Ilnezhara’s “ahem” shook the ground beneath their feet and drew them from their private argument.
“I could do without the disparaging adjectives, thank you very much,” she said to them when she had their attention, her voice sounding very similar to what it had been when she had appeared as a human woman, except that it was multiplied in volume many times over.
“I suspect we need not worry about the constructs coming in to attack us,” said Jarlaxle.
The dragon smiled, rows of teeth as long as Entreri’s arm gleaming in the magical light.
“You do entertain me, pretty drow,” she said. “Though I lament that you are not as wise as I had believed. To try to steal from a dragon at the behest of a fool like Tazmikella? For it was she who sent you, of course. The foolish woman can never understand why I always seem to best her.”
“Go,” Jarlaxle whispered, and the assassin broke left, while the drow broke right.
But the dragon moved, too, breathing forth.
Entreri cried out and dived into a roll, not knowing what to expect. He felt the wind of dragon breath passing over him, but came back to his feet, apparently unhurt. His elation at that lasted only a moment, though, until he realized that he was moving much more slowly.
“You cannot win, of course, nor is there any escape,” said Ilnezhara. “Tell me, pretty drow, would you have come here to steal from me if you had known of my true identity?”
Entreri looked past the dragon to see Jarlaxle simply standing there, vulnerable, before the great wyrm. His incredulous expression was all the answer Ilnezhara needed.
“I thought not,” she said. “You admit defeat, then?”
Jarlaxle just shrugged and held his arms out to the sides.
“Good, good,” said the dragon.
Her bones began to crunch again, and soon she appeared in her human form.
“I did not know that copper dragons were so adept at shape-changing,” the drow said, finding his voice.
“I spent many years studying under an archmage,” Ilnezhara replied. “The passage of centuries can be quite boring, you understand.”
“I do, yes,” the drow answered. “Though my friend …”
He swept his arm out toward Entreri.
“Your friend who still thinks he might get behind me and stab me with his puny dagger, or cut off my head with his mighty sword? Indeed, that is a formidable weapon,” she said to Entreri. “Would you try it against Ilnezhara?”
The assassin glared at her, but did not answer.
“Or perhaps you would give it to me, in exchange for your lives?”
“Yes, he would,” Jarlaxle was quick to answer.
Entreri turned his scowl on his friend, but realized that he really couldn’t argue the point.
“Or perhaps,” said Ilnezhara, “you would instead agree to perform a service for me. Yes, you seem uniquely qualified for this.”
“You need something stolen from Tazmikella,” Entreri reasoned.
Ilnezhara scoffed at the notion and said, “What could she have that would begin to interest me? No, of course not. Kill her.”
“Kill her?” Jarlaxle echoed.
“Yes, I grow weary of our facade of a friendship, or friendly rivalry, and I grow impatient. I do not wish to wait the few decades until old age takes her or renders her too infirm to continue her silly games. Kill her and arouse no suspicion from the authorities. If you can do that, then perhaps I will forgive your transgression.”
“Perhaps?” asked the drow.
“Perhaps,” answered the dragon, and when the two thieves hesitated, she added, “Do you believe that you can find a better deal?”
Entreri watched Tazmikella stiffen when she noticed Jarlaxle sitting casually in a chair in the back of her modest cabin.
“You have the flute of Idalia?” she asked, breathless.
“Hardly,” the drow replied. “It would seem that you did not fully inform us regarding the disposition of your rival.”
From his hiding spot off to the side, Entreri measured Tazmikella’s reaction. He and Jarlaxle had agreed that if the woman knew Ilnezhara’s true form, then they would indeed kill her, and without remorse.
“I told you she would be well protected,” Tazmikella started to say, and she stiffened again as a dagger came against her back.
“What are you doing?” she asked. “I hired you honestl-” She paused. “She sent you back here to kill me, didn’t she? She offered you gold against my silver.”
Entreri hardly heard her question. He hadn’t even pricked her with his vicious, life-drawing dagger, and yet the enchanted blade had sent such a surge of energy up his arm that the hairs were standing on end. Trembling, confused, the assassin lifted his free hand, placed it against Tazmikella’s shoulder, and gave a push.
He might as well have tried to push a mountain.
Entreri groaned and retracted both open hand and dagger.
“For the love of an eight-legged demon queen,” he muttered as he walked off to the side, shaking his head in disgust.
He glanced over at Jarlaxle, who was staring at him curiously.
“Her?” the drow asked.
Entreri nodded.
Tazmikella sighed and said, “My own sister sent you to kill me.…”
“Your sister?” asked the drow.
“One dragon’s not good enough for you, is it?” Entreri growled at his partner. “Now you’ve put me in the middle of a feud between two!”
“All that you had to do was steal a simple flute,” Tazmikella reminded them.
“From a dragon,” said Entreri.
“I thought you quick and clever.”
“Better if we had known the power of our enemy.”
“And now you have come to kill me,” said Tazmikella. “Oh, is there no room for loyalty anymore?”
“We weren’t going to kill you, actually,” said Jarlaxle.
“You would say that now.”
“If we found out that you knew you were sending us into the home of a dragon, then yes, we might have killed you,” Entreri added.
“You’ll note that my friend did not drive the blade into your back,” said the drow. “We came to talk, not murder.”
“So, now that you are aware of my … disposition, you wish to parley? Perhaps I can persuade you to go and kill Ilnezhara.”
“My good … lady,” the drow said, and he dipped a polite bow. “We prefer not to involve ourselves in such feuds. We are thieves-freely admitted! — but not killers.”
“I can think of a drow I wouldn’t mind killing right now,” said Entreri, and he took some hope, at least, in noticing that Tazmikella smirked with amusement.
“I would suggest that you and your sister sort this out reasonably. Through talk and not battle. Your king carries Dragonsbane as his surname, does he not? I would doubt that Gareth would be pleased with having his principal city leveled in the fight between a pair of great dragons.”
“Yes, dear sister,” came another voice, and Entreri groaned again.
Jarlaxle bowed even lower as Ilnezhara stepped into view, as if she had simply materialized out of nowhere.
“I told you they wouldn’t try to kill me,” Tazmikella replied.
“Only because that one discovered your true identity before he plunged his dagger home,” Ilnezhara argued.
“That is not entirely true,” said Entreri, but they weren’t listening to him.
“I suppose I could not blame them if they did try to kill me,” said Tazmikella. “They were instructed to do so by a dragon, after all.”
“Self-preservation is a powerful incentive,” her sister agreed as she moved next to Jarlaxle.
Ilnezhara reached up and unbuttoned his shirt, and again began tracing lines on his chest with her long finger.
“You wish to play with me before you kill me, then?” Jarlaxle asked her.
“Kill you?” Ilnezhara said with feigned horror. “Pretty drow, why would I ever wish such a thing as that? Oh no, I have plans for you, to be sure, but killing you isn’t in them.”
She snuggled a bit closer as she spoke, and Jarlaxle grinned, seeming very pleased.