
                        Part 1 
                       Station 

  Station:In all the world of the draw, there is no more im-
portant word. It is the calling of their-of our- religion, the
incessant pulling of hungering heartstrings. Ambition over-
rides good sense and compassion is thrown away in its face,
all in the name of Lloth, the Spider Queen.

  Ascension to power in draw society is a simple process of
assassination. The Spider Queen is a deity of chaos, and she
and her high priestesses, the true rulers of the drow world,
do not look with ill favor upon ambitious individuals wield-
ing poisoned daggers.

  Of course, there are rules of behavior; every society must
boast of these. 1b openly commit murder or wage war in-
vites the pretense of justice, and penalties exacted in the
name of drow justice are merciless. To stick a dagger in the
back of a rival during the chaos of a larger battle or in the
quiet shadows of an alley, howeveI, is quite acceptable-
even applauded. Investigation is not the forte of drow jus-
tice. No one cares enough to bother

  Station is the way of Lloth, the ambition she bestows to
further the chaos, to keep her drow "children" along their
appointed course of self-imprisonment. Children? Pawns,
more likely, dancing dolls for the Spider Queen, puppets on
the imperceptible but impervious strands of her web. All
climb the Spider Queen's ladders; all hunt for her pleasure;
and all fall to the hunters of her pleasure.

  Station is the paradox of the world of my people, the limi-
tation of our power within the hunger for power. It is
gained through treachery and invites treachery against
those who gain it. Those most powerful in Menzoberranzan
spend their days watching over their shoulders, defending
against the daggers that would find their backs.
 
  Their deaths usually come from the front.

                 -Drizzt Do'Urden



                        Part 1
                       Chapter 1
                    Menzoberranzan


  To a surface dweller, he might have passed undetected
only a foot away. The padded footfalls of his lizard mount
were too light to be heard, and the pliable and perfectly
crafted mesh armor that both rider and mount wore bent
and creased with their movements as well as if the suits had
grown over their skin.

  Dinin's lizard trotted along in an easy but swift gait, float-
ing over the broken floor, up the walls, and even across the
long tunnel's ceiling. Subterranean lizards, with their sticky
and soft three-toed feet, were preferred mounts for just
this ability to scale stone as easily as a spider. Crossing hard
ground left no damning tracks in the lighted surface world,
but nearly all of the creatures of the Underdark possessed
infravision, the ability to see in the infrared spectrum. Foot-
falls left heat residue that could easily be tracked if they fol-
lowed a predictable course along a corridor's floor.

  Dinin clamped tight to his saddle as the lizard plodded
along a stretch of the ceiling, then sprang out in a twisting
descent to a point farther along the wall. Dinin did not want
to be tracked.

  He had no light to guide him, but he needed none. He was
a dark elf, a drow, an ebon-skinned cousin of those sylvan
folk who danced under the stars on the world's surface. 1b
Dinin's superior eyes, which translated subtle variations of
heat into vivid and colorful images, the Underdark was far
from a lightless place. Colors all across the spectrum
swirled before him in the stone of the walls and the floor,
heated by some distant fissure or hot stream. The heat of
living things was the most distinctive, letting the dark elf 
view his enemies in details as intricate as any surface.
dweller would find in brilliant daylight.

  Normally Dinin would not have left the city alone; the
world of the Underdark was too dangerous for solo treks,
even for a drow elf. This day was different, though. Dinin
had to be certain that no unfriendly drow eyes marked his
passage.

  A soft blue magical glow beyond a sculpted archway told
the drow that he neared the city's entrance, and he slowed 
the lizard's pace accordingly. Few used this narrow tunnel,
which opened into Tier Breche, the northern section of
Menzoberranzan devoted to the Academy, and none but the
mistresses and masters, the instructors of the Academy,
could pass through here without attracting suspicion.

  Dinin was always nervous when he came to this point. Of
the hundred tunnels that opened off the main cavern of
Menzoberranzan, this one was the best guarded. Beyond
the archway, twin statues of gigantic spiders sat in quiet de-
fense. If an enemy crossed through, the spiders would ani-
mate and attack, and alarms would be sounded all
throughout the Academy.

  Dinin dismounted, leaving his lizard clinging comfortably
to a wall at his chest level. He reached under the collar of his
piwafwi, his magical, shielding cloak, and took out his neck.
purse. From this Dinin produced the insignia of House
Do'Urden, a spider wielding various weapons in each of its
eight legs and emblazoned with the letters "DN;' for Daer.
mon N'a'shezbaernon, the ancient and formal name of
House Do'Urden.

  "You will await my return;' Dinin whispered to the lizard
as he waved the insignia before it. As with all the drow
houses, the insignia of House Do'Urden held several magical
dweomers, one of which gave family members absolute
control over the house pets. The lizard would obey unfail-
ingly, holding its position as though it were rooted to the
stone, even if a scurry rat, its favorite morsel, napped a few:
feet from its maw.

  Dinin took a deep breath and gingerly stepped to the arch-
way. He could see the spiders leering down at him from
their fifteen-foot height. He was a drow of the city, not an
enemy, and could pass through any other tunnel uncon-
cerned, but the Academy was an unpredictable place; Dinin
had heard that the spiders often refused entry-viciously-
even to uninvited drow.

  He could not be delayed by fears and possibilities, Dinin
reminded himself. His business was of the utmost impor-
tance to his family's battle plans. Looking straight ahead,
away from the towering spiders, he strode between them
and onto the floor of Tier Breche.

  He moved to the side and paused, first to be certain that
no one lurked nearby, and then to admire the sweeping
view of Menzoberranzan. No one, drow or otherwise, had
ever looked out from this spot without a sense of wonder at
the drow city. Tier Breche was the highest point on the floor
of the two-mile cavern, affording a panoramic view to the
rest of Menzoberranzan. The cubby of the Academy wa&
narrow, holding only the three structures that comprised'
the drow school: Arach- Tinilith, the spider-shaped school of
Lloth; Sorcere, the gracefully curving, many-spired tower
of wizardry; and Melee-Magthere, the somewhat plain py.
ramidal structure where male fighters learned their trade.
Beyond Tier Breche, through the ornate stalagmite
columns that marked the entrance to the Academy, the ca-
vern dropped away quickly and spread wide, going far be-
yond Dinin's line of vision to either -side and farther back
than his keen eyes could possibly see. The colors of Menzo-
berranzan were threefold to the sensitive eyes of the drow.
Heat patterns from various fissures and hot springs swirled
about the entire cavern. Purple and red, bright yellow and
subtle blue, crossed and merged, climbed the walls and
stalagmite mounds, or ran off singularly in cutting lines
against the backdrop of dim gray stone. More confined than
these generalized and natural gradations of color in the in-
frared spectrum were the regions of intense magic, like the
spiders Dinin had walked between, virtually glowing with
energy. Finally there were the actual lights of the city, faerie
fire and highlighted sculptures on the houses. The drow
were proud of the beauty of their designs, and especially or-
nate columns or perfectly crafted gargoyles were almost al-
ways limned in permanent magical lights.

  Even from this distance Dinin could make out House
Baenre, First House of Menzoberranzan. It encompassed
twenty stalagmite pillars and half again that number of gi-
gantic stalactites. House Baenre had existed for five thou-
sand years, since the founding of Menzoberranzan, and in
that time the work to perfect the house's art had never
ceased. Practically every inch of the immense structure
glowed in faerie fire, blue at the outlying towers and bril-
liant purple at the huge central dome.

  The sharp light of candles, foreign to the Underdark,
glared through some of the windows of the distant houses.
Only clerics or wizards would light the fires, Dinin knew, as
necessary pains in their world of scrolls and parchments.

  This was Menzoberranzan, the city of drow. Threnty
thousand dark elves lived there, twenty thousand soldiers
in the army of evil.

  A wicked smile spread across Dinin's thin lips when he
thought of some of those soldiers who would fall this night.

  Dinin studied Narbondel, the huge central pillar that
served as the timeclock of Menzoberranzan. N arbondel was,
the only way the drow had to mark the passage of time in a
world that otherwise knew no days and no seasons. At the
end of each day, the city's appointed Archmage cast his mag-
ical fires into the base of the stone pillar. There the spell lin-
gered throughout the cycle-a full day on the surface-and
gradually spread its warmth up the structure of Narbondel
until the whole of it glowed red in the infrared spectrum.
The pillar was fully dark now, cooled since the dweomer's
fires had expired. The wizard was even now at the base,
Dinin reasoned, ready to begin the cycle anew.

  It was midnight, the appointed hour.

  Dinin moved away from the spiders and the tunnel exit
and crept along the side of Tier Breche, seeking the
"shadows" of heat patterns in the wall, which would effec-
tively hide the distinct outline of his own body tempera-
tures. He came at last to Sorcere, the school of wizardry,
and slipped into the narrow alley between the tower's curv-
ing base and Tier Breche's outer wall.

  "Student or master?" came the expected whisper.

  "Only a master may walk out-of. house in Tier Breche in
the black death of Narbondel;' Dinin responded.

  A heavily robed figure moved around the arc of the struc.
ture to stand before Dinin. The stranger remained in the
customary posture of a master of the drow Academy, his
arms out before him and bent at the elbows, his hands tight
together, one on top of the other in front of his chest.

  That pose was the only thing about this one that seemed
normal to Dinin. "Greetings, Faceless One;' he signaled in
the silent hand code of the drow, a language as detailed as
the spoken word. The quiver of Dinin's hands belied his
calm face, though, for the sight of this wizard put him as far
on the edge of his nerves as he had ever been.

  "Secondboy Do'Urden;' the wizard replied in the gestured
code. "Have you my payment?"

  "You will be compensated;' Dinin signaled pointedly, re-
gaining his composure in the first swelling bubbles of his
temper. "Do you dare to doubt the promise of Malice Do'Ur-
den, Matron Mother of Daermon N'a'shezbaernon, Tenth
House of Menzoberranzan?"

  The Faceless One slumped back, knowing he had erred.

  "My apologies, Secondboy of House Do'Urden;' he an-
swered, dropping to one knee in a gesture of surrender.
Since he had entered this conspiracy, the wizard had feared
that his impatience might cost him his life. He had been
caught in the violent throes of one of his own magical exper-
iments, the tragedy melting away all of his facial features
and leaving behind a blank hot spot of white and green goo.
Matron Malice Do'Urden, reputedly as skilled as anyone in
all the vast city in mixing potions and salves, had offered
him a sliver of hope that he could not pass by.

  No pity found its way into Dinin's callous heart, but House
Do'Urden needed the wizard. "You will get your salve;'
Dinin promised calmly, "when Alton DeVir is dead:'

  "Of course;' the wizard agreed. "This night?"

  Dinin crossed his arms and considered the question. Ma-
tron Malice had instructed him that Alton DeVir should die
even as their families' battle commenced. That scenario
now seemed too clean, too easy, to Dinin. The Faceless One
did not miss the sparkle that suddenly brightened the scar-
let glow in the young Do'Urden's heat-sensing eyes.

  "Wait for Narbondel's light to approach its zenith;' Dinin
replied, his hands working through the signals excitedly
and his grimace seeming more of a twisted grin.

  "Should the doomed boy know of his house's fate before
he dies?" the wizard asked, guessing the wicked intentions
behind Dinin's instructions.

  "As the killing blow falls;' answered Dinin. "Let Alton
DeVir die without hope:'

  Dinin retrieved his mount and sped off down the empty
corridors, finding an intersecting route that would take him
in through a different entrance to the city proper. He came
in along the eastern end of the great cavern, Menzoberran-
zan's produce section, where no drow families would see
that he had been outside the city limits and where only a
few unremarkable stalagmite pillars rose up from the flat
stone. Dinin spurred his mount along the banks of Donigar-
ten, the city's small pond with its moss-covered island that
housed a fair-sized herd of cattlelike creatures called rothe.
A hundred goblins and orcs looked up from their herding
and fishing duties to mark the drow soldier's swift passage.
Knowing their restrictions as slaves, they took care not to
look Dinin in the eye.

  Dinin would have paid them no heed anyway. He was too
consumed by the urgency of the moment. He kicked his liz-
ard to even greater speeds when he again was on the flat
and curving avenues between the glowing drow castles. He
moved toward the south-central region of the city, toward
the grove of giant mushrooms that marked the section of
the finest houses in Menzoberranzan.

  As he came around one blind turn, he nearly ran over a
group of four wandering bugbears. The giant hairy goblin
things paused a moment to consider the drow, then moved
slowly but purposefully out of his way.

  The bugbears recognized him as a member of House
Do'Urden, Dinin knew. He was a noble, a son of a high
priestess, and his surname, Do'Urden, was the name of his
house. Of the twenty thousand dark elves in Menzoberran-
zan, only a thousand or so were nobles, actually the chil.
dren of the sixty-seven recognized families of the city. The
rest were common soldiers.

  Bugbears were not stupid creatures. They knew a noble
from a commoner, and though drow elves did not carry
their family insignia in plain view, the pointed and tailed cut
of Dinin's stark white hair and the distinctive pattern of
purple and red lines in his black piwafwi told them well
enough who he was.

  The mission's urgency pressed upon Dinin, but he could
not ignore the bugbears' slight. How fast would they have
scampered away if he had been a member of House Baenre
or one of the other seven ruling houses? he wondered.

  "You will learn respect of House Do'Urden soon enough!"
the dark elf whispered under his breath, as he turned and
charged his lizard at the group. The bugbears broke into a
run, turning down an alley strewn with stones and debris.

  Dinin found his satisfaction by calling on the innate
powers of his race. He summoned a globe of darkness-
impervious to both infra vision and normal sight-in the
fleeing creatures' path. He supposed that it was unwise to
call such attention to himself, but a moment later, when he
heard crashing and sputtered curses as the bugbears stum-
bled blindly over the stones, he felt it was worth the risk.

  His anger sated, he moved off again, picking a more care-
ful route through the heat shadows. As a member of the
tenth house of the city, Dinin could go as he pleased within
the giant cavern without question, but Matron Malice had
made it clear that no one connected to House Do'Urden was
to be caught anywhere near the mushroom grove.

  Matron Malice, Dinin's mother, was not to be crossed, but
it was only a rule, after all. In Menzoberranzan, one rule
took precedence over all of the petty others: Don't get
caught.

  At the mushroom grove's southern end, the impetuous
drow found what he was looking for: a cluster of five huge
floor-to-ceiling pillars that were hollowed into a network of
chambers and connected with metal and stone parapets
and bridges. Red-glowing gargoyles, the standard of the
house, glared down from a hundred perches like silent sen-
tries. This was House DeVir, Fourth House of Menzoberran-
zan.

  A stockade of tall mushrooms ringed the place, every fifth
one a shrieker, a sentient fungus named (and favored as
guardians) for the shrill cries of alarm it emitted whenever
a living being passed it by. Dinin kept a cautious distance,
not wanting to set off one of the shriekers and knowing also
that other, more deadly wards protected the fortress. Ma-
tron Malice would see to those.

  An expectant hush permeated the air of this city section.
It was general knowledge throughout Menzoberranzan
that Matron Ginafae of House DeVir had fallen out of favor
with Uoth, the Spider Queen deity to all drow and the true
source of every house's strength. Such circumstances were
never openly discussed among the drow, but everyone who
knew fully expected that some family lower in the city hier-
archy soon would strike out against the crippled House
DeVir.

  Matron Ginafae and her family had been the last to learn
of the Spider Queen's displeasure-ever was that Lloth's de-
vious way-and Dinin could tell just by scanning the outside
of House DeVir that the doomed family had not found am-
ple time to erect proper defenses. DeVir sported nearly
four hundred soldiers, many female, but those that Dinin
could now see at their posts along the parapets seemed ner-
vous and unsure.

  Dinin's smile spread even wider when he thought of his
own house, which grew in power daily under the cunning
guidance of Matron Malice. With all three of his sisters rap-
idly approaching the status of high priestess, his brother an
accomplished wizard, and his uncle Zaknafein, the finest
weapon master in all of Menzoberranzan, busily training
the three hundred soldiers, House Do'Urden was a com-
plete force. And, Matron Malice, unlike Ginafae, was in the
Spider Queen's full favor.

  "Daermon N'a'shezbaernon," Dinin muttered under his
breath, using the formal and ancestral reference to House
Do'Urden. "Ninth House of Menzoberranzan!" He liked the
sound of it.

  Halfway across the city, beyond the silver-glowing bal-
cony and the arched doorway twenty feet up the cavern's
west wall, sat the principals of House Do'Urden, gathered to
outline the final plans of the night's work. On the raised dais
at the back of the small audience chamber sat venerable Ma-
tron Malice, her belly swollen in the final hours of preg-
nancy. Flanking her in their places of honor were her three
daughters, Maya, Vierna, and the eldest, Briza, a newly or-
dained high priestess of Lloth. Maya and Vierna appeared
as younger versions of their mother, slender and decep-
tively small, though possessing great strength. Briza,
though, hardly carried the family resemblance. She was
big-l:tuge by drow standards-and rounded in the shoul-
ders and hips. Those who knew Briza well figured that her
size was merely a circumstance of her temperament; a
smaller body could not have contained the anger and brutal
streak of House Do'Urden's newest high priestess.

  "Dinin should return soon:' remarked Rizzen, the present
patron of the family, "to let us know if the time is right for
the assault."

  "We go before Narbondel finds its morning glow!" Briza
snapped at him in her thick but razor-sharp voice. She
turned a crooked smile to her mother, seeking approval for
putting the male in his place.

  "The child comes this night;' Matron Malice explained to
her anxious husband. "We go no matter what news Dinin
bears."

  "It will be a boy child;' groaned Briza, making no effort to
hide her disappointment, "third living son of House Do'Or-
den."

  "To be sacrificed to Lloth;' put in Zaknafein, a former pa.
tron of the house who now held the important position of
weapon master. The skilled drow fighter seelJled quite
pleased at the thought of sacrifice, as did Nalfein, the fami-
ly's eldest son, who stood at Zak's side. Nalfein was the
elderboy, and he needed no more competition beyond Dinin
within the ranks of House Do'Orden. 

  "In accord with custom:' Briza glowered and the red of '"
her eyes brightened. "Th aid in our victory!"
Rizzen shifted uncomfortably. "Matron Malice;' he dared
to speak, "you know well the difficulties of birthing. Might
the pain distract you-"

  "You dare to question the matron mother?" Briza started
sharply, reaching for the snake-headed whip so comfort-
ably strapped-and writhing-on her belt. Matron Malice
stopped her with an outstretched hand.

  "Attend to the fighting;' the matron said to Rizzen. "Let
the females of the house see to the important matters of this
battle."

  Rizzen shifted again and dropped his gaze.

  Dinin came to the magically wrought fence that con-.
nected the keep within the city's west wall with the two
small stalagmite towers of House Do'Orden, and which
formed the courtyard to the compound. The fence was ada-
mantite, the hardest metal in all the world, and adorning it
were a hundred weapon-wielding spider carvings, each en.
sorcelled with deadly glyphs and wards. The mighty gate of
House Do'Orden was the envy of many a drow house, but so
soon after viewing the spectacular houses in the mushroom
grove, Dinin could only find disappointment when looking
upon his own abode. The compound was plain and some-
what bare, as was the section of wall, with the notable ex-
ception of the mithril-and-adamantite balcony running
along the second level, by the arched doorway reserved for
the nobility of the family. Each baluster of that balcony
sported a thousand carvings, all of which blended into a sin-
gle piece of art.

  House Do'Urden, unlike the great majority of the houses
if} Menzoberranzan, did not stand free within groves of sta-
lactites and stalagmites. The bulk of the structure was
within a cave, and while this setup was indisputably defen-
sible, Dinin found himself wishing that his family could
show a bit more grandeur.

  An excited soldier rushed to open the gate for the return-
ing secondboy. Dinin swept past him without so much as a
word of greeting and moved across the courtyard, con-
scious of the hundred and more curious glances that fell
upon him. The soldiers and slaves knew that Dinin's mission
this night had something to do with the anticipated battle.

  No stairway led to the silvery balcony of House Do'Ur-
den's second level. This, too, was a precautionary measure
designed to segregate the leaders of the house from the rab-
ble and the slaves. Drow nobles needed no stairs; another
manifestation of their innate magical abilities allowed them
the power of levitation. With hardly a conscious thought to
the act, Dinin drifted easily through the air and dropped
onto the balcony.

  He rushed through the archway and down the house's
main central corridor, which was dimly lit in the soft hues of
faerie fire, allowing for sight in the normal light spectrum
but not bright enough to defeat the use of infra vision. The
ornate brass door at the corridor's end marked the second-
boy's destination, and he paused before it to allow his eyes
to shift back to the infrared spectrum. Unlike the corridor,
the room beyond the door had no light source. It was the au-
dience hall of the high priestesses, the anteroom to House
Do'Urden's grand chapel. The drow clerical rooms, in ac-
cord with the dark rites of the Spider Queen, were not
places of light.

  When he felt he was prepared, Dinin pushed straight
through the door, shoving past the two shocked female
guards without hesitation and moving boldly to stand be-
fore his mother. All three of the family daughters narrowed
their eyes at their brash and pretentious brother. 1b enter
without permission! he knew they were thinking. Would
that it was he who was to be sacrificed this night!

  As much as he enjoyed testing the limitations of his infe-
rior station as a male, Dinin could not ignore the threaten-
ing glances of Vierna, Maya, and Briza. Being female, they
were bigger and stronger than Dinin and had trained all of
their lives in the use of wicked drow clerical powers and
weapons. Dinin watched as enchanted extensions of the
clerics, the dreaded snake-headed whips on his sisters'
belts; began writhing in anticipation of the punishment they
would exact. The handles were adamantite and ordinary
enough, but the whips' lengths and multiple heads were liv-
ing serpents. Briza's whip, in particular, a wicked six-
headed device, danced and squirmed, tying itself into knots
around the belt that held it. Briza was always the quickest to
punish.

  Matron Malice, however, seemed pleased by Dinin's swag-
ger. The secondboy knew his place well enough by her mea-
sure and he followed her commands fearlessly and without
question.

  Dinin took comfort in the calmness of his mother's face,
quite the opposite of the shining white-hot faces of his three
sisters. "All is ready;' he said to her. "House DeVir huddles
within its fence-except for Alton, of course, foolishly at-
tending his studies in Sorcere."

  "You have met with the Faceless One?" Matron Malice
asked.

  "The Academy was quiet this night;' Dinin replied. "Our
meeting went off perfectly."

  "He has agreed to our contract?"

  "Alton DeVir will be dealt with accordingly," Dinin chuck-
led. He then remembered the slight alteration he had made
in Matron Malice's plans, delaying Alton's execution for the
sake of his own lust for added cruelty. Dinin's thought
evoked another recollection as well: high priestesses of
Lloth had an unnerving talent for reading thoughts.

  " Alton will die this night;' Dinin quickly completed the an-
swer, assuring the others before they could probe him for
more definite details.

  "Excellent," Briza growled. Dinin breathed a little easier.

  "To the meld," Matron Malice ordered.

  The four drow males moved to kneel before the matron
and her daughters: Rizzen to Malice, Zaknafein to Briza,
Nalfein to Maya, and Dinin to Vierna. The clerics chanted in
unison, placing one hand delicately upon the forehead of
their respective soldier, tuning in to his passions.

  "You know your places;' Matron Malice said when the cer-
emony was completed. She grimaced through the pain of
another contraction. "Let our work begin:'

  Less than an hour later, Zaknafein and Briza stood to-
gether on the balcony outside the upper entrance to House
Do'Urden. Below them, on the cavern floor, the second and
third brigades of the family army, Rizzen's and Nalfein's,
bustled about, fitting on heated leather straps and metal
patches-camouflage against a distinctive elven form to
heat-seeing drow eyes. Dinin's group, the initial strike force
that included a hundred goblin slaves, had long since de-
parted.

  "We will be known after this night;' Briza said. "None
would have suspected that a tenth house would dare to
move against one as powerful as DeVir. When the whispers
ripple out after this night's bloody work, even Baenre will
take note of Daermon N'a'shezbaernon!" She leaned out
over the balcony to watch as the two brigades formed into
lines and started-out, silently, along separate paths that
would bring them through the winding city to the mush.
room grove and the five-pillared structure of House DeVir.
Zaknafein eyed the back of Matron Malice's eldest daugh-
ter, wanting nothing more than to put a dagger into her
spine. As always, though, good judgment kept Zak's prac-
ticed hand in its place.

  "Have you the articles?" Briza inquired, showing Zak con-
siderably more respect than she had when Matron Malice
sat protectively at her side. Zak was only a male, a com-
moner alloweQ to don the family name as his own because
he sometimes served Matron Malice in a husbandly manner
an~ had once been the patron of the house. Still, Briza
feared to anger him. Zak was the weapon master of House
Do'Urden, a tall and muscular male, stronger than most fe-
males, and those who had witnessed his fighting wrath con-
sidered him among the finest warriors of either sex in all of
Menzoberranzan. Besides Briza and her mother, both high
priestesses of the Spider Queen, Zaknafein, with his unri-
valed swordsmanship, was House Do'Urden's trump.

  Zak held up the black hood and opened the small pouch
on his belt, revealing several tiny ceramic spheres.
Briza smiled evilly and rubbed her slender hands to-
gether. "Matron Ginafae will not be pleased;' she whispered.

  Zak returned the smile and turned to view the departing
soldiers. Nothing gave the weapon master more pleasure
than killing draw elves, particularly clerics of Lloth.

  "Prepare yourself;' Briza said after a few minutes.

  Zak shook his thick hair back from his face and stood
rigid, eyes tightly closed. Briza drew her wand slowly, be-
ginning the chant that would activate the device. She
tapped Zak on one shoulder, then the other, then held the
wand motionless over his head.

  Zak felt the frosty sprinkles falling down on him, perme-
ating his clothes and armor, even his flesh, until he and all of
his possessions had cooled to a uniform temperature and
hue. Zak hated the magical chill-it felt as he imagined
death would feel-but he knew that under the influence of
the wand's sprinkles he was, to the heat-sensing eyes of the
creatures of the Underdark, as gray as common stone, un-
remarkable and undetectable.

  Zak opened his eyes and shuddered, flexing his fingers to
be sure they could still perform the fine-edge of his craft. He
looked back to Briza, already in the midst of the second
spell, the summoning. This one would take a while, so Zak
leaned back against the wall and considered again the pleas-
ant, though dangerous, task before him. How thoughtful of
Matron Malice to leave all of House DeVir's clerics to him!

  "It is done;' Briza announced after a few minutes. She led
Zak's gaze upward, to the darkness beneath the unseen ceil-
ing of the immense cavern.

  Zak spotted Briza's handiwork first, an approaching cur- 
rent of air, yellow-tinted and warmer than the normal air of
the cavern. A living current of air.

  The creature, a conjuration from an elemental plane,
swirled to hover just beyond the lip of the balcony, obedi-
ently awaiting its summoner's commands.

  Zak didn't hesitate. He leaped out into the thing's midst,
letting it hold him suspended above the floor.

  Briza offered him a final salute and motioned her servant
away. "Good fighting;' she called to Zak, though he was al-
ready invisible in the air above her.

  Zak chuckled at the irony of her words as the twisting city
of Menzoberranzan rolled out below him. She wanted the
clerics of House DeVir dead as surely as Zak did, but for
very different reasons. All complications aside, Zak would
have been just as happy killing clerics of House Do'Urden.

  The weapon master took up one of his adamantite
swords, a drow weapon magically crafted and unbelievably
sharp with the edge of killing dweomers. "Good fighting in.
deed;' he whispered. If only Briza knew how good. 


           
                    Chapter 2
             The Fall of House DeViR



  Dinin noted with satisfaction that any of the meandering
bugbears, or any other of the multitude of races that com-
posed Menzoberranzan, drow included, now made great
haste to scurry out of his way. This time the secondboy of
House Do'Urden was not alone. Nearly sixty soldiers of the
house walked in tight lines behind him. Behind these, in sim-
ilar order though with far less enthusiasm for the adven-
ture, came a hundred armed slaves of lesser races-goblins,
orcs, and bugbears.

