Chapter 17 Chapter Thirteen The Hungry Goddess

The Fober advisors in Blingdenstone usually enjoy working out of town, but not today.The little dwarf was standing in a small stone chamber, but he thought it was too wide because he felt vulnerable.He circled the stones on the unusually smooth ground, with the back of his hands behind his back, he kept twisting his stubby fingers, and from time to time he raised his hand to touch his almost bald forehead, wiping away lines of sweat. There are a dozen passages leading into this cave, and Fobo felt a little relieved when he knew that there were two teams of Snebli warriors ready to rush out to support him at any time. Elemental Sorcerer's Stone.Although Phoebe knew the drow in Menzoberranzan, forty-five miles to the east, better than any of his fellow deep gnomes, he dared not let his guard down even with armed guards.The gnome advisor knew well that if the dark elves had set an ambush, all the gnomes in Blingdenstone plus all the magic might not be enough.

A familiar knocking sound came from the passage leading directly to the small hall, and Jarlaxle stalked into the hall a moment later.The maverick mercenary chief wears a wide-brimmed hat adorned with the feathers of a gigantic daisyma bird, and his muscular midriff is visible beneath his jacket.He strode up to the dwarf, looked around a few times, then took off his hat and bowed deeply, drawing an exaggerated arc with his hat. "Good day!" Jarlaxle stood up straight and greeted heartily. He rolled his hat around his elbow, and with a jerk of his arm, the hat bounced in the air and landed on the mercenary leader's bald head accurately.

"I'm in high spirits today, you." Fobo commented. "Why not?" Jarlaxle countered. "Another happy day in the Underdark! A day of fun!" Forb didn't seem to believe it, but it was like always.He was amazed by the master mercenary's command of deep gnome tongue.Jarlaxle spoke the language as easily and fluently as the natives of Blingdenstone, though the mercenary chief's sentence construction was more drow-like than the reversed sentences that most dwarves preferred to speak. "Many Snibli prospecting groups have been attacked by dark elves," Forb's tone became more and more accusatory. "The prospecting groups are mining in the west of Blingdenstone."

Jarlaxle smiled noncommittally, and spread his hands: "Maybe it came from the city of Ched Nassar?" He guessed innocently, referring to another drow city that is closest to here. "From Menzoberranzan!" Furber asserted.Ched Nassar was weeks away. "There is a dark elf who wears the crest of a certain house in Menzoberranzan." "The refugee group," Jarlaxle analyzed. "The young warriors are out to have some fun." Forbo's thin lips were tightly pressed into a line.Both he and Jarlaxle understood that the raiding drow were not just troublesome young boys.The attacks were perfectly coordinated and executed, and many gnomes were killed.

"What can I say?" Jarlaxle asked, pretending to be innocent. "I'm just a pawn following the crowd." Fobo snorted coldly. "Thank you for having faith in me," said the mercenary chief without his heart beating faster. "But really, my dear Forb, we should have done this long ago. I can't help it." "What's the matter?" Fobo asked.He and Jarlaxle had met twice in the last two months to discuss these conflicts, because of the increased drow activity around the subterranean city.Jarlaxle slyly dismissed each meeting as a matter of high stakes, but he never revealed anything to Fob.

"Do we have to be entangled in the same thing?" The mercenary chief asked impatiently, "Seriously, dear Ferb, I'm starting to get tired of your..." "We've got a drow," interrupted Furber, crossing his short, stocky arms in front of him, as if the news carried weight. Jarlaxle put on a disbelieving expression, and once again spread his hands: "And then?" "We believe this drow to be a Menzoberranzan," Fober continued. "A woman?" Jarlaxle saw that the dwarf in front of him looked so serious, and guessed that he must be referring to a high-ranking priest. The mercenary leader had never heard of a high-ranking priest missing (except, of course, Jeris Holba, and she's not really missing).

"A male," Fober replied.The mercenary leader looked suspicious again. "Execute him." Jarlaxle was realistic. Forb folded his arms tightly and began to tap his boots impatiently on the ground. "Fob, do you really think that a male drow can be a bargaining chip?" asked the mercenary leader, "You expect me to run back to Menzoberranzan to defend such a male? You expect the first family mistress Will order in his name to cease all operations here?" "Then there are actions that have been authorized here, you admit it!" The dwarf pointed at Jarlaxle and retorted, thinking that he had caught the mercenary leader's words.

