The Halfling’s Gem by R. A. Salvatore Page A

consequences.”
    Regis cocked his head to study the man’s every movement. “Here it comes,” he whispered under his breath.
    “Of course there are consequences, little fool. I commend your attempt—I hope you will give me more excitement on this tedious journey! But I cannot belay punishment. Doing so would take the dare, and thus the excitement, out of your trickery.”
    He slipped up from his seat and started around the table. Regis sublimated his scream and closed his eyes; he knew that he had no escape.
    The last thing he saw was the jeweled dagger turning over slowly in the assassin’s hand.

    They made the River Chionthar the next afternoon and bucked the currents with a strong sea breeze filling their sails. By nightfall, the upper tiers of the city of Baldur’s Gate lined the eastern horizon, and when the last hints of daylight disappeared from the sky, the lights of the great port marked their course as a beacon. But the city did not allow access to the docks after sunset, and the ship dropped anchor a half-mile out.
    Regis, finding sleep impossible, heard Entreri stir much later that night. The halfling shut his eyes tightly and forced himself into a rhythm of slow, heavy breathing. He had no idea of Entreri’s intent, but whatever the assassin was about, Regisdidn’t want him even suspecting that he was awake.
    Entreri didn’t give him a second thought. As silent as a cat—as silent as death—the assassin slipped through the cabin door. Twenty-five crewmen manned the ship, but after the long day’s sail, and with Baldur’s Gate awaiting the first light of dawn, only four of them would likely be awake.
    The assassin slipped through the crew’s barracks, following the light of a single candle at the rear of the ship. In the galley, the cook busily prepared the morning’s breakfast of thick soup in a huge cauldron. Singing as he always did when he was at work, the cook paid no attention to his surroundings. But even if he had been quiet and alert, he probably would not have heard the slight footfalls behind him.
    He died with his face in the soup.
    Entreri moved back through the barracks, where twenty more died without a sound. Then he went up to the deck.
    The moon hung full in the sky that night, but even a sliver of a shadow was sufficient for the skilled assassin, and Entreri knew well the routines of the watch. He had spent many nights studying the movements of the lookouts, preparing himself, as always, for the worst possible scenario. Timing the steps of the two watchmen on deck, he slithered up the mainmast, his jeweled dagger in his teeth.
    An easy spring of his taut muscles brought him into the crow’s nest.
    Then there were two.
    Back down on deck, Entreri moved calmly and openly to the rail. “A ship!” he called, pointing into the gloom. “Closing on us!”
    Instinctively the two remaining watchmen rushed to the assassin’s side and strained their eyes to see the peril in the dark —until the flash of a dagger told them of the deception.
    Only the captain remained.
    Entreri could easily have picked the lock on his cabin door and killed the man in his sleep, but the assassin wanted a more dramatic ending to his work; he wanted the captain to fully understand the doom that had befallen his ship that night. Entreri moved to the door, which opened onto the deck, and took out his tools and a length of fine wire.
    A few minutes later, he was back at his own cabin, rousing Regis. “One sound, and I’ll take your tongue,” he warned the halfling.
    Regis now understood what was happening. If the crew got to the docks at Baldur’s Gate, they would no doubt spread the rumors of the deadly killer and his “diseased” friend, making Entreri’s search for passage south impossible to fulfill.
    The assassin wouldn’t allow that at any cost, and Regis could not help but feel responsible for the carnage that night.
    He moved quietly, helplessly, beside Entreri through the barracks, noting the