  There could be no doubt for onlookers-a drow house
was on a march to war. This was not an everyday event in
Menzoberranzan but neither was it unexpected. At least
once every decade a house decided that its position within
the city hierarchy could be improved by another house's
elimination. It was a risky proposition, for all of the nobles
of the "victim" house had to be disposed of quickly and qui-
etly. If even one survived to lay an accusation upon the per-
petrator, the attacking house would be eradicated by
Menzoberranzan's merciless system of "justice:'

  If the raid was executed to devious perfection, though, no
recourse would be forthcoming. All of the city, even the rul-
ing council of the top eight matron mothers, would secretly
applaud the attackers for their courage and intelligence and
no more would ever be said of the incident.

  Dinin took a roundabout route, not wanting to lay a direct
trail between House Do'Urden and House DeVir. A half-
hour later, for the second time that night, he crept to the
mushroom grove's southern end, to the cluster of stalag-
mites that held House DeVir. His soldiers streamed out be-
hind him eagerly, readying weapons and taking full mea-
sure of the structure before them.

  The slaves were slower in their movements. Many of
them looked about for some escape, for they knew in their
hearts that they were doomed in this battle. They feared the
wrath of the dark elves more than death itself, though, and
would not attempt to flee. With every exit out of Menzober-
ranzan protected by devious drow magic, where could they
possibly go? Every one of them had witnessed the brutal
punishments the drow elves exacted on recaptured slaves.
At Dinin's command, they jumped into their positions
around the mushroom fence.

  Dinin reached into his large pouch and pulled out a
heated sheet of metal. He flashed the object, brightened in
the infrared spectrum, three times behind him to signal the
approaching brigades of Nalfein and Rizzen. Then, with his
usual cockiness, DiDin spun it quickly into the air, caught it,
and replaced it in the secrecy of his heat -shielding pouch.
On cue with the twirling signal, DiDin's drow brigade fitted
enchanted darts to their tiny hand-held crossbows and took
aim on the appointed targets.

  Every fifth mushroom was a shrieker, and every dart held
a magical dweomer that could silence the roar of a dragon.
" . . . two. . . three;' DiDin counted, his hand signaling the
tempo since no words could be heard within the sphere of
magical silence cast about his troops. He imagined the
"click" as the drawn string on his little weapon released,
loosing the dart into the nearest shrieker. So it went all
around the cluster of House DeVir, the first line of alarm
systematically silenced by three-dozen enchanted darts.

  Halfway across Menzoberranzan, Matron Malice, her
daughters, and four of the house's common clerics were
gathered in Lloth's unholy circle of eight. They ringed an
idol of their wicked deity, a gemstone carving of a drow-
faced spider, and called to Lloth for aid in their struggles.
Malice sat at the head, propped in a chair angled for birth-
ing. Briza and Vierna flanked her, Briza clutching her hand.

  The select group chanted in unison, combining their ener-
gies into a single offensive. spell. A moment later, when
Vierna, mentally linked to Dinin, understood that the first
attack group was in position, the Do'Urden circle of eight
sent the first insinuating waves of mental energy into the ri-
val house.

  Matron Ginafae, her two daughters, and the five principal
clerics of the common troops of House DeVir huddled to-'
gether in the darkened anteroom of the five-stalagmite
house's main chapel. They had gathered there in solemn
prayer every night since Matron Ginafae had learned that
she had fallen into Lloth's disfavor. Ginafae understood how
vulnerable her house remained until she could find a way to
appease the Spider Queen. There were sixty-six other
houses in Menzoberranzan, fully twenty of which might
dare to attack House DeVir at such an obvious disadvantage.
The eight clerics were anxious now, somehow suspecting
that this night would be eventful.

  Ginafae felt it first, a chilling blast of confusing percep-
tions that caused her to stutter over her prayer of forgive-
ness. The other clerics of House DeVir glanced nervously at
the matron's uncharacteristic slip of words, looking for con-
firmation.

  "We are under attack;' Ginafae breathed to them, her
head already pounding with a dull ache under the growing
assault of the formidable clerics of House Do'Urden.

  A second signal from Dinin put the slave troops into mo-
tion. Still using stealth as their ally, they quietly rushed to
the mushroom fence and cut through with wide-bladed
swords. The secondboy of House Do'Urden watched and
enjoyed as the courtyard of House DeVir was easily pene-
trated. "Not such a prepared guard;' he whispered in silent
sarcasm to the red-glowing gargoyles on the high walls. The
statues had seemed such an ominous guard earlier that
night. Now they just watched helplessly.

  Dinin recognized the measured but growing anticipation
in the soldiers around him; their drow battle-lust was
barely contained. Every now and then came a killing flash
as one of the slaves stumbled over a warding glyph, but the
secondboy and the other drow only laughed at the specta-
cle. The lesser races were the expendable "fodder" of House
Do'Urden's army. The only purpose in bringing the gobli-
noids to House DeVir was to trigger the deadly traps and de-
fenses along the perimeter, to lead the way for the drow
elves, the true soldiers.

  The fence was now opened and secrecy was thrown
away. House DeVir's soldiers met the invading slaves head-
on within the compound. Dinin barely had his hand up to
begin the attack command when his sixty anxious drow
warriors jumped up and charged, their faces twisted in
wicked glee and their weapons waving menacingly.

  They halted their approach on cue, though, remembering
one final task set out to them. Every drow, noble or com-
moner, possessed certain magical abilities. Bringing forth a
globe of darkness, as Dinin had done to the bugbears in the
street earlier that night, came easily to even the lowliest of
the dark elves. So it went now, with sixty Do'Urden soldiers
blotting out the perimeter of House DeVir above the mush.
room fence in ball after ball of blackness.

  For all of their stealth and precautions, House Do'Urden
knew that many eyes were watching the raid. Witnesses
were not too much of a problem; they could not, or would
not, care enough to identify the attacking house. But cus-
tom and rules demanded that certain attempts at secrecy be
enacted, the e!iquette of drow warfare. In the blink of a red.
glowing drow eye, House DeVir became, to the rest of the
city, a dark blot on Menzoberranzan's landscape.

  Rizzen came up behind his youngest son. "Well done;' he
signaled in the intricate finger language of the drow. uNal-
fein is in through the back:'

  "An easy victory;' the cocky Dinin signaled back, "if Ma-
tron Ginafae and her clerics are held at bay;'
 
  "Trust in Matron Malice;' was Rizzen's response. He
clapped his son's shoulder and followed his troops in
through the breached mushroom fence.

  High above the cluster of House DeVir, Zaknafein rested
comfortably in the current-arms of Briza's aerial servant,
watching the drama unfold. From this vantage, Zak could
see within the ring of darkness and could hear within the
ring of magical silence. Dinin's troops, the first drow sol-
diers in, had met resistance at every door and were being
beaten badly.

  Nalfein and his brigade, the troops of House Do'Urden
most practiced in the ways of wizardry, came through the
fence at the rear of the complex. Lightning strikes and magi-
cal balls of acid thundered into the courtyard at the base of
the DeVir structures, cutting down Do'Urden fodder and
DeVir defenses alike.

  In the front courtyard, Rizzen and Dinin commanded the
finest fighters of House Do'Urden. The blessings of Lloth
were with his house, Zak could see when the battle was
fully joined, for the strikes of the soldiers of House Do'Ur-
den came faster than those of their enemies, and their aim
proved more deadly. In minutes, the battle had been taken
fully inside the five pillars.

  Zak stretched the incessant chill out of his arms and
willed the aerial servant to action. Down he plummeted on
his windy bed, and then he fell free the last few feet to the
terrace along the top chambers of the central pillar. At once,
two guards, one a female, rushed out to greet him.
They hesitated in confusion, though, trying to sort out the
true form of this unremarkable gray blur'-too long.

  They had never heard of Zaknafein Do'Urden. They
didn't know that death was upon them.

  Zak's whip flashed out, catching and gashing the female's
throat, while his other hand walked his sword through a se-
ries of masterful thrusts and parries that put the male off
balance. Zak finished both in a single, blurring movement,
snapping the whip-entwined female from the terrace with a
twist of his wrist and spinning a kick into the male's face
that likewise dropped him to the cavern floor.

  Zak was then inside, where another guard rose up to
meet him. . . but fell at his feet.

  Zak slipped along the curving wall of the stalactite tower,
his cooled body blending perfectly with the stone. Soldiers
of House DeVir rushed all about him, trying to formulate
some defense ag;tinst the host of intruders who had already
won out the lowest level of every structure and had taken
two of the pillars completely.

  Zak was not concerned with them. He blocked out the
clanging ring of adamantite weapons, the cries of com-
mand, and the screams of death, concentrating instead on a
singular sound that would lead him to his destination: a uni-
fied, frantic chant.

  He found an empty corridor covered with spider carvings
and running into the center of the pillar. As in House Do'Ur-
den, this corridor ended in a large set of ornate double
doors, their decorations dominated by arachnid forms.
"This must be the place;' Zak muttered under his breath, fit.
ting his hood to the top of his head.

  A giant spider rushed out of its concealment to his side.

  Zak dove to his belly and kicked out under the thing, spin-
ning into a roll that plunged his sword deep into the mon-
ster's bulbous body. Sticky fluids gushed out over the
weapon master, and the spider shuddered to a quick death.

  "Yes;' Zak whispered, wiping the spider juices from his
face, "this must be the place:' He pulled the dead monster
back into its hidden cubby and slipped in beside the thing,
hoping that no one had noticed the brief struggle.

  By the sounds of ringing weapons, Zak could tell that the
fighting had almost reached this floor. House DeVir now
seemed to have its defenses in place, though, and was finally
holding its ground.

  "Now, Malice;' Zak whispered, hoping that Briza, attuned
to him in the meld, would sense his anxiety. "Let us not be
late!"

  Back in the clerical anteroom of House Do'Urden, Malice
and her subordinates continued their brutal mental assault
on the clerics of House DeVir. Lloth heard their prayers
louder than those of their counterparts, giving the clerics of
House Do'Urden the stronger spells in their mental combat.
Already they had easily put their enemies into a defensive
posture. One of the lesser priestesses in DeVir's circle of
eight had been crushed by Briza's mental insinuations and
now lay dead on the floor barely inches from Matron Gina-
fae's feet.

  But the momentum had slowed suddenly and the battle
seemed to be swinging back to an even level. Matron Malice,
struggling with the impending birth, could not hold her
concentration, and without her voice, the spells of her un-
holy circle weakened.

  At her mother's side, powerful Briza clutched her moth-
er's hand so tightly that all the blood was squeezed from it,
leaving it cool-the only cool spot on the laboring female-to
the eyes of the others. Briza studied the contractions and
the crowning cap of the coming child's white hair, and cal-
culated the time to the moment of birth. This technique of
translating the pain of birth into an offensive spell attack
had never been tried before, except in legend, and Briza
knew that timing would be the critical factor.

  She whispered into her mother's ear, coaxing out the
words of a deadly incantation.

  Matron Malice echoed back the beginnings of the spell,
sublimating her gasps, and transforming her rage of agony
into offensive power.

  "Dinnen douward ma brechen tol:' Briza implored.

  "Dinnen douward . . . maaa . . . brechen to~" Malice
growled, so determined to focus through the pain that she
bit through one of her thin lips.

  The baby's head appeared, more fully this time, and this
time to stay.

  Briza trembled and could barely remember the incanta-
tion herself. She whispered the final rune into the matron's
ear, almost fearing the consequences.

  Malice gathered her breath and her courage. She could
feel the tingling of the spell as clearly as the pain of the
birth. 1b her daughters standing around the idol, staring at
her in disbelief, she appeared as a red blur of heated fury,
streaking sweat lines that shone as brightly as the heat of
boiling-water.

  " Abec;' the matron began, feeling the pressure building to
a crescendo. "Abec:' She felt the hot tear of her skin, the
sudden slippery release as the baby's head pushed through,
the sudden ecstacy of birthing. "Abec dj'n'a'BREG
DOUWARD." Malice screamed, pushing away all of the ago
ony in a final explosion of magical power that knocked even
the clerics of her own house from their feet.

  Carried on the thrust of Matron Malice's exultation, the
dweomer thundered into the chapel of House DeVir, shat-
tered the gemstone idol of Lloth, sundered the double doors
into heaps of twisted metal, and threw Matron Ginafae and
her overmatched subordinates to the floor.

  Zak shook his head in disbelief as the chapel doors flew
past him. "Quite a kick, Malice:' He chuckled and spun
around the entryway, into the chapel. Using his infravision,
he took a quick survey and head count of the lightless
room's seven living occupants, all struggling back to their
feet, their robes tattered. Again shaking his head at the
bared power of Matron Malice, Zak pulled his hood down
over his face.

  A snap of his whip was the only explanation he offered as
he smashed a tiny ceramic globe at his feet. The sphere shat-
tered, dropping out a pellet that Briza had enchanted for
just such occasions, a pellet glowing with the brightness of
daylight.

  For eyes accustomed to blackness, tuned in to heat ema-
nations, the intrusion of such radiance came in a blinding
flash of agony. The clerics' cries of pain only aided Zak in his
systematic trek around the room, and he smiled widely un-
der his hood every time he felt his sword bite into drow
flesh.

  He heard the beginnings of a spell across the way and
knew that one of the DeVirs had recovered enough from
the assault to be dangerous. The weapon master did not
need his eyes to aim, however, and the crack of his whip
took Matron Ginafae's tongue right out of her mouth.

  Briza placed the newborn on the back of the spider idol
and lifted the ceremonial dagger, pausing to admire its cruel
workmanship. Its hilt was a spider's body sporting eight
legs, barbed so as to appear furred, but angled down to
serve as blades. Briza lifted the instrument above the baby's
chest. "Name the child;' she implored her mother. "The Spi-
der Queen will not accept the sacrifice until the child is
named!"

  Matron Malice lolled her head, trying to fathom her
daughter's meaning. The matron mother had thrown every-
thing into the moment of the spell and the birth, and she
was now barely coherent.

  "Name the child!" Briza commanded, anxious to feed her
hungry goddess.

  "It nears its end;' Dinin said to his bl'othel' when they met
in a lower hall of one of the lesser pillars of House DeVir.
"Rizzen is winning through to the top, and it is believed that
Zaknafein's dark work has been completed:'

  "Two score of House DeVir's soldiers have already turned
allegiance to us;' Nalfein replied.

  "They see the end;' laughed Dinin. "One house serves
them as well as another, and in the eyes of commoners no
house is worth dying for. Our task will be finished soon:'

  "Too quickly for anyone to take note;' Nalfein said. "Now
Do'Urden, Daermon N'a'shezbaernon, is the Ninth House of
Menzoberranzan, and DeVir be damned!"

  "Alert!" Dinin cried suddenly, eyes widening in feigned
horror as he looked over his brother's shoulder.

  Nalfein reacted immediately, spinning to face the danger
at his back, only to put the true danger at his back. For even
as Nalfein realized the deception, Dinin's sword slipped into
his spine. Dinin put his head to his brother's shoulder and
pressed his cheek to Nalfein's, watching the red sparkle of
heat leave his brother's eyes.

  "Tho quickly for anyone to take note;' Dinin teased, echo-
ing his brother's earlier words.

  He dropped the lifeless form to his feet. "Now Dinin is
elderboy of House Do'Urden, and Nalfein be damned:'

  "Drizzt;' breathed Matron Malice. "The child's name is
Drizzt!"

  Briza tightened her grip on the knife and began the ritual.
"Queen of Spiders, take this babe;' she began. She raised the
dagger to strike. "Drizzt Do'Urden we give to you in pay-
ment for our glorious vic-"

  "Wait!" called Maya from the side of the room. Her meld-
ing with her brother Nalfein had abruptly ceased. It could
only mean one thing. "Nalfein is dead;' she announced. "The
baby is no longer the third living son:'

  Vierna glanced curiously at her sister. At the same instant
that Maya had sensed Nalfein's death, Vierna, melded with
Dinin, had felt a strong emotive surge. Elation? Vierna
brought a slender finger up to her pursed lips, wondering if
Dinin had successfully pulled off the assassination.
Briza still held the spider-shaped knife over the babe's
chest, wanting to give this one to Lloth.

  "We promised th6- Spider Queen the third living son;'
Maya warned. "And that has been given:'

  "But not in sacrifice;' argued Briza.

  Vierna shrugged, at a loss. "If Lloth accepted Nalfein, then
he has been given. Th give another might evoke the Spider
Queen's anger:'

  "But to not give what we have promised would be worse
still!" Briza insisted.

  "Then finish the deed;' said Maya.

  Briza clenched down tight on the dagger and began the
ritua) again.

  "Stay your hand;' Matron Malice commanded, propping
herself up in the chair. "Lloth is content; our victory is won.
Welcome, then, your brother, the newest member of House
Do'Urden:'

  "Just a male;' Briza commented in obvious disgust, walk-
ing away from the idol and the child.

  "Next time we shall do better;' Matron Malice chuckled,
though she wondered if there would be a next time. She ap-
proached the end of her fifth century of life, and drow
elves, even young ones, were not a particularly fruitful lot.
Briza had been born to Malice at the youthful age of one
hundred, but in the almost four centuries since, Malice had
produced only five other children. Even this baby, Drizzt,
had come as a surprise, and Malice hardly expected that she
would ever conceive again.

  "Enough of such contemplations;' Malice whispered to
herselL exhausted. "There will be ample time. . :' She sank
back into her chair and fell into fitful, though wickedly
pleasant, dreams of heightening power.

  Zaknafein walked through the central pillar of the DeVir
complex, his hood in his hand and his whip and sword com-
fortably replaced on his belt. Every now and then a ring of
battle sounded, only to be quickly ended. House Do'Urden
had rolled through to victory, the tenth house had taken the
fourth, and now all that remained was to remove evidence
and witnesses. One group of lesser female clerics marched
through, tending to the wounded Do'Urdens and animating
the corpses of those beyond their ability, so that the bodies
could walk away from the crime scene. Back at the Do'Ur-
den compound, those corpses not beyond repair would be
resurrected and put back to work.

  Zak turned away with a visible shudder as the clerics
moved from room to room, the marching line of Do'Urden
zombies growing ever longer at their backs.

  As distasteful as Zaknafein found this troupe, the one that
followed was even worse. ThTo Do'Urden clerics led a con-
tingent of soldiers through the structure, using detection
spells to determine hiding places of surviving DeVirs. One
stopped in the hallway just a few steps from Zak, her eyes
turned inward as she felt the emanations of her spell. She
held her fingers out in front of her, tracing a slow line, like 
some macabre divining rod, toward drow flesh.

  "In there!" she declared, pointing to a panel at the base of
the wall. The soldiers jumped to it like a pack of ravenous,
wolves and tore through the secret door. Inside a hidden 
cubby huddled the children of House DeVir. These were no-
bles, not commoners, and could not be taken alive.

  Zak quickened his pace to get beyond the scene, but he
heard vividly the children's helpless screams as the hungry
Do'Urden soldiers finished their job. Zak found himself in a
run now. He rushed around a bend in the hallway, nearly
bowling over Dinin and Rizzen.

  "Nalfein is dead;' Rizzen declared impassively.
Zak immediately turned a suspicious eye on the younger
Do'Urden son.

  "I killed the DeVir soldier who committed the deed;' Dillin
assured him, not even hiding his cocky smile.

  Zak had been around for nearly four centuries, and he
was certainly not ignorant of the ways of his ambitious race. ~
The brother princes had come in defensively at the back of 
the lines, with a host of Do'Urden soldiers between them 
and the enemy. By the time they even encountered a drow 
that was not of their own house, the majority of the DeVirs' 
surviving soldiers had already switched allegiance to House
Do'Urden. Zak doubted that either of the Do'Urden broth-
ers had even seen action against a DeVir.

  "The description of the carnage in the prayer room has
been spread throughout the ranks;' Rizzen said to the
weapon master. "You performed with your usual
excellence-as we have come to expect:'

  Zak shot the patron a glare of contempt and kept on his
way, down though the structure's main doors and out be-
yond the magical darkness and silence into Menzoberran-
zan's dark dawn. Rizzen was Matron Malice's present
partner in a long line of partners, and no more. When Mal-
ice was finished with him, she would either relegate him
back to the ranks of the common soldiery, stripping him of 
the name Do'Urden and all the rights that accompanied it,
or she would dispose of him. Zak owed him no respect.

   Zak moved out beyond the mushroom fence to the high-
est vantage point he could find, then fell to the ground. He
watched, amazed, a few moments later, when the proces-
sion of the Do'Urden army, patron and son, soldiers and
clerics, and the slow-moving line of two dozen drow zom-
bies, made its way back home. They had lost, and left be-
hind, nearly all of their slave fodder in the attack, but the
line leaving the wreckage of House DeVir was longer than
the line that had come in earlier that night. The slaves had 
been replaced twofold by captured DeVir slaves, and fifty,!
or more of the DeVir common troops, showing typical drow 
loyalty, had willingly joined the attackers. These traitorous'
draw would be interrogated-magically interrogated-by
the Do'Urden clerics to ensure their sincerity.

  They would pass the test to a one, Zak knew. Drow elves
were creatures of survival, not of principle. The soldiers
would be given new identities and would be kept within the
privacy of the Do'Urden compound for a few months, until
the fall of House DeVir became an old and forgotten tale.

  Zak did not follow immediately. Rather, he cut through
the rows of mushroom trees and found a secluded dell, 
where he plopped down on a patch of mossy carpet and!
raised his gaze to the eternal darkness of the cavern's 
ceiling-and the eternal darkness of his existence.

  It would have been prudent for him to remain silent at
that time; he was an invader to the most powerful section of 
the vast city. He thought of the possible witnesses to his 
words, the same dark elves who had watched the fall of
House DeVir, who had wholeheartedly enjoyed the specta-
cle. In the face of such behavior and such carnage as this
night had seen, Zak could not contain his emotions. His la-
ment came out as a plea to some god beyond his experience.

  "What place is this that is my world; what dark coil has my
spirit embodied?" he whispered the angry disclaimer that
had always been a part of him. "In light, I see my skin as
black; in darkness, it glows white in the heat of this rage 
cannot dismiss.

  "Would that I had the courage to depart, this place or this
life, or to stand openly against the wrongness that is the
world of these, my kin. 1b seek an existence that does not
run afoul to that which I believe, and to that which I hold
dear faith is truth.

  "Zaknafein Do'Urden, I am called, yet a drow I am not, by
choice or by deed. Let them discover this being that I am,
then. Let them rain their wrath on these old shoulders al-
ready burdened by the hopelessness of Menzoberranzan:'

  Ignoring the consequences, the weapon master rose to his
feet and yelled, "Menzoberranzan, what hell are you?"

  A moment later, when no answer echoed back out of the
quiet city, Zak flexed the remaining chill of Briza's wand
from his weary muscles. He found some comfort as he pat-
ted the whip on his belt-the instrument that had taken the
tongue from the mouth of a matron mother.


                   Chapter 3
             The Eyes of the Child



Masoj, the young apprentice-which at this point in his
magic-using career meant that he was no more than a clean-
ing attendant-leaned on his broom and watched as Alton
DeVir moved through the door into the highest chamber of
the spire. Masoj almost felt sympathy for the student, who
had to go in and face the Faceless One.

  Masoj felt excitement as well, though, knowing that the
ensuing fireworks between Alton and the faceless master
would be well worth the watching. He went back to his
sweeping, using the broom as an excuse to get farther
around the curve of the room's floor, closer to the door.



"You requested my presence, Master Faceless One;' Alton
DeVir said again, keeping one hand in front of his face and
squinting to fight the brilliant glare of the room's three
lighted candles. Alton shifted uncomfortably from one foot
to the other just inside the shadowy room's door.

  Hunched across the way, the Faceless One kept his back to
the young DeVir. Better to be done with this cleanly, the
master reminded himself. He knew, though, that the spell
he was now preparing would kill Alton before the student
could learn his family's fate, before the Faceless One could
fully complete Dinin Do'Urden's final instructions. Tho
much was at stake. Better to be done with this cleanly.

  "You. ." Alton began again, but he prudently held his
words and tried to sort out the situation before him. How
unusual to be summoned to the private chambers of a mas-
ter of the Academy before the day's lessons had even begun.

  When he had first received the summons, Alton feared that
he had somehow failed one of his lessons. That could be a fa-
tal mistake in Sorcere. Alton was close to graduation, but
the disdain of a single master could put an end to that.

  He had done quite well in his lessons with the Faceless
One, had even believed that this mysterious master favored
him. Could this call be simply a courtesy of congratulations
on his impending graduation? Unlikely, Alton realized
against his hopes. Masters of the drow Academy did not of-
ten congratulate students.

  Alton then heard quiet chanting and noticed that the mas-
ter was in the midst of spellcasting. Something cried out as
very wrong to him now; something about this whole situa-
tion did not fit the strict ways of the Academy. Alton set his
feet firmly and tensed his muscles, following the advice of
the motto that had been drilled into the thoughts of every
student at the Academy, the precept that kept drow elves
alive in a society so devoted to chaos: Be prepared.

  The doors exploded before him, showering the room with
stone splinters and throwing Masoj back against the wall.
He felt the show well worth both the inconvenience and the
new bruise on his shoulder when Alton DeVir scrambled
out of the room. The student's back and left arm trailed
wisps of smoke, and the most exquisite expression of terror
and pain that Masoj had ever seen was etched on the DeVir
noble's face.

  Alton stumbled to the floor and kicked into a roll, desper-
ate to put some ground between himself and the murder-
ous master. He made it down and around the descending
arc of the room's floor and through the door that led into
the next lower chamber just as the Faceless One made his
appearance at the sundered door.

  The master stopped to spit a curse at his misfire, and to
consider the best way to replace his door. "Clean it up!" he
snapped at Masoj, who was again leaning casually with his
hands atop his broomstick and his chin atop his hands.

  Masoj obediently dropped his head and started sweeping
the stone splinters. He looked up as the Faceless One stalked
past, however, and cautiously started after the master.
Alton couldn't possibly escape, and this show would be
too good to miss.

  The third room, the Faceless One's private library, was
the brightest of the four in the spire, with dozens of candles
burning on each wall.

  "Damn this light!" Alton spat, stumbling his way down
through the dizzying blur to the door that led to the Face-
less One's entry hall, the lowest room of the master's quar-
ters. If he could get down from this spire and outside of the
tower to the courtyard of the Academy, he might be able to
turn the momentum against the master.

  Alton's world remained the darkness of Menzoberranzan,
but the Faceless One, who had spent so many decades in the
candlelight of Sorcere, had grown accustomed to using his
eyes to see shades of light, not heat.

  The entry hall was cluttered with chairs and chests, but
only one candle burned there, and Alton could see clearly
enough to dodge or leap any obstacles. He rushed to the
door and grabbed the heavy latch. It turned easily enough,
but when Alton tried to shoulder through, the door did not
budge and a burst of sparkling blue energy threw him back
to the floor.

  "Curse this place;' Alton spat. The portal was magically
held. He knew a spell to open such enchanted doors but
doubted whether his magic would be strong enough to dis-
pel the castings of a master. In his haste and fear, the words
of the dweomer floated through Alton's thoughts in an un-
decipherable jumble.

  "Do not run, DeVir;' came the Faceless One's call from the
previous chamber. "You only lengthen your torment!"

  "A curse upon you, too;' Alton replied under his breath.
Alton forgot about the stupid spell; it would never come to
him in time. He glanced around the room for an option.

  His eyes found something unusual halfway up the side
wall, in an opening between two large cabinets. Alton
scrambled back a few steps to get a better angle but found
himself caught within the range of the candlelight, within
the deceptive field where his eyes registered both heat and
light.

  He could only discern that this section of the wall showed
a uniform glow in the heat spectrum and that its hue was
subtly different from the stone of the walls. Another door-
way? Alton could only hope his guess to be right. He rushed
back to the center of the room, stood directly across from
the object, and forced his eyes away from the infrared spec-
trum, fully back into the world of light.

