A/N: Lo and behold - another chapter! Relatively on-time! (For me, anyways.) I feel a certain sense of pride in myself ...

For those of you who read the original "Broken", I hope you like the changes I made in this chapter - I know I do! A big shout-out must go to Iceheart Firesoul, who is currently thrilled because she could find no spelling or grammar mistakes! ((beams))

My lovely reviewers will be replied to at the bottom. (Warning - there are a lot.)

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The companions' stop at Luskan was going to be brief, much to the relief of Entreri – they planned only to stop to re-supply, and buy fresh horses – the ones they had been using up to that point would be returned to the dwarves by the merchant caravan. The five wisely decided to use the time they were left with to plan ahead for their looming confrontation with what seemed to be an entire clan of vampires – an unsavory conflict for most anyone to contemplate. Entreri, using his familiarity with the powerful street figures of Luskan as leverage, managed to procure, at a reasonable price, several maps covering the area about Blackford Road and the Crags. Though battered and worn, the maps were impressively thorough, considering that the bulk of the Crags were unexplored by all save orcs and goblins.

Drizzt was elected to bargain for goods with a local grocer, on the premise that his looks might unnerve the merchant enough to perhaps lower the price even more than he might normally. The ranger vainly protested this use of his dark heritage, but was unable to sway his growling and stubborn dwarven friend, who wished to conserve as much money as possible. The familiar and friendly argument, surprisingly, brought a smile to Wulfgar's face as he watched the ranger laughingly being poked and prodded down the path Bruenor had firmly set. Catti-brie, standing nearby, noticed, and was surprised to realize that perhaps this unexpected journey was helping Wulfgar more than anything they had done since his imprisonment. At any rate, she was relieved to see a smile on the barbarian's face, for she had been worried that his face would soon freeze in a disgruntled scowl.

As this exchange continued, Entreri wandered a bit away from his companions – he still found it difficult to think of them as such – looking through different stalls and vendors, searching for nothing in particular until he reached one particular booth. When he finally returned to the rest of the group, who were just closing their bargain with the shopkeeper – who did indeed look intimidated by Drizzt's unusual appearance, despite the small smile on the ranger's face – he bore in his hands a small jar filled with, of all things, pickles. The assassin coolly ignored the inquiring looks of his reluctant companions and tucked the jar into a small side-pocket of his traveling pack, in which resided a few coins and valuables.

Drizzt eyed the former assassin with undisguised interest a few moments longer than the rest as the others set off gamely to find a decent horse trader, Bruenor clapping him heartily on the back in admiration of his bargaining. Entreri, with almost every action he took, continued to affirm the drow's suspicions that he was not the assassin Drizzt had once thought he'd known. The ranger's face took on a troubled cast as he receded into his own thoughts.

By the time the companions had gathered all the necessary supplies and directions that they required, the sun had long since sunk beneath the horizon. Entreri wished to immediately press on, regardless of the hour, but Drizzt, surprisingly, was the one who held him back, reminding him that their adversaries were creatures, hunters, of the night, and would hold a great advantage over them if they set off during the hours of darkness. Reluctantly, Entreri found himself forced to agree with his former enemy's logic. Hunting a group of vampires in the middle of the night in unknown territory was not the most brilliant of ideas.

Of course, this forced decision left them with the dilemma of finding a place to stay for the night. They were none too sure about where exactly the town stood on the issue of Drizzt's heritage, and none of them, save for Entreri, who had not been there, had forgotten the last time Wulfgar had been to Luskan. While Wulfgar was now older and wiser, there was really no telling what could happen in a crowded bar, especially with the dark cloud that seemed to follow the barbarian everywhere these days.

However, this task proved easier than any of them might have initially expected, for it seemed as though Drizzt's fame as a ranger of Ten Towns had spread further than any suspected. The innkeeper of "The Dancing Yeti" was overjoyed to welcome the famous ranger and dwarven king to his establishment, and treated them all to some of his best beer for half-price.

Entreri supposed that the inn was pleasant enough, despite its rather unfortunate name, but his restlessness prevented him from really appreciating that fact. Now more than ever, he wanted to be moving onward, so close was he to finding his lost charge. It felt as though the hounds of hell were nipping at his heels, demanding that he move, run, it mattered not, so long as he did something to alleviate this nervous tension.

