Whirling the liquor around in his glass, Verdrinal regarded Riven shrewdly. His green eyes reminded Riven of a viper's.
"Malix has returned to headquarters to personally report recent events to Lord Chembryl. In the meantime, he's left me in charge."
Riven stiffened. "You!"
"Me."
"Temporarily, no doubt."
"Temporarily," Verdrinal said, conceding with a nod. He quickly added in an arrogant tone, "But until then, I'm your superior."
At that, Riven's anger boiled over. He no longer cared about the Zhentarim hierarchy or whether Hov and the guards were watching. He stepped close to Verdrinal and hissed into his face, "Well then, you arrogant little bastard, if you're the one in charge, then you can explain to me what in the dark is going on! I've lost six operators to this demon. Six.' And every one of them sucked dry as a prune. Malix said the dread would kill the Righteous Man and then leave. Leave!" He clenched a fist before Verdrinal's handsome face and barely restrained the impulse to beat the man to pulp. "Godsdamned mages never know what they're talking about!" -
Verdrinal endured the tirade without expression, even the insult and fist in his face. He waited to be sure Riven had finished, then replied in the tone of voice used to explain something to an angry child. "Things have changed, Riven."
Riven stared at him, amazed that Verdrinal could say something so obvious, and so stupid. "Really."
Verdrinal winced at the sarcasm, took a sip from his
"The dread has somehow managed to remain on our plane. Malix is not sure how. He is sure that it has summoned lesser minions," here he smiled, "and is now doing what demons do."
Riven found Verdrinal's self-satisfied tone infuriating. The man was speaking casually about demons, as though they prowled Selgaunt every other tenday! He forced down his anger only.because he needed information. "So what are we going to do about it? I can't keep losing men to this thing."
Verdrinal gazed at him condescendingly. "Manx's orders are to do nothing about it."
"Nothing! Did his brain turn to dung? It's killing my men. Our men. Good operators."
"True, but it is also killing the heads of certain noble families and a multitude of rival leaders. It appears to have taken the Righteous Man's enemies as its own." He smiled and waved his hand, a weak gesture. "Dent you see? It's doing our work for us. Well let it purge the underworld and only then move against it. That's why Malix went to see Lord Chembryl personally, to determine when to take the next step."
Riven had to admit the logic of the course. A few dead low-level Zhentarim operaiaves were copper pennies to the gold fivestars of dead patriarchs and rival guudmasters. Malix had been hoping merely to eliminate the Night Knives with the dread, but the creature was doing far better than expected; it was single-handedly securing Selgaunt's entire underworld for the Zhentarim.
"How do we know we can get rid of it?"
Verdrinal ignored the question. "It attacked Storm-weather earlier tonight." He grinned smugly, took a sip of his drink, and said nothing more. Verdrinal knew Riven's hate for Erevis Cale. He wanted him to ask for details.
Riven could not help himself. "And?"
"And at least twenty guests present for one of Tha-malon's balls were slaughtered." Casually, he took another sip from his glass. "Did you know that I was invited to that ball?"
Riven ground his teeth together. You should've attended, he thought, but didn't say. "Cale?"
"Lives. Apparently drove the dread off himself, though the Uskevren daughter was gravely hurt. Quite a man, this Erevis Gale. Quite a man, indeed."
Riven realized that he had been clenching his fists. He released them and said, "IH take that drink now."
"You know where it is."
Riven walked to the cabinet and surveyed the many bottles Verdrinal kept there. Able to read only with difficulty, he could not tell the vintage of any of the wines, but he'd be damned before he let Verdrinal know of his illiteracy. He grabbed a bottle at random and poured himself a glass. "Hell be looking for a cause," he said, and gulped the wine in a single drink. "Cale, I mean."
Verdrinal nodded. "I hope so. If all goes well, hell find his cause. That'll solve another of our problems, won't it?"
Riven nodded stiffly and poured himself another glass of wine. He gulped it down too.
A month earlier, Cale and that little halfling rat Jak Fleet had ruineoVRiven's otherwise perfect plan to kidnap the youngest Uskevren whelp, Talbot. In the process, they had marked Riven with a scar on his back that had yet to heal fully. More importantly, the failed operation had dealt a harsh blow to Riven's aspirations for rising within the Network.
Now I find myself answering to a decadent dolt, he thought.
Since then, the Zhentarim had been keeping a close eye on Cale. They would have done the same with the halfling, but Jak Fleet had vanished into the underworld. Riven had known ever since that Gale's death was simply a matter of time, but he had hoped to kill the bald overgrown butler himself. A man like Verdrinal would not understand that
Still angry, he walked back to face the nobleman and jabbed a finger into his chest.
"What about my men? I can't afford to lose any more.
Verdrinal backed up a step and placed a finger to his lips in affected surprise. "Dark! You've just reminded me of something. Oh my! Oh, this won't make you happy."
Riven's stare bored holes into him.
Verdrinal feigned dismay, bat Riven saw the mirth in his eyes as he spoke. "Before Malix left, he told me
'PaulS. Kemp to tell you to have your men go underground. To avoid the dread. That way-"
Riven smacked the drink out of his hands and gripped hi(tm) by his fish-white throat. "You dog!" He slammed his head into Verdrinal's nose. Verdrinal exclaimed and staggered backward, clutching at a broken nose streaming blood.
"You want to play games with me! I lost six men while you sat on that warning!" He jerked free a dagger, grabbed Verdrinal by the robe, and waved the blade before his dazed, watering eyes. "I should split you right now."
"If you do, you'll never get out alive," Verdrinal mumbled, and smiled through the blood pouring out his nose.
Behind him, Riven could hear the hurried boot stomps of Hov approaching alone. He spat into Verdrinal's face. "Won't be long and the time will come for you and me." Riven pulled Verdrinal's bleeding face close. "Just not tonight."
Verdrinal, recovered now from the blow to his nose, and actually grinned. Disgusted, Riven threw him to the floor.
"Our time can come tonight, Drasek," Verdrinal taunted. "If you want to stay. I'm sure Hov would appreciate some company."
Riven turned and found himself staring into the wide, leather-armored chest of Hov. He took a step back and looked up into the big man's dull brown eyes. Hov glared down, right hand on his sword hilt, left hand clenched in a fist.
"Anytime," Riven whispered. "I've already left one of yours dead on the floor. What's one more to me?"
Hov smirked but said nothing.
Riven stalked past and headed for the foyer. Behind him, Verdrinal's mocking voice rang in his ears. "Praise r to Cyric," the nobleman said, the standard Zhentarim words of greeting and farewell, but only among compatriots.
Without breaking stride, Riven shouldered over a delicate nude female statue. It shattered into hundreds of pieces on the foyer floor, chunks of marble splashed into the pool of blood that Varra had yet to clean up. Verdrinal squealed in protest.
"You bastard! You-*
Riven smiled and strode out the door. "Praise to Cyric," he said-mockingly over his shoulder.
CHAPTER FIVE
Call le waited anxiously in the carpeted hall outside Thazienne's room. Sweat beaded his brow and a lump sat in his throat. When he had left her side to organize the cleanup, she still had been unconscious and barely breathing. Her face had looked so pale and drawn.