  As his eyes adjusted, what came into view both startled
and confused the young DeVir. He saw no doorway, nor any
opening with another chamber behind it. What he looked
upon was a reflection of himself, and a portion of the room
he now stood in. Alton had never, in his fifty-five years of
life, witnessed such a spectacle, but he had heard the mas-
ters of Sorcere speak of these devices. It was a mirror.

  A movement in the upper doorway of the chamber re-
minded Alton that the Faceless One was almost upon him.
He couldn't hesitate to ponder his options. He put his head
down and charged the mirror.

  Perhaps it was a teleportation door to another section of
the city, perhaps a simple door to a room beyond. Or per-
haps, Alton dared to imagine in those few desperate sec-
onds, this was some interplanar gate that would bring him
into a strange and unknown plane of existence!

  He felt the tingling excitement of adventure pulling him
on as he neared the wondrous thing-then he felt only the
impact, the shattering glass, and the unyielding stone wall
behind it.

  Perhaps it was just a mirror.

  "Look at his eyes;' Vierna whispered to Maya as they ex-
amined the newest member of House Do'Urden.

  Truly the babe's eyes were remarkable. Although the
child had been out of the womb for less than an hour, the
pupils of his orbs darted back and forth inquisitively. While
they showed the expected radiating glow of eyes seeing into
the infrared spectrum, the familiar redness was tinted by a
shade of blue, giving them a violet hue.

  "Blind?" wondered Maya. "Perhaps this one will be given
to the Spider Queen still:'
Briza looked back to them anxiously. Dark elves did not al-
low children showing any physical deficiency to live.

  "Not blind:' replied Vierna, passing her hand over the
child and casting an angry glare at both of her eager sisters.
"He follows my fingers:'

  Maya saw that Vierna spoke the truth. She leaned closer
to the babe, studying his face and strange eyes. "What do
you see, Drizzt Do'Urden?" she asked softly, not in an act of
gentleness toward the babe, but so that she would not dis-
turb her mother, resting in the chair at the head of the spi-
der idol.

  "What do you see that the rest of us cannot?"
Glass crunched under Alton, digging deeper wounds as
he shifted his weight in an effort to rise to his feet. What
would it matter? he thought. "My mirror!" he heard the
Faceless One groan, and he looked up to see the outraged
master towering over him.

  How huge he seemed to Alton! How great and powerful,
fully blocking the candlelight from this little alcove between
the cabinets, his form enhanced tenfold to the eyes of the
helpless victim by the mere implications of his presence.

  Alton then felt a gooey substance floating down around
him, detached webbing finding a sticky hold on the cabi.
nets, on the wall, and on Alton. The young DeVir tried to
leap up and roll away, but the Faceless One's spell already
held him fast, trapped him as a dirgit fly would be trapped
in the strands of a spider's home.

  "First my door:' the Faceless One growled at him, "and
now this, my mirror! Do you know the pains I suffered to
acquire such a rare device?"

  Alton turned his head from side to side, not in answer, but
to free at least his face from the binding substance.

  "Why did you not just stand still and let the deed be fin-
ished cleanly?" the Faceless One roared, thoroughly dis-
gusted. .

  "Why?" Alton lisped, spitting some of the webbing from
his thin lips. "Why would you want to kill me?"

  "Because you broke my mirror!" the Faceless One shot
back.

  It didn't make any sense, of course-the mirror had only
been shattered after the initial attack-but to the master, AI.
ton supposed, it didn't have to make sense. Alton knew his
cause to be hopeless, but he continued on in his efforts to
dissuade his opponent.

  "You know of my house, of House DeVir;' he said, indig-
nant, "fourth in the city. Matron Ginafae will not be pleased.
A high priestess has ways to learn the truth of such situa-
tions!"

  "House DeVir?" The Faceless One laughed. Perhaps the
torments that Dinin Do'Urden had requested would be in
line after all. Alton had broken his mirror!

  "Fourth house!" Alton spat.

  "Foolish youth;' the Faceless One cackled. "House DeVir is
no more-not fourth, not fifty-fourth, nothing:'

  Alton slumped, though the webbing did its best to hold his
body erect. What could the master be babbling about?

  "They all are dead;' the Faceless One taunted. "Matron
Ginafae sees Lloth more clearly this day:' Alton's expression
of horror pleased the disfigured master. "All dead;' he
snarled one more time. "Except for poor Alton, who lives on
to hear of his family's misfortune. That oversight shall be
remedied now!" The Faceless One raised his hands to cast a
spell.

  "Who?" Alton cried.

  The Faceless One paused and seemed not to understand.

  "What house did this?" the doomed student clarified. "Or
what conspiracy of houses brought down DeVir?"

  "Ah, you should be told;' replied the Faceless One, obvi-
ously enjoying the situation. "I suppose it is your right to
know before you join your kin in the realm of death:' A
smile widened across the opening where his lips once had
been.

  "But you broke my mirror!" the master growled. "Die stu.
pid, stupid boy! Find your own answers!"

  The Faceless One's chest jerked out suddenly, and he
shuddered in convulsions, babbling curses in a tongue far
beyond the terrified student's comprehension. What vile
spell did this disfigured master have prepared for him, so
wretched that its chant sounded in an arcane language for-
eign to learned Alton's ears, so unspeakably evil that. its se-
mantics jerked on the very edge of its caster's control? The
Faceless One then fell forward to the floor and expired.

  Stunned, Alton followed the line of the master's hood
down to his back-to the tail of a protruding dart. Alton
watched the poisoned thing as it continued to shudder from
the body's impact, then he turned his scan upward to the
center of the room, where the young cleaning attendant
stood calmly.

  "Nice weapon, Faceless One!" Masoj beamed, rolling a
two-handed, crafted crossbow over in his hands. He threw
a wicked smile at Alton and fitted another dart.

  Matron Malice hoisted herself out of her chair and willed
herself to her feet. "Out of the way!" she snapped at her
daughters.

  Maya and Vierna scooted away from the spider idol and
the baby. "See his eyes, Matron Mother;' Vierna dared to re-
mark. "They are so unusual:'

  Matron Malice studied the child. Everything seemed in
place, and a good thing, too, for Nalfein, elderboy of House
Do'Urden, was dead, and this boy, Drizzt, would have a dif.
ficult job replacing the valuable son.

  "His eyes;' Vierna said again.

  The matron shot her a venomous look but bent low to see
what the fuss was about.

  "Purple?" Malice said, startled. Never had she heard of
such a thing.

  "He is not blind;' Maya was quick to put in, seeing the dis-
dain spreading across her mother's face.

  "Fetch the candle;' Matron Malice ordered. "Let us see
how these eyes appear in the world of light:'

  Maya and Vierna reflexively headed for the sacred cabi-
net, but Briza cut them off. "Only a high priestess may touch
the holy items;' she reminded them in a tone that carried
the weight of a threat. She spun around haughtily, reached
into the cabinet, and produced a single half-used red candle.
The clerics hid their eyes and Matron Malice put a prudent
hand over the baby's face as Briza lit the sacred candle. It
produced only a tiny flame, but to drow eyes it came as a
brilliant intrusion.

  "Bring it;' said Matron Malice after several moments of ad-
justing. Briza moved the candle near Drizzt, and Malice
gradually slid her hand away.

  "He does not cry;' Briza remarked, amazed that the babe
could quietly accept such a stinging light.

  "Purple again;' whispered the matron, paying no heed to
her daughter's rambling. "In both worlds, the child's eyes
show as purple:'

  Vierna gasped audibly when she looked again upon her
tiny brother and his striking lavender orbs.

  "He is your brother;' Matron Malice reminded her, view-
ing Vierna's gasp as a hint of what might come. "When he
grows older and those eyes pierce you so, remember, on
your life, that he is your brother:'

  Vierna turned away, almost blurting a reply she would
have regretted making. Matron Malice's exploits with
nearly every male soldier of the Do'Urden house-and
many others that the seductive matron managed to sneak
away from other houses-were almost legendary in Menzo-
berranzan. Who was she to be spouting reminders of pru-
dent and proper behavior? Vierna bit her lip and hoped that
neither Briza nor Malice had been reading her thoughts at
that moment.

  In Menzoberranzan, thinking such gossip about a high
priestess, whether or not it was true, got you painfully exe-
cuted.

  Her mother's eyes narrowed, and Vierna thought she had
been discovered. "He is yours to prepare;' Matron Malice
said to her.

  "Maya is younger;' Vierna dared to protest. "I could attain
the level of high priestess in but a few years if I may keep to
my studies:'

  "Or never;' the matron sternly reminded her. "Thke the
child to the chapel proper. Wean him to words and teach
him all that he will need to know to properly serve as a page
prince of House Do'Urden:'

  "I will see to him;' Briza offered, one hand subconsciously
slipping to her snake-headed whip. "I do so enjoy teaching
males their place in our world:'

  Malice glared at her. "You are a high priestess. You have
other duties more important than word-weaning a male
child:' Then to Vierna, she said, "The babe is yours; do not
disappoint me in this! The lessons you teach Drizzt will rein-
force your own understanding of our ways. This exercise at
'mothering' will aid you in your quest to become a high
priestess:' She let Vierna take a moment to view the task in a
more positive light, then her tone became unmistakably
threatening once again. "It may aid you, but it surely can de-
stroy you!"

  Vierna sighed but kept her thoughts silent. The chore that
Matron Malice had dropped on her shoulders would con-
sume the bulk of her time for at least ten years. Vierna didn't
like the prospects, she and this purple-eyed child together for
ten long years. The alternative, however, the wrath of Ma-
tron Malice Do'Urden, seemed a worse thing by far.

  Alton blew another web from his mouth. "You are just e
boy, an apprentice;' he stammered. "Why would YOu-?"
 
 "Kill him?" Masoj finished the thought. "Not to save you, if
that is your hope;' He spat down at the Faceless One's body.
"Look at me, a prince of the sixth house, a cleaning steward
for that wretched-"

  "Hun'ett;' Alton cut in. "House Hun'ett is the sixth house;'

  The younger drow put a finger to pursed lips. "Wait;' he
remarked with a widening smile, an evil smile of sarcasm.

  "We are the fifth house now, 1 suppose, with DeVir wiped
out;'

  "Not yet!" Alton growled.

  "Momentarily;' Masoj assured him, fingering the cross-
bow quarrel.

  Alton slumped even farther back in the web. 1b be killed
by a master was bad enough, but the indignity of being shot
down by a boy. . . .

  "I suppose 1 should thank you;' Masoj said. "I had planned
to kill that one for many weeks;'

  "Why?" Alton pressed his new assailant. "You would dare
to kill a master of Sorcere simply because your family put
you in servitude to him?"

  "Because he would snub me!" Masoj yelled. "Four years 1
have slaved for him, that back end of a carrion crawler.
Cleaned his boots. Prepared salve for his disgusting face!
Was it ever enough? Not for that one;' He spat at the corpse
again and continued, talking more to himself than to the
trapped student. "Nobles aspiring to wizardry have the ad-
vantage of being trained as apprentices before they reach
the proper age for entry into Sorcere;'

  "Of course;' Alton said. "I myself trained under-"

  "He meant to keep me out of Sorcere!" Masoj rambled, ig-
noring Alton altogether. "He \'Jould have forced me into
Melee-Magthere, the fighters' school, instead. The fighters'
school! My twenty-fifth birthday is only two weeks away;'

  Masoj looked up, as though he suddenly remembered that
he was not alone in the room.

  "I knew 1 must kill him;' he continued, now speaking di-
rectly to Alton. "Then you come along and make it all so con-
venient. A student and master killing each other in a fight?
  
  It has happened before. Who would question it? I suppose,
then, that I should thank you, Alton DeVir of No House
Worth Mentioning; Masoj chided with a low, sweeping
bow. "Before I kill you, I mean:'

  "Wait!" cried Alton. "Kill me to what gain?"

  " Alibi:'

  "But you have your alibi, and we can make it better!"

  "Explain; said Masoj, who, admittedly, was in no particu-
lar hurry. The Faceless One was a high-level wizard; the
webs weren't going anywhere anytime soon.

  "Free me;' Alton said earnestly.

  "Can you be as stupid as the Faceless One proclaimed
you?"

  Alton took the insult stoically-the kid had the crossbow.

  "Free me so that I may assume the Faceless One's identity;'
he explained. "The death of a master arouses suspicion, but
if no master is believed dead. . :'

  "And what of this?" Masoj asked, kicking the corpse.

  "Burn it;' said Alton, his desperate plan coming fully into
focus. "Let it be Alton DeVir. House DeVir is no more, so
there will be no retaliation, no questions:'
Masoj seemed skeptical.

  "The Faceless One was practically a hermit;' Alton rea-
soned. "And I am near to graduation; certainly I can handle
the simple chores of basic teaching after thirty years of
study:'

  "And what is my gain?"
Alton gawked, nearly burying himself in webbing, as if
the answer were obvious. "A master in Sorcere to call men-
tor. One who can ease your way through your years of
study:'

  " And one who can dispose of a witness at his earliest con-
venience;' Masoj added slyly.
"And what then would be my gain?" Alton shot back. "Th
anger House Hun'ett, fifth in all the city, and I with no family
at my back? No, young Mas01 I am not as stupid as the Face-
less One named me:'

  Masoj ticked a long and pointed fingernail against his
teeth and considered the possibilities. An ally among the
masters of Sorcere? This held possibilities.
 
  Another thought popped into Masoj's mind, and he pulled
open the cabinet to Alton's side and began rummaging
through the contents. Alton flinched when he heard some
ceramic and glass containers crashing together, thinking of
the components, possibly even completed potions, that
might be lost by the apprentice's carelessness. Perhaps
Melee-Magthere would be a better choice for this one, he
thought.

  A moment later, though, the younger drow reappeared,
and Alton remembered that he was in no position to make
such judgments.

  "This is mine;' Masoj demanded, showing Alton a small
black object: a remarkably detailed onyx figurine of a hunt-
ing panther. "A gift from a denizen of the lower planes for
some help I gave to him:'

  "You aided such a creature?" Alton had to ask, finding it
difficult to believe that a mere apprentice had the resources
necessary to even survive an encounter with such an un-
predictable and mighty foe.

  "The Faceless One-" Masoj kicked the corpse again-
"took the credit and the statue, but they are mine! Every-
thing else in here will go to you, of course. I know the
magical dweomers of most and will show you what is what:'

  Brightening at the hope that he would indeed survive this
dreadful day, Alton cared little about the figurine at that
moment. All he wanted was to be freed of the webs so that
he could find out the truth of his house's fate. Then Masoj,
ever a confusing young drow, turned suddenly and started
away.

  "Where are you going?" Alton asked.

  "to get the acid:'

  "Acid?" Alton hid his panic well, though he had a terrible
feeling that he understood what Masoj meant to do.

  "You want the disguise to appear authentic;' Masoj ex-
plained matter-of-factly. "Otherwise, it would not be much
of a disguise. We should take advantage of the web while it
lasts. It will hold you still:'

  "No;' Alton started to protest, but Masoj wheeled on him,
the evil grin wide on his face.

  "It does seem a bit of pain, and a lot of trouble to go
through;' Masoj admitted. "You have no family and will find
no allies in Sorcere, since the Faceless One was so despised
by the other masters:' He brought the crossbow up level
with Alton's eyes and fitted another poisoned dart. "Per-
haps you would prefer death:'

  "Get the acid!" Alton cried.

  "to what end?" Masoj teased, waving the crossbow. "What
have you to live for, Alton DeVir of No House Worth Men-
tioning'?"

  "Revenge;' Alton sneered, the sheer wrath of his tone set-
ting the confident Masoj on his heels. "You have not learned
this yet-though you will, my young student-but nothing
in life gives more purpose than the hunger for revenge!"

  Masoj lowered the bow and eyed the trapped drow with
respect, almost fear. Still, the apprentice Hun'ett could not
appreciate the gravity of Alton's proclamation until Alton
reiterated, this time with an eager smile on his face, "Get the
acid:'
                 

                    Chapter 4
                 Tbe First House



  Four cycles of Narbondel-four days-later, a glowing
blue disk floated up the mushroom-lined stone path to the
spider-covered gate of House Do'Urden. The sentries
watched it from the windows of the two outer towers and
from the compound as it hovered patiently three feet off
the ground. Word came to the ruling family only seconds
later.

  "What can it be?" Briza asked Zaknafein when she, the
weapon master, Dinin, and Maya assembled on the balcony
of the upper level.

  "A summons?" Zak asked as much as answered. "We will
not know until we investigate:' Zak stepped up on the rail-
ing and out into the empty air, then levitated down to the
compound floor. Briza motioned to Maya, and the youngest
Do'Urden daughter followed Zak.

  "It bears the standard of House Baenre;' Zak called up af-
ter he had moved closer. He and Maya opened the large
gates, and the disk slipped in, showing no hostile move-
ments.

  "Baenre;' Briza repeated over her shoulder, down the
house's corridor to where Matron Malice and Rizzen
waited.
 
  "It seems that you are requested in audience, Matron
Mother;' Dinin put in nervously.
Malice moved out to the balcony, and her husband obedi-
ently followed.

  "Do they know of our attack?" Briza asked in the silent
code, and every member of House Do'Urden, noble and
commoner alike, shared that unpleasant thought. House
DeVir had been eliminated only a few days before, and a
calling card from the First Matron Mother of Menzoberran-
zan could hardly be viewed as a coincidence.

  "Every house knows;' Malice replied aloud, not believing
the silence to be a necessary precaution within the bounda-
ries of her own complex. "Is the evidence against us so over-
whelming that the ruling council will be forced to action?"
She stared hard at Briza, her dark eyes alternating between
the red glow of infra vision and the deep green they showed
in the aura of normal light. "That is the question we must
ask:' Malice stepped up onto the balcony, but Briza grabbed
the back of her heavy black robe to stay her.

  "You do not mean to go with the thing?" Briza asked.
Malice's answering look showed even more startlement.
"Of course;' she replied. "Matron Baenre would not openly
call upon me if she meant me harm. Even her power is not
so great that she can ignore the tenets of the city:'

  "You are certain that you will be safe?" Rizzen asked, truly
concerned. If Malice was killed, Briza would take over the
house, and Rizzen doubted that the eldest daughter would
want any male by her side. Even if the vicious female did de-
sire a patron, Rizzen would not want to be the one in that
position. He was not Briza's father, was not even as old as
Briza. Clearly, the present patron of the house had a lot at
stake in Matron Malice's continued good health.

  "Your concern touches me;' Malice replied, knowing her
husband's true fears. She pulled out of Briza's grasp and
stepped off the railing, straightening her robes as she
slowly descended. Briza shook her head disdainfully and
motioned Rizzen to follow her back inside the house, not
thinking it wise that the bulk of the family be so exposed to
unfriendly eyes.

  "Do you want an escort?" Zak asked as Malice sat on the
disk.

  "I am certain that I will find one as soon as I am beyond the
perimeter of our compound;' Malice replied. "Matron
Baenre would not risk exposing me to any danger while I
am in the care of her house:' 

  "Agreed;' said Zak, "but do you want an escort frem"~
House Do'Urden?"

  "If one was wanted, two disks would have floated in;' Mal.
ice said in a tone of finality. The matron was beginning to
find the concerns of those around her stifling. She was the
matron mother, after all, the strongest, the oldest, and the
wisest, and did not appreciate others second-guessing her.
To the disk, Malice said, "Execute your appointed task, and
let us be done with it!"

  Zak nearly snickered at Malice's choice of words.

  "Matron Malice Do'Urden;' came a magical voice from the
disk, "Matron Baenre offers her greetings. Tho long has it
been since last you two have sat in audience:'

  "Never;' Malice signaled to Zak. "Then take me to House
Baenre!" Malice demanded. "I do not wish to waste my time
conversing with a magical mouth!" Apparently, Matron
Baenre had anticipated Malice's impatience, for without an.
other word, the disk floated back out of the Do'Urden com.
pound.

  Zak shut the gate as it left, then quickly signaled his sok
diers into motion. Malice did not want any open company,
but the Do'Urden spy network would covertly track every
movement of the Baenre sled, to the very gates of the ruling
house's grand compound.

  Malice's guess about an escort was correct. As soon as the
disk swept down from the pathway to the Do'Urden com-
pound, twenty soldiers of House Baenre, all female, moved
out from concealment along the sides of the boulevard.
They formed a defensive diamond around the guest matron
mother. The guard at each point of the formation wore
black robes emblazoned on the back with Ii large purple-
and-red spider design-the robes of a high priestess.

  "Baenre's own daughters;' Malice mused, for only the
daughters of a noble could attain such a rank. How careful
the First Matron Mother had been to ensure Malice's safety
on the trip!

  Slaves and drow commoners tripped over themselves in a
frantic effort to get far out of the way of the approaching
entourage as the group made its way through the curving
streets toward the mushroom grove. The soldiers of House
Baenre alone wore their house insignia in open view, and no
one wanted to invoke the anger of Matron Baenre in any
way.

  Malice just rolled her eyes in disbelief and hoped that she
might know such power before she died.

  She rolled her eyes again a few minutes later, when the
group approached the ruling house. House Baenre encom-
passed twenty tall and majestic stalagmites, all intercon-
nected with gracefully sweeping and arching bridges and
parapets. Magic and faerie fire glowed from a thousand sep-
arate sculptures and a hundred regally adorned guardsmen
paced about in perfect formations.

  Even more striking were the inverse structures, the thirty
smaller stalactites of House Baenre. They hung down from
the ceiling of the cavern, their roots lost in the high dark-
ness. Some of them connected tip-to-tip with the stalagmite
mounds, while others hung freely like poised spears. Ring-
ing balconies, curving up like the edging of a screw, had
been built along the length of all of these, glowing with an
overabundance of magic and highlighted design.

  Magic, too, was the fence that connected the bases of the
outer stalagmites, encircling the whole of the compound. It
was a giant web, silver against the general blue of the rest of
the outer compound. Some said it had been a gift from Lloth
herself, with iron-strong strands as thick as a drow elf's
arm. Anything touching Baenre's fence, even the sharpest
of drow weapons, would simply stick fast until the matron
mother willed the fence to let it free.

  Malice and her escorts moved straight toward a symmet-
rical and circular section of this fence, between the tallest of
the outer towers. As they neared, the gate spiraled and
wound out, leaving a gap large enough for the caravan to
step through.
  
  Malice sat through it all, trying to appear unimpressed.

  Hundreds of curious soldiers watched the procession as it
made its way to the central structure of House Baenre, the
great purple-glowing chapel dome. The common soldiers
left the entourage, leaving only the four high priestesses to:
escort Matron Malice inside.

  The sights beyond the great doors to the chapel did not
disappoint her. A central altar dominated the place with a
row of benches spiraling out in several dozen circuits to the
perimeter of the great hall. 1\'0'0 thousand drow could sit
there with room to stretch. Statues and idols too numerous
to count stood all about the place, glowing in a quiet black
light. In the air high above the altar loomed a gigantic glow-
ing image, a red-and-black illusion that slowly and contin-
ually shifted between the forms of a spider and a beautiful
drow female.

  " A work of Gomph, my principal wizard;' Matron Baenre
explained from her perch on the altar, guessing that Malice,
like everyone else who ever came to Chapel Baenre, was
awestruck by the sight. "Even wizards have their place:'

  "As long as they remember their place;' Malice replied;;::
slipping down from the now stationary disk.

  "Agreed;' said Matron Baenre. "Males can get so presump-
tuous at times} especially wizards! Still, I wish that I had
Gomph at my side more often these days. He has been ap-
pointed Archmage of Menzoberranzan, you know, and
seems always at work on Narbondel or some other such
tasks:'

  Malice just nodded and held her tongue. Of course, she
knew that Baenre's son was the city's chief wizard. Every-
body knew. Everybody knew, too, that Baenre's daughter
Triel was the Matron Mistress of the Academy, a position of
honor in Menzoberranzan second only to the title of ma-
tron mother of an individual family. Malice had little doubt
that Matron Baenre would somehow work that fact into the
conversation before too long.

  Before Malice took a step toward the stairs to the altar,
her newest escort stepped out from the shadows. Malice
scowled openly when she saw the thing, a creature known
as an illithid, a mind fIayer. It stood about six feet tall, fully a
foot taller than Malice, most of the difference being the re-
sult of the creature's enormous head. Glistening with slime,
he head resembled an octopus with pupil-less, milky white
eyes.

  Malice composed herself quickly. Mind fIayers were not
mknown in Menzoberranzan, and rumors said that one
1ad befriended Matron Baenre. These creatures, though,
nore intelligent and more evil than even the drow, almost
Ilways inspired shudders of revulsion.

  "You may call him Methil;' Matron Baenre explained. "His
true name is beyond my pronunciation. He is a friend!'

  Before Malice could reply, Baenre added, "Of course,
Methil gives me the advantage in our discussion, and you
are not accustomed to illithids!' Then, as Malice's mouth
drooped open in disbelief, Matron Baenre dismissed the il.
ithid.

  "You read my thought;' Malice protested. Few could insin.
Jate themselves through the mental barriers of a high
priestess well enough to read her thoughts, and the practice
was a crime of the highest order in drow society.

  "No!" Matron Baenre explained, immediately on the de-
fensive. "Your pardon, Matron Malice. Methil reads
thoughts, even the thoughts of a high priestess, as easily as
you or I hear words. He communicates telepathically. On
my word, I did not even realize that you had not yet spoken
your thoughts!'

  Malice waited to watch the creature depart the great hall,
then walked up the steps to the altar. In spite of her efforts
Igainst the action, she could not help peeking up at the
transforming spider-and-drow image every now and then.

  "How fares House Do'Urden?" Matron Baenre asked,
Feigning politeness.

  "Well enough:' replied Malice, more interested at that mo-
ment in studying her counterpart than in conversing. They
were alone atop the altar, though no doubt a dozen or so
clerics wandered through the shadows of the great hall,
keeping a watchful eye on the situation.

  Malice had all that she could handle in hiding her con-
tempt for Matron Baenre. Malice was old, nearly five hun-
dred, but Matron Baenre was ancient. Her eyes had seen
the rise and fall of a millennium, by some accounts, though
drow rarely lived past their seventh-and certainly not
their eighth-century. While drow normally did not show
their age-Malice was as beautiful and vibrant now as she
had been on her one-hundredth birthday-Matron Baenre
was withered and worn. The wrinkles surrounding her
mouth resembled a spider's web, and she could hardly keep
the heavy lids of her eyes from dropping altogether. Matron
Baenre should be dead, Malice noted, but still she lives.

  Matron Baenre, seeming so beyond her time of life, was
pregnant, and due in only a few weeks.

  In this aspect, too, Matron Baenre defied the norm of the
dark elves. She had given birth twenty times, twice as often
as any others in Menzoberranzan, and fifteen of those she
bore were female, everyone a high priestess! Thn of
Baenre's children were older than Malice!

  "How many soldiers do you now command?" Matron
Baenre asked, leaning closer to show her interest.

  "Three hundred;' Malice replied.

  "Oh," mused the withered old drow, pursing a finger to
her lips. "I had heard the count at three-hundred fifty:'

  Malice grimaced in spite of herself. Baenre was teasing
her, referring to the soldiers House Do'Urden had added in
its raid on House DeVir:

  "Three hundred;' Malice said again.

  "Of course;' replied Baenre, resting back.

  "And House Baenre holds a thousand?" Malice asked for
no better reason than to keep herself on even terms in the
discussion.

  "That has been our number for many years:'

  Malice wondered again why this old decrepit thing was
still alive. Surely more than one of Baenre's daughters as-
pired to the position of matron mother. Why hadn't they
conspired and finished Matron Baenre off? Or why hadn't
any of them, some in the later stages of life, struck out on
their own to form separate houses, as was the norm for no-
ble daughters when they passed their fifth century? While
they lived under Matron Baenre's rule, their children would
not even be considered nobles but would be relegated to the
ranks of the commoners.

  "You have heard of the fate of House DeVir?" Matron
Baenre asked directly, growing as tired of the hesitant small
talk as her counterpart.

