Perhaps in Entreri, Jarlaxle has found another partner in his private storm.
But Artemis Entreri, for all their similarities, is no Zaknafein.
The variance of method, and more importantly, of purpose, between Entreri and Jarlaxle will prove a constant tug between them, I expect—if it has not already torn them asunder and left one or both dead in the gutter.
Zaknafein, as Entreri, might have found despair, but he never lost his soul within it. He never surrendered to it.
That is a white flag Artemis Entreri long ago raised, and it is one not easily torn down.
— Drizzt Do'Urden
CHAPTER 1
LIFE AS USUAL?
It wasn't much of a door, actually, just a few planks thrown together and tied with frayed rope, old cloth, and vines. So when the ferocious dwarf hit it in full charge, it exploded into its component parts. Wood, rope, and vine went flying into the small cave, trailed by ribbons of cloth.
No fury summoned from the Nine Hells could have brought more tumult and chaos in the instants that followed. The dwarf, thick black hair flying wildly, long beard parted in the middle into two long braids flopping across his chest and shoulders, lunged at the poor goblins, twin morningstars spinning with deadly precision.
The dwarf veered for the largest group, a collection of four of the goblins. He barreled into their midst without heed for the crude weapons they brandished, blowing past their defenses, kicking, stomping, and smashing away with his devastating morningstars, their spiked metal heads whipping at the ends of adamantine chains.