"What I'm talking about is hypothetical," Jarlaxle corrected. "I'm just continuing your assumptions to make inferences that accurately reflect your purpose." "You don't know my purpose, Jarlaxle," Forb asserted.Jarlaxle could see, however, that the dwarf was growing increasingly anxious at the indifference of the mercenary chief.Jarlaxle always acted like he had nothing to do with him.Fober only met with the mercenary chief when the situation in Blingdenstone was life or death, and usually a meeting with him would cost a considerable amount of gems and other riches.

"Come out with your price," the dwarf continued. "My price?" "My city is in crisis," said Forb sharply, "and Jarlaxle knows why!" The mercenary leader didn't make any answer.He just backed away smiling. "Jarrlaxle also knows the name of the elf we captured." Fober continued, and it was his turn to play tricks.Although it was only for a short moment, it was the first time that the mercenary leader showed interest. Fober did not wish to proceed so deeply into the talks.It was not his purpose to show the identity of the "prisoner".Drizzt Do'Urden was, after all, a friend of Belvar Dissenger, head of the Honored Exploration Team.Drizzt had never been an enemy of Blingdenstone, and had even helped the swarms when he first passed through the city many years ago.Moreover, it is said that the drow ranger helped the deep gnomes again on the way home, allowing the gnomes to escape the attacks of his tribe.

However, Faber's first allegiance was to his people and his city.Telling Jarlaxle of Drizzt's name might save the gnomes from their current predicament, and perhaps shed some light on the important events that Jarlaxle kept hinting at.If so, then Fobo is willing to pay the price. Jarlaxle was silent for a long moment, calculating how to benefit from this suddenly intriguing conversation.He guessed that the captured drow was some male vagrant, perhaps a former member of the Dayet mercenaries who thought they had disappeared through the outer channels.Perhaps the gnomes have captured a noble from a high-ranking family, and that would be a nice trophy indeed.Jarlaxle's red eyes lit up, thinking of the benefits such a nobleman would gain if he joined the Dayet mercenaries.