  "Of what house?" Malice asked pointedly. At this time,
there was no such thing as House DeVir in Menzoberran-
zan. 1b drow reckoning, the house no longer existed; the
house never existed.

  Matron Baenre cackled. "Of course;' she replied. "You are
matron mother of the ninth house now. That is quite an
honor!'

  Malice nodded. "But not as great an honor as matron
mother of the eighth house!'

  "Yes;' agreed Baenre, "but ninth is only one position away
from a seat on the ruling council!'

  "That would be an honor indeed;' Malice replied. She was
beginning to understand that Baenre was not simply teasing
her, but was congratulating her as well, and prodding her
on to greater glories. Malice brightened at the thought.
Baenre was in the highest favor of the Spider Queen. If she
was pleased with House Do'Urden's ascension, then so was
Lloth.

  "Not as much of an honor as you would believe;' said
Baenre. "We are a group of meddling old females, gathering
every so often to find new ways to put our hands into places
they do not belong!'

  "The city recognizes your rule!'

  "Does it have a choice?" Baenre laughed. "Still, drow busi-
ness is better left to the matron mothers of the individual
houses. Lloth would not stand for a presiding council exact-
jng anything that even remotely resembled total rule. Do
you not believe that House Baenre would have conquered
all of Menzoberranzan long ago if that was the Spider
Queen's will?"

  Malice shifted proudly in her chair, appalled by such arro-
gant words.

  "Not now, of course;' Matron Baenre explained. "The city
is too large for such an action in this age. But long ago, be-
fore you were even born, House Baenre would not have
found such a conquest difficult. But that is not our way.
Lloth encourages diversity. She is pleased that houses stand
to balance each other, ready to fight beside each other in
times of common need:' She paused a moment and let a
smile appear on her wrinkled lips. "And ready to pounce
upon any that fall out of her favor:'

  Another direct reference to House DeVir, Malice noted,
this time directly connected to the Spider Queen's pleasure.
Malice eased out of her angry posture and found the rest of
her discussion-fully two hours long-with Matron Baenre
quite enjoyable.

  Still, when she was back on the disk and floating out
through the compound, past the grandest and strongest
house in all of Menzoberranzan, Malice was not smiling. In
the face of such an open display of power, she could not for-
get that Matron Baenre's purpose in summoning her had
been twofold: to privately and cryptically congratulate her
on her perfect coup, and to vividly remind her not to get too
ambitious.
                       Chapter 5
                        Weaning 


  For five long years Vierna devoted almost every waking
moment to the care of baby Drizzt. In drow society, this was
not so much a nurturing time as an indoctrinating time. The
child had to learn basic motor and language skills, as did
children of all the intelligent races, but a drow elf also had
to be grilled on the precepts that bound the chaotic society
together.

  In the case of a male child such as Drizzt, Vierna spent
hour after endless hour reminding him that he was inferior
to the drow females. Since almost all of this portion of
Drizzt's life was spent in the family chapel, he encountered
no males except during times of communal worship. Even
when all in the house gathered for the unholy ceremonies,
Drizzt remained silent at Vierna's side, with his gaze obedi-
ently on the floor.

  When Drizzt was old enough to follow commands,
Vierna's workload lessened. Still, she spent many hours
teaching her younger brother-presently they were work-
ing on the intricate facial, hand, and body movements of the
silent code. Often, though, she just set Drizzt about the
endless task of cleaning the domed chapel. The room was
barely a fifth the size of the great hall in House Baenre, but
it could hold all the dark elves of House Do'Urden with a
hundred seats to spare.

  Being a wean-mother was not so bad now, Vierna
thought, but still she wished that she could devote more of
her time to her studies. If Matron Malice had appointed
Maya to the task of rearing the child, Vierna might already
have been ordained as a high priestess. Vierna still had an-
other five years in her duties with Drizzt; Maya might attain
high priestesshood before her!

  Vierna dismissed that possibility. She could not afford to
worry about such problems.She would finish her tenure as
wean-mother in just a few short years. On or around his
tenth birthday, Drizzt would be appointed page prince of
the family and would serve all the household equally. If her
work with Drizzt did not disappoint Matron Malice, Vierna
knew that she would get her due.

  "Go up the wall." Vierna instructed. "Tend to that statue."
She pointed to a sculpture of a naked drow female about
twenty feet from the floor. Young Drizzt looked up at it, con-
fused. He couldn't possibly climb up to the sculpture and
wipe it clean while holding any secure perch. Drizzt knew
the high price of disobedience, though-even of
hesitation-and he reached up, searching for his first hand-
hold.

  "Not like that!" Vierna scolded.

  "How?" Drizzt dared to ask, for he had no idea of what his
sister was hinting at.

  "Will yourself up to the gargoyle;' Vierna explained.
Drizzt's small face crinkled in confusion.

  "You are a noble of House Do'Urden!" Vierna shouted at
him. "Or at least you will one day earn that distinction. In
your neck-purse you possess the emblem of the house, an
item of considerable magic:' Vierna still wasn't certain if
Drizzt was ready for such a task; levitation was a high mani-
festation of innate draw magic, certainly more difficult that
limning objects in faerie fire or summoning globes of dark-
ness. The Do'Urden emblem heightened these innate
powers of drow elves, magic that usually emerged as a
drow matured. Whereas most drow nobles could summon
the magical energy to levitate once every day or so, the no-
bles of House Do'Urden, with their insignia tool, could do so
repeatedly.

  Normally, Vierna would never have tried this on a male
child younger than ten, but Drizzt had shown her so much
potential in the last couple of years that she saw no harm in
the attempt. "Just put yourself in line with the statue;' she
explained, "and will yourself to rise:'

  Drizzt looked up at the female carving, then lined his feet
just out in front of the thing's angled and delicate face. He
put a hand to his collar, trying to attune himself to the em-
blem. He had sensed before that the magic coin possessed
some type of power, but it was only a raw sensation, a
child's intuition. Now that Drizzt had some focus and confir-
mation to his suspicions, he clearly felt the vibrations of
magical energy.

  A series of deep breaths cleared distracting thoughts
from the young drow's mind. He blocked out the other
sights of the room; all he saw was the statue, the destina-
tion. He felt himself grow lighter, his heels went up, and
then he was on one toe, though he felt no weight upon it.
Drizzt looked over at Vierna, his smile wide in amazement
. . . then he tumbled to a heap.

  "Foolish male!" Vierna scolded. "1ry again! 1ry a thousand
times if you must!" She reached for the snake-headed whip
on her belt. "If you fail, . . "

   Drizzt looked away from her, cursing himself. His own
elation had caused the spell to falter. He knew that he could
do it now, though, and he was not afraid of being beaten. He
concentrated again on the sculpture and let the magical en-
ergy gather within his body.

  Vierna, too, knew that Drizzt would eventually succeed.
His mind was keen, as sharp as any Vierna had ever known,
including those of the other females of House Do'Urden.
The child was stubborn, too; Drizzt would not let the magic
defeat him. She knew he would stand under the sculpture
until he fainted from hunger if need be.

  Vierna watched him go through a series of small suc-
cesses and failures, the last one dropping Drizzt from a
height of nearly ten feet. Vierna flinched, wondering if he
was seriously hurt. Drizzt, whatever his wounds, did not
even cry out but moved back into position and started con-
centrating allover again.
  "He is young for that;' came a comment from behind 
Vierna. She turned in her seat to see Briza standing over
Iher, a customary scowl on the older sister's face.

  "Perhaps;' Vierna replied, "but I'll not know until I let him
try" 

  "Whip him when he fails;' Briza suggested, pulling her 
cruel six-headed instrument from her belt. She gave the
whip a loving look-as if it were some sort of pet-and let a 
snake's head writhe about her neck and face. "Inspiration:'

  "Put it away;' Vierna retorted. "Drizzt is mine to rear, and I
need no help from you!"
 
  "You should watch how you speak to a high priestess,"
Briza warned, and all of the snake heads, extensions of her
thoughts, turned menacingly toward Vierna.
 
  " As Matron Malice will watch how you interfere with my
tasks;' Vierna was quick to reply.
Briza put her whip away at the mention of Matron Malice.  

  "Your tasks;' she echoed scornfully. "You are too yielding for 
such a chore. Male children must be disciplined; they must ?
be taught their place:' Realizing that Vierna's threat held 
dir consequences, the older sister turned and left. 
Vlerna let BrlZa have the last word. The wean-mother 
looked back to Drizzt, still trying to get up to the statue.
"Enough!" she ordered, recognizing that the child was tir-
ing; he could barely get his feet off the ground. 

  "I will do it!" Drizzt snapped back at her. 

  Vierna liked his determination, but not the tone of his re-
ply. Perhaps there was some truth to Briza's words. Vierna 
snapped the snake-headed whip from her belt. A little inspi-
ration might go a long way. 

  Vierna sat in the chapel the next day, watching Drizzt 
hard at work polishing the s1atue of the naked female. He
had levitated the full twenty feet in his first attempt this day.

  Vierna could not help but be disappointed when Drizzt 
did not look back to her and smile at the success. She saw
him now, hovering up in the air, his hands a blur as they
worked the brushes. Most vividly of all, though, Vierna saw
the scars on her brother's naked back, the legacy of their
"inspirational" discussion. In the infrared spectrum, the
whip lines showed clearly, trails of warmth where the insu-
lating layers of skin had been stripped away.

  Vierna understood the gain in beating a child, particularly
a male child. Few drow males ever raised a weapon against
a female, unless under the order of some other female.
"How much do we lose?" Vierna wondered aloud. "What
more could one such as Drizzt become?"

  When she heard the words spoken aloud, Vierna quickly
brushed the blasphemous thoughts from her mind. She as-
pired to become a high priestess of the Spider Queen, Lloth
the Merciless. Such thoughts were not in accord with the
rules of her station. She cast an angry glare on her little
brother, transferring her guilt, and again took out her in-
strument of punishment.

  She would have to whip Drizzt again this day, for the sac-
rilegious thoughts he had inspired within her.

  So the relationship continued for another five years, with
Drizzt learning the basic lessons of life in drow society
while endlessly cleaning the chapel of House Do'Urden. Be-
yond the supremacy of female drow (a lesson always accen-
tuated by the wicked snake-headed whip), the most
compelling lessons were those concerning the surface
elves, the faeries. Evil empires often bound themselves in
webs of hate toward fabricated enemies, and none in the
history of the world were better at it than the drow. From
the first day they were able to understand the spoken word,
drow children were taught that whatever was wrong in
their lives could be blamed on the surface elves.

  Whenever the fangs of Vierna's whip sliced into Drizzt's
back, he cried out for the death of a faerie. Conditioned ha.
tred was rarely a rational emotion.


                           Part 2
                     The Weapon Master

  Empty hours, empty days. 

  I find that I have few memories of that first period of my -
life, those first sixteen years when I labored as a servant.
Minutes blended into hours, hours into days, and so on, un-
til the whole of it seemed one long and barren moment. Sev-
eral times I managed to sneak out onto the balcony of House
Do'Urden and look out over the magical lights of Menzober-
ranzan. On all of those secret journeys, I found myself en-
tranced by the growing, and then dissipating, heat-light of
Narbondel, the time-clock pilla!: Looking back on that now,
on those long hours watching the glow of the wizard's fire
slowly walk its way up and then down the pillar; I am
amazed at the emptiness of my early days.

  I clearly remember my excitement, tingling excitement,
each time I got out of the house and set myself into position
to observe the pilla!: Such a simple thing it was, yet so fulfill.
ing compared to the rest of my existence.

  Whenever I hear the crack of a whip, another memory-
more a sensation than a memory actually-sends a shiver
through my spine. The shocking jolt and the ensuing numb-
ness from those snake-headed weapons is not something
that any person would soon forget. They bite under your
skin, sending waves of magical energy through your body,
waves that make your muscles snap and pull beyond their
limits.

  Yet I was luckier than most. My sister Vierna was near to
becoming a high priestess when she was assigned the task
of rearing me and was at a period of her life where she pos-
sessed far more energy than such a job required. Perhaps,
then, there was more to those first ten years under her care
than I now recall. Vierna never showed the intense wicked-
ness of our mother-oJ; more particularly; of our oldest sis-
ter Briza. Perhaps there were good times in the solitude of
the house chapel; it is possible that Vierna allowed a more
gentle side of herself to show through to her baby brothel:

  Maybe not. Even though I count Vierna as the kindest of
my sisters, her words drip in the venom of Uoth as surely as
those of any cleric in Menzoberranzan. It seems unlikely
that she would risk her aspirations toward high priestes-
shood for the sake of a mere child, a mere male child.

  Whether there were indeed joys in those years, obscured
in the unrelenting assault of Menzoberranzan's wicked-
ness, or whether that earliest period of my life was even
more painful than the years that followed-so painful that
my mind hides the memories-I cannot be certain. For all
my efforts, I cannot remember them.

  I have more insight into the next six years, but the most
prominent recollection of the days I spent serving the court
of Matron Malice-aside from the secret trips outside the
house-is the image of my own feet.
A page prince is never allowed to raise his gaze.

                                          -Drizzt Do'Urden


                        
                        Chapter 6

                       "Two-Hands"


  Drizzt promptly answered the call to his matron mother's
side, not needing the whip Briza used to hurry him along. 
How often he had felt the sting of that dreaded weapon!
Drizzt held no thoughts of revenge against his vicious oldest
sister. With all of the conditioning he had received, he
feared the consequences of striking her-or any female-
far too much to entertain such notions.

  "Do you know what this day marks?" Malice asked him as
he arrived at the side of her great throne in the chapel's
darkened anteroom.

  "No, Matron Mother;' Drizzt answered, unconsciously
keeping his gaze on his toes. A resigned sigh rose in his
throat as he noticed the unending view of his own feet.
There had to be more to life than blank stone and ten wig.
gling toes, he thought.

  He slipped one foot out of his low boot and began doodling
on the stone floor. Body heat left discernable tracings in the
infrared spectrum, and Drizzt was quick and agile enough
to complete simple drawings before the initial lines had
cooled.

  "Sixteen years;' Matron Malice said to him. "You have
breathed the air of Menzoberranzan for sixteen years. An
important period of your life has passed:'

  Drizzt did not react, did not see any importance or signifi-
cance to the declaration. His life was an unending and un-
changing routine. One day, sixteen years, what difference
did it make? If his mother considered important the things
he had been put through since his earliest recollections,

Drizzt shuddered to think of what the next decades might
hold.

  He had nearly completed his picture of a round-
shouldered drow-Briza-being bitten on the behind by an
enormous viper.

  "Look at me;' Matron Malice commanded.

  Drizzt felt at a loss. His natural tendency once had been to
look upon a person with whom he was talking, but Briza
had wasted no time in beating that instinct out of him. The
place of a page prince was servitude, and the only eyes a
page prince's were worthy of meeting were those of the
creatures that scurried across the stone floor-except the
eyes of a spider, of course; Drizzt had to avert his gaze
whenever one of the eight-legged things crawled into his vi-
sion. Spiders were too good for the likes of a page prince.

  "Look at me;' Malice said again, her tone hinting at volatile
impatience. Drizzt had witnessed the explosions before, a
wrath so incredibly vile that it swept aside anything and
everything in its path. Even Briza, so pompous and cruel,
ran for hiding when the matron mother grew angry.

  Drizzt forced his gaze up tentatively, scanning his moth-
er's black robes, using the familiar spider pattern along the
garment's back and sides to judge the angle of his gaze. He
fully expected, as every inch passed, a smack on his head, or
a lashing on his back-Briza was behind him, always with
her snake-headed whip near her anxious hand.

  Then he saw her, the mighty Matron Malice Do'Urden,
her heat-sensing eyes flashing red and her face cool, not
flushed with angry heat. Drizzt kept tense, still expecting a
punishing blow.

  "Your tenure as page prince is ended;' Malice explained.
"You are secondboy of House Do'Urden now and are ac-
corded all the. . :'

  Drizzt's gaze unconsciously slipped back to the floor.

  "Look at me!" his mother screamed in sudden rage.

  Terrified, Drizzt snapped his gaze back to her face, which
now was glowing a hot red. On the edge of his vision he saw
the wavering heat of Malice's swinging hand, though he was
not foolish enough to try to dodge the blow. He was on the
floor then, the side of his face bruised.

  Even in the fall, though, Drizzt was alert and wise enough
to keep his gaze locked on to that of Matron Malice.

  "No more a servant!" the matron mother roared. "Th con-
tinue acting like one would bring disgrace to our family:'
She grabbed Drizzt by the throat and dragged him roughly
to his feet.

  "If you dishonor House Do'Urden;' she promised, her face
an inch from his, "I will put needles into your purple eyes."

  Drizzt didn't blink. In the six years since Vierna had relin-
quished care of him, putting him into general servitude to
all the family, he had come to know Matron Malice well
enough to understand all of the subtle connotations of her
threats. She was his mother-for whatever that was
worth-but Drizzt did not doubt that she would enjoy stick.
ing needles in his eyes. 

  "This one is different;' Vierna said, "in more than the
shade of his eyes:'

  "In what way, then?" Zaknafein asked, trying to keep his
curiosity at a professional level. Zak had always liked Vierna
better than the others, but she recently had been ordained
a high priestess, and had since become too eager for her
own good.

  Vierna slowed the pace of her gait-the door to the
chapel's antechamber was in sight now. "It is hard to say;'
she admitted. "Drizzt is as intelligent as any male child I
have ever known; he could levitate by the age of five. Yet, af.
ter he became the page prince, it took weeks of punishment
to teach him the duty of keeping his gaze to the floor, as if
such a simple act ran unnaturally counter to his constitu-
tion:'

  Zaknafein paused and let Vierna move ahead of him. "Un-
natural?" he whispered under his breath, considering the
implications of Vierna's observations. Unusual, perhaps, for
a drow, but exactly what Zaknafein would expect-and
hope for-from a child of his loins.

  He moved behind Vierna into the lightless anteroom. Mal-
ice, as always, sat in her throne at the head of the spider
idol, but all the other chairs in the room had been moved to
the walls, even though the entire family was present. This
was to be a formal meeting, Zak realized, for only the ma-
tronmother was accorded the comfort of a seat.

  "Matron Malice;' Vierna began in her most reverent voice,
"I present to you Zaknafein, as you requested:'

  Zak moved up beside Vierna and exchanged nods with
Malice, but he was more intent on the youngest Do'Urden,
standing naked to the waist at the matron mother's side.

  Malice held up one hand to silence the others, then mo-
tioned for Briza, holding a house piwafwi, to continue.

  An expression of elation brightened Drizzt's childish face
as Briza, chanting through the appropriate incantations,
placed the magical cloak, black and shot with streaks of pur-
ple and red, over his shoulders.

  "Greetings, Zaknafein Do'Urden;' Drizzt said heartily,
drawing stunned looks from all in the room. Matron Malice
had not granted him privilege to speak; he hadn't even
asked her permission!

  "I am Drizzt, secondboy of House Do'Urden, no more the
page prince. 1 can look at you now-1 mean at your eyes and
not your boots. Mother told me so:' Drizzt's smile disap-
peared when he looked up at the burning scowl of Matron
Malice.

  Vierna stood as if turned to stone, her jaw hanging open
and her eyes wide in disbelief.

  Zak, too, was amazed, but in a different manner. He
brought a hand up to pinch his lips together, to prevent
them from spreading into a smile that would have inevita-
bly erupted into belly-shaking laughter. Zak couldn't re-
member the last time he had seen the matron mother's face
so very bright!

  Briza, in her customary position behind Malice, fumbled
with her whip, too confounded by her young brother's
actions to even know what in the Nine Hells she should do.
  That was a first, Zak knew, for Malice's eldest daughter
rarely hesitated when punishment was in order.
 
  At the matron's side, but now prudently a step farther
away, Drizzt quieted and stood perfectly still, biting down
on his bottom lip. Zak could see, though, that the smile re-
mained in the young drow's eyes. Drizzt's informality and
disrespect of station had been more than an unconscious
slip of the tongue and more than the innocence of inexperi-
ence.

  The weapon master took a long step forward to deflect
the matron mother's attention from Drizzt. "Secondboy?"
he asked, sounding impressed, both for the sake of Drizzt's
swelling pride and to placate and distract Malice. "Then it is
time for you to train;'

  Malice let her anger slip away, a rare event. "Only the ba-
sics at your hand, Zaknafein. If Drizzt is to replace Nalfein,
his place at the Academy will be in Sorcere. Thus the bulk of
his preparation will fall upon Rizzen and his knowledge,
limited though it may be, of the magical arts;'

  "Are you so certain that wizardry is his lot, Matron?" Zak
was quick to ask.

  "He appears intelligent;' Malice replied. She shot an angry
glare at Drizzt. "At least, some of the time. Vierna reported
great progress with his command of the innate powers. Our
house needs a new wizard;' Malice snarled reflexively, re-
minded of Matron Baenre's pride in her wizard son, the
Archmage of the city. It had been sixteen years since Mal-
ice's meeting with the First Matron Mother of Menzober-
ranzan, but she had never forgotten even the tiniest detail
of that encounter. "Sorcere seems the natural course;'

  Zak took a flat coin from his neck-purse, flipped it into a
spin, and snatched it out of the air. "Might we see?" he
asked.

  "As you will;' Malice agreed, not surprised at Zak's desire
to prove her wrong. Zak placed little value in wizardry, pre-
ferring the hilt of a blade to the crystal rod component of a
lightning bolt.

  Zak moved to stand before Drizzt and handed him the
coin. "Flip it:'

  Drizzt shrugged, wondering what this vague conversa-
tion between his mother and the weapon master was all
about. Until now, he had heard nothing of any future pro-
fession being planned for him, or of this place called Sor-
cere. With a consenting shrug of his shoulders, he slid the
coin onto his curled index finger and snapped it into the air
with his thumb, easily catching it. He then held it back out to
Zak and gave the weapon master a confused look, as if to
ask what was so important about such an easy task.

  Instead of taking the coin, the weapon master pulled an-
other from his neck-purse. "1ry both hands;' he said to
Drizzt, handing it to him.

  Drizzt shrugged again, and in one easy motion, put the
coins up and caught them.

  Zak turned an eye on Matron Malice. Any drow could
have performed that feat, but the ease with which this one
executed the catch was a pleasure to observe. Keeping a sly
eye on the matron, Zak produced two more coins. "Stack
two on each hand and send all four up together;' he in-
structed Drizzt.

  Four coins went up. Four coins were caught. The only
parts of Drizzt's body that had even flinched were his arms.

  "Two-hands;' Zak said to Malice. "This one is a fighter. He
belongs in Melee-Magthere:'

  "I have seen wizards perform such feats;' Malice retorted,
not pleased by the look of satisfaction on the troublesome
weapon master's face. Zak once had been Malice's pro-
claimed husband, and quite often since that distant time she
took him as her lover. His skills and agility were not con-
fined to the use of weapons. But along with the pleasures
that Zaknafein gave to Malice, sensual skills that had
prompted Malice to spare Zak's life on more than a dozen
occasions, came a multitude of headaches. He was the finest
weapon master in Menzoberranzan, another fact that Mal-
ice could not ignore, but his disdain, even contempt, for the
Spider Queen had often landed House Do'Urden into trou- 
ble. 

  Zak handed two more coins to Drizzt. Now enjoying the
game, Drizzt put them into motion. Six went up. Six came
down, the correct three landing in each hand.
"Two-hands:' Zak said more emphatically. Matron Malice
motioned for him to continue, unable to deny the grace of
her youngest son's display.

  "Could you do it again?" Zak asked Drizzt.

  With each hand working independently, Drizzt soon had
the coins stacked atop his index fingers, ready to flip. Zak
stopped him there and pulled out four more coins, building
each of the piles five high. Zak paused a moment to study
the concentration of the young drow (and also to keep his
hands over the coins and ensure that they were brightened
enough by the warmth of his body heat for Drizzt to prop-
erly see them in their flight).

  "Catch them all, Secondboy;' he said in all seriousness.
"Catch them all, or you will land in Sorcere, the school of
magic. That is not wher~ you belong!"

  Drizzt still had only a vague idea of what Zak was talking
about, but he could tell from the weapon master's intensity
that it must be important. He took a deep breath to steady
himself, then snapped the coins up. He sorted their glow
quickly, discerning each individual item. The first two fell
easily into his hands, but Drizzt saw that the scattering pat-
tern of the rest would not drop them so readily in line.

  Drizzt exploded into action, spinning a complete circle,
his hands an undecipherable blur of motion. Then he
straightened suddenly and stood before Zak. His hands
were in fists at his sides and a grim look lay on his face.

  Zak and Matron Malice exchanged glances, neither quite
sure of what had happened.

  Drizzt held his fists out to Zak and slowly opened them, a
confident smile widening across his childish face.
Five coins in each hand.

  Zak blew a silent whistle. It had taken him, the weapon
master of the house, a dozen tries to complete that maneu-
ver with ten coins. He walked over to Matron Malice.

  "Two-hands;' he said a third time. "He is a fighter, and I am
out of coins:'

  "How many could he do?" Malice breathed, obviously im-
pressed in spite of herself.

  "How many could we stack?" Zaknafein shot back with a
triumphant smile.

  Matron Malice chuckled out loud and shook her head. She
had wanted Drizzt to replace Nalfein as the house wizard,
but her stubborn weapon master had, as always, deflected
her course. "Very well, Zaknafein;' she said, admitting her
defeat. "The secondboy is a fighter:'

  Zak nodded and started back to Drizzt.

  "Perhaps one day soon to be the weapon master of House
Do'Urden;' Matron Malice added to Zak's back. Her sarcasm
stopped Zak short, and he eyed her over his shoulder.

  "With this one;' Matron Malice continued wryly, wrench-
ing back the upper hand with her usual lack of shame,
"could we expect anything less?"

  Rizzen, the present patron of the family shifted uncom-
fortably. He knew, and so did everyone-even the slaves of
House Do'Urden-that Drizzt was not his child.

  "Three rooms?" Drizzt asked when he and Zak entered
the large training hall at the southernmost end of the Do'Ur-
den complex. Balls of multicolored magical light had been
spaced along the length of the high-ceilinged stone room,
basking the entirety in a comfortably dim glow. The hall
had only three doors: one to the east, which led to an outer
chamber that opened onto the balcony of the house; one di-
rectly across from Drizzt, on the south wall, leading into the
last room in the house; and the one from the main hallway
that they had just passed through. Drizzt knew from the
many locks Zak was now fastening behind them that he
wouldn't often be going back that way.

  "One room;' Zak corrected.

  "But two more doors;' Drizzt reasoned, looking out across
the room. "With no locks:'

  "Ah;' Zak corrected, "their locks are made of common
sense:' Drizzt was beginning to get the picture. "That door;'
Zak continued, pointing to the south, "opens into my private
chambers. You do not ever want me to find you in there.
The other one leads to the tactics room, reserved for times
of war. When-if-you ever prove yourself to my satisfac-
tion, I might invite you to join me there. That day is years
away, so consider this single magnificent hall-" he swept
his arm out in a wide arc-"your home:'

  Drizzt looked around, not overly thrilled. He had dared to
hope that he had left this kind of treatment behind him with
his page prince days. This setup, though, brought him back
even to before his six years of servitude in the house, back
to that decade when he had been locked away in the family
chapel with Vierna. This room wasn't even as large as the
chapel, and was too tight for the likings of the spirited
young drow. His next question came out as a growl.

  "Where do I sleep?"

  "Your home;' Zak answered matter-of-factly.

  "Where do I take meals?"

  "Your home:'

  Drizzt's eyes narrowed to slits and his face flushed in
glowing heat. "Where do I . . :' he began stubbornly, deter-
mined to foil the weapon master's logic.

  "Your home;' Zak replied in the same measured and
weighted timbre before Drizzt could finish the thought.
Drizzt planted his feet firmly and crossed his arms over
his chest. "It sounds messy;' he growled.

  "It had better not be;' Zak growled back.

  "Then what is the purpose?" Drizzt began. "You pull me
away from my mother-"

  "You will address her as Matron Malice;' Zak warned. "You
will always address her as Matron Malice:'

  "From my mother-"

  Zak's next interruption came not with words but with the
swing of a curled fist.

