"This one was different," came another voice. A slender man, well dressed and coifed, entered the room from the wizard's study.
Entreri's muscles tensed; he had just checked out that room, along with the other two in the wizard's suite, and no one had been in there. Now he knew beyond doubt that he had been expected.
"My guildmaster," LaValle explained. "Quentin Bodeau."
Entreri didn't blink; he had already guessed that much.
"This kelp-enwalling order came not from any particular guild, but from the three most prominent," Quentin Bodeau clarified. "To go against it would have meant eradication."
"Any magical attempt I might have made would have been detected," LaValle tried to explain. He gave a chuckle, trying to break the tension. "I did not believe it would matter, in any case," he said. "I knew that Dog Perry would prove no real test for you."
"If that is so, then why was he allowed to come after me?" Entreri asked, aiming the question at Bodeau.
The guildmaster only shrugged and said, "Rarely have I been able to control all the movements of that one."
"Let that bother you no more," Entreri replied grimly.
Bodeau managed a weak smile. "You must appreciate our position …" he started to say.
"I am to believe the word of the man who ordered me murdered?" Entreri asked incredulously.
"I did not-" Bodeau began to argue before being cut off by yet another voice from the wizard's study, a woman's voice.
"If we believed that Quentin Bodeau, or any other ranking member of his guild knew of and approved of the attack, this guild house would be empty of living people."
A tall, dark-haired woman came through the door, flanked by a muscular warrior with a curving black mustache and a more slender man, if it was a man, for Entreri could hardly make out any features under the cowl of the dark cloak. A pair of armored guards strode in behind the trio, and though the last one through the door shut it behind him, Entreri understood that there was likely another one about, probably another wizard. There was no way such a group could have been concealed in the other room, even from his casual glance, without magical aid. Besides, he knew, this group was too comfortable. Even if they were all skilled with weapons, they could not be confident that they alone could bring Entreri down.
"I am Sharlotta Vespers," the woman said, her icy eyes flashing. "I give you Kadran Gordeon and Hand, my fellow lieutenants in the guild of Pasha Basadoni. Yes, he lives still and is glad to see you well."
Entreri knew that to be a lie. If Basadoni were alive the guild would have contacted him much earlier, and in a less dangerous situation.
"Are you affiliated?" Sharlotta asked.
"I was not when I left Calimport, and I only recently came back to the city," the assassin answered.
"Now you are affiliated," Sharlotta purred, and Entreri understood that he was in no position to deny her claim.
So he would not be killed-not now, at least. He would not have to spend his nights looking over his shoulder for would-be assassins nor deal with the impertinent advances of fools like Dog Perry. The Basadoni Guild had claimed him as their own, and though he would be able to go and take jobs wherever he decided, as long as they did not involve the murder of anyone connected with Pasha Basadoni, his primary contacts would be Kadran Gordeon, whom he did not trust, and Hand.
He should have been pleased at the turn of events, he knew, sitting quietly on the roof of the Copper Ante late that night. He couldn't have expected a better course.
And yet, for some reason that he could hardly fathom, Entreri was not pleased in the least. He had his old life back, if he wanted it. With his skills, he knew he could soon return to the glories he had once known. And yet he now understood the limitations of those glories and knew that while he could easily re-ascend to the highest level of assassin in Calimport, that level would hardly be enough to satisfy the emptiness he felt within.
He simply did not wish to go back to his old ways of murder for money. It was no bout of conscience-nothing like that! — but no thought of that former life sparked any excitement within the man.
Ever the pragmatist, Entreri decided to play it one hour at a time. He went over the side of the roof, silent and sure-footed, picking his way down to the street, then entered through the front door.
All eyes focused on him, but he hardly cared as he made his way across the common room to the door at the back. One halfling approached him there, as if to stop him, but a glare from Entreri backed the little one off, and the assassin pushed through.
Again the sight of the enormously fat Dondon assaulted him profoundly.
"Artemis!" Dondon said happily, though Entreri did note a bit of tension creeping into the halfling's voice, a common reaction whenever the assassin arrived unannounced at anyone's doorstep. "Come in, my friend. Sit and eat. Partake of good company."
Entreri looked at the heaps of half-eaten sweets and at the two painted female halflings flanking the bloated wretch. He did sit down a safe distance away, though he moved none of the many platters in front of him narrowing his eyes as one of the female halflings tried to approach.
"You must learn to relax and enjoy those fruits your work has provided," Dondon said. "You are back with Basadoni, so 'tis said, and so you are free."
Entreri noted that the irony of that statement was apparently lost on the halfling.
"What good is all of your difficult and dangerous work if you cannot learn to relax and enjoy those pleasures your labors might buy for you?" Dondon asked.
"How did it happen?" Entreri asked bluntly.
Dondon stared at him, obvious confusion splayed on his sagging face.
In explanation, Entreri looked all around, motioning to the plates, to the whores, and to Dondon's massive belly.
Dondon's expression soured. "You know why I am in here," he remarked quietly, all the bounce having left his tone.
"I know why you came in here … to hide. . and I agree with that decision," Entreri replied. "But why?" Again he let the halfling follow his gaze to all the excess, plate by plate, whore by whore. "Why this?"
"I choose to enjoy. ." Dondon started, but Entreri would hear none of that.
"If I could offer you back your old life, would you take it?" the assassin asked.
Dondon stared at him blankly.
"If I could change the word on the street so that Dondon could walk free of the Copper Ante, would Dondon be pleased?" Entreri pressed. "Or is Dondon pleased with the excuse?"
"You speak in riddles."
"I speak the truth," Entreri shot back, trying to look the halfling in the eye, though the sight of those drooping, sleepy lids surely revolted him. He could hardly believe his own level of anger in looking at Dondon. A part of him wanted to draw out his dagger and cut the wretch's heart out.
But Artemis Entreri did not kill for passion, and he held that part in check.
"Would you go back?" he asked slowly, emphasizing every word.
Dondon didn't reply, didn't blink, but in the nonresponse, Entreri had his answer, the one he had feared the most.
The room's door swung open, and Dwahvel entered. "Is there a problem in here, Master Entreri?" she asked sweetly.
Entreri climbed to his feet and moved for the open door. "None for me," he replied, moving past.
Dwahvel caught him by the arm-a dangerous move indeed! Fortunately for her, Entreri was too absorbed in his contemplation of Dondon to take affront.
"About our deal," the female halfling remarked. "I may have need of your services."
Entreri spent a long while considering those words, wondering why, for some reason, they so assaulted him. He had enough to think about already without having Dwahvel pressing her ridiculous needs upon him. "And what did you give to me in exchange for these services you so desire?" he asked.