"And she has made friends of convenience," Jarlaxle remarked, staring his associate right in the eye. "Who will turn on her, no doubt, at the slightest hint of betrayal."

Kimmuriel didn't deny it.

"This place is worth the trouble of Bregan D'aerthe," Jarlaxle went on. "There is much to be found here, such as the bloodstone, a mineral we cannot easily procure in the Underdark. With Knellict serving our… your cause, you will find easy access to it and other valuables."

"You have explained it all, many times."

Jarlaxle clapped Kimmuriel on the shoulder, and the stiff psionicist just stared at him with awkward curiosity. Kimmuriel did intend to use Calihye and Knellict to create a network in the Bloodstone Lands, but in truth it was more for the preservation of Jarlaxle's reputation than for any monetary gains or increase of power the psionicist expected to make. Jarlaxle's reputation couldn't withstand another disaster like the one in Calimport, so close on the heels of that debacle, Kimmuriel believed, and the last thing he wanted was for Bregan D'aerthe to turn away from Jarlaxle. For Jarlaxle would one day return to Menzoberranzan and resume his mantle of leadership. Bregan D'aerthe needed that in order to keep Matron Mother Triel Baenre at proper distance and in proper humor, and more than that, Kimmuriel needed it. His pursuits of the purely intellectual were not served well by the responsibilities of maintaining Jarlaxle's band. He longed for the day when Jarlaxle returned and he could turn his attention more fully to the illithids and the mysteries of their expansive mental powers.

And turn his attention away from the concerns of the mercenary band, and away from protecting the increasingly renegade Jarlaxle.

"I know that you doubt," Jarlaxle said, again as if reading his mind, which the psionicist knew to be impossible. Kimmuriel was far too mentally shielded for any such intrusions. "And I am glad that you do, for else who would force me to question my every twist and turn?"

"Your own common sense?"

Jarlaxle laughed aloud. "My vision is correct," he insisted.

"Menzoberranzan demands our attention at all times."

Jarlaxle nodded. "But the day will come when the contacts we—the contacts you secure on the surface will prove invaluable to the matron mothers."

"What do you know?"

"I know that the world is in flux," said Jarlaxle. "Entreri and I were attacked by a Netherese shade, and he made it quite clear that he was not alone. If the shadows fall across the World Above, the matron mothers will not wish to remain oblivious.

"Furthermore, my friend, there is growing here on the surface a following of Eilistraee. Drizzt Do'Urden is hardly unique among surface drow, and he is finding more acceptance among the surface dwellers."

"Your former House—"

"I was never of their House," Jarlaxle corrected.

"House Baenre," said Kimmuriel, "will not go against Drizzt again, nor would they find any followers if they so decided. There are even priestesses postulating that Drizzt is secretly in the favor of Lolth."

"They said the same of me after the failed sacrifice."

"The evidence was strong."

"And I have never bended knee for the spider bitch. Nor has Drizzt Do'Urden. I am certain that if he learned that he was in Lady Lolth's favor, it would torment him more than a festering wound ever could."

"More the reason for the goddess to so favor him, then."

Jarlaxle merely shrugged at the inescapable logic. Such was the irony of following a deity dedicated to chaos.

"But I do not speak of Drizzt in any case," said Jarlaxle. "I find it unlikely that the Spider Queen will tolerate the worshipers of Eilistraee much longer, and when that day of reckoning befalls the dancing fools, their judgment may well be served by the Houses of Menzoberranzan. Bregan D'aerthe will prove invaluable at that time, of course."

"Even if it is centuries hence."

"Patience has sustained me," said Jarlaxle. "And our endeavors will be profitable in the meantime. In human parlance, that is known as a win-win."

"Humans often think they are winning until the moment they are thrown through the glass window."

Jarlaxle surrendered with another laugh and with the full understanding, Kimmuriel knew, that Bregan D'aerthe would indeed exploit the contacts made here in this rugged land of Damara and Vaasa.

Kimmuriel looked past Jarlaxle to the open field and nodded, and the other drow turned around.

"Your dragons approach," said Kimmuriel.

Jarlaxle turned back to him and extended his hand. "Then farewell."

Kimmuriel didn't shake the hand, and so Jarlaxle moved it to his belt pouch to show his lieutenant that he was carrying the item, as they had agreed. Kimmuriel nodded at that, and one hand came out from under his dark robes, bearing a small coffer that held three small vials.

Jarlaxle's eyes gleamed when he viewed them. "I have opened his heart, and now I will open his mind," he said.

"For reasons that no sane drow could ever fathom."

"Sane is boring."

Kimmuriel snorted derisively as Jarlaxle took the potions. "His mother, his childhood… these are the questions that will open Entreri's mind to you," the psionicist said, and as he retracted the empty coffer, he brought forth his other hand from under the folds of his robes, bearing Idalia's flute.

"The residual memories lingering within the flute showed you this?" asked Jarlaxle.

"You asked me to inspect it, and so I did. You asked me for the potions, and so they are yours."

Jarlaxle, smiling widely, took the flute.

"And now we are gone, Jarlaxle," said Kimmuriel. "I'll not heed your call again until our next arranged meeting."

"A long time hence."

"Rightly so—I've grown far too weary of this blinding surface world, and spent not enough energy heeding the needs of Bregan D'aerthe in Menzoberranzan. It is a city of chaos and constant change, and my former master taught me well that Bregan D'aerthe must change with it, or before it, even."

"Your former master was brilliant, I am told."

"So he often says."

Jarlaxle had rarely laughed as much in the presence of the dry-witted psionicist. "I am certain that I will find the band well tended when I return to Menzoberranzan," he said.

"Of course. And when will that be?"

Jarlaxle glanced back toward Entreri, who stood with Athrogate before Ilnezhara and Tazmikella. "A human's lifetime, perhaps."

"Or the remainder of this one's?"

"Or that. But recall that he was infused with the stuff of shadow. It could be a longer time than you believe." He looked back at Kimmuriel and offered a wink. "But I will indeed return."

"Don't bring the dwarf."

Yet another burst of laughter escaped Jarlaxle's lips, and Kimmuriel tightened his expression even more. Jarlaxle seemed almost giddy to him, and it was not a sight he enjoyed.

"Why, Kimmuriel, you lack imagination!" Jarlaxle declared dramatically. "Do you not see that Athrogate would be a fine gift for my sister, whichever one rules House Baenre, when I return?"

Kimmuriel didn't smile at all, and at that, Jarlaxle only laughed even louder.

"Well, I ain't much for wizard teleportin'," Athrogate was grumbling when Jarlaxle joined the foursome at the boulder tumble in the small field. The dwarf blew a stray strand of black hair from his mouth and crossed his burly arms over his chest. For added effect, he stomped one foot, which set his morningstar heads bouncing at the ends of their respective chains, one over each shoulder as the weapons were crossed on his back. "Knew a halfling once joined a mage such. A skinny old wizard in need of a crutch. And his eyes weren't so good to the price o' their bones, for he shot a bit low and landed both in the stones! Bwahaha!"