  Drizzt awoke about twenty minutes later.

  "First lesson;' Zak explained, casually leaning against the
wall a few feet away. "For your own good. You will always
address her as Matron Malice:'

  Drizzt rolled to his side and tried to prop himself up on his
elbow but found his head reeling as soon as it left the black-
rugged floor. Zak grabbed him and hoisted him up.

  "Not as easy as catching coins:' the weapon master re-
marked.

  "What?"

  "Parrying a blow:'

  "What blow?"
  
  "Just agree, you stubborn child:'

  "Secondboy!" Drizzt corrected, his voice again a growl,
and his arms defiantly back over his chest.

  Zak's fist curled at his side, a not-tao-subtle point that
Drizzt did not miss. "Do you need another nap?" the
weapon master asked calmly.

  "Secondboys can be children:' Drizzt wisely conceded.

  Zak shook his head in disbelief. This was going to be inter-
esting. "You may find your time here enjoyable:' he said,
leading Drizzt over to a long, thick, and colorfully (though
most of the colors were somber) decorated curtain. "But
only if you can learn some control over that wagging tongue
of yours:' A sharp tug sent the curtain floating down, re-
vealing the most magnificent weapons rack the young drow
(and many older drow as well) had ever seen. Polearms of
many sorts, swords, axes, hammers, and every other kind
of weapon Drizzt could imagine-and a whole bunch he'd
never imagine-sat in an elaborate array.

  "Examine them:' Zak told him. "lake your time and your
pleasure. Learn which ones sit best in your hands, follow
most obediently the commands of your will. By the time we
have finished, you will know everyone of them as a trusted
companion:'

  Wide-eyed, Drizzt wandered along the rack, viewing the
whole place and the potential of the whole experience in a
completely different light. For his entire young life, sixteen
years, his greatest enemy had been boredom. Now, it ap-
peared, Drizzt had found weapons to fight that enemy.

  Zak headed for the daor to his private chamber, thinking
it better that Dmzt be alone in those first awkward mo-
ments of handling new weapons.

  The weapon master stopped, though, when he reached
his door and looked back to the young Do'Urden. Drizzt
swung a long and heavy halberd, a polearm more than
twice his height, in a slow arc. For all of Drizzt's attempts to
keep the weapon under control, its momentum spun his
tiny frame right to the ground.

  Zak heard hims~lf chuckle, but his laughter only re-
minded him of the grim reality of his duty. He would train
Drizzt, as he had trained a thousand young dark elves be-
fore him, to be a warrior, preparing him for the trials of the
Academy and life in dangerous Menzoberranzan. He would
train Drizzt to be a killer.

  How against this one's nature that mantle seemed!
thought Zak. Smiles came too easily to Drizzt; the thought of
him running a sword through the heart of another living be-
ing revolted Zaknafein. That was the way of the drow,
though, a way that Zak had been unable to resist for all of
his four centuries of life. Pulling his stare from the spectacle
of Drizzt at play, Zak moved into his chamber and shut the
door.

  "Are they all like that?" he asked into his nearly empty
room. "Do all drow children possess such innocence, such
simple, untainted smiles that cannot survive the ugliness of
our world?" Zak started for the small desk to the side of the
room, meaning to lift the darkening shade off the contin-
ually glowing ceramic globe that served as the chamber's
light source. He changed his mind as that image of Drizzt's
delight with the weapons refused to diminish, and he
headed instead for the large bed across from the door.

  "Or are you unique, Drizzt Do'Urden?" he continued ashe
fell onto the cushioned bed. "And if you are so different,
what, then, is the cause? The blood, my blood, that courses
through your veins? Or the years you spent with your
wean-mother?"

  Zak threw an arm across his eyes and considered the
many questions. Drizzt was different from the norm, he de-
cided at length, but he didn't know whether he should
thank Vierna-or himself.

  After a while, sleep took him. But it brought the weapon
master little comfort. A familiar dream visited him} a vivid
memory that would never fade.

  Zaknafein heard again the screams of the children of
House DeVir as the Do'Urden soldiers-soldiers he himself
had trained-slashed at them.

  "This one is different!" Zak cried, leaping up from his bed.
He wiped the cold sweat from his face.

  "This one is different:' He had to believe that.


                         Chapter 7
                       Dark Secrets


  "Do you truly mean to try?" Masoj asked, his voice conde-
scending and filled with disbelief.

  Alton turned his hideous glare on the student.

  "Direct your anger elsewhere, Faceless One;' Masoj said,
averting his gaze from his mentor's scarred visage. "I am not
the cause of your frustration. The question was valid:'

  "For more than a decade, you have been a student of the
magical arts;' Alton replied. "Still you fear to explore the
nether world at the side of a master of Sorcere:'

  "I would have no fear beside a true master;' Masoj dared
to whisper.

  Alton ignored the comment, as he had with so many oth-
ers he had accepted from the apprenticing Hun'ett over the
last sixteen years. Masoj was Alton's only tie to the outside
world, and while Masoj had a powerful family, Alton had
only Masoj.

  They moved through the door into the uppermost cham-
ber of Alton's four-room complex. A single candle burned
there, its light diminished by an abundance of dark-colored
tapestries and the black hue of the room's stone and rugs.
Alton slid onto his stool at the back of the small, circular ta-
ble, and placed a heavy book down before him.

  "It is a spell better left for clerics;' Masoj protested, sitting
down across from the faceless master. "Wizards command
the lower planes; the dead are for the clerics alone:'

  Alton looked around curiously, then turned a frown up at
Masoj, the master's grotesque features enhanced by the
dancing candlelight. "It seems that I have no cleric at my
call;' the Faceless One explained sarcastically. "Would you
rather I try for another denizen of the Nine Hells?"

  Masoj rocked back in his chair and shook his head help-
lessly and emphatically. Alton had a point. A year before,
the Faceless One had sought answers to his questions by en-
listing the aid of an ice devil. The volatile thing froze the
room until it shone black in the infrared spectrum and
smashed a matron mother's treasure horde worth of al-
chemical equipment. If Masoj hadn't summoned his magical
cat to distract the ice devil, neither he nor Alton would have
gotten out of the room alive.

  "Very well, then;' Masoj said unconvincingly, crossing his
arms in front of him on the table. "Conjure your spirit and
find your answers:'

  Alton did not miss the involuntary shudder belied by the
ripple in Masoj's robes. He glared at the student for a mo-
ment, then went back to his preparations.

  As Alton neared the time of casting/ Masoj's hand instinc-
tively went into his pocket, to the onyx figurine of the hunt-
ing cat he had acquired on the day Alton had assumed the
Faceless One's identity. The little statue was enchanted with
a powerful dweomer that enabled its possessor to summon
a mighty panther to his side. Masoj had used the cat spar-
ingly, not yet fully understanding the dweomer's limitations
and potential dangers. "Only in times of need;' Masoj re-
minded himself quietly when he felt the item in his hand.
Why was it that those times kept occurring when he was
with Alton? the apprentice wondered.

  Despite his bravado, this time Alton privately shared Ma-
soj's trepidation. Spirits of the dead were not as destructive
as denizens of the lower planes, but they could be equally
cruel and subtler in their torments.

  Alton needed his answer, though. For more than a decade
and a half he had sought his information through conven-
tional channels, enquiring of masters and students-in a
roundabout manner, of course-of the details concerning
the fall of House DeVir. Many knew the rumors of that
eventful night; some even detailed the battle methods used
by the victorious house.

  None, though, would name that perpetrating house. In
Menzoberranzan, one did not utter anything resembling an
accusation, even if the belief was commonly shared, with-
out enough undeniable proof to spur the ruling council into
a unified action against the accused. If a house botched a
raid and was discovered, the wrath of all Menzoberranzan
would descend upon it until the family name had been ex-
tinguished. But in the case of a successfully executed attack,
such as the one that felled House DeVir, an accuser was the
one most likely to wind up at the wrong end of a snake-
headed whip.

  Public embarrassment, perhaps more than any guidelines
of honor, turned the wheels of justice in the city of drow.

  Alton now sought other means for the solution to his
quest. First he had tried the lower planes, the ice devil, to di-
sastrous effect. Now Alton had in his possession an item that
could end his frustrations: a tome penned by a wizard of the
surface world. In the drow hierarchy, only the clerics of
Lloth dealt with the realm of the dead, but in other societies,
wizards also dabbled into the spirit world. Alton had found
the book in the library of Sorcere and had managed to
translate enough of it, he believed, to make a spiritual con-
tact.

  He wrung his hands together, gingerly opened the book to
the marked page, and scanned the incantation one final
time. "Are you ready?" he asked Masoj.

  "No:'

  Alton ignored the student's unending sarcasm and placed
his hands flat on the table. He slowly sunk into his deepest
meditative trance.

  " Fey innad . . :' He paused and cleared his throat at the
slip. Masoj, though he hadn't closely examined the spell, rec-
ognized the mistake.


  "Fey innunad de-min. . :' Another pause.

  "Lloth be with us;' Masoj groaned under his breath.

  Alton's eyes popped wide, and he glared at the student. " A
translation;' he growled. "From the strange language of a
human wizard!"

  "Gibberish;' Masoj retorted.

  "I have in front of me the private spellbook of a wizard
from the surface world;' Alton said evenly. "An archmage,
according to the scribbling of the orcan thief who stole it
and sold it to our agents:' He composed himself again and
shook his hairless head, trying to return to the depths of his
trance.

  "A simple, stupid orc managed to steal a spellbook from an
archmage;' Masoj whispered rhetorically, letting the ab-
surdity of the statement speak for itself.

  "The wizard was dead!" Alton roared. "The book is au-
thentic! "

  "Who translated it?" Masoj replied calmly.
Alton refused to listen to any more arguments. Ignoring
the smug look on Masoj's face, he began again.

  "Fey mnunad de-mill de-suI de-kef:'

  Masoj faded out and tried to rehearse a lesson from one of
his classes, hoping that his sobs of laughter wouldn't disturb
Alton. He didn't believe for a moment that Alton's attempt
would prove successful, but he didn't want to screw up the
fool's line of babbling again and have to suffer through the
ridiculous incantation all the way from the beginning still
another time.

  A short time later, when Masoj heard Alton's excited whis-
per, "Matron Ginafae?" he quickly focused his attention
back on the events at hand.
Sure enough, an unusual ball of green-hued smoke ap-
peared over the candle's flame and gradually took a more
definite shape.

  "Matron Ginafae!" Alton gasped again when the summons
was complete. Hovering before him was the unmistakable
image of his dead mother's face.

  The spirit scanned the room, confused. "Who are you?" it
asked at length.

  "I am Alton. Alton DeVir, your son:'

  "Son?" the spirit asked.

  "Your child:'

  "I remember no child so very ugly:'

  "A disguise;' Alton replied quickly, looking back at Masoi
and expecting a snicker. If Masoi had chided and doubted
Alton before, he now showed only sincere respect.
Smiling, Alton continued, "Just a disguise, that I might
move about in the city and exact revenge upon our ene-
mies!"

  "What city?"

  "Menzoberranzan, of course:'

  Still the spirit seemed not to understand.

  "You are Ginafae?" Alton pressed. "Matron Ginafae
DeVir?"

  The spirit's features contorted into a twisted scowl as it
considered the question. "I was. . . I think:'

  "Matron Mother of House DeVir, Fourth House of Menzo-
berranzan;' Alton prompted, growing more excited. "High
priestess of Lloth:'

  The mention of the Spider Queen sent a spark through
the spirit.. "Dh, no!" it balked. Ginafae remembered now.

  "You should not have done this, my ugly son!"

  "It is iust a disguise;' Alton interrupted.

  "I must leave you;' Ginafae's spirit continued, glancing
around nervously. "You must release me!"

  "But I need some information from you, Matron Ginafae:'

  "Do not call me that!" the spirit shrieked. "You do not un-
derstand! I am not in Lloth's favor. . . :'

  "'ll'ouble;' whispered Masoi offhandedly, hardly sur-
prised.

  "Just one answer!" Alton demanded, refusing to let an-
other opportunity to learn his enemies' identities slip past
him.

  "Quickly!" the spirit shrieked.

  "Name the house that destroyed DeVir:'

  "The house?" Ginafae pondered. "Yes, I remember that
evil night. It was House-"

  The ball of smoke puffed and bent out of shape, twisting
Ginafae's image and sending her next words out as an unde-
cipherable blurb.

  Alton leaped to his feet. "No!" he screamed. "You must tell
me! Who are my enemies?"

  "Would you count me as one?" the spirit image said in a
voice very different from the one it had used earlier, a tone
of sheer power that stole the blood from Alton's face. The
image twisted and transformed, became something ugly,
uglier than Alton. Hideous beyond all experience on the Ma-
terial Plane.

  Alton was not a cleric, of course, and he had never stud-
ied the drow religion beyond the basic tenets taught to
males of the race. He knew the creature now hovering in
the air before him, though, for it appeared as an oozing,
slimy stick of melted wax: a yochlol, a handmaiden of Lloth.

  "You dare to disturb the torment of Ginafae?" the yochlol
snarled.

  "Damn!" whispered Masoj, sliding slowly down under the
black tablecloth. Even he, with all of his doubts of Alton,
had not expected his disfigured mentor to land them in
trouble this serious.

  "But. . :' Alton stuttered.

  "Never again disturb this plane, feeble wizard!" the yoch-
lol roared.

  "I did not try for the Abyss;' Alton protested meekly. "I
only meant to speak with-"

  "With Ginafae!" the yochlol snarled. "Fallen priestess of
Uoth. Where would you expect to find her spirit, foolish
male? Frolicking in Olympus, with the false gods of the sur-
face elves?"

  "I did not think. . :'

  "Do you ever?" the yochlol growled.

  "Nope;' Masoj answered silently, careful to keep himself as
far out of the way as possible.

  "Never again disturb this plane;' the yochlol warned a fi-
nal time. "The Spider Queen is not merciful and has no tol-
erance for meddling males!" The creature's oozing face
puffed and swelled, expanding beyond the limits of the
smoky ball. Alton heard gurgling, gagging noises, and he
stumbled back over his stool, putting his back flat against
the wall and bringing his arms up defensively in front of his
face.

  The yochlol's mouth opened impossibly wide and spewed
forth a hail of small objects. They ricocheted off Alton and
tapped against the wall all around him. Stones? the faceless
wizard wondered in confusion. One of the objects then an-
swered his unspoken question. It caught hold of Alton's lay-
ered black robes and began crawling up toward his exposed
neck. Spiders.

  A wave of the eight-legged beasts rushed under the little
table, sending Masoj tumbling out the other side in a desper-
ate roll. He scrambled to his feet and turned back, to see Al-
ton slapping and stomping wildly, trying to get out of the
main host of the crawling things.

  "Do not kill them!" Masoj screamed. "Th kill spiders is for-
bidden by the-"

  "To the Nine Hells with the clerics and their laws!" Alton
shrieked back.

  Masoj shrugged in helpless agreement, reached around
under the folds of his own robes, and produced the same
two-handed crossbow he had used to kill the Faceless One
those years ago. He considered the powerful weapon and
the tiny spiders scrambling around the room.

  "Overkill?" he asked aloud. Hearing no answer, he
shrugged again and fired.

  The heavy bolt knifed across Alton's shoulder, cutting a
deep line. The wizard stared in disbelief, then turned an
ugly grimace on Masoj.

  "You had one on your shoulder;' the student explained.
Alton's scowl did not relent.

  "Ungrateful?" Masoj snarled. "Foolish Alton, all of the spi-
ders are on your side of the room. Remember?" Masoj
turned to leave and called, "Good hunting;' over his shoul-
der. He reached for the handle to the door, but as his long
fingers closed around it, the portal's surface transformed
into the image of Matron Ginafae. She smiled widely, too
widely, and an impossibly long and wet tongue reached out
and licked Masoj across the face.

  " Alton!" he cried, spinning back against the wall out of the
slimy member's reach. He noticed the wizard in the midst of
spellcasting, Alton fighting to hold his concentration as a
host of spiders continued their hungry ascent up his flow-
ing robes.

  "You are a dead one;' Masoj commented matter-of-factly,
shaking his head.

  
  Alton fought through the exacting ritual of the spell, ig-
nored his own revulsion of the crawling things, and forced
the evocation to completion. In all of his years of study, Al-
ton never would have believed he could do such a thing; he
would have laughed at the mere mention of it. Now, how-
ever, it seemed a far preferable fate to the yochlol's creeping
doom.

  He dropped a fireball at his own feet.

  Naked and hairless, Masoj stumbled through the door and
out of the inferno. The flaming faceless master came next,
diving into a roll and stripping his tattered and burning
robe from his back as he went.

  As he watched Alton patting out the last of the flames, a
pleasant memory flashed in Masoi's mind, and he uttered
the single lament that dominated his every thought at this
disastrous moment.

  "I should have killed him when I had him in the web:'

  A short time later, after Masoj had gone back to his room
and his studies, Alton slipped on the ornamental metallic
bracers that identified him as a master of the Academy and
slipped outside the structure of Sorcere. He moved to the
wide and sweeping stairway leading down from Tier

  Breche and sat down to take in the sights of Menzoberran-
zan.

  Even with this view, though, the city did little to distract
Alton from thoughts of his latest failure. For sixteen years
he had forsaken all other dreams and ambitions in his des-
perate search to find the guilty house. For sixteen years he 
had failed. 

  He wondered how long he could keep up the charade, and
his spirits. Masoj, his only friend-if Masoj could be called a
friend-was more than halfway through his studies at Sor-
cere. What would Alton do when Masoj graduated and reo 
turned to House Hun'ett? j

  "Perhaps I shall carryon my toils for centuries to come;' 
he said aloud, "only to be murdered by a desperate student,
as I-as Masoj-murdered the Faceless One. Might that stu-
dent disfigure himself and take my place?" Alton couldn't
stop the ironic chuckle that passed his lipless mouth at the
notion of a perpetual "faceless master" of Sorcere. At what
point would the Matron Mistress of the Academy get suspi-
cious? A thousand years? '!en thousand? Or might the Face-
less One outlive Menzoberranzan itself? Life as a master
was not such a bad lot, Alton supposed. Many drow would
sacrifice much to be given such an honor.

  Alton dropped his face into the crook of his elbow and
forced away such ridiculous thoughts. He was not a real
master, nor did the stolen position bring him any measure
of satisfaction. Perhaps Masoj should have shot him that
day, sixteen years ago, when Alton was trapped in the Face-
less One's web.

  Alton's despair only deepened when he considered the ac-
tual time frame involved. He had just passed his seventieth
birthday and was still young by drow standards. The notion
that only a tenth of his life was behind him was not a com-
forting one to Alton DeVir this night.

  "How long will I survive?" he asked himself. "How long un-
til this madness that is my existence consumes me?" Alton
looked back out over the city. "Better that the Faceless One
had killed me;' he whispered. "For now I am Alton of No
House Worth Mentioning:'

  Masoj had dubbed him that on the first morning after
House DeVir's fall, but way back then, with his life teetering
on the edge of a crossbow, Alton had not understood the ti-
tle's implications. Menzoberranzan was nothing more than 
a collection of individual houses. A rogue commoner might
latch on to one of them to call his own, but a rogue noble
wouldn't likely be accepted by any house in the city. He was
left with Sorcere and nothing more. . . until his true identity
was discovered at last. What punishments would he then
face for the crime of killing a master? Masoj may have com-
mitted the crime, but Masoj had a house to defend him. Al-
ton was only a rogue noble.

  He sat back on his elbows and watched the rising heat-
light of Narbondel. As the minutes became hours, Alton's
despair and self-pity went through inevitable change. He
turned his attention to the individual drow houses now, not
to the conglomeration that bound them as a city, and he
wondered what dark secrets each harbored. One of them,
Alton reminded himself, held the secret he most dearly
wanted to know. One of them had wiped out House DeVir.

  Forgotten was the night's failure with Matron Ginafae and
the yochlol, forgotten was the lament for an early death.
Sixteen years was not so long a time, Alton decided. He had
perhaps seven centuries of life left within his slender frame.
If he had to, Alton was prepared to spend every minute of
those long years searching for the perpetrating house.

  "Vengeance;' he growled aloud, needing, feeding off, that
audible reminder of his only reason for continuing to draw
breath.


                         Chapter 8
                          Kindred


  Zak pressed in with a series of low thrusts. Drizzt tried to
back away quickly and return to even footing, but the re-
lentless assault followed his every step, and he was forced
to keep his movements solely on the defensive. More often
than not, Drizzt found the hilts of his weapons closer to Zak
than the blades.

  Zak then dropped into a low crouch and came up under
Drizzt's defense.

  Drizzt twirled his scimitars in a masterful cross, but he
had to straighten stiffly to dodge the weapon master's
equally deft assault. Drizzt knew that he had been set up,
and he fully expected the next attack as Zak shifted his
weight to his back leg and dove in, both sword tips aimed
for Drizzt's loins.

  Drizzt spat a silent curse and spun his scimitars into a
downward cross, meaning to use the "V" of his blades to
catch his teacher's swords. On a sudden impulse, Drizzt
hesitated as he intercepted Zak's weapons, and he jumped
away instead, taking a painful slap on the inside of one
thigh. Disgusted, he threw both of his scimitars to the floor.

  Zak, too, leaped back. He held his swords out to his sides,
a look of sincere confusion on his face. "You should not have
missed that move;' he said bluntly.

  "The parry is wrong;' Drizzt replied.

  Awaiting further explanation, Zak lowered one sword tip
to the floor and leaned on the weapon. In past years, Zak
had wounded, even killed, students for such blatant defi-
ance.
his blades down to Drizzt's face level. 

  When Drizzt came clear of the other side of the darkened
globe, he looked back and saw only the lower half of Zak's
legs. He didn't need to watch anything more to understand
the weapon master's deadly blind attacks. Zak would have
cut him apart if he had not dropped low in the blackness.

  Anger replaced confusion. When Zak dropped from his
magical perch and came rushing back out the front of the
globe, Drizzt let his rage lead him back into the fight. He
spun a pirouette just before he reached Zak, his lead scimi.
tar cutting a gracefully arcing line and his other following in
a deceptively sharp stab straight over that line.

  Zak dodged the thrusting point and put a backhand block
on the other.

  Drizzt wasn't finished. He set his thrusting blade into a se.
ries of short, wicked pokes that kept Zak on the retreat for a
dozen steps and more, back into the conjured darkness.
They now had to rely on their incredibly keen sense of hear.
ing and their instincts. Zak finally managed to regain afoot.
hold, but Drizzt immediately set his own feet into action,
kicking away whenever the balance of his swinging blades
allowed for it. One foot even slipped through Zak's de.
fenses, blasting the breath from the weapon master's lungs.

  They came back out the side of the globe, and Zak, too,
glowed in the outline of faerie fire. The weapon master felt
sickened by the hatred etched on his young student's face,
but he realized that this time, neither he nor Drizzt had
been given a choice in the matter. This fight had to be ugly,
had to be real. Gradually, Zak settled into an easy rhythm,
solely defensive, and let Drizzt, in his explosive fury, wear
himself down.

  Drizzt played on and on, relentless and tireless. Zak
coaxed him by letting him see openings where there were
none, and Drizzt was always quick to oblige, launching a
thrust, cut, or kick.

  Matron Malice watched the spectacle silently. She
couldn't deny the measure of training Zak had given her
son; Drizzt was-physically-more than ready for battle. ~~:

  "The cross-down defeats the attack, but to what gain?"
Drizzt continued. "When the move is completed, my sword
tips remain down too low for any effective attack routine,
and you are able to slip back and free:'

  "But you have defeated my attack:'

  "Only to face another; Drizzt argued. "The best position I
can hope to obtain from the cross-down is an even stance:'

  "Yes. . :' Zak prompted, not understanding his student's
problem with that scenario.

  "Remember your own lesson!" Drizzt shouted. "'Every
move should bring an advantage: you preach to me, but I
see no advantage in using the cross-down:'

  "You recite only one part of that lesson for your own pur-
pose:' Zak scolded, now growing equally angry. "Complete
the phrase, or use it not at all! 'Every move should bring an
advantage or take away a disadvantage: The cross-down de-
feats the double thrust low, and your opponent obviously
has gained the advantage if he even attempts such a daring
offensive maneuver! Returning to an even stance is far pref-
erable at that moment:'

  "The parry is wrong!" Drizzt said stubbornly.

  "Pick up your blades:' Zak growled at him, taking a threat-
ening step forward. Drizzt hesitated and Zak charged, his
swords leading.

  Drizzt dropped to a crouch, snatched up the scimitars,
and rose to meet the assault while wondering if it was an-
other lesson or a true attack.

  The weapon master pressed furiously, snapping off cut
after cut and backing Drizzt around in circles. Drizzt de.
fended well enough and began to notice an all-too-familiar
pattern as Zak's attacks came consistently lower, again forc-
ing the hilts of Drizzt's weapons up and out over the scimi-
tars' blades.

  Drizzt understood that Zak meant to prove his point with
actions, not words. Seeing the fury on Zak's face, though,
Drizzt wasn't certain how far the weapon master would
carry his point. If Zak proved correct in his observations,
would he strike again to Drizzt's thigh? Or to his heart? Zak
came up and under and Drizzt stiffened and straightened.

  "Double thrust low" the weapon master growled, and his
swords dove in.

  Drizzt was ready for him. He executed the cross-down,
smiling smugly at the ring of metal as his scimitars crossed
over the thrusting swords. Drizzt then followed through
with only one of his blades, thinking he could deflect both of
Zak's swords well enough in that manner. Now with one
blade free of the parry, Drizzt spun it over in a devious
counter.

  As soon as Drizzt reversed the one hand, Zak saw the
ploy-a ruse he had suspected Drizzt would try. Zak
dropped one of his own sword tips-the one nearest to the
hilt of Drizzt's single parrying blade-to the ground, and
Drizzt, trying to maintain an even resistance and balance
along the length of the blocking scimitar, lost his balance.
Drizzt was quick enough to catch himself before he had
stumbled too far, though his knuckles pinched into the
stone of the floor. He still believed that he had Zak caught in
his trap, and that he could finish his brilliant counter. He
took a short step forward to regain his full balance.

  The weapon master dropped straight down to the floor,
under the arc of Drizzt's swinging scimitar, and spun a sin-
gle circuit, driving his booted heel into the back of Drizzt's
exposed knee. Before Drizzt had even realized the attack,
he found himself lying flat on his back.

  Zak abruptly broke his own momentum and threw his
feet back under him. Before Drizzt could begin to under.
stand the dizzying counter-counter, he found the weapon
master standing over him with the tip of Zak's sword pain.
fully and pointedly drawing a tiny drop of blood from his
throat. 
 
  "Have you anything more to say?" Zak growled. 

  "The parry is wrong;' Drizzt answered. 

  Zak's laughter erupted from his belly. He threw his sword
jto the ground, reached down, and pulled the stubborn
young student to his feet. He calmed quickly, his gaze find.
ing that of Drizzt's lavender orbs as he pushed the student
out to arm's length. Zak marveled at the ease of Drizzt's
stance, the way he held the twin scimitars almost as if they
were a natural extension of his arms. Drizzt had been in
training only a few months, but already he had mastered
the use of nearly every weapon in the vast armory of House
Do'Urden.

  Those scimitars! Drizzt's chosen weapons, with curving
blades that enhanced the dizzying flow of the young fight-
er's sweeping battle style. With those scimitars in hand, this
young drow, barely more than a child, could outfight half
the members of the Academy, and a shiver tingled through
Zak's spine when he pondered just how magnificent Drizzt
would become after years of training.

  It was not just the physical abilities and potential of Drizzt
Do'Urden that made Zaknafein pause and take note, how-
ever. Zak had come to realize that Drizzt's temperament
was indeed different from that of the average drow; Drizzt
possessed a spirit of innocence and lacked any malicious-
ness. Zak couldn't help but feel proud when he looked upon
Drizzt. In all manners, the young drow held to the same
principles-morals so unusual in Menzoberranzan-as Zak.

