“Your lady can not distinguish between friend and foe,” Le'lorinel, ever defiant, replied.
“Some things are difficult to distinguish,” the woman agreed, and she smiled as she continued her scan.
Le'lorinel gave a derisive snicker, and the woman nodded to the side. A brutish guard was beside the prisoner in a moment, offering a vicious smack across the face.
“Your attitude will get you killed,” the woman calmly stated.
Now it was Le'lorinel's turn to stare hard.
“You have been all around Luskan asking about Sheila Kree,” the woman went on after a few moments. “What is it about? Are you with the authorities? With that wretch Deudermont perhaps?”
“I am alone, and without friends west of Silverymoon,” Le'lorinel replied with equal calm.
“But with the name of a hoped-for contact you carelessly utter to anyone who will listen.”
“Not so,” the elf answered. “I spoke of Kree only to the one group, and only because I believed they could lead me to her.”
Again the woman nodded, and again the brute smacked Le'lorinel across the face.
“Sheila Kree,” the woman corrected.
Le'lorinel didn't audibly respond but did give a slight, deferential nod.
“You should explain, then, here and now, and parse your words carefully,” the woman explained. “Why do you so seek out my boss?”
“On the directions of a seer,” Le'lorinel admitted. “The one who created the sketch for me.”
As the elf finished, the woman lifted the parchment that held the symbol of Aegis-fang, the symbol that had become so connected to Sheila Kree's pirate band.
“I come in search of another, a dangerous foe, and one who will seek out Kr—Sheila Kree,” Le'lorinel explained. “I know not the time nor the place, but by the words of the seer, I will complete my quest to do battle with this rogue when I am in the company of Sheila Kree, if it is indeed Sheila Kree who now holds the weapon bearing that insignia.”
“A dangerous foe?” the woman slyly asked. “Captain Deudermont, perhaps?”
“Drizzt Do'Urden,” Le'lorinel stated clearly, seeing no reason to hide the truth—especially since any ill-considered words now could prove disastrous for the quest and for the elf's very life. “A dark elf, and friend to the one who once owned that weapon.”
“A drow?” the woman asked skeptically, showing no obvious recognition of the strange name.
“Indeed,” Le'lorinel said with a huff. “Hero of the northland. Beloved by many in Icewind Dale—and other locales.”
The woman's expression became curious, as if she might have heard of such a drow, but she merely shrugged it away. “And he seeks Sheila Kree?” she asked.
It was Le’lorinel's turn to shrug—had the tight binding allowed for such a movement. “I know only what the seer told to me and have traveled many hundreds of miles to find the vision fulfilled. I intend to kill this dark elf”
“And what, then, of any relationship you begin with my boss?” the woman asked. “Is she merely a pawn for your quest?”
“She. . her home, or fortress, or ship, or wherever it is she resides, is merely my destination, yes,” Le'lorinel admitted. “As of now, I have no relationship with your captain. Whether that situation changes or not will likely have more to do with her than with me, since. .” The elf stopped and glanced at the bindings.
The woman spent a long while studying the elf and considering the strange tale, then nodded again to her brutish guards, offering a subtle, yet clear signal to them.
One moved fast for Le'lorinel, drawing a long, jagged knife. The elf thought that doom had come, but then the brute stepped behind the chair and cut the wrist bindings. Another of the brutish guards came out of the shadows at the side of the room, bearing Le'lorinel's clothing and belongings, except for the weapons and the enchanted ring.
Le'lorinel looked to the woman, trying hard to ignore the disappointed scowls of the three brutes, and noted that she was wearing the ring—the ring Le'lorinel so desperately needed to win a battle against Drizzt Do'Urden.
“Give back the weapons, as well,” the woman instructed the guards, and all three paused and stared at her incredulously— or perhaps just stupidly.
“The road to Sheila Kree is fraught with danger,” the woman explained. “You will likely need your blades. Do not disappoint me in this journey, and perhaps you will live long enough to tell your tale to Sheila Kree, though whether she listens to it in full or merely kills you for the fun of it, only time will tell.”
Le'lorinel had to be satisfied with that. The elf gathered up the clothes and dressed, trying hard not to rush, trying hard to remain indignant toward the rude guards all the while.
Soon they, all five, were on the road, out of Luskan's north gate.
Chapter 10 DAMN THE WINTER
From Drizzt,” Cassius explained, handing the parchment over to Regis. “Delivered by a most unfriendly fellow from Luskan. A wizard of great importance, by his own measure, at least.”
Regis took the rolled and tied note and undid the bow holding it.
“You will be pleased, I believe,” Cassius prompted.
The halfling looked up at him skeptically. “You read it?”
“The wizard from Luskan, Val-Doussen by name—and he of self-proclaimed great intellect—forgot the name of the person I was supposed to give it to,” Cassius explained dryly. “So, yes, I perused it, and from its contents it seems obvious that it's either for you or for Bruenor Battlehammer or both.”
Regis nodded as if satisfied, though in truth he figured Cassius could have reasoned as much without ever reading the note. Who else would Drizzt and Catti-brie be sending messages to, after all? The halfling let it go, though, too concerned with what Drizzt might have to say. He pulled open the note, his eyes scanning the words quickly.
A smile brightened his face.
“Perhaps the barbarian remains alive,” Cassius remarked.
“So it would seem,” said the halfling. “Or at least, the brand we found on the woman does not mean what we all feared it might.”
Cassius nodded, but Regis couldn't help but note a bit of a cloud passing over his features.
“What is it?” the halfling asked.
“Nothing.”
“More than nothing,” Regis reasoned, and he considered his own words that had brought on the slight frown. “The woman,” he reasoned. “What of the woman?”
“She is gone,” Cassius admitted.
“Dead?”
“Escaped,” the elderman corrected. “A tenday ago. Councilor Kemp put her on a Targos fishing ship for indenture—a different ship than that on which he placed the other ruffians, for he knew she was the most dangerous by far. She leaped from the deck soon after the ship put out.”
“Then she died, frozen in Maer Dualdon,” Regis reasoned, for he knew the lake well and knew that no one could survive for long in the cold waters even in midsummer, let alone at this time of the year.
“So the crew believed,” Cassius said. “She must have had some enchantment upon her, for she was seen emerging from the water a short distance from the western reaches of Targos.”
“Then she is lying dead of exposure along the lake's southern bank,” the halfling said, “or is wandering in a near-dead stupor along the water's edge.”
Cassius was shaking his head through every word. “Jule Pepper is a clever one, it would seem,” he said. “She is nowhere to be found, and clothing was stolen from a farmhouse to the west of the city. Likely that one is long on the road out of Icewind Dale, and a glad farewell I offer her.”
Regis wasn't thinking along those same lines. He wondered if Jule Pepper presented any threat to his friends. Jule knew of Drizzt, obviously and likely held a grudge against him. If she was returning to her old hunting band, perhaps she and the drow would cross paths once more.