When they were finally back in place outside on the columns, magically repairing as if nothing had happened, Entreri closed and locked the door. Anyone approaching would think all was as it had been, or so he hoped.
As soon as the couple walked through the tower door and he got a good look at the infamous Ilnezhara, Entreri wondered if there might not be more to Tazmikella’s antipathy toward her former friend than simple merchant rivalry. For Ilnezhara seemed everything that Tazmikella was not. Her hair hung long and lustrous, and so rich in hue that Entreri couldn’t decide if it was reddish-blond or reddish-brown, or even copper colored, perhaps. Her eyes were blue and big-enormous, actually, but they did not unbalance her bright face. Though her nose was thin and straight, and her cheekbones high and pronounced, her lips were as thick and delicious as any Entreri had ever seen. She was taller than the five-and-a-half-foot Jarlaxle by several inches, and moved her slender form with as much grace as the nimble drow.
“I do find you entertaining,” she said to the drow, and she tossed her thick hair.
Entreri knew that he was well hidden, tucked in a cranny partly covered by a tapestry and concealed by a many-armed rack holding bowls of many colors. There was no way that Ilnezhara could see him, but when she tossed her hair and her face flashed his way, he felt the intensity of her gaze upon him.
She went right back to her conversation with Jarlaxle, and Entreri silently scolded himself. When had he ever so questioned his abilities? Had he been taken in by the woman’s beauty? He shook the thought away and concentrated on the conversation playing out before him. The couple were seated on a divan then, with Ilnezhara curled up beside the charming drow, her finger delicately tracing circles on his chest, for she had opened the top two buttons of his fine white shirt. She was speaking of entertainment, still.
“It is my way,” Jarlaxle replied. “I have traveled so many of the surface lands, from tavern to tavern and palace to palace, entertaining peasants and kings alike. I find my charms my only defense against the inevitable impressions offered by my black skin.”
“With song? Will you sing to me, Jarlaxle?”
“Song, yes, but my talents are more musical.”
“With instruments? I have a fine collection, of course.”
She pulled herself from the divan and began striding toward the back of the room. There were indeed many instruments back there, Entreri knew, for of course he had searched much of the tower already. Several lutes and a magnificent harp, all of exceeding quality and workmanship, graced the back area of this first floor.
“Your wonderful fingers must trace delicate sounds about the strings of a lute,” Ilnezhara said-rather lewdly, Entreri thought-as she lifted a lute from a soft case to show to Jarlaxle.
“In truth, it is my kiss,” said the drow. Entreri tried not to let his disgusted sigh be heard. “My breath. I favor the flute above all.”
“The flute?” echoed Ilnezhara. “Why, indeed, I have one of amazing timbre, though it is not much to view.”
Jarlaxle leaned toward her. Entreri held his breath, not even realizing that it all seemed too easy.
Ilnezhara continued toward the back of the room.
“Would you like to see it?” she asked coyly. “Or rather, would you like to see where I keep it?”
Jarlaxle’s smile melted into a look of confusion.
“Or are you hoping, perhaps, that your sneaky friend has already found it, and so when I open its case, it will not be there?” the woman went on.
“My lady …”
“He is still here. Why do you not ask him?” Ilnezhara stated, and she turned her gaze over to the cranny at the side, staring directly at the hidden Entreri.
“Play with my friends!” Ilnezhara cried suddenly, and she lifted her hand and waved it in a circle. Immediately, several statuettes-a pair of gargoyles, a lizard, and a bear-began to grow and twist.
“Not more constructs!” Entreri growled, bursting from his concealing cubby.
Jarlaxle sprang from the divan, but Ilnezhara moved with equal speed, slipping behind a screen and running off.
“Well done,” Jarlaxle said to Entreri, the two taking up the chase.
Entreri thought to argue that he had defeated every entry-way trap, and that he could not have expected Ilnezhara to be so prepared, but he stayed silent, having no real answer to the sarcasm.
Behind the screen, they found a corridor between the racks of artwork and jewelry cases. Up ahead, the woman’s form slipped behind yet another delicate, painted screen, and as it was very near to the curving back wall, it seemed as if they had her-and would get to her before the constructs fully animated and caught up to them.
“You have nowhere to run!” Jarlaxle called, but even as he spoke, he and Entreri saw the wall above the screen crack open, a secret door swinging in.
“You didn’t find that?” the drow asked.
“I had but a few minutes,” Entreri argued, and he went left around the screen as Jarlaxle went right.
Entreri hit the door first, shouldering it in and fully expecting that he would find himself out the back side of the tower. As he pushed through, though, he felt that there was nothing beneath his foot. He grabbed hard at the door, finding a pull ring, and held on, hanging in mid air as it continued to swing. As he came around and took in the scene before him, he nearly dropped, as his jaw surely did.
For he was not outside, but in a vast magically-lighted chamber, an extra-dimensional space, it had to be, going on and on beyond Entreri’s sight. Having served among the wealthiest merchants in Calimport, and with the richest pashas, Artemis Entreri was no stranger to treasure hoards. But never before in all his life had he imagined a collection of coins, jewels, and artifacts to rival this! Mounds of gold taller than he lay scattered about the floor, glittering with thousands of jewels sitting on their shining sides. Swords and armor, statues and instruments, bowls and amazing furniture pieces were everywhere, every item showing wonderful craftsmanship and care in design.
Entreri glanced back to see Jarlaxle at the threshold, staring in and appearing equally dumbfounded.
“An illusion,” Entreri said.
Jarlaxle shifted his eye patch from one eye to the other and peered intently into the room.
“No, it’s not,” the drow said, and he glanced back to the tower’s entry room.
With a shrug, Jarlaxle casually stepped into the room, dropping the eight feet or so to the floor. Hearing the clatter of the approaching constructs behind him, Entreri let go of the door, swinging it closed as he dropped. It shut with a resounding thud, and the tumult disappeared.
“It is wonderful, yes?” Ilnezhara asked, stepping out from behind a pile of gold.
“By the gods …” whispered Entreri, and he glanced at his partner.
“I have heard of such treasures, good lady,” the drow said. “But always in the care of-”
“Don’t even say it,” whispered Entreri, but it didn’t matter anyway, for Ilnezhara’s features began to shift and scrunch suddenly, accompanied by the sound of cracking bones.
A huge copper-colored tail sprang out behind her, and gigantic wings sprouted from her shoulders.
“A dragon,” Entreri remarked. “Another stinking dragon. What game is this with you?” he asked his partner. “You keep placing me in front of stinking dragons! In all my life, I had never even seen a wyrm, and now, beside you, I have come to know them far too well.”
“You took me to the first one,” Jarlaxle reminded.
“To get rid of that cursed artifact, yes!” Entreri countered. “You remember, of course. The artifact that had you under a destructive spell? Would I have chosen to go to the lair of a dragon, else?”
“It does not matter,” Jarlaxle argued.
“Of course it matters,” Entreri spat back. “You keep taking me to stinking dragons.”