  Drizzt had recognized the connection as well, though he
had no idea of how unique his and Zak's shared perceptions
were in the evil drow world. He realized that "Uncle Zak"
was different from any of the other dark elves he had come
to know, though that included only his own family and a
few dozen of the house soldiers. Certainly Zak was much
different from Briza, Drizzt's oldest sister, with her zealous,
almost blind, ambitions in the mysterious religion of Lloth.
Certainly Zak was different from Matron Malice, Drizzt's
mother, who seemed never to say anything at all to Drizzt
unless it was a command for service.

  Zak was able to smile at situations that didn't necessarily
bring pain to anyone. He was the firstdrow Drizzt had met
who was apparently content with his station in life. Zak was
the first drow Drizzt had ever heard laugh.

  "A good try;' the weapon master conceded of Drizzt's
failed counter.
  "In a real battle, I would have been dead;' Drizzt replied.

  "Surely:' said Zak, "but that is why we train. Your plan was
masterful, your timing perfect. Only the situation was
wrong. Still, I will say it was a good try!'

  "You expected it;' said the student.

  Zak smiled and nodded. "That is, perhaps, because I had
seen the maneuver attempted by another student!'

  "Against you?" Drizzt asked, feeling a little less special
now that he knew his battle insights were not so unique.

  "Hardly;' Zak replied with a wink. "I watched the counter
fail from the same angle as you, to the same result!'
Drizzt's face brightened again. "We think alike;' he com-
mented.

  "We do;' said Zak, "but my knowledge has been increased
by four centuries of experience, while you have not even
lived through a score of years. 'fi'ust me, my eager student.
The cross-down is the correct parry!'

  "Perhaps:' Drizzt replied.

  Zak hid a smile. "When you find a better counter, we shall
try it. But until then, trust my word. I have trained more sol-
diers than I can count, all the army of House Do'Urden and
ten times that number when I served as a master in Melee-
Magthere. I taught Rizzen, all of your sisters, and both of
your brothers!'

  "Both?"

  "I . .  Zak paused and shot a curious glance at Drizzt. "I
see;' he said after a moment. "They never bothered to tell
you!' Zak wondered if it was his place to tell Drizzt the
truth. He doubted that Matron Malice would care either
way; she probably hadn't told Drizzt simply because she
hadn't considered the story of Nalfein's death worth telling.

  "Yes, both!' Zak decided to explain. "You had two brothers
when you were born: Dinin, whom you know, and an older
one, Nalfein, a wizard of considerable power. Nalfein was
killed in battle on the very night you drew your first
breath!'

  " Against dwarves or vicious gnomes?" Drizzt squeaked, as
wide-eyed as a child begging for a frightening bedtime
story. "Was he defending the city from evil conquerors or
rogue monsters?"

  Zak had a hard time reconciling the warped perceptions
of Drizzt's innocent beliefs. "Bury the young in lies;' he la-
mented under his breath, but to Drizzt he answered, "No:'

  "Then against some opponent more foul?" Drizzt pressed.

  "Wicked elves from the surface?"

  "He died at the hands of a drow!" Zak snapped in frustra-
tion, stealing the eagerness from Drizzt's shining eyes.
Drizzt slumped back to consider the possibilities, and Zak
could hardly bear to watch the confusion that twisted his
young face.

  "War with another city?" Drizzt asked somberly. "I did not
know.. :'

  Zak let it go at that. He turned and moved silently toward
his private chamber. Let Malice or one of her lackeys de-
stroy Drizzt's innocent logic. Behind him, Drizzt held his
next line of questions in check, understanding that the con-
versation, and the lesson, was at an end. Understanding,
too, that something important had just transpired.

  The weapon master battled Drizzt through long hours as
the days blended into weeks, and the weeks into months.
Time became unimportant; they fought until exhaustion
overwhelmed them, and went back to the training floor
again as soon as they were able.

  By the third year, at the age of nineteen, Drizzt was able to
hold out for hours against the weapon master, even taking
the offensive in many of their contests.

  Zak enjoyed these days. For the first time in many years,
he had met one with the potential to become his fighting
equal. For the first time that Zak could ever remember,
laughter often accompanied the clash of adamantite weap-
ons in the training room.

  He watched Drizzt grow tall and straight, attentive, eager,
and intelligent. The masters of the Academy would be hard
put just to hold a stalemate against Drizzt, even in his first
year!

  That thought thrilled the weapon master only as long as it
took him to remember the principles of the Academy, the
precepts of drow life, and what they would do to his won-
derful student. How they would steal that smile from
Drizzt's lavender eyes.

  A pointed reminder of that drow world outside the prac-
tice room visited them one day in the person of Matron Mal-
ice.

  "Address her with proper respect;' Zak warned Drizzt
when Maya announced the matron mother's entrance. The
weapon master prudently moved out a few steps to greet
the head of House Do'Urden privately.

  "My greetings, Matron;' he said with a low bow. "To what
do i owe the honor of your presence?"

  Matron Malice laughed at him, seeing through his facade.

  "So much time do you and my son spend in here;' she said. "I
came to witness the benefit to the boy:'

  "He is a fine fighter;' Zak assured her.

  "He will have to be;' Malice muttered. "He goes to the
Academy in only a year:'

  Zak narrowed his eyes at her doubting words and
growled, "The Academy has never seen a finer swordsman:'

  The matron walked away from him to stand before
Drizzt. "I doubt not your prowess with the blade;' she said
to Drizzt, though she shot a sly gaze back at Zak as she
spoke the words. "You have the proper blood. There are
other qualities that make up a drow warrior-qualities of
the heart. The attitude of a warrior!"

  Drizzt didn't know how to respond to her. He had seen
her only a few times in all of the last three years, and they
had exchanged no words.

  Zak saw the confusion on Drizzt's face and feared that the
boy would slip up-precisely what Matron Malice wanted.
Then Malice would have an excuse to pull Drizzt out of
Zak's tutelage-dishonoring Zak in the process-and give
him over to Dinin or some other passionless killer. Zak may
have been the finest instructor with the blade, but now that
Drizzt had learned the use of weapons, Malice wanted him
emotionally hardened.

  Zak couldn't risk it; he valued his time with young Drizzt
too much. He pulled his swords from their jeweled scab-
bards and charged right by Matron Malice, yelling, "Show
her, young warrior!"

  Drizzt's eyes became burning flames at the approach of
his wild instructor. His scimitars came into his hands as
quickly as if he had willed them to appear.

  It was a good thing they had! Zak came in on Drizzt with a
fury that the young drow had never before seen, more so
even than the time Zak had shown Drizzt the value of the
cross-down parry. Sparks flew as sword rang against scimi-
tar, and Drizzt found himself driven back, both of his arms
already aching from the thudding force of the heavy blows.

  "What are you. . :' Drizzt tried to ask.

  "Show her;' Zak growled, slamming in again and again.
Drizzt barely dodged one cut that surely would have
killed him. Still, confusion kept his moves purely defensive.
Zak slapped one of Drizzt's scimitars, then the other, out
wide, and used an unexpected weapon, bringing his foot
straight up in front of him and slamming his heel into
Drizzt's nose.

  Drizzt heard the crackle of cartilage and felt the warmth
of his own blood running freely down his face. He dove
back into a roll, trying to keep a safe distance from his
crazed opponent until he could realign his senses.
From his knees he saw Zak;a short distance away and ap-
proaching. "Show her!" Zak growled angrily with every de-
termined step.

  The purple flames of faerie fire limned Drizzt's skin, mak-
ing him an easier target. He responded the only way he
could; he dropped a globe of darkness over himself and Zak.
Sensing the weapon master's next move, Drizzt dropped to
his belly and scrambled out, keeping his head low-a wise
choice.

  At his first realization of the darkness, Zak had quickly
levitated up about ten feet and rolled right over, sweeping
his blades down to Drizzt's face level. 

  When Drizzt came clear of the other side of the darkened
globe, he looked back and saw only the lower half of Zak's
legs. He didn't need to watch anything more to understand
the weapon master's deadly blind attacks. Zak would have
cut him apart if he had not dropped low in the blackness.

  Anger replaced confusion. When Zak dropped from his
magical perch and came rushing back out the front of the
globe, Drizzt let his rage lead him back into the fight. He
spun a pirouette just before he reached Zak, his lead scimi.
tar cutting a gracefully arcing line and his other following in
a deceptively sharp stab straight over that line.

  Zak dodged the thrusting point and put a backhand block
on the other.

  Drizzt wasn't finished. He set his thrusting blade into a se.
ries of short, wicked pokes that kept Zak on the retreat for a
dozen steps and more, back into the conjured darkness.
They now had to rely on their incredibly keen sense of hear.
ing and their instincts. Zak finally managed to regain afoot.
hold, but Drizzt immediately set his own feet into action,
kicking away whenever the balance of his swinging blades
allowed for it. One foot even slipped through Zak's de.
fenses, blasting the breath from the weapon master's lungs.

  They came back out the side of the globe, and Zak, too,
glowed in the outline of faerie fire. The weapon master felt
sickened by the hatred etched on his young student's face,
but he realized that this time, neither he nor Drizzt had
been given a choice in the matter. This fight had to be ugly,
had to be real. Gradually, Zak settled into an easy rhythm,
solely defensive, and let Drizzt, in his explosive fury, wear
himself down.

  Drizzt played on and on, relentless and tireless. Zak
coaxed him by letting him see openings where there were
none, and Drizzt was always quick to oblige, launching a
thrust, cut, or kick.

  Matron Malice watched the spectacle silently. She
couldn't deny the measure of training Zak had given her
son; Drizzt was-physically-more than ready for battle. 
  Zak knew that, to Matron Malice, sheer skill with weap-
ons might not be enough. Zak had to keep Malice from con-
versing with Drizzt for any length of time. She would not
approve of her son's attitudes.

  Drizzt was tiring now, Zak could see, though he recog-
nized the weariness in his student's arms to be partly decep-
tion.

  "Go with it:' he muttered silently, and he suddenly
"twisted" his ankle, his right arm flailing out wide and low
as he struggled for balance, opening a hole in his defenses
that Drizzt could not resist.

  The expected thrust came in a flash, and Zak's left arm
streaked in a short cross-cut that slapped the scimitar right
out of Drizzt's hand.

  "Ha!" Drizzt cried, having expected the move and launch-
ing his second ruse. His remaining scimitar knifed over
Zak's left shoulder, inevitably dipping in the follow-through
of the parry.

  But by the time Drizzt even launched the second blow,
Zak was already down to his knees. As Drizzt's blade cut
harmlessly high, Zak sprang to his feet and launched a right
cross, hilt first, that caught Drizzt squarely in the face. A
stunned Drizzt leaped back a long step and stood perfectly
still for a long moment. His remaining scimitar dropped to
the ground, and his glossed eyes did not blink.

  "A feint within a feint within a feint!" Zak calmly ex-
plained.

  Drizzt slumped to the floor, unconscious.
Matron Malice nodded her approval as Zak walked back
over to her. "He is ready for the Academy:' she remarked.

  Zak's face turned sour and he did not answer.

  "Vierna is there already;' Malice continued, "to teach as a
mistress in Arach- Tinilith, the School of Lloth. It is a high
honor:'

  A laurel for House Do'Urden, Zak knew, but he was smart
enough to keep his thoughts silent.

  "Dinin will leave soon;' said the matron.

  Zak was surprised. Two children serving as masters in the
Academy at the same time? "You must have worked hard to
get such accommodations;' he dared to remark.

  Matron Malice smiled. "Favors owed, favors called in:'

  "To what end?" asked Zak. "Protection for Drizzt?"

  Malice laughed aloud. "From what I have just witnessed,
Drizzt would more likely protect the other two!"

  Zak bit his lip at the comment. Dinin was still twice the
fighter and ten times the heartless killer as Drizzt. Zak
knew that Malice had other motives.

  "Three of the first eight houses will be represented by no
fewer than four children in the Academy over the next two
decades;' Matron Malice admitted. "Matron Baenre's own
son will begin in the same class as Drizzt:'

  "So you have aspirations;' Zak said. "How high, then, will
House Do'Urden climb under the guidance of Matron Mal-
ice?"

  "Sarcasm will cost you your tongue;' the matron mother
warned. "We would be fools to let slip by such an opportu-
nity to learn more of our rivals!"

  "The first eight houses;' Zak mused. "Be cautious, Matron
Malice. Do not forget to watch for rivals among the lesser
houses. There once was a house named DeVir that made
such a mistake:'

  "No attack will come from behind;' Malice sneered. "We
are the ninth house but boast more power than but a hand-
ful of others. None will strike at our backs; there are easier
targets higher up the line:'

  "And all to our gain;' Zak put in.

  "That is the point of it all, is it not?" Malice asked, her evil
smile wide on her face.

  Zak didn't need to respond; the matron knew his true feel.
ings. That precisely was not the point.

  "Speak less and your jaw will heal faster;' Zak said later,
when he again was alone with Drizzt.

  Drizzt cast him a vile glance.

  The weapon master shook his head. "We have become



                       Chapter 9
                       Families


"Come quickly;' Zak instructed Drizzt one evening after
they had finished their sparring. By the urgency of the
weapon master's tone, and by the fact that Zak didn't even
pause to wait for Drizzt, Drizzt knew that something impor-
tant was happening.

  He finally caught up to Zak on the balcony of House
Do'Urden, where Maya and Briza already stood.

  "What is it?" Drizzt asked.

  Zak pulled him close and pointed out across the great ca-
vern, to the northeastern reaches of the city. Lights flashed
and faded in sudden bursts, a pillar of fire rose into the air,
then disappeared.

  "A raid;' Briza said offhandedly. "Minor houses, and of no
concern to us:'
Zak saw that Drizzt did not understand.

  "One house has attacked another;' he explained. "Re-
venge, perhaps, but most likely an attempt to climb to a
higher rank in the city:'

  "The battle has been long;' Briza remarked, "and still the
lights flash:'

  Zak continued to clarify the event for the confused se-
condboy of the house. "The attackers should have blocked
the battle within rings of darkness. Their inability to do so
might indicate that the defending house was ready for the
raid:'

  "All cannot be going well for the attackers;' Maya agreed.
Drizzt could hardly believe what he was hearing. Even
more alarming than the news itself was the way his family
talked about the event. They were so calm in their descrip-
tions, as if this was an expected occurrence.

  "The attackers must leave no witnesses;' Zak explained to
Drizzt, "else they will face the .wrath of the ruling council:'

  "But we are witnesses;' Drizzt reasoned.

  "No;' Zak replied. "We are onlookers; this battle is none of
our affair. Only the nobles of the defending house are
awarded the right to place accusations against their attack-
ers:'

  "If any nobles are left alive;' Briza added, obviously enjoy-
ing the drama.

  At that moment, Drizzt wasn't sure if he liked this new
revelation. However he might have felt, he found that he
could not tear his gaze from the continuing spectacle of
drow battle. All the Do'Urden compound was astir now, sol-
diers and slaves running about in search of a better vantage
point and shouting out descriptions of the action and ru-
mors of the perpetrators.

  This was drow society in all its macabre play, and while it
seemed ultimately wrong in the heart of the youngest mem-
ber of House Do'Urden, Drizzt could not deny the excite-
ment of the night. Nor could Drizzt deny the expressions of
obvious pleasure stamped upon the faces of the three who
shared the balcony with him.

  Alton made his way through his private chambers one fi-
nal time, to make certain that any artifacts or tomes that
might seem even the least bit sacrilegious were safely hid-
den. He was expecting a visit from a matron mother, a rare
occasion for a master of the Academy not connected with
Arach- Tinilith, the School of Lloth. Alton was more than a
little anxious about the motives of this particular visitor, Ma-
tron SiNafay Hun'ett, head of the city's fifth house and
mother of Masoj, Alton's partner in conspiracy.

  A bang on the stone door of the outermost chamber in his
complex told Alton that his guest had arrived. He straight-
ened his robes and took yet another glance around the
room. The door swung open before Alton could get there,
and Matron SiNafay swept into the room. How easily she
made the transformation-walking from the absolute dark
of the outside corridor into the candlelight of Alton's
chamber-without so much as a flinch.

  SiNafay was smaller than Alton had imagined, diminutive
even by the standards of the drow. She stood barely more
than four feet high and weighed, by Alton's estimation, no
more than fifty pounds. She was a matron mother, though,
and Alton reminded himself that she could strike him dead
with a single spell.

  Alton averted his gaze obediently and tried to convince
himself that there was nothing unusual about this visit. He
grew less at ease, however, when Masoj trotted in and to his
mother's side, a smug smile on his face.

  "Greetings from House Hun'ett, Gelroos;' Matron SiNafay
said. "Seventy-five years and more it has been since we last
talked:'

  "Gelroos?" Alton mumbled under his breath. He cleared
his throat to cover his surprise. "My greetings to you, Ma-
tron SiNafay;' he managed to stammer. "Has it been so very
long?"

  "You should come to the house;' the matron said. "Vour
chambers remain empty:'

  My chambers? Alton began to feel very sick.

  SiNafay did not miss the look. A scowl crossed her face
and her eyes narrowed evilly.

  Alton suspected that his secret was out. If the Faceless
One had been a member of the Hun'ett family, how could Al-
ton hope to fool the matron mother of the house? He
scanned for the best escape route, or for some way he could
at least kill the traitorous Masoj before SiNafay struck him
down.

  When he looked back toward Matron SiNafay, she had al-
ready begun a quiet spell. Her eyes popped wide at its com-
pletion, her suspicions confirmed.

  "Who are you?" she asked, her voice sounding more curi-
ous than concerned.

  There was no escape, no way to get at Masoj, standing
prudently close to his powerful mother's side.

  "Who are you?" SiNafay asked again, taking a three-
headed instrument from her belt, the dreaded snake-
headed whip that injected the most painful and
incapacitating poison known to drow.

  " Alton;' he stuttered, having no choice but to answer. He
knew that since she now was on her guard, SiNafay would
use simple magic to detect any lies he might concoct. "I am
Alton DeVir:'

  "DeVir?" Matron SiNafay appeared at least intrigued. "Of
the House DeVir that died some years ago?"

  "I am the only survivor;' Alton admitted.

  "And you killed Gelroos-Gelroos Hun'ett-and took his
place as master in Sorcere;' the matron reasoned, her voice
a snarl. Doom closed in all around Alton.

  "I did not. . . 1 could not know his name. . . He would have
killed me!" Alton stuttered.

  "I killed Gelroos;' came a voice from the side.
SiNafay and Alton turned to Masoj, who once again held
his favorite two-handed crossbow.

  "With this;' the young Hun'ett explained. "On the night
House DeVir fell. 1 found my excuse in Gelroos's battle with
that one:' He pointed to Alton.

  "Gelroos was your brother;' Matron SiNafay reminded
Masoj.

  "Damn his bones!" Masoj spat. "For four miserable years I
served him-served him as if he were a matron mother! He
would have kept me from Sorcere, would have forced me
into the Melee-Magthere instead:'

  The matron looked from Masoj to Alton and back to her
son. " And you let this one live;' she reasoned, a smile again
on her lips. "You killed your enemy and forged an alliance
with a new master in a single move:'

  " As I was taught;' Masoj said through clenched teeth, not
knowing whether punishment or praise would follow.

  "You were just a child;' SiNafay remarked, suddenly real-
izing the timetable involved.
  Masoj accepted the compliment silently.
Alton watched it all anxiously. "Then what of me?" he
cried. "Is my life forfeit?"

  SiNafay turned a glare on him. "Your life as Alton DeVir
ended, so it would seem, on the night House DeVir fell. Thus
you remain the Faceless One, Gelroos Hun'ett. I can use
your eyes in the Academy-to watch over my son and my
enemies:'

  Alton could hardly breathe. 1b so suddenly find himse)f
allied with one of the most powerful houses in Menzober.
ranzan! A jumble of possibilities and questions flooded his
mind, one in particular, which had haunted him for nearly
two decades.

  His adopted matron mother recognized his excitement.

  "Speak your thoughts;' she commanded.

  "You are a high priestess of Lloth;' Alton said boldly, that
one notion overpowering all caution. "It is within your
power to grant me my fondest desire:'

  "You dare to ask a favor?" Matron SiNafay balked, though
she saw the torment on Alton's face and was intrigued by
the apparent importance of this mystery. "Very well:'

  "What house destroyed my family?" Alton growled. "Ask
the nether world, I beg, Matron SiNafay:'
SiNafay considered the question carefully, and the possi-
bilities of Alton's apparent thirst for vengeance. Another
benefit of allowing this one into the family? SiNafay won-
dered.

  "This is known to me already;' she replied. "Perhaps when
you have proven your value, I will tell-"

  "No!" Alton cried. He stopped short, realizing that he had
interrupted a matron mother, a crime that could invoke a
punishment of death.

  SiNafay held back her angry urges. "This question must
be very important for you to act so foolishly;' she said.

  "Please;' Alton begged. "I must know. Kill me if you will,
but tell me first who it was:'

  SiNafay liked his courage, and his obsession could only
prove of value to her. "House Do'Urden;' she said.

  "Do'Orden?" Alton echoed, hardly believing that a house
so far back in the city hierarchy could have defeated House
DeVir.

  "You will take no actions against them;' Matron SiNafay
warned. "And 1 will forgive your insolence-this time. You
are a son of House Hun'ett now; remember always your
place!" She let it stay at that, knowing that one who had
been clever enough to carry out such a deception for the
better part of two decades would not be foolish enough to
disobey the matron mother of his house.

  "Come Masoj;' SiNafay said to her son, "let us leave this
one alone so that he may consider his new identity:'

  "I must tell you, Matron SiNafay;' Masoj dared to say as he
and his mother made their way out of Sorcere, " Alton DeVir
is a buffoon. He might bring harm to House Hun'ett:'

  "He survived the fall of his own house;' SiNafay replied,
"and has played through the ruse as the Faceless One for
nineteen years. A buffoon? Perhaps, but a resourceful buf-
foon at the least:'

  Masoj unconsciously rubbed the area of his eyebrow that
had never grown back. "I have suffered the antics of Alton
DeVir for all these years;' he said. "He does have a fair share
of luck, 1 admit, and can get himself out of trouble-though
he is usually the one who puts himself into it!"

  "Do not fear:' SiNafay laughed. " Alton brings value to our
house:'

  "What can we hope to gain?"

  "He is a master of the Academy;' SiNafay replied. "He gives
me eyes where 1 now need them:' She stopped her son and
turned him to face her so that he might understand the im-
plications of her every word. "Alton DeVir's claim against
House Do'Orden may work in our favor. He was a noble of
the house, with rights of accusation:'

  "You mean to use Alton DeVir's charge to rally the great
houses into punishing House Do'Orden?" Masoj asked.

  "The great houses would hardly be willing to strike out
for an incident that occurred almost twenty years ago;'
SiNafay replied. "House Do'Urden executed House DeVir's
destruction nearly to perfection-a clean kill. Th so much as
speak an open charge against the Do'Urdens now would be
to invite the wrath of the great houses on ourselves:'

  "What good then is Alton DeVir?" Masoj asked. "His claim
is useless to us:'

  The matron replied, "You are only a male and cannot un-
derstand the complexities of the ruling hierarchy. With Al-
ton DeVir's charge whispered into the proper ears, the
ruling council might look the other way if a single house
took revenge on Alton's behalf:'

  "To what end?" Masoj remarked, not understanding the
importance. "You would risk the losses of such a battle for
the destruction of a lesser house?"

  "So thought House DeVir of House Do'Urden;' explained
SiNafay. "In our world, we must be as concerned with the
lower houses as with the higher ones. All of the great
houses would be wise now to watch closely the moves of
Daermon N'a'shezbaernon, the ninth house that is known as
Do'Urden. It now has both a master and a mistress serving
in the Academy and three high priestesses, with a fourth
nearing the goal:' '

  "Four high priestesses?" Masoj pondered. "In a single
house:' Only three of the top eight houses could claim more
than that. Normally, sisters aspiring to such heights inspired
rivalries that inevitably thinned the ranks.

  "And the legions of House Do'Urden number more than
three hundred fifty:' SiNafay continued, "all of them trained
by perhaps the finest weapon master in all the city:'

  "Zaknafein Do'Urden, of course!" Masoj recalled.

  "You have heard of him?"

  "His name is often spoken at the Academy, even in Sor-
cere:'

  "Good:' SiNafay purred. "Then you will understand the
fun weight of the mission I have chosen for you:'
An eager light came into Masoj's eyes.

  "Another Do'Urden is soon to begin there:' SiNafay ex-
plained. "Not a master, but a student. By the words of those
few who have seen this boy, Drizzt, at training, he will be as
fine a fighter as Zaknafein. We should not allow this:'

  "You want me to kill the boy?" Masoj asked eagerly.

  "No;' SiNafay replied, "not yet. I want you to learn of him,
to understand the motivations of his every move. If the time
to strike does come, you must be ready:'

  Masoj liked the devious assignment, but one thing still
bothered him more than a little. "We still have Alton to con-
sider;' he said. "He is impatient and daring. What are the
consequences to House Hun'ett if he strikes House Do'Ur-
den before the proper time? Might we invoke open war in
the city, with House Hun'ett viewed as the perpetrator?"

  "Do not worry, my son;' Matron SiNafay replied. "If Alton
DeVir makes a grievous error while in the guise of Gelroos.
Hun'ett, we expose him as a murderous imposter and no
member of our family. He will be an unhoused rogue with
an executioner facing him from every direction:'

  Her casual explanation put Masoj at ease, but Matron
SiNafay, so knowledgeable in the ways of drow society, had
understood the risk she was taking from the moment she
had accepted Alton DeVir into her house. Her plan seemed
foolproof, and the possible gain-the elimination of this
growing House Do'Urden-was a tempting piece of bait.

  But the dangers, too, were very real. While it was per-
fectly acceptable for one house to covertly destroy another,
the consequences of failure could not be ignored. Earlier
that very night, a lesser house had struck out against a rival
and, if the rumors held true, had failed. The illuminations of
the next day would probably force the ruling council to en-
act a pretense of justice, to make an example of the unsuc-
cessful attackers. In her long life, Matron SiNafay had
witnessed this "justice" several times.

  Not a single member of any of the aggressor houses-she
was not even allowed to remember their names-had ever
survived.
  Zak awakened Drizzt early the next morning. "Come;' he
said. "We are bid to go out of the house this day:'

  All thoughts of sleep washed away from Drizzt at the
news. "Outside the house?" he echoed. In all of his nineteen
years, Drizzt had never once walked beyond the adaman-
tite fence of the po'Urden complex. He had only watched
that outside world of Menzoberranzan from the balcony.

  While Zak waited, Drizzt quickly collected his soft boots
and his piwafwi. "Will there be no lesson this day?" Drizzt
asked.

  "We shall see;' was all that Zak replied, but in his thoughts,
the weapon master figured that Drizzt might be in for one
of the most startling revelations of his life. A house had
failed in a raid, and the ruling council had requested the
presence of all the nobles of the city, to bear witness to the
weight of justice.

  Briza appeared in the corridor outside the practice room's
door. "Hurry;' she scolded. "Matron Malice does not wish
our house to be among the last groups joining the gather-
ing!"

  The matron mother herself, floating atop a blue-glowing
disk-for matron mothers rarely walked through the city-
led the procession out of House Do'Urden's grand gate.
Briza walked at her mother's side, with Maya and Rizzen in
the second rank and Drizzt and Zak taking up the rear.
Vierna and Dinin, attending to the duties of their positions
in the Academy, had gone to the ruling council's summons
with a different group.

  All the city was astir this morning, rumbling in the ru.
mors of the failed raid. Drizzt walked through the bustle
wide-eyed, staring in wonderment at the close-up view of
the decorated drow houses. Slaves of every inferior race-
goblins, orcs, even giants-scrambled out of the way, recog-
nizing Malice, riding her enchanted carriage, as a matron
mother. Drow commoners halted conversations and re-
mained respectfully silent as the noble family passed.