He tried to ignore this sensation, seating himself in a far corner from whence he could observe all his surroundings and still remain aloof. He noted the presence of his traveling companions, sitting in a close-knit group several tables away. The hardy dwarf was regaling a few nearby patrons with some tale of derring-do – Entreri watched dispassionately as the audience periodically gasped and applauded, absent-mindedly drumming a restless beat into the wooden table with his gloved fingers. The halfling and the human girl seemed to be enjoying the story, grinning and chipping in with pointers or objections of their own as the tale progressed. Drizzt merely toyed with his drink, smiling faintly at Bruenor once in a while as the dwarf emphasized some point or another with wide, frantic gestures, occasionally glancing up to his barbarian companion to voice some opinion or other, drawing rare smiles to the overcast man's face.

Entreri let out a short sigh as he shifted in his wooden chair, unable to still himself for more than a moment before beginning to fidget once more. "Enough," he muttered after another minute or two of this, finally admitting defeat. He rose to his feet and, cutting a quick line through the crowded main room of the inn, stepped out onto the streets of Luskan.

The streets were not nearly as busy as they had been mere hours ago – the sun had set long since, and the streetlamps seemed to create more shadows than they managed to dispel. The night belonged to the thieves and rogues of the city, and it took little effort for Entreri to manage to blend with the darkened streets and alleyways – he was still an assassin, after all, semi-retired or no.

He wandered for a good amount of time, allowing his feet to carry him where they would, avoiding those crowds of people still outside, mostly drunks and petty thieves. After a while, he looked upwards only to find himself in a small, dark alleyway that came to an abrupt end ten feet in front of his face. There were no beggars or purse-lifters frequenting the cramped corridor – it was empty save for Entreri, and a few broken crates tossed there by some negligent street-cleaner.

He stood there for well over a minute, staring pensively at the blank wall as though it could divulge to him all the secrets of the world, including those of his immortal enemies. He missed Aari more than he cared to admit – every time he turned his head, or rounded a street corner, he expected to see the errant youngling, grinning foolishly at something or other; and every time he encountered nothing but air. This nagging sensation was slowly driving him crazy, and only served to sharply jab at the leaden, sickening weight of worry that seemed to have settled permanently in his stomach.

Something sped, whistling, past his right ear; he barely registered it, his body already having lunged to one side, his subconscious having picked up what his waking mind had not. Lightning-fast, he halted his dodge no more than a few steps in, whirling about, sword and dagger drawn, towards the mouth of the alley, confronting – nothing.

Startled, he paused no more than a split-second before racing to the empty alley mouth, eyes scanning both directions as he stood, on the verge of battle-readiness, every sense alive and tingling. And yet, he could divine nothing – it seemed as though his unseen attacker had vanished without a trace. On a sudden thought, he adjusted his eyesight to see within the infrared spectrum – but the only lingering vestiges of body heat were his own.

Biting back a frustrated curse, Entreri considered giving chase regardless; but any and all thoughts of that sort were arrested when he glanced backwards down the alley once more and saw what had been thrown – a slender dagger, buried hilt-deep in the plaster-and-wood wall. Wrapped about its handle was a crumpled piece of paper. Frowning, Entreri strode to the rear of the alley and, grasping the offending dagger firmly in his hand, pulled it out of the wall with one swift yank. The weapon was simple, without ornamentation; but the moonlight glinted off the cold, cruel edges of the blade, leaving Entreri with no doubts that an attempt upon his life had just been made.

The assassin's nose twitched – and, suddenly, he became aware of a faint, foul scent wafting upwards through the cool night air; vaguely sweet, in a stomach-twisting way. His own stomach clenched painfully as he hurriedly untied the scrap of parchment from the dagger's hilt and, tucking the weapon into his belt, began to read the crabbed, pointed handwriting that was fast becoming all too familiar to him:

Artemis. We know where you are. Tell me, will you truly do this? Will you truly risk everything – your reputation, your health, your life – for the sake of this drow child? I can see the expression on your face – of course you will. You continue to surprise and delight me, my dear assassin.

I thought you might like to know something – the child stopped talking today. A relief more than not; his cries were most annoying. He has stopped calling for you.

Your time is running out. Tick-tock, Artemis. Tick-tock.

-R

Entreri could feel the blood draining from his face as a feeling of numbness spread rapidly across his body. His first reaction was that of incredulous disbelief – but this sensation was quickly buried under a wall of cold fury. He would not, could not, believe what his eyes were telling him. His hands, still clenching the note, were quivering, but he took no notice as his eyes scanned the words over and over again.

Aari … did not stop talking. Never. Not ever. It was something that, more often than not, drove Entreri crazy, but it was true. No one and nothing, not even the gods themselves, could quiet the chatty youngster. It was impossible, like saying that the sun had jumped down from the sky and was raiding a midwife's pastry jar. Entreri had watched Aari ceaselessly chattering away as they were running for their lives; when the youngling had fallen from a particularly high tree and broken his leg; when he'd caught a stubborn fever that had laid him up for over a week. Never once, when the drowling had been conscious, had he been quiet, had he heeded Entreri's constant demands for silence. Not once.