"His name?" the mercenary leader asked. "You know his name, we all know it," replied Forb, feeling he had the upper hand (in negotiations with scheming mercenary chiefs, this is a rather rare occurrence). His vague answer revealed more information to Jarlaxle than expected.Few of the drow gnomes by the name of Blingdenstone were known, and Jarlaxle could easily track down most of those few.The mercenary leader's eyes suddenly widened, but he immediately regained his composure, and quickly turned his head to consider new possibilities. "Tell me what has happened," Phoebe demanded. "Why is the drow of Menzoberranzan approaching Blingdenstone? Tell me, so I'll give you his name!" "Tell me what you want," Jarlaxle sneered at him. "What happened? I told you to watch out for Ched Nassar, or those mischievous young boys, perhaps runaway students from the Academy. " Fo Bo jumped into a rage, swinging his fist like he wanted to rush over and beat up this unpredictable mercenary leader.He punched the air, only to see the mercenary leader blinking slyly, Fobo really had mixed feelings in his heart. "My dear Ferb," ​​Jarlaxle whispered, "seriously, we should not see each other unless there are more important matters to discuss. And, seriously, you and your guard should not Too far from home, especially in this dark time." Hearing the mercenary leader continue to hint that there was a terrible change, the little dwarf gasped unconsciously. It seemed that drow's increasingly frequent activities were related to a larger plan. Jarlaxle, however, with one hand across his chest and his chin on the other, seemed thoroughly amused by the whole thing.He was sure that Fobo didn't get any relevant news today, so he bowed slightly and turned away, kicking the stone floor with every step. After the dwarves left, the mercenary leader maintained such a relaxed look for a while, and then carefully gestured towards the passage behind him.What came out was a human being, but his eyes flashed the red color of thermal vision common in the Underdark, which was a gift from a high-ranking priest. "Do you find it interesting?" Jarlaxle asked in surface language. "What an eye-opener," Entreri replied. "It's only a small matter for you to find out the identity of the captured drow when we get back to the city." Jarlaxle looked at the assassin curiously, "Don't you know who he is?" "I know of no nobles missing," Entreri replied, studying the expression of the mercenary leader carefully, delaying his reply.Did he miss something? "Of course, their prisoner must be a nobleman, because his name is known not only to you, but also to the gnomes. Either a nobleman or an adventurous drow mercenary." "What if I told you that the drow in Blingdenstone wasn't a prisoner?" Jarlaxle prompted, a wry smile on his dark face. Entreri stared blankly at him, apparently not picking up on what the mercenary leader had said. "No wonder you don't know," Jarlaxle said after a pause, "you don't know the past, so you can't connect the information. Once upon a time there was a drow who left the city of Menzoberranzan, and The dwarves stayed for a while, but I didn't expect him to come back." "You're not implying that..." Entreri held his breath. "That's him," Jarlaxle replied, turning his gaze to the passage that Fober had left. "It seems that someone is throwing himself into the trap." Entreri didn't know what to think.Drizzt Do'Urden is back in the Underdark!What does this mean for plans to raid Mithril Hall?Will plans be shelved?Had Entreri been denied his last chance to see the surface world? "What are we going to do?" he asked the mercenary leader, with despair in his tone. "How?" Jarlaxle repeated, leaning back and laughing heartily. "What to do?" the drow asked again, as if the idea was ridiculous. "What to do? Let's sit down and watch a good show. Of course!" His reaction wasn't entirely unexpected by Entreri, and the assassin wasn't surprised when he thought about it for a moment.Jarlaxle is a man of mockery—which is why he thrives in the chaotic world of drow—and now this unexpected transformation is proof of that.For Jarlaxle, life is a game, to be enjoyed without any sense of logic or morality. There were times when Entreri understood the attitude, and sometimes he felt the same way, but not now.The poor and unfortunate Assassin weighed too heavily in the balance of Artemis Entreri's heart.Drizzt's presence so close to Menzoberranzan brought significant changes to the Assassin's future, which looked bleak. Jarlaxle laughed again, long and loud.Entreri stood solemnly still, gazing into the passageway to the subterranean gnome city, gazing inwardly at the face of his most hated enemy, and those purple eyes. ※※※※ Drizzt felt comfortable seeing familiar surroundings around him.He almost thought he was dreaming, because the small stone room was exactly as he remembered it, especially the hammock he was sleeping on. But Drizzt knew it wasn't a dream, because he had no sensation from the waist down, couldn't feel the ropes of the hammock in his bare feet, and didn't even feel the slightest tingle. "Are you awake?" came the question from another smaller room in the house.Drizzt was deeply moved by these words, because it was Snebli, a wonderful mixture of the melodiousness of the Elvish language and the crispness of the Dwarven language.Snebli came to Drizzt's mind, though he hadn't heard or spoken it for at least twenty years.Drizzt took a little effort to turn his head to look at the approaching head of the prospecting team. The drow's heart stopped for a few beats. Belwar looked older, but still looked strong.Finding his old friend Drizzt really sober, he happily tapped his "hands." Drizzt was pleased to see those hands, a masterpiece of metalwork set into the dwarf's arms.When Drizzt and Belwar met for the first time, it was Drizzt's own brother who cut off Belwar's hands.It was a battle between the snegwarts and a band of drow, and at first Drizzt was captured by Belwar.But Dinin soon came to the rescue of