  As they made their way toward the northwestern section,
the location of the guilty house, they came into a lane
blocked by a squabbling caravan of duergar, gray dwarves.
A dozen carts had been overturned or locked together-
apparently, two groups of duergar had come into the nar-
row lane together, neither relinquishing the right-of-way.

  Briza pulled the snake-headed whip from her belt and
chased off a few of the creatures, clearing the way for Mal-
ice to float up to the apparent leaders of the two groups.
The dwarves turned on her angrily-until they realized
her station.

  "Beggin' yer pardon, Madam;' one of them stammered.

  "Unfortunate accident is all:'
Malice eyed the contents of one of the nearest carts,
crates of giant crab legs and other delicacies.

  "You have slowed my journey;' Malice said calmly.

  "We have come to your city in hopes of trade;' the other
duergar explained. He cast an angry glare at his counter-
part, and Malice understood that the two were rivals,
probably bartering the same goods to the same drow
house.

  "I will forgive your insolence. . :' she offered graciously,
still eyeing the crates.

  The two duergar suspected what was forthcoming. So did
Zak. "We eat well tonight;' he whispered to Drizzt with a sly
wink. "Matron Malice would not let such an opportunity
slip by without gain:'

  ". . . if you can see your way to deliver half of these carts to
the gate of House Do'Urden this night;' Malice finished.
The duergar started to protest but quickly dismissed the
foolish notion. How they hated dealing with drow elves!

  "You will be compensated appropriately;' Malice contin-
ued. "House Do'Urden is not a poor house. Between both of
your caravans, you will still have enough goods to satisfy
the house you came to see:'

  Neither of the duergar could refute the simple logic, but
under these trading circumstances, where they had of-
fended a matron mother, they knew the compensation for
their valuable foods would hardly be appropriate. Still, the
gray dwarves could only accept it all as a risk of doing busi-
ness in Menzoberranzan. They bowed politely and set
their troops to clearing the way for the drow procession.

  House Thken'duis, the unsuccessful raiders of the pre-
vious night, had barricaded themselves within their two-
stalagmite structure, fully expecting what was to come.
Outside their gates, all of the nobles of Menzoberranzan,
more than a thousand drow, had gathered, with Matron

  Baenre and the other seven matron mothers of the ruling
council at their head. More disastrous for the guilty house,
the entirety of the three schools of the Academy, students
and instructors, had surrounded the Thken'duis compound.
Matron Malice led her group to the front line behind the
ruling matrons. As she was matron of the ninth house, only
one step from the council, other drow nobles readily
stepped out of her way.

  "House Thken'duis has angered the Spider Queen!" Ma.
tron Baenre proclaimed in a voice amplified by magical
spells.

  "Only because they failed;' Zak whispered to Drizzt.
Briza cast both males an angry glare.
Matron B~enre bade three young drow, two females and
a male, to her side'. "These are all that remain of House
Freth;' she explained. "Can you tell us, orphans of House
Freth;' she asked of them, "who it was that attacked your
home?"

  "House Thken'duis!" they shouted together.
"Rehearsed;' Zak commented.
Briza turned around again. "Silence!" she whispered
harshly.

  Zak slapped Drizzt on the back of the head. "Yes;' he
agreed. "Do be quiet!"

  Drizzt started to protest, but Briza had already turned
away and Zak's smile was too wide to argue against.

  "Then it is the will of the ruling council;' Matron Baenre
was saying, "that House Thken'duis suffer the consequences
of their actions!"
  
  "What of the orphans of House Freth?" came a call from 
the crowd. 

  Matron Baenre stroked the head of the oldest female, a
cleric recently finished in her studies at the Academy. "No-
bles they were born, and nobles they remain;' Baenre said.

  "House Baenre accepts them into its protection; they bear 
the name of Baenre now:'

  Disgruntled whispers filtered through the gathering. 

  Three young nobles, two of them female, was quite a prize. 

  Any house in the city gladly would have taken them in. 

  "Baenre;' Briza whispered to Malice. "Just what the first 
house needs, more clerics!" 

  "Sixteen high priestesses is not enough, it seems;' Malice I
answered. ;

  " And no doubt, Baenre will take any surviving soldiers of 
House Freth;' Briza reasoned. 

  Malice was not so certain. Matron Baenre was walking a
thin line by taking even the surviving nobles. If House
Baenre got too powerful, Lloth surely would take exception.

  In situations such as this, where a house had been almost
eradicated, surviving common soldiers were normally
pooled out to bidding houses. Malice would have to watch
for such an auction. Soldiers did not come cheaply, but at
this time, Malice would welcome the opportunity to add to
her forces, particularly if there were any magic-users to be
had.

  Matron Baenre addressed the guilty house. "House Thken-
duis!" she called. "You have broken our laws and have been
rightfully caught. Fight if you will, but know that you have
brought this doom upon yourselfl" With a wave of her
hand, she set the Academy, the dispatcher of justice, into
motion.

  Great braziers had been placed in eight positions around
House Thken'duis, attended by mistresses of Arach- Tinilith
and the highest-ranking clerical students. Flames roared to
life and shot into the air as the high priestesses opened gates 
to the lower planes. Drizzt watched closely, mesmerized c:
and hoping to catch a glimpse of either Dinin or Vierna.
  Denizens of the lower planes, huge, many-armed mon-
sters, slime covered and spitting fire, stepped through the
flames. Even the nearest high priestesses backed away from
the grotesque horde. The creatures gladly accepted such
servitude. When the signal from Matron Baenre came, they
eagerly descended upon House Teken'duis.

  Glyphs and wards exploded at every corner of the house's
feeble gate, but these were mere inconveniences to the
summoned creatures.

  The wizards and students of Sorcere then went into
action, slamming at the top of House Teken'duis with con-
jured lightning bolts, balls of acid, and fireballs.
Students and masters of Melee-Magthere, the school of
fighters, rushed about with heavy crossbows, firing into
windows where the doomed family might try to escape.

  The horde of monsters bashed through the doors. Light-
ning flashed and thunder boomed.

  Zak looked at Drizzt, and a frown replaced the master's
smile. Caught up in the excitement-and it certainly was
exciting-Drizzt bore an expression of awe.

  The first screams of the doomed family rolled out from
the house, screams so terrible and agonized that they stole
any macabre pleasure that Drizzt might have been experi-
encing. He grabbed Zak's shoulder, spinning the weapon
master to him, begging for an explanation.

  One of the sons of House Teken'duis, fleeing a ten-armed
giant monster, stepped out onto the balcony of a high win-
dow. A dozen crossbow quarrels struck him simultane-
ously, and before he even fell dead, three separate lightning
bolts alternately lifted him from the balcony, then dropped
him back onto it.

  Scorched and mutilated, the drow corpse started to tum-
ble from its high perch, but the grotesque monster reached
out a huge, clawed hand from the window and pulled it
back in to devour it.

  "Drow justice;' Zak said coldly. He didn't offer Drizzt any
consolation; he wanted the brutality of this moment to stick
in the young drow's mind for the rest of his life.
  The siege went on for more than an hour, and when it was
finished, when the denizens of the lower planes were dis-
missed through the braziers' gates and the students and in-
structors of the Academy started their march back to Tier
Breche, House Teken'duis was no more than a glowing lump
of lifeless, molten stone.

  Drizzt watched it all, horrified, but too afraid of the con-
sequences to run away. He did not notice the artistry of
Menzoberranzan on the return trip to House Do'Urden.



                     Chapter 10
                 The Stain of Blood


  "Zaknafein is out of the house?" Malice asked.

  "I sent him and Rizzen to the Academy to deliver a f!les-
sage to Vierna;' Briza explained. "He shan't return for many
hours, not before the light of Narbondel begins its descent:'

  "That is good;' said Malice. "You both understand your du-
ties in this farce?"

  Briza and Maya nodded. "I have never heard of such a de-
ception;' Maya remarked. "Is it necessary?"

  "It was planned for another of the house;' Briza an-
swered, looking to Matron Malice for confirmation. "Nearly
four centuries ago:'

  "Yes;' agreed Malice. "The same was to be done to Zakna-
fein, but the unexpected death of Matron Vartha, my
mother, disrupted the plans:'

  "That was when you became the matron mother;' Maya
said.

  "Yes;' replied Malice, "though I had not passed my first
century of life and was still training in Arach. Tinilith. It was
not a pleasant time in the history of House Do'Urden:'

  "But we survived;' said Briza. "With the death of Matron
Vartha, Nalfein and I became nobles of the house:'

  "The test on Zaknafein was never attempted;' Maya rea-
soned.

  "Too many other duties preceded it;' Malice answered.

  "We will try it on Drizzt, though;' said Maya.

  "The punishment of House Thken'duis convinced me that
this action had to be taken;' said Malice.

  "Yes;' Briza agreed. "Did you notice Drizzt's expression
throughout the execution?"

  "I did;' answered Maya. "He was revolted:'

  "Unfitting for a drow warrior;' said Malice, "and so this
duty is upon us. Drizzt will leave for the Academy in a short
time, we must stain his hands with drow blood and steal his
innocence:'
 
  "It seems a lot of trouble for a male child;' Briza grumbled.
 
  "If Drizzt cannot adhere to our ways, then why do we not
simply give him to Lloth?"

  "I will bear no more children!" Malice growled in re-
sponse. "Every member of this family is important if we are
to gain prominence in the city!" Secretly Malice hoped for
another gain in converting Drizzt to the evil ways of the
drow. She hated Zaknafein as much as she desired him, and
turning Drizzt into a drow warrior, a true heartless drow
warrior, would distress the weapon master greatly.

  "On with it, then;' Malice proclaimed. She clapped her
hands, and a large chest walked in, supported by eight ani-
mated spider legs. Behind it came a nervous goblin slave.

  "Come, Byuchyuch;' Malice said in a comforting tone.
Anxious to please, the slave bounded up before Malice's
throne and held perfectly still as the matron mother went
through the incantation of a long and complicated spell.

  Briza and Maya watched in admiration at their mother's
skills; the little goblin's features bulged and twisted, and its
skin darkened. A few minutes later, the slave had assumed
the appearance of a male drow. Byuchyuch looked at its fea-
tures happily, not understanding that the transformation
was merely a prelude to death.

  "You are a drow soldier now;' Maya said to it, "and my
champion. You must kill only a single, inferior fighter to
take your place as a free commoner of House Do'Urden!"
After ten years as an indentured servant to the wicked
dark elves, the goblin was more than eager.

  Malice rose and started out of the anteroom. "Come;' she
ordered, and her two daughters, the goblin, and the ani-
mated chest fell in line behind her.
 
  They came upon Drizzt in the practice room, polishing
the razor edge of his scimitars. He leaped straight up to si-
lent attention at the sight of the unexpected visitors.

  "Greetings, my son;' Malice said in a tone more motherly
than Drizzt had ever heard. "We have a test for you this day,
a simple task necessary for your acceptance into Melee-
Magthere:'

  Maya moved before her brother. "I am the youngest, be-
side yourself;' she declared. "Thus, I am granted the rights
of challenge, which I now execute:'

  Drizzt stood confused. He had never heard of such a
thing. Maya called the chest to her side and reverently
opened the cover.

  "You have your weapons and your piwafwi;' she ex-
plained. "Now it is time for you to don the complete outfit of
a noble of House Do'Urden:' From the chest she pulled out a
pair of high black boots and handed them to Drizzt.

  Drizzt eagerly slipped out of his normal boots and put on
the new ones. They were incredibly soft, and they magically
shifted and adjusted to a perfect fit on his feet. Drizzt knew
the magic within them: they would allow him to move in ab-
solute silence. Before he had even finished admiring them,
though, Maya gave him the next gift, even more magnifi-
cent.

  Drizzt dropped his piwafwi to the floor as he took a set of
silvery chain mail. In all the Realms, there was no armor as
supple and finely crafted as drow chain mail. It weighed no
more than a heavy shirt and would bend as easily as silken
cloth, yet could deflect the tip of a spear as surely as
dwarven-crafted plate mail.

  "You fight with two weapons;' Maya said, "and therefore
need no shield. But put your scimitars in this; it is more fit-
ting to a drow noble:' She handed Drizzt a black leather
belt, its clasp a huge emerald and its two scabbards richly
decorated in jewels and gemstones.

  "Prepare yourself;' Malice said to Drizzt. "The gifts must
be earned:' As Drizzt started to don the outfit, Malice
moved beside the altered goblin, which stood nervously in
the growing realization that its fight would be no simple
task.

  "When you kill him, the items will be yours;' Malice prom-
ised. The goblin's smile returned tenfold; it could not com-
prehend that it had no chance against Drizzt.

  When Drizzt again fastened his piwafwi around his neck,
Maya introduced the phony drow soldier. "This is Byuchy-
uch;' she said, "my champion. You must defeat him to earn
the gifts. . . and your proper place in the family:'

  Never doubting his abilities, and thinking the contest to be
a simple sparring match, Drizzt readily agreed. "Let it be-
gin, then;' he said, drawing his scimitars from their lavish
sheaths.

  Malice gave Byuchyuch a comforting nod, and the goblin
took up the sword and shield that Maya had provided and
moved right in at Drizzt.

  Drizzt began slowly, trying to take a measure of his oppo-
nent before attempting any daring offensive strikes. In only
a moment, though, Drizzt realized how badly Byuchyuch
handled the sword and shield. Not knowing the truth of the
creature's identity, Drizzt could hardly believe that a drow
would show such ineptitude with weapons. He wondered if
Byuchyuch was baiting him, and with that thought, contin-
ued his cautious approach.

  After a few more moments of Byuchyuch's wild and off-
balanced swings, however, Drizzt felt compelled to take the
initiative. He slapped one scimitar against Byuchyuch's
shield. The goblin-drow responded with a lumbering
thrust, and Drizzt slapped its sword from its hand with his
free blade and executed a simple twist that brought the
scimitar's tip to a halt against the hollow of Byuchyuch's
chest.

  "Too easy;' Drizzt muttered under his breath.

  But the true test had only begun.

  On cue, Briza cast a mind-numbing spell on the goblin,
freezing it in its helpless position. Still aware of its predica-
ment, Byuchyuch tried to dive away, but Briza's spell held it
still.

  "Finish the strike;' Malice said to Drizzt. Drizzt looked at
his scimitar, then to Malice, unable to believe what he was
hearing.

  "Maya's champion must be killed;' Briza snarled.

  "I cannot-" Drizzt began.

  "Kill!" Malice roared, and this time the word carried the
weight of a magical command.

  "Thrust!" Briza likewise commanded.

  Drizzt felt their words compelling his hand to action.

  Thoroughly disgusted with the thought of murdering a
helpless foe, he concentrated with all of his mental strength
to resist. While he managed to deny the commands for a
few seconds, Drizzt found that he could not pull the
weapon away.

  "Kill!" Malice screamed.

  "Strike!" yelled Briza.

  It went on for several more agonizing seconds. Sweat
beaded on Drizzt's brow. Then the young drow's willpower
broke. His scimitar slipped quickly between Byuchyuch's
ribs and found the unfortunate creature's heart. Briza re-
leased Byuchyuch from her holding spell then, to let Drizzt
see the agony on the phony drow's face and hear the gur-
gles as the dying Byuchyuch slipped to the floor.
Drizzt could not find his breath as he stared at his blood-
stained weapon.

  It was Maya's turn to act. She clipped Drizzt on the shoul-
der with her mace, knocking him to the floor.

  "You killed my champion!" she growled. "Now you must
fight me!"

  Drizzt rolled back to his feet, away from the enraged fe-
male. He had no intention of fighting, but before he could
even drop his weapons, Malice read his thoughts and
warned, "If you do not fight, Maya will kill you!"

  "This is not the way;' Drizzt protested, but his words were
lost in the ring of adamantite as he parried a heavy blow
with one scimitar.

  He was now into it, whether he liked it or not. Maya was a
skilled fighter-all females spent many hours training with
weapons-and she was stronger than Drizzt. But Drizzt was
Zak's son, the prime student, and when he admitted to him-
self that he had no way out of this predicament, he came in
at Maya's mace and shield with every cunning maneuver he
had been taught.

  Scimitars weaved and dipped in a dance that awed Briza
and Maya. Malice hardly noticed, caught in the midst of yet
another mighty spell. Malice never doubted that Drizzt
could defeat his sister, and she had incorporated her expec-
tations into the plan.

  Drizzt's moves were all defensive as he continued to hope
for some semblance of sanity to come over his mother, and
that this whole thing would be stopped. He wanted to back
Maya up, cause her to stumble, and end the fight by putting
her in a helpless position. Drizzt had to believe that Briza
and Malice would not compel him to kill Maya as he had
killed Byuchyuch.

  Finally, Maya did slip. She threw her shield out to deflect
an arcing scimitar but became overbalanced in the block,
and her arm went wide. Drizzt's other blade knifed in, only
to nick at Maya's breast and force her back.

  Malice's spell caught the weapon in midthrust.

  The blood-stained adamantite blade writhed to life and
Drizzt found himself holding the tail of a serpent, a fanged
viper that turned back against him!

  The enchanted snake spat its venom in Drizzt's eyes,
blinding him, then he felt the pain of Briza's whip. All six
snake heads of the awful weapon bit into Drizzt's back, tear-
ing through his new armor and jolting him in excruciating
pain. He crumbled down into a curled position, helpless as
Briza snapped the whip in, again and again.

  "Never strike at a drow female!" she screamed as she beat
Drizzt into unconsciousness.

  An hour later, Drizzt opened his eyes. He was in his bed,
Matron Malice standing over him. The high priestess had
tended to his wounds, but the sting remained, a vivid re-
minder of the lesson. But it was not nearly as vivid as the
blood that still stained Drizzt's scimitar.
 
  "The armor will be replaced;' Malice said to him. "You are
a drow warrior now. You have earned it:' She turned and
walked out of the room, leaving Drizzt to his pain and his
fallen innocence.

  "Do not send him;' Zak argued as emphatically as he
dared. He stared up at Matron Malice, the smug queen on
her high throne of stone and black velvet. As always, Briza
and Maya stood obediently by her sides.

  "He is a drow fighter;' Malice replied, her tone still con-
trolled. "He must go to the Academy. It is our way:'

  Zak looked around helplessly. He hated this place, the
chapel anteroom, with its sculptures of the Spider Queen
leering down at him from every angle, and with Malice
sitting-towering-above him from her seat of power.

  Zak shook the images away and regained his courage, re-
minding himself that this time he had something worth ar-
guing about.

  "Do not send him!" he growled. "They will ruin him!"
Matron Malice's hands clenched down on the rock arms
of her great chair.

  "Already Drizzt is more skilled than half of those in the
Academy;' Zak continued quickly, before the matron's an-
ger burst forth. "Allow me two more years, and I will make
him the finest swordsman in all of Menzoberranzan!"

  Malice eased back on her seat. From what she had seen of
her son's progress, she could not deny the possibilities of
Zak's claim. "He goes;' she said calmly. "There is more to the
making of a drow warrior than skill with weapons. Drizzt
has other lessons he must learn:'

  "Lessons of treachery?" Zak spat, too angry to care about
the consequences. Drizzt had told him what Malice and her
evil daughters had done that day, and Zak was wise enough
to understand their actions. Their "lesson" had nearly bro-
ken the boy, and had, perhaps, forever stolen from Drizzt
the ideals he held so dear. Drizzt would find his morals and
principles harder to cling to now that the pedestal of purity
had been knocked out from under him:'

  "Watch your tongue, Zaknafein;' Matron Malice warned.

  "I fight with passion!" the weapon master snapped. "That
is why I win. Your son, too, fights with passion-do not let
the conforming ways of the Academy take that from him!"

  "Leave us;' Malice instructed her daughters. Maya bowed
and rushed out through the door. Briza followed more
slowly, pausing to cast a suspicious eye upon Zak.
Zak didn't return the glare, but he entertained a fantasy
concerning his sword and Briza's smug smile.

  "Zaknafein;' Malice began, again coming forward in her
chair. "I have tolerated your blasphemous beliefs through
these many years because of your skill with weapons. You
have taught my soldiers well, and your love of killing drow,
particularly clerics of the Spider Queen, has aided the as-
cent of House Do'Urden. I am not, and have not been, un-
grateful.

  "But I warn you now, one final time, that Drizzt is my son,
not his sire's! He will go to the Academy and learn what he
must to take his place as a prince of House Do'Urden. If you
interfere with what must be, Zaknafein, I will no longer
turn my eyes from your actions! Your heart will be given to
Lloth:'

  Zak stamped his heels on the floor and snapped a short
bow of his head, then spun about and departed, trying to
find some option in this dark and hopeless picture.
As he made his way through the main corridor, he again
heard in his mind the screams of the dying children of
House DeVir, children who never got the chance to witness
the evils of the draw Academy. Perhaps they were better off
dead.


                        Chapter 11
                     Grim Preference


  Zak slid one of his swords from its scabbard and admired
the weapon's wondrous detail. This sword, as with most of
the drow weapons, had been forged by the gray dwarves,
then traded to Menzoberranzan. The duergar workman-
ship was exquisite, but it was the work done on the weapon
after the dark elves had acquired it that made it so very spe-
cial. None of the races of the surface or Underdark could
outdo the dark elves in the art of enchanting weapons. Im-
bued with the strange emanations of the Underdark, the
magical power unique to the lightless world, and blessed by
the unholy clerics of Lloth, no blade ever sat in a wielder's
hand more ready to kill.

  Other races, mostly dwarves and surface elves, also took
pride in their crafted weapons. Fine swords and mighty
hammers hung over mantles as showpieces, always with a
bard nearby to spout the accompanying legend that most
often began, "In the days of yore. . :'

  Drow weapons were different, never showpieces. They
were locked in the necessities of the present, never in remi-
niscences, and their purpose remained unchanged for as
long as they held an edge fine enough for battle-fine
enough to kill.

  Zak brought the blade up before his eyes. In his hands,
the sword had become more than an instrument of battle. It
was an extension of his rage, his answer to an existence he
could not accept.

  It was his answer, too, perhaps, to another problem that
seemed to have no resolution. 
  
  He walked into the training hall, wherePrizzt was hard at
work spinning attack routines against a practice dummy.

  Zak paused to watch the young drow at practice, wonder-
ing if Drizzt would ever again consider the dance of weap-
ons a form of play. How the scimitars flowed in Drizzt's
hands! Interweaving with uncanny precision, each blade
seemed to anticipate the other's moves and whirred about
in perfect complement.

  This young drow might soon be an unrivaled fighter, a
master beyond Zaknafein himself.

  "Can you survive?" Zak whispered. "Have you the heart of
a drow warrior?" Zak hoped that the answer would be an
emphatic "no;' but either way, Drizzt was surely doomed.

  Zak looked down at his sword again and knew what he
must do. He slid its sister blade from its sheath and started a
determined walk toward Drizzt.

  Drizzt saw him coming and turned at the ready. "A final
fight before I leave for the Academy?" He laughed.
Zak paused to take note of Drizzt's smile. A facade? Or
had the young drow really forgiven himself for his actions
against Maya's champion. It did not matter, Zak reminded
himself. Even if Drizzt had recovered from his mother's tor-
ments, the Academy would destroy him. The weapon mas-
ter said nothing; he just came on in a flurry of cuts and stabs
that put Drizzt immediately on the defensive. Drizzt took it
in stride, not yet realizing that this final encounter with his
mentor was much more than their customary sparring.

  "I will remember everything you taught me;' Drizzt prom-
ised, dodging a cut and launching a fierce counter of his
own. "I will carve my name in the halls of Melee-Magthere
and make you proud:'

  The scowl on Zak's face surprised Drizzt, and the young
drow grew even more confused when the weapon master's
next attack sent a sword knifing straight at his heart. Drizzt
leaped aside, slapping at the blade in sheer desperation, and
narrowly avoided impalement.

  "Are you so very sure of yourself?" Zak growled, stub-
bornly pursuing Drizzt.

  Drizzt set himself as their blades met in ringing fury. "I am
a fighter;' he declared. "A drow warrior!"

  "You are a dancer!" Zak shot back in a derisive tone. He
slammed his sword onto Drizzt's blocking scimitar so sav-
agely that the young drow's arm tingled.

  " An imposter!" Zak cried. " A pretender to a title you can.
not begin to understand!"

  Drizzt went on the offensive. Fires burned in his lavender
eyes and new strength guided his scimitars' sure cuts.
But Zak was relentless. He fended the attacks and contin-
ued his lesson. "Do you know the emotions of murder?" he
spat. "Have you reconciled yourself to the act you commit-
ted?"

  Drizzt's only answers were a frustrated growl and a re-
newed attack.

  "Ah, the pleasure of plunging your sword into the bosom
of a high priestess;' Zak taunted. "Th see the light of warmth
leave her body while her lips utter silent curses in your
face! Or have you ever heard the screams of dying chil.
dren?"

  Drizzt let up his attack, but Zak would not allow a break.

  The weapon master came back on the offensive, each thrust
aimed for a vital area.

  "How loud, those screams;' Zak continued. "They echo
over the centuries in your mind; they chase you down the
paths of your entire life:'

  Zak halted the action so that Drizzt might weigh his every
word. "You have never heard them, have you, dancer?" The
weapon master stretched his arms out wide, an invitation.

  "Come, then, and claim your second kill;' he said, tapping
his stomach. "In the belly, where the pain is greatest, so that
my screams may echo in your mind. Prove to me that you
are the drow warrior you claim to be:'

  The tips of Drizzt's scimitars slowly made their way to the
stone floor. He wore no smile now.

  "You hesitate:' Zak laughed at him. "This is your chance to
make your name. A single thrust, and you will send a repu-
tation into the Academy before you. Other students, even
masters, will whisper your name as you pass. 'Drizzt Do'Ur-
den; they will say. 'The boy who slew the most honored
weapon master in all of Menzoberranzan!' Is this not what
you desire?"

  "Damn you;' Drizzt spat back, but still he made no move to
attack.

  "Drow warrior?" Zak chided him. "Do not be so quick to
claim a title you cannot begin to understand!"

  Drizzt came on then, in a fury he had never before
known. His purpose was not to kill, but to defeat his teacher,
to steal the taunts from Zak's mouth with a fighting display
too impressive to be derided.

  Drizzt was brilliant. He followed every move with three
others' and worked Zak low and high, inside and out wide.

  Zak found his heels under him more often than the balls of
his feet, too involved was he in staying away from his stu.
dent's relentless thrusts to even think of taking the offen-
sive. He allowed Drizzt to continue the initiative for many
minutes, dreading its conclusion, the outcome he had al-
ready decided to be the most preferable.

  Zak then found that he could stand the delay no longer.

  He sent one sword out in a lazy thrust and Drizzt promptly
slapped the weapon out of his hand.

  Even as the young drow came on in anticipation of vic-
tory, Zak slipped his empty hand into a pouch and grabbed a
magical little ceramic ball-one of those that so often had
aided him in battle.

  "Not this time, Zaknafein!" Drizzt proclaimed, keeping his
attacks under control, remembering well the many occa-
sions that Zak reversed feigned disadvantage into clear ad-
vantage.

  Zak fingered the ball, unable to come to terms with what
he must do.

  Drizzt walked him through an attack sequence, then an-
other, measuring the advantage he had gained in stealing a
weapon. Confident of his position, Drizzt came in low and
hard with a single thrust.

  Though Zak was distracted at the time, he still managed to
block the attack with his remaining sword. Drizzt's other
scimitar slashed down on top of the sword, pinning its tip to
the floor. In the same lightning movement, Drizzt slipped
his first blade free of Zak's parry and brought it up and
around, stopping the thrust barely an inch from Zak's
throat.

  "I have you!" the young drow cried.

  Zak's answer came in an explosion of light beyond any-
thing Drizzt had ever imagined.

  Zak had prudently closed his eyes, but Drizzt, surprised,
could not accept the sudden change. His head burned in ag-
ony, and he reeled backwards, trying to get away from the
light, away from the weapon master.

  Keeping his eyes tightly shut, Zak had already divor.ced
himself from the need of vision. He let his keen ears guide
him now, and Drizzt, shuffling and stumbling, was an easy
target to discern. In a single motion, the whip came off Zak's
belt and he lashed out, catching Drizzt around the ankles
and dropping him to the floor.