He stood rigidly in the center of the alley for a minute or so more, and then abruptly turned, striding quickly away, the scrap of parchment crumpled in his fist.

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Later, in the warmth of the Dancing Yeti, Drizzt and the others glanced upwards to see their unwilling companion marching across the room like a great, dark thundercloud. His bearing was rigid and tense, and his expression put the worst of Bruenor's glowers to shame. They watched, stunned, as he halted in front of their table and, leaning forwards slightly, dropped a crumpled scrap of paper in the midst of their plates.

"We leave before dawn," the assassin stated in a low, ominous voice that brooked no debate; a note of urgency broke through his cold mask, allowing the companions to glimpse how truly rattled he was. "No delays."

With that, he turned and stalked away towards his room, bringing the maps of the Crags along with him, leaving a stunned quintet behind him.

After a long, bewildered moment passed, Drizzt reached out and picked up the note from where it rested atop one of Regis' plates, gently un-crumpling the parchment. As he scanned the note, his violet eyes widened in shock, and, wordlessly, he immediately offered it to Catti-brie. Glancing at it, she immediately realized what had startled her friend.

"I know," she murmured to him quietly, passing the grimy note on to Regis. "Suren 'tis passin' strange."

"Indeed," the ranger agreed under his breath, thinking once more of the extraordinary line – "…for the sake of this drow child?..."

Shaking his head, Drizzt repeated to himself, "Passing strange, indeed."

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A/N: Review replies! Oh, fairest reviewers, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways ...

Shadir: ¡Dios Mio¡ Soy una estudiante de Español¡ Estoy muy contento que su quiere mi cuento! Lo siento si mi gramática es mal, porque no hablo español con nunca soltura. ¡Este es estupendo! Yo pienso que este es genial que un español (o una española) es leyendo mi cuento. ¡Muchas Gracias!

Surreptitious Chi X: ((cackles)) Well, I have been working on it! (In between reading your stories!) Though, I expect you are now sitting on even more pins and needles ... God, I'm evil aren't I? But the cackling makes it all worth it ... And I'm glad you like the way I use the flashbacks! Sometimes, I feel like I'm telling two stories at the same time - which, really, I am. Which is cool. Especially since I developed this technique in seventh grade, or thereabouts ...

Lessihannamoray: Yes, Aari is very enthusiastic, isn't he? It's part of his charm ... and part of his flaws. Yep. He's one hyper kid. Glad you thought Catti-brie's shock is appropriate - I mean, it's just so odd! Really! Even I think so!

Iceheart Firesoul: Absolutely. Aari definitely has someone watching out for him. Can't tell you who! ((evil cackles)) Hopefully, I managed to crack somewhat into Drizzt's skull this time ... I hope ...

MajinBakaHentai: Hmm. Yes, Aari's age is a subject of much debate, even with myself. I'm going by Drizzt's childhood in "Homeland", actually - but factoring in the fact that the good ranger led an intentionally sheltered life, whereas Aari was raised more-or-less as a human child. (Hint? What hint? ...) Also, he was on his own for a while before meeting up with Entreri. Children forced to fend for themselves tend to mature much more rapidly than usual, and I'm banking on the idea that, what with what upbringing is generally like on the surface, Aari would possess a great deal more maturity than most others of his race. He is still a child, and will remain so for quite some time - as is hopefully demonstrated by his often immature antics thus far. These, of course, are all guesses that have good chances of being wildly off the mark.

Lunatic Pandoral: Huh. Really? I was kinda going off Salvatore's novels, which suggest that, while drow have red eyes when using the infrared spectrum, in the visible light spectrum they have eyes of a more normal color. (In the light, for example, Drizzt's mother had green eyes. Fact.) I actually thought that dark blue wouldn't be all that bizarre - nothing so bizzarre as Drizzt's, which are unique because they are violet in both spectrums.

Feye Morgan: Hooray! I'm so glad you braved the badness that is "possible OOC Entreri"! I'm glad you don't think Entreri is sappy, or that Aari is annoying (well, to us, anyway ... he can annoy the hell out of Entreri at times). And, yeah, revamping can be hard, but this is actually going fairly smoothly. I'm just worried about when I no longer have my old files to act as guidelines and must forge out on my own into the wilderness of this tangled fic. Egads ... Anyways, THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU!

And, much thanks to DarkEcho-in-the-sky, Zila, Aislin, Tsuchi, Luma66, Kela Dell, and Victoria Wolf. I LOVE YOU GUYS ALL SO MUCH! ((tears))