But Drizzt got hit, and hard, instead, a flying tackle that flung him away from the beast and left him rolling in a tangle with another powerful creature.

He didn’t understand—it was all he could do to hold onto his scimitars, let alone try to bring them to bear.

But then the muddy ground beneath him became more solid, and a stinging light blinded him, and though his eyes could not adjust to see anything, he realized from another familiar growl that it was Guenhwyvar who had tackled him.

He heard a friendly voice, a welcomed voice, a cry of glee.

He got hit with another flying tackle almost as soon as he’d extricated himself from the jumble with Guen.

“How?” he asked Regis.

“I don’t know and I don’t care!” the halfling responded, hugging Drizzt all the tighter.

“Kurth is right,” High Captain Rethnor warned his son. “Underestimate Captain Deudermont…Governor Deudermont, at our peril. He is a man of actions, not words. You were never at sea, and so you don’t understand the horror that filled men’s eyes when the sails of Sea Sprite were spotted.”

“I have heard the tales, but this is not the sea,” Kensidan replied.

“You have it all figured out,” Rethnor said, his mocking tone unmistakable.

“I remain agile in my ability to adapt to whatever comes our way.”

“But for now?”

“For now, I allow Kurth to run rampant on Closeguard and Cutlass, and even in the market area. He and I will dominate the streets easily enough, with Suljack playing my fool.”

“Deudermont may disband Prisoner’s Carnival, but he will raise a strong militia to enforce the laws.”

“His laws,” Kensidan replied, “not Luskan’s.”

“They are one and the same now.”

“No, not yet, and not ever if we properly pressure the streets,” said Kensidan. “Turmoil is Deudermont’s enemy, and lack of order will eventually turn the people against him. If he pushes too hard, he will find all of Luskan against him, as Arklem Greeth realized.”

“It’s a fight you want?” Rethnor said after a contemplative pause.

“It’s a fight I insist upon,” his conniving son answered. “For now, Deudermont makes a fine target for the anger of others, while Ship Kurth and Ship Rethnor rule the streets. When the breaking point is reached, a second war will erupt in Luskan, and when it’s done…”

“A free port,” said Rethnor. “A sanctuary for…merchant ships.”

“With ready trade in exotic goods that will find their way to the homes of Waterdhavian lords and to the shops of Baldur’s Gate,” said Kensidan. “That alone will keep Waterdeep from organizing an invasion of the new Luskan, for the self-serving bastard nobles will not threaten their own playthings. We’ll have our port, our city, and all pretense of law and subservience to the lords of Waterdeep be damned.”

“Lofty goals,” said Rethnor.

“My father, I only seek to make you proud,” Kensidan said with such obvious sarcasm that old Rethnor could only laugh, and heartily.

“I’m not easy with this disembodied voice arriving in the darkness,” Deudermont said. “But pleased I am, beyond anything, to see you alive and well.”

“Well is a relative term,” the drow replied. “But I’m recovering—though if you ever happen to travel to the plane of my imprisonment, take care to avoid the mushrooms.”

Deudermont and Robillard laughed at that, as did Regis, who was standing at Drizzt’s side, both of them carrying their packs for the road.

“I have acquaintances on Luskan’s streets,” Drizzt reasoned. “Some not even of my knowing, but friends of a friend.”

“Wulfgar,” said Deudermont. “Perhaps it was that Morik character he ran beside—though he’s not supposed to be in Luskan, on pain of death.”

Drizzt shrugged. “Whatever good fortune brought Guenhwyvar’s statue to Regis, it’s good fortune I will accept.”

“True enough,” said the captain. “And now you are bound for Icewind Dale. Are you sure that you cannot stay the winter, for I’ve much to do, and your help would serve me well.”

“If we hurry, we can beat the snows to Ten-Towns,” said Drizzt.

“And you will return to Luskan in the spring?”

“We would be sorry friends indeed if we didn’t,” Regis answered.

“We will return,” Drizzt promised.

With handshakes and bows, the pair left Sea Sprite, which served as the governor’s palace until the devastation in the city could be sorted out and a new location, formerly the Red Dragon Inn on the northern bank of the Mirar, could be properly secured and readied.

The enormity of the rebuilding task ahead of Luskan was not lost on Drizzt and Regis as they walked through the city’s streets. Much of the place had been gutted by flames and so many had died, leaving one empty structure after another. Many of the larger homes and taverns had been confiscated by order of Governor Deudermont and set up as hospitals for the many, many wounded, or as often as not as morgues to hold the bodies until they could be properly identified and buried.

“The Luskar will do little through the winter, other than to try to find food and warmth,” Regis remarked as they passed a group of haggard women huddled in a doorway.

“It will be a long road,” Drizzt agreed.

“Was it worth the cost?” the halfling asked.

“We can’t yet know.”

“A lot of folk would disagree with you on that,” Regis remarked, nodding in the direction of the new graveyard north of the city.

“Arklem Greeth was intolerable,” Drizzt reminded his friend. “If the city can withstand the next few months, a year perhaps, with the rebuilding in the summer, then Deudermont will do well by them, do not doubt. He will call in every favor from every Waterdhavian lord, and goods and supplies will flow fast to Luskan.”

“Will it be enough, though?” Regis asked. “With so many of the healthy adults dead, how many of their families will even stay?”

Drizzt shrugged helplessly.

“Perhaps we should stay and help through the winter,” said Regis, but Drizzt was shaking his head.

“Not everyone in Luskan accepts me, Deudermont’s friend or not,” the drow replied. “We didn’t instigate their fight, but we helped the correct side win it. Now we must trust them to do what’s right—there’s little we can do here now. Besides, I want to see Wulfgar again, and Icewind Dale. Its been too long since I’ve looked upon my first true home.”

“But Luskan…” Regis started.

Drizzt interrupted with an upraised hand.

“Was it really worth it?” Regis pressed anyway.

“I have no answers, nor do you.”

They passed out of the city’s northern gate then, to the halfhearted cheers of the few guardsmen along the wall and towers.

“Maybe we could get them all to march to Longsaddle next,” Regis remarked, and Drizzt laughed, almost as helplessly as he had shrugged.