Of all the traits I find important in those with whom I surround myself, the one that matters most to me is the value of that person’s word. Without that, there is no trust. Without trust, there is no chance at any true relationship. People who know me and see that I am friends with Jarlaxle might wonder about this, but the truth of Jarlaxle is that he has honor, that he would not coerce or lie or cheat on any matter of importance. He is a game player, and will bend the rules to his advantage more often than not, but he is not a malicious person and wouldn’t lie to his friends if he knew it would cause harm.
Take his effect on Artemis Entreri: It cannot be understated. Entreri was possessed of many of these same qualities, though they were buried beneath great pain and unrelenting anger, mostly self-loathing. He had honor, but only in that it allowed him to hurt others.
Jarlaxle coaxed him from that state.
So when these two—add Kimmuriel, as well—give me their word, I have learned that I can trust that word.
Many times I have heard someone labeled as a brilliant tactician in battle or in debate or in commerce, whether with armies or weapons or goods or words, only to see that person up close and then shake my head and sigh in resignation—a sigh that once would have been disgust, but now I know is in response to something so common that I cannot hold that deep disappointment. For as I see the workings of their words and tactics, what I see is not brilliance, but in fact nothing more than immorality. For too often with these very powerful individuals, their true gift is a curse: they are simply not bounded by decency, and their ruthlessness that so many praise is to the detriment of them and—most important—of those around them.
They are foul beyond the expectations of those they dupe.
Coercing a populace to get behind you by lying to them isn’t brilliant. Great orators playing an audience based on their predisposed beliefs—or, worse, fears—by making promises they know they cannot keep isn’t a sign of brilliance or intelligence. Nay, it’s merely a clear indication of a lack of ethics and character.
Cheating in a physical competition, as I learned most painfully in my years at the academy, doesn’t make you a better swordsman—in fact, the result might prove quite the opposite.
Selling someone a miracle cure or coaxing them into a transaction that is meant to simply take their gold doesn’t make you a titan of business in any moral universe. Sadly, though, in simple, practical terms, it often will make exactly that, a person who profits by sacrificing their character and inflicting pain on others in exchange, almost always, for excess.
This, too, is the battle for Menzoberranzan, a war for the commonwealth and the soul of my people. Lloth is lies and Lloth is terror, nothing more. But those indecent traits have brought her to unquestioning power in the houses of Menzoberranzan, and stripping her of that power may well prove impossible.
It is a try, though, that most of us have come to see as worth the fight and, perhaps, the inevitable sacrifice. It is a battle for what is right, a war that will resonate to all who survive it and to their children and descendants who come after.
We need not win and eliminate Lloth to open more eyes to the truth. Because if we can do that, then they will see.
And so, we shall see.
—Drizzt Do’Urden