses Luskan with your presence?” one of the more knowledgeable soldiers asked. His demeanor made both Drizzt and Catti-brie think they should know the man.
“Looking for an old friend,” Drizzt answered. “We have reason to believe he might be in Luskan.”
“Many folks in Luskan,” the other seasoned soldier answered.
“A barbarian,” Catti-brie explained. “A foot and more taller than me, with blond hair. If you saw him, you'd not likely forget him.”
The closest of the soldiers nodded, but then a cloud crossed his face and he turned about to regard his companion.
“What's his name?” the other asked. “Wulfgar?”
Drizzt's excitement at hearing the confirmation was shallowed by the expressions worn by both soldiers, grave looks that made him think immediately that something terrible had befallen his friend.
“You have seen him,” the drow stated, holding his arm out to calm Catti-brie, who had likewise noted the guards' concern.
“You'd best come with me, Master Drizzt,” the older of the soldiers remarked.
“Is he in trouble?” Drizzt asked.
“Is he dead?” Catti-brie asked, stating the truth of what was on Drizzt's mind.
“Was in trouble, and I'd not be surprised one bit if he's now dead,” the soldier answered. “Come along and I'll lead you to someone who can offer more answers.”
They followed the soldier along Luskan's winding avenues, moving toward the center of the city, and, finally, into one of the largest buildings in all the city, which housed both the jail and most of the city officials. The soldier, apparently a man of some importance, led the way without challenge from any of the many guards posted at nearly every corridor, up a couple of flights of stairs and into an area where every door marked the office of a magistrate.
He stopped in front of one that identified the office of Magistrate Bardoun, then, with a concerned look back at the pair, knocked loudly.
“Enter,” came a commanding reply.
Two black-robed men were in the room, on opposite sides of a huge desk cluttered with papers. The closest, standing, looked every bit the part of one of Luskan's notorious justice-bringers, with hawkish features and narrow eyes all but hidden beneath long gray eyebrows. The man sitting behind the desk, Bardoun, obviously, was much younger than his counterpart, no more than thirty, certainly, with thick brown hair and matching eyes and a clean-shaven, boyish face.
“Begging your pardon, Magistrate,” the soldier asked, his voice showing a nervous edge, “but I have here two heroes, Drizzt Do'Urden and Catti-brie, daughter of dwarf King Bruenor Battlehammer himself, come back to Luskan in search of an old friend.”
“Do enter,” Bardoun said in a friendly tone. His standing partner, though, put a scrutinizing glare over the two, particularly over the dark elf.
“Drizzt and Catti-brie sailed with Deudermont—” the soldier started to remark, but Bardoun stopped him with an upraised hand.
“Their exploits are well known to us,” the magistrate said. “You may leave us.”
The soldier bowed, offered a wink to the pair then exited, closing the door behind him.
“My associate, Magistrate Callanan,” Bardoun introduced, and he stood up, motioning for the pair to come closer. “We will be of any help we may, of course,” he said. “Though Deudermont has fallen on some disfavor among some of the magistrates, many of us greatly appreciate the work he and his brave crew have done in clearing the waters about our fair city of some dreadful pirates.”
Drizzt glanced at Catti-brie, both of them surprised to hear that Captain Deudermont, as fine a man as ever sailed the Sword Coast, a man given a prized three-masted schooner by the Lords of Waterdeep to aid in his gallant work, had fallen upon any disfavor at all from officers of the law.
“Your soldier indicated that you might be able to help us in locating an old friend,” Drizzt explained. “Wulfgar, by name. A large northman of fair complexion and light hair. We have reason to believe..” The drow stopped in mid-sentence, caught by the cloud that crossed Bardoun's face and the scowl suddenly worn by Callanan.
“If you are friends of that one, then perhaps you should not be in Luskan,” Callanan remarked with a derisive snort.
Bardoun composed himself and sat back down. “Wulfgar is well known to us indeed,” he explained. “Too well known, perhaps.”
He motioned for Drizzt and Catti-brie to take the seats along the side of the small office, then told them the story of Wulfgar's entanglement with Luskan's law, of how the barbarian had been accused and convicted of trying to murder Deudermont (which Catti-brie interrupted by saying, “Impossible!”), and had been facing execution at Prisoner's Carnival, barely moments from death, when Deudermont himself had pardoned the man.