“Voices in the shadows….” Arklem Greeth replied with a sly smile. “Let me tell you of our observant and little-seen allies.”

Kurth nodded and the lich spoke openly, only confirming that which Morik the Rogue, at Kensidan’s bidding, had already explained. The high captain did well to hide his consternation at the further unwelcome evidence of yet another powerful player in the tug-of-war that was Luskan, particularly a player with a reputation so vile and unpredictable. Not for the first time did High Captain Kurth question Kensidan’s judgment in helping to facilitate the Luskan disaster.

And not for the last time, either, he thought as Arklem Greeth told his dark tale of lacedon ghouls and murdered sailors.

“We act now or we lose Luskan,” Governor Deudermont announced to Robillard, Drizzt, Regis, and some of his other commanders almost as soon as Drizzt delivered the news of the melee in the streets. “We must calm them until the caravans arrive.”

“They will hear no reason,” said Drizzt.

“Simpletons,” Robillard muttered.

“They seek a focus for their frustrations,” said Deudermont. “They are hungry and frightened, and grieving. Every family has suffered great losses.”

“You overestimate the spontaneity of the moment,” Robillard warned. “They are being goaded…and supplied.”

“The high captains,” Deudermont replied, and the wizard shrugged at the obvious answer.

“Indeed,” the governor continued. “The four fools construct small empires within the city and posture now with swords.”

Drizzt glanced at the luncheon platters still set on the table, and the scraps of meat—of deep rothé meat—and he wondered if there was even more posturing going on than the infighting of the high captains. He kept his fears silent, though, as he had when they’d first surfaced at dinner the previous night. He had no idea who had opened the trade channels necessary to get deep rothé and Underdark mushrooms, or with whom that enterprising high captain might be trading, but there was chaos in Luskan, and Drizzt’s life experiences associated that state with one race in particular.

“We must act immediately,” Deudermont announced. He turned to Robillard. “Go to the Mirabarrans and bid them to reinforce and keep safe the Red Dragon Inn.”

“We’re leaving?” Regis asked.

“To Sea Sprite, I pray,” said Robillard.

“We need to cross the bridge,” Deudermont answered. “Our place now is in Luskan proper. The Mirabarrans can control the north bank. Our duty is to step into the middle of the fighting and force the competing high captains back to their respective domains.”

“One Ship is without her captain,” Drizzt reminded him.

“And there we will go,” Deudermont decided. “To Suljack’s palace, which I will declare as the temporary Governor’s Residence, and we will ally with his people in their time of need.”

“Before the vultures can tear the carcass of Ship Suljack to bits?” Regis asked.

“Precisely.”

“Sea Sprite would be a better choice,” said the wizard.

“Enough, Robillard! You weary me.”

“Luskan is already dead, Captain,” the wizard added. “You haven’t the courage to see it clearly.”

“The Mirabarrans?” Deudermont asked in a sharper tone, and Robillard bowed and said no more, leaving the room immediately and the Red Dragon soon after to enlist the men and dwarves of the Shield District.

“We will announce our presence in no uncertain terms,” Deudermont explained when the wizard was gone. “And will fight to protect any and all who need us. Through strength of resolve and sword we will hold Luskan together until the supplies arrive, and we will demand fealty to the city and not the Ship.”

It was obvious that he was thinking on his feet. “Call in the magistrates and all of the city guard,” he said, speaking as much to himself as to anyone else. “We will show them stakes. Now is the time for us to stand strong and resolute, the time to rally the city around us and force the high captains to acquiesce to the greater good.” He paused and looked directly at Drizzt, showing the drow his strength before squarely laying down the gauntlet.

“Or they will lose their standing,” he said. “We will dissolve the ship of any who will not swear fealty to the office of governor.”

“To you, you mean,” said Regis.

“No, to the office and to the city. They are bigger than any man who occupies the seat.”

“A bold statement,” said Drizzt. “Lose their standing?”

“They had their chance to show their value to Luskan throughout the long winter night,” Deudermont steadfastly replied. “Other than Suljack, to a one, they failed.”

The meeting adjourned on that grim note.

“’E’s on our side, what?” one of the soldiers formerly of Ship Suljack who had just signed on with Deudermont asked his companion when they exited the palace to join the fighting, only to spot Drizzt Do’Urden at work on a couple of Baram’s ruffians.

“Aye, and that’s why meself’s noddin’ yes to Deudermont,” said the other.

The first nodded back as they watched the drow in action. One of Baram’s boys took an awkward swing, apparently trying to cut the drow’s legs out from under him, but Drizzt nimbly jumped, snapping a kick in the man’s face as he came over.

The second thug came in hard with a straight thrust from the side, but the drow’s scimitars beat him to the mark. One blade crossed to easily drive the thug’s sword out wide, the other stabbed straight out, driving right against the man’s throat. Drizzt then swept his free blade back across in time to loop it over the other ruffian’s blade as it came up from its low position. A twist and flick of the drow’s wrist had that one flying free and the suddenly unarmed ruffian, like his friend who stood immobilized with a sharp tip against his throat, was caught.

“The fight is done for you,” Drizzt announced to the pair, and neither was in a position to disagree.

The two men rushed down the alley to join the drow, skidding to an abrupt stop as Drizzt turned a wary eye on them.

“We’re with Deudermont!” they yelled together.

“Just signed up,” one clarified.

“These two are fairly caught,” Drizzt explained, and turned to his prisoners. “I will have your words of honor that you are out of the fight, or I will spill your lifeblood here and now.”

Baram’s boys looked at each other helplessly, then offered undying oaths as Drizzt prodded with his blades.

“Take them to the eastern wing of the first floor,” Drizzt instructed the new Deudermont recruits. “No harm is to come to them.”

“But they’re with Baram!” one protested.

“Was them what killed Suljack!” said the other.

Drizzt silenced them with an even stare. “They’re caught. Their fight is ended. And when this foolishness is done, they will again become a part of Luskan, a city that has seen far too much death.”

“Oh yes, yes, Mister Regis, sir,” a voice interrupted, and all five at Drizzt’s encounter glanced to see Regis entering the far end of the alleyway. A pair of thugs—Taerl’s boys—trailed him stupidly, their eyes locked on a particularly fascinating ruby that Regis spun at the end of a chain.

“No more fightin’ for me,” said the other hypnotized fool.

Regis walked right by Drizzt and the others, offering a profound sigh at the inanity of it all.

“We win by preserving the heart and soul of Luskan,” Drizzt explained to the thoroughly confused new recruits. “Not by killing everyone who’s not now with our cause.” Drizzt nodded to the still-armed ruffian to drop his blade, and when he didn’t immediately respond, the drow prodded him again in the throat. His blade fell to the cobblestones. With his scimitars, Drizzt then guided the pair to the new recruits. “Take them to the eastern wing.”

“Prisoners,” one of the new recruits said, nodding.