Drizzt, and the tables quickly turned. Dinin might have killed Belwar if it wasn't for Drizzt.But Drizzt wasn't sure there was any point in trying to save the dwarf's life either, since Dinin had already crippled Belwar.In the harsh Underdark, disabled creatures usually don't live very long. When Drizzt saw Belwar again, when he went to Blingdenstone as an exile from Menzoberranzan, he found that the deep gnomes did not abandon the wounded like the drow, but gave them Injured friend to help, carefully crafted suitable "hands" for his stump.On the right arm of the Honorable Captain (as Belwar is called by the deep gnomes) is a mithril hammer, beautifully carved with runes and images of powerful beings, including an earth elemental.The pickaxe on Belwar's left arm is no less impressive.This is a pair of powerful tools suitable for digging and fighting, and what is even stronger is the magic attached to these "hands" by the deep dwarf shaman.Drizzt had seen Belwar dig through hard rock as quickly as a mole through soft dirt. It's great to see Belwar still in such good spirits.He was Drizzt's first non-drow friend, the first true friend, besides Zaknafein. "Maga Kamala, elf." The dwarf chuckled as he walked past the hammock. "I thought you'd never wake up again." Maga Kamala, Drizzt echoed inwardly, "the stone is up there."That odd phrase, one that Drizzt hadn't heard in twenty years, sent his memory racing back to a peaceful time before, when he was a guest at Belwar's house in Blingdenstone. Disengaging from his personal thoughts, he noticed Belwar standing at his feet, observing his condition. "How do you feel?" Belwar asked. "I don't feel it." Drizzt replied. The dwarf nodded his bald head, and scratched his pickaxe on his big nose. "You were hit by Rage," he explained. Drizzt didn't continue the conversation, obviously not understanding what was going on. "Rage moment," Belwar said, walking to the closet.The pickaxe hooked the door and pulled it open, holding the contents in both hands and showing it to Drizzt. "Newly designed weapons," Belwar explained, "have only come into widespread use in recent years." Drizzt thought it was like a beaver's tail, with a handle at the narrow end and a sharp corner at the wide end, all smooth except for a notable jagged edge. "A moment of anger." Belwar held it up high.It fell from his unsteady grip and fell to the ground. Belwar shrugged, and patted his two mithril hands. "It's not bad, but I have my own weapon!" Belwar struck the hammer and pickaxe with each other for the second time. "Lucky you man, Drizzt Do'Urden," he went on, "Snebli, who fought that battle, recognized you as a friend." Drizzt snorted: At that time, he didn't think he was lucky. "He could have hit you with the spiked end," Belwar continued, "Smashing your back in two from it would have been!" "My back seems to have been smashed in two," Drizzt complained. "No, no," Jerva said, walking back to the other side of the hammock. "Just got hit." The dwarf's pickaxe poked hard at the sole of Drizzt's foot, and the drow flinched in pain. "Look, the feeling has returned," Belwar declared aloud, poking Drizzt again with a mischievous smile. "I'll get up and walk again, Prospector." The relieved drow continued the joke in a menacing tone. Belwar poked him again. "Just a moment!" he laughed, "you'll know what a tickle is soon!" It felt as if the old days were coming back, as if the weight that had weighed on Drizzt's shoulders had been temporarily lifted.It's good to see old friends again.The dwarf once set out with him on a long journey, and accompanied him into the wilderness of the Underdark just to be loyal to his friendship. He was captured by the terrible mind flayer with Drizzt, and fought and fled with Drizzt. out of that place. "It's a coincidence that you and my people met in the passage, and I happened to pass through that area," Drizzt said. "Fate is not so coincidental." Belva replied, the haze enveloping his cheerful expression just now. "The battles have become too frequent, at least once a week. Many Snebli are dead." Drizzt closed his purple eyes and chewed the unwelcome news. "Rose is hungry, so it is said." Belwar continued, "Fate is unfair to the dwarves in Blingdenstone. All of us are looking into why." Drizzt analyzed quickly, more convinced than ever that his return was the right one.It wasn't just that the drow were trying to catch him, there was more to it.Belwar's statement, which concluded that Rose was hungry and thirsty for blood, seemed to be right. Drizzt was prodded hard again, and the moment he opened his eyes, he saw the smiling prospector staring at him, and the cloud had cleared from the dwarf's face. "Enough talking about nasty things!" he announced. "We've got twenty years to tell, your story and mine!" He lowered his head and hooked one of Drizzt's boots, holding it up to look contemptuously. wearing soles. "You made it to the surface?" he asked sincerely, hopefully. The two friends spent the rest of the day exchanging stories, mostly Drizzt talking about how different worlds he'd been to.Belwar was breathless with laughter many times, but he also shared tears with his drow friends, grieving Wulfgar's loss. Drizzt knew then that he had found yet another dearest friend again.Belwar listened intently, paying attention to every word Drizzt said, allowing him to share the most personal moment in twenty years with a true friend who silently supported him. That night, after they finished their supper, Drizzt tried walking a few steps.Belwar had seen before how debilitating a well-wielded Rage could be, and had assured the elf that in a day or so he would be running across the rubble. The congratulations made the listeners feel mixed.Drizzt was of course very happy that he would recover soon, but he also hoped that this process could be longer, so that he could stay with Belwar for a while longer.Because Drizzt knew that when the body recovered.That's when he ended his travels and returned to Menzoberranzan to try to end the threat.