  Methodically, the weapon master came on, dreading
every step but knowing his chosen course of action to be
correct.

  Drizzt realized that he was being stalked, but he could not
understand the motive. The light had stunned him, but he
was more surprised by Zak's continuation of the battle.

  Drizzt set himself, unable to escape the trap, and tried to
think his way around his loss of sight. He had to feel the
flow of battle, to hear the sounds of his attacker and antici-
pate each coming strike.

  He brought his scimitars up just in time to block a sword
chop that would have split his skull.

  Zak hadn't expected the parry. He recoiled and came in
from a different angle. Again he was foiled.

  Now more curious than wanting to kill Drizzt, the
weapon master went through a series of attacks, sending
his sword into motions that would have sliced through the
defenses of many who could see him.

  Blinded, Drizzt fought him off, putting a scimitar in line
with each new thrust.
  
  Treachery!" Drizzt yelled, painful residual explosions
from the bright light still bursting inside his head. He
blocked another attack and tried to regain his footing, real-
izing that he had little chance of continuing to fend off the
weapon master from a prone position.

  The pain of the stinging light was too great, though, and
Drizzt, barely holding the edge of consciousness, stumbled
back to the stone, losing one scimitar in the process. He
spun over wildly, knowing that Zak was closing in.

  The other scimitar was knocked from his hand.
treachery;' Drizzt growled again. "Do you so hate to
lose?"

  "Do you not understand?" Zak yelled back at him. "1b lose
is to die! You may win a thousand fights, but you can only
lose one!" He put his sword in line with Drizzt's throat. It
would be a single clean blow. He knew that he should do it,
mercifully, before the masters of the Academy got hold of
his charge.

  Zak sent his sword spinning across the room, and he
reached out with his empty hands, grabbed Drizzt by the
front of his shirt, and hoisted him to his feet.

  They stood face-to-face, neither seeing the other very well
in the blinding glare, and neither able to break the tense si-
lence. After a long and breathless moment, the dweomer of
the enchanted pebble faded and the room became more
comfortable. lruly, the two dark elves looked upon each
other in a different light.

  "A trick of Lloth's clerics;' Zak explained. "Always they
keep such a spell of light at the ready:' A strained smile
crossed his face as he tried to ease Drizzt's anger. " Although
I daresay that I have turned such light against clerics, even
high priestesses, more than a few times:'

  "Treachery;' Drizzt spat a third time.

  "It is our way;' Zak replied. "You will learn:'

  "It is your way;' snarled Drizzt. "You grin when you speak
of murdering clerics of the Spider Queen. Do you so enjoy
killing'? Killing drow?"

  Zak could not find an answer to the accusing question.
Drizzt's words hurt him profoundly because they rang of
truth, and because Zak had come to view his penchant for
killing clerics of Lloth as a cowardly response to his own un-
answerable frustrations.

  "You would have killed me;' Drizzt said bluntly.

  "But I did not;' Zak retorted. "And now you live to go to the
Academy-to take a dagger in the back because you are
blind to the realities of our world, because you refuse to ac-
knowledge what your people are.

  "Or you will become one of them;' Zak growled. "Either
way, the Drizzt Do'Urden I have known will surely die:'
Drizzt's face twisted, and he couldn't even find the words
to dispute the possibilities Zak was spitting at him. He felt
the blood drain from his face, though his heart raged. He
walked away, letting his glare linger on Zak for many steps.

  "Go, then, Drizzt Do'Urden!" Zak cried after him. "Go to
the Academy and bask in the glory of your prowess. Re-
member, though, the consequences of such skills. Alway&
there are consequences!'.'

  Zak retreated to the security of his private chamber. The
door to the room closed behind the weapon master with
such a sound of finality that it spun Zak back to face its
empty stone.

  "Go, then, Drizzt Do'Urden;' he whispered in quiet la-
ment. "Go to the Academy and learn who you really are:'

  Dinin came for his brother early the next morning. Drizzt
slowly left the training room, looking back over his shoul-
der every few steps to see if Zak would come out and attack
him again or bid him farewell.

  He knew in his heart that Zak would not.

  Drizzt had thought them friends, had believed that the
bond he and Zaknafein had sown went far beyond the sim-
ple lessons and swordplay. The young drow had no answers
to the many questions spinning in his mind, and the person
who had been his teacher for the last five years had nothing
left to offer him.

  "The heat grows in Narbondel;' Dinin remarked when
they stepped out onto the balcony. "We must not be late for
your first day in the Academy:'

  Drizzt looked out into the myriad colors and shapes that
composed Menzoberranzan. "What is this place?" he whis-
pered, realizing how little he knew of his homeland beyond
the walls of his own house. Zak's words-Zak's rage-
pressed in on Drizzt as he stood there, reminding him of his
ignorance and hinting at a dark path ahead.

  "This is the world;' Dinin replied, though Drizzt's question
had been rhetorical. "Do not worry, Secondboy;' he
laughed, moving up onto the railing. "You will learn of Men-
zoberranzan in the Academy. You will learn who you are
and who your people are:'

  The declaration unsettled Drizzt. Perhaps-remembering
his last bitter encounter with the drow he had most
trusted-that knowledge was exactly what he was afraid of.
He shrugged in resignation and followed Dinin over the
balcony in a magical descent to the compound floor: the
first steps down that dark path.

  Another set of eyes watched intently as Dinin and Drizzt
started out from House Do'Urden.

  Alton DeVir sat quietly against the side of a gigantic mush-
room, as he had every day for the last week, staring at the
Do'Urden complex.

  Daermon N'a'shezbaernon, Ninth House of Menzoberran-
zan. The house that had murdered his matron, his sisters
and brothers, and all there ever was of House DeVir . . . ex-
cept for Alton.

  Alton thought back to the days of House DeVir, when Ma-
tron Ginafae had gathered the family members together so
that they might discuss their aspirations. Alton, just a stu-
dent when House DeVir fell, now had a greater insight to
those times. 1Wenty years had brought a wealth of experi-
ence.

  Ginafae had been the youngest matron among the ruling
families, and her potential had seemed unlimited. Then she
had aided a gnomish patrol, had used her Lloth-given
powers to hinder the drow elves that ambushed the little
people in the caverns outside Menzoberranzan-all because
Ginafae desired the death of a single member of that attack-
ing drow party, a wizard son of the city's third house, the
house labeled as House DeVir's next victim.

  The Spider Queen took exception to Ginafae's choice of
weapons; deep gnomes were the dark elves' worst enemy in
the whole of the Underdark. With Ginafae fallen out of
Lloth's favor, House DeVir had been doomed.

  Alton had spent twenty years trying to learn of his ene-
mies, trying to discover which drow family had taken ad.
vantage of his mother's mistake and had slaughtered his kin.
Threnty long years, and then his adopted matron, SiNafay
Hun'ett, had ended his quest as abruptly as it had begun.
Now, as Alton sat watching the guilty house, he knew only
one thing for certain: twenty years had done nothing to di-
minish his rage.


                          Part 3
                        The Academy



  The Academy.

  It is the propagation of the lies that bind drow society to-
getheI; the ultimate perpetration of falsehoods repeated so
many times that they ring true against any contrary evi-
dence. The lessons young drow are taught of truth and jus-
tice are so blatantly refuted by everyday life in wicked
Menzoberranzan that it is hard to understand how any
could believe them. Still they do.

  Even now, decades removed, the thought of the place
frightens me, not for any physical pain or the ever-present
sense of possible death-1 have trod down many roads
equally dangerous in that way. The Academy of Menzober-
ranzan frightens me when I think of the survivors, the grad-
uates, existing-reveling-within the evil fabrications that
shape their world.

  They live with t~e belief tha t anything is acceptable if you
can get away with it, that self-gratification is the most im-
portant aspect of existence, and that power comes only to
she or he who is strong enough and cunning enough to
snatch it from the failing hands of those who no longer de-
serve it. Compassion has no place in Menzoberranzan, and
yet it is compassion, not feaI; that brings harmony to most
races. It is harmony, working toward shared goals, that pre-
cedes greatness.

  Lies engulf the drow in fear and mistrust, refute friend-
ship at the tip of a Lloth-blessed sword. The hatred and am-
bition fostered by these amoral tenets are the doom of my
people, a weakness that they perceive as strength. The
result is a paralyzing, paranoid existence that the drow call
the edge of readiness.

  I do not know how I survived the Academy; how I discov-
ered the falsehoods early enough to use them in contrast,
and thus strengthen, those ideals I most cherish.

  It was-Zaknafein, I must believe, my teacheJ: Through the
experiences of Zak's long years, which embittered him and
cost him so much, I came to hear the screams: the screams
of protest against murderous treachery; the screams of
rage from the leaders of drow society; the high priestesses
of the Spider Queen, echoing down the paths of my mind,
ever to hold a place within my mind. The screams of dying
children.

                                       -Drizzt Do'Urden


                      Chapter 12
                   This Enemy,"They"


  Wearing the outfit of a noble son, and with a dagger con-
cealed in one boot-a suggestion from Dinin-Drizzt as-
cended the wide stone stairway that led to Tier Breche, the
Academy of the drow. Drizzt reached the top and moved
between the giant pillars, under the impassive gazes of two
guards, last-year students of Melee-Magthere.

  Thro dozen other young drow milled about the Academy
compound, but Drizzt hardly noticed them. Three struc-
tures dominated his vision and his thoughts. 1b his left stood
the pointed stalagmite tower of Sorcere, the school of wiz-
ardry. Drizzt would spend the first sixth months of his tenth
and last year of study in there.

  Before him, at the back of the level, loomed the most im-
pressive structure, Arach.Tinilith, the school of Lloth,
carved from the stone into the likeness of a giant spider. By
drow reckoning, this was the Academy's most important
building and thus was normally reserved for females. Male
students were housed within Arach- Tinilith only during
their last six months of study.

  While Sorcere and Arach. Tinilith were the more graceful
structures, the most important building for Drizzt at that
tentative moment lined the wall to his right. The pyramidal
structure of Melee-Magthere, the school of fighters. This
building would be Drizzt's home for the next nine years. His
companions, he now realized, were those other dark elves
in the compound-fighters, like himself, about to begin
their formal training. The class, at twenty-five, was unusu-
ally large for the school of fighters.

  Even more unusual, several of the novice students were
nobles. Drizzt wondered how his skills would measure up
against theirs, how his sessions with Zaknafein compared to
the battles these others had no doubt fought with the
weapon masters of their respective families.

  Those thoughts inevitably led Drizzt back to his last
encounter with his mentor. He quickly dismissed the memo-
ries of that unpleasant duel, and, more pointedly, the dis-
turbing questions Zak's observations had forced him to
consider. There was no place for such doubts on this occa-
sion. Melee-Magthere loomed before him, the greatest test
and the greatest lesson of his young life.

  "My greetings;' came a voice behind him. Drizzt turned to
face a fellow novice, who wore a sword and dirk uncom-
fortably on his belt and who appeared even more nervous
than Drizzt-a comforting sight.

  "Kelnozz of House Kenafin, fifteenth house;' the novice
said.

  "Drizzt Do'Urden of Daermon N'a'shezbaernon, House
Do'Urden, Ninth House of Menzoberranzan;' Drizzt replied
automatically, exactly as Matron Malice had instructed him.

  "A noble;' remarked Kelnozz, understanding the signifi-
cance of Drizzt bearing the same surname as his house.
Kelnozz dropped into a low bow. "I am honored by your
presence:'

  Drizzt was starting to like this place already. With the
treatment he normally received at home, he hardly thought
of himself as a noble. Any self-important notions that might
have occurred to him at Kelnozz's gracious greeting were
dispelled a moment later, though, when the masters came
out.

  Drizzt saw his brother, Dinin, among them but
pretended-as Dinin had warned him to-not "to notice, nor
to expect any special treatment. Drizzt rushed inside Melee-
Magthere along with the rest of the students when the
whips began to snap and the masters started shouting of the
dire consequences if they tarried. They were herded down
a few side corridors and into an oval room.

  "Sit or stand as you will!" one of the masters growled. No-
ticing two of the students whispering off to the side, the
master took his whip out and-crack/-took one of the of-
fenders off his feet.

  Drizzt couldn't believe how quickly the room then came
to order.

  "I am Hatch'net;' the master began in a resounding voice,

  "the master of Lore. This room will be your hall of instruc-
tion for fifty cycles of Narbondel:' He looked around at the
adorned belts on every figure. "You will bring no weapons
to this place!"

  Hatch'net paced the perimeter of the room, making cer-
tain that every eye followed his movements attentively. "You
are drow;' he snapped suddenly. "Do you understand what
that means? Do you know where you come from, and the
history of our people? Menzoberranzan was not always our
home, nor was any other cavern of the Underdark. Once
we walked the surface of the world:' He spun suddenly and
came up right in Drizzt's face.

  "Do you know of the surface?" Master Hatch'net snarled.
Drizzt recoiled and shook his head.

  "An awful place;' Hatch'net continued, turning back to the
whole of the group. "Each day, as the glow begins its rise in
Narbondel, a great ball of fire rises into the open sky above,
bringing hours of a light greater than the punishing spells of
the priestesses of Lloth!" He held his arms outstretched,
with his eyes turned upward, and an unbelievable grimace
spread across his face.

  Students' gasps rose up all about him.

  "Even in the night, when the ball of fire has gone below
the far rim of the world;' Hatch'net continued, weaving his
words as if he were telling a horror tale, "one cannot escape
the uncounted terrors of the surface. Reminders of what
the next day will bring, dots of light-and sometimes a
lesser ball of silvery fire-mar the sky's blessed darkness.

  "Once our people walked the surface of the world;' he re-
peated/ his tone now one of lament, "in ages long past, even
longer than the lines of the great houses. In that distant age,
we walked beside the pale-skinned elves, the faeries!"

  "It cannot be true!" one student cried from the side.

  Hatch'net looked at him earnestly, considering whether
more would be gained by beating the student for his
unasked. for interruption or by allowing the group to partic-
ipate. "It is!" he replied, choosing the latter course. "We
thought the faeries our friends; we called them kin! We
could not know, in our innocence, that they were the em-
bodiments of deceit and evil. We could not know that they
would turn on us suddenly and drive us from them, slaugh-
tering our children and the eldest of our race!

  "Without mercy the evil faeries pursued us across the sur.
face world. Always we asked for peace, and always we
were answered by swords and killing arrows!"

  He paused, his face twisting into a widening, malicious
smile. "Then we found the goddess!"

  "Praise Lloth!" came one anonymous cry. Again Hatch'net
let the slip of tongue go by unpunished, knowing that every
accenting comment only drew his audience deeper into his
web of rhetoric.

  "Indeed;' the master replied. "All praise to the Spider
Queen. It was she who took our orphaned race to her side
and helped us fight off our enemies. It was she who guided
the forematrons of our race to the paradise of the Under-
dark. It is she;' he roared, a clenched fist rising into the air,

  "who now gives us the strength and the magic to pay back
our enemies.

  "We are the drow!" Hatch'net cried. "You are the drow,
never again to be downtrodden, rulers of all you desire,
conquerors of lands you choose to inhabit!"

  "The surface?" came a question.

  "The surface?" echoed Hatch'net with a laugh. "Who
would want to return to that vile place? Let the faeries have
it! Let them burn under the fires of the open sky! We claim
the Underdark, where we can feel the core of the world
thrumming under our feet, and where the stones of the
walls show the heat of the world's power!"

  Drizzt sat silent, absorbing every word of-the talented or-

ator's often-rehearsed speech. Drizzt was caught, as were
all the new students, in Hatch'net's hypnotic variations of in-
flection and rallying cries. Hatch'net had been the master of
Lore at the Academy for more than two centuries, owning
more prestige in Menzoberranzan than nearly any other
male drow, and many of the females. The matrons of the
ruling families understood well the value of his practiced
tongue.

  So it went every day, an endless stream of hate rhetoric di-
rected against an enemy that none of the students had ever
seen. The surface elves were not the only target of
Hatch'net's sniping. Dwarves, gnomes, humans, halflings,
and all of the surface races-and even subterranean races
such as the duergar dwarves, which the drow often traded
with and fought beside-each found an unpleasant spot in
the master's ranting.

  Drizzt came to understand why no weapons were permit-
ted in the oval chamber. When he left his lesson each day, he
found his hands clenched by his sides in rage, uncon-
sciously grasping for a scimitar hilt. It was obvious from the
commonplace fights among the students that others felt the
same way. Always, though, the overriding factor that kept
some measure of control was the master's lie of the horrors
of the outside world and the comforting bond of the stu.
dents' common heritage-a heritage, the students would
soon come to believe, that gave them enough enemies to
battle beyond each other.

  The long, draining hours in the oval chamber left little
time for the students to mingle. They shared common bar-
racks, but their extensive duties outside of Hatch'net's
lessons-serving the older students and masters, preparing
meals, and cleaning the building-gave them barely enough
time for rest. By the end of the first week, they walked on
the edge of exhaustion, a condition, Drizzt realized, that
only increased the stirring effect of Master Hatch'net's les
sons.

  Drizzt accepted the existence stoically, considering it far
better than the six years he had served his mother and sis-
ters as page prince. Still, there was one great disappoint-
ment to Dnzzt in his first weeks at Melee-Magthere. He
found himself longing for his practice sessions.

  He sat on the edge of his bedroll late one night, holding a
scimitar up before his shining eyes, remembering those
many hours engaged in battle-play with Zaknafein.

  "We go to the lesson in two hours;' Kelnozz, in the next
bunk, reminded him. "Get some rest:'

  "I feel the edge leaving my hands;' Drizzt replied quietly.

  "The blade feels heavier, unbalanced:'

  "The grand melee is barely ten cycles of Narbondel away;'
Kelnozz said. "You will get all the practice you desire there!
Fear not, whatever edge has been dulled by the days with
the master of Lore will soon be regained. For the next nine
years, that fine blade of yours will rarely leave your hands!"

  Drizzt slid the scimitar back into its scabbard and reclined
on his bunk. As with so many aspects of his life so far-and,
he was beginning to fear, with so many aspects of his future
in Menzoberranzan-he had no choice but to accept the cir-
cumstances of his existence.

  "This segment of your training is at an end;' Master
Hatch'net announced on the morning of the fiftieth day. An-
other master, Dinin, entered the room, leading a magically
suspended iron box filled with meagerly padded wooden
poles of every length and design comparable to drow weap-
ons.

  "Choose the sparring pole that most resembles your own
weapon of choice;' Hatch'net explained as Dinin made his
way around the room. He came to his brother, and Drizzt's
eyes settled at once on his choice: two slightly curving poles
about three-and-a-half feet long. Drizzt lifted them out and
put them through a simple cut. Their weight and balance
closely resembled the scimitars that had become so familiar
to his hands.

  "For the pride of Daermon N'a'shezbaernon;' Dinin whis-
pered, then moved along.

  Drizzt twirled the mock weapons again. It was time to
measure the value of his sessions with Zak.

  "Your class must have an order;' Hatch'net was saying as
Drizzt turned his attention beyond the scope of his new
weapons. "Thus the grand melee. Remember, there can be
only one victor!"

  Hatch'net and Dinin herded the students out of the oval
chamber and out of Melee-Magthere altogether, down the
tunnel between the two guardian spider statues at the back
of Tier Breche. For all of the students, this was the first time
they had ever been out of Menzoberranzan.

  "What are the rules?" Drizzt asked Kelnozz, in line at his
side.

  "If a master calls you out, then you are out;' Kelnozz re-
plied.

  "The rules of engagement?" asked Drizzt.
Kelnozz cast him an incredulous glance. "Win;' he said
simply, as though there could be no other answer.

  A short time later they came into a fairly large cavern, the
arena for the grand melee. Pointed stalactites leered down
at them from the ceiling and stalagmite mounds broke the
floor into a twisting maze filled with ambush holes and
blind corners.

  "Choose your strategies and find your starting point;'
Master Hatch'net said to them. "The grand melee begins in a
count of one hundred!"

  The twenty-five students set off into action, some pausing
to consider the landscape laid out before them, others
sprinting off into the gloom of the maze.

  Drizzt decided to find a narrow corridor, to ensure that
he would fight off one-against-one, and he just started off in
his search when he was grabbed from behind.

  "A team?" Kelnozz offered.

  Drizzt did not respond, unsure of the other's fighting
worth and the accepted practices of this traditional encoun-
ter.
  "Others are forming into teams;' Kelnozz pressed. "Some
in threes. Thgether we might have a chance:'

  "The master said there could be only one victor;' Drizzt
reasoned.

  "Who better than you, if not me;' Kelnozz replied with a
sly wink. "Let us defeat the others, then we can decide the
issue between ourselves:'

  The reasoning seemed prudent, and with Hatch'net's
count already approaching seventy-five, Drizzt had little
time to ponder the possibilities. He clapped Kelnozz on the
shoulder and led his new ally into the maze.

  Catwalks had been constructed all around the room's pe-
rimeter, even crossing through the center of the chamber,
to give the judging masters a good view of all the action be-
low. A dozen of them were up there now, all eagerly await-
ing the first battles so that they might measure the talent of
this young class.

  "One hundred!" cried Hatch'net from his high perch.
Kelnozz began to move, but Drizzt stopped him, keeping
him back in the narrow corridor between two long stalag-
mite mounds.

  "Let them come to us;' Drizzt signaled in the silent hand
and facial expression code. He crouched in battle readiness.

  "Let them fight each other to weariness. Patience is our
ally!"

  Kelnozz relaxed, thinking he had made a good choice in
Drizzt.

  Their patience was not tested severely, though, for a mo-
ment later, a tall and aggressive student burst into their de-
fensive position, wielding a long spear-shaped pole. He
came right in on Drizzt, slapping with the butt of his
weapon, then spinning it over full in a brutal thrust de-
signed for a quick kill, a strong move perfectly executed.

  Drizzt, though, it seemed the most basic of attack
routines-too basic, almost, for Drizzt hardly believed that
a trained student would attack another skilled fighter in
such a straightforward manner. Drizzt convinced himself in
time that this was indeed the chosen method of attack, and
no feint, and he launched the proper parry. His scimitar
poles spun counterclockwise in front of him, striking the
thrusting spear in succession and driving the weapon's tip
harmlessly above the striking line of its wielder's shoulder.

  The aggressive attacker, stunned by the advanced parry,
found himself open and off balance. Barely a split second
later, before the attacker could even begin to recover,
Drizzt's counter poked one, then the other scimitar pole
into his chest.

  A soft blue light appeared on the stunned student's face,
and he and Drizzt followed its line up to see a wand-
wielding master looking down at them from the catwalk.

  "You are defeated;' the master said to the tall student. "Fall
where you stand!"

  The student shot an angry glare at Drizzt and obediently
dropped to the stone.

  "Come;' Drizzt said to Kelnozz, casting a glance up at the
master's revealing light. "Any others in the area will know
of our position now. We must seek a new defensible area:'

  Kelnozz paused a moment to watch the graceful hunting
strides of his comrade. He had indeed made a good choice in
selecting Drizzt, but he knew already, after only a single
quick encounter, that if he and this skilled swordsman were
the last two standing-a distinct possibility-he would have
no chance at all of claiming victory.

  Together they rushed around a blind corner, right into
two opponents. Kelnozz chased after one, who fled in
fright, and Drizzt faced off against the other, who wielded
sword and dirk poles.

  A wide smile of growing confidence crossed Drizzt's face
as his opponent took the offensive, launching routines simi-
larly basic to those of the spear wielder that Drizzt had eas-
ily dispatched.

  A few deft twists and turns of his scimitars, a few slaps on
the inside edges of his opponent's weapons, had the sword
and dirk flying wide. Drizzt's attack came right up the mid-
dle, where he executed another double-poke into his oppo-
nent's chest.
  The expected blue light appeared. "You are defeated;'
came the master's call. "Fall where you stand:'

  Outraged, the stubborn student chopped viciously at
Drizzt. Drizzt blocked with one weapon and snapped the
other against his attacker's wrist, sending the sword pole
flying to the floor.

  The attacker clenched his bruised wrist, but that was the
least of his troubles. A blinding flash of lightning exploded
from the observing master's wand, catching him full in the
chest and hurtling him ten feet backward to crash into a
stalagmite mound. He crumpled to the floor, groaning in ag-
ony, and a line of glowing heat rose from his scorched body,
which lay against the cool gray stone.

  "You are defeated!" the master said again.
Drizzt started to the fallen drow's aid, but the master is-
sued an emphatic, "No!"

  Then Kelnozz was back at Drizzt's side. "He got away;'
Kelnozz began, but he broke into a laugh when he saw the
downed student. "If a master calls you out, then you are
out!" Kelnozz repeated into Drizzt's blank stare.

  "Come;' Kelnozz continued. "The battle is in full now. Let
us find some fun! "

  Drizzt thought his companion quite cocky for one who
had yet to lift his weapons. He only shrugged and followed.
Their next encounter was not so easy. They came into a
double passage turning in and out of several rock forma-
tions and found themselves faced off against a group of
three-nobles from leading houses, both Drizzt and
Kelnozz realized.

  Drizzt rushed the two on his left, both of whom wielded
single swords, while Kelnozz worked to fend off the third.
Drizzt had little experience against multiple opponents, but
Zak had taught him the techniques of such a battle quite
well. His movements were solely defensive at first, then he
settled into a comfortable rhythm and allowed his oppo-
nents to tire themselves out, and to make the critical mis-
takes.

  These were cunning foes, though, and familiar with each
other's movements. Their attacks complemented each
other, slicing in at Drizzt from widely opposing angles.

  "Thro-hands;' Zak had once called Drizzt, and now he lived
up to the title. His scimitars worked independently, yet in
perfect harmony, foiling every attack.

  From a nearby perch on the catwalk, Masters Hatch'net
and Dinin looked on, Hatch'net more than a little impressed,
and Dinin swelling with pride.

  Drizzt saw the frustration mounting on his opponents'
faces, and he knew that his opportunity to strike would
soon be at hand. Then they crossed up, coming in together
with identical thrusts, their sword poles barely inches
apart.

  Drizzt spun to the side and launched a blinding uppercut
slice with his left scimitar, deflecting both attacks. Then he
reversed his body's momentum, dropped to one knee, back
in line with his opponents, and thrust in low with two snaps
of his free right arm. His jabbing scimitar pole caught the
first, and then the second, squarely in the groin.

  They dropped their weapons in unison, clutched their
bruised parts, and slumped to their knees. Drizzt leaped up
before them, trying to find the words for an apology.
Hatch'net nodded his approval at Dinin as the two mas-
ters set their lights on the two losers.

  "Help me!" Kelnozz cried from beyond the dividing wall of
stalagmites.

  Drizzt dove into a roll through a break in the wall, came
up quickly, and downed a fourth opponent, who was con-
cealed for a back-stab surprise, with a backhand chop to the
chest. Drizzt stopped to consider his latest victim. He hadn't
even consciously known that the drow was there, but his
aim had been perfect!

  Hatch'net blew a low whistle as he shifted his light to the
most recent loser's face. "He is good!" the master breathed.

  Drizzt saw Kelnozz a short distance away, practically
forced down to his back by his opponent's skilled maneu-
vers. Drizzt leaped between the two and deflected an attack
that surely would have finished Kelnozz.
  This newest opponent, wielding two sword poles, proved
Drizzt's toughest challenge yet. He came at Drizzt with com-
plicated feints and twists, forcing him on his heels more
than once.

  "Berg'inyon of House Baenre;' Hatch'net whispered to
Dinin. Dinin understood the significance and hoped that his
young brother was up to the test.

  Berg'inyon was not a disappointment to his distinguished
kin. His moves came skilled and measured, and he and
Drizzt danced about for many minutes with neither finding
any advantage. The daring Berg'inyon then came in with
the attack routine perhaps most familiar to Drizzt: the
double-thrust low.

  Drizzt executed the cross-down to perfection, the appro-
priate parry as Zaknafein had so pointedly proved to him.
Never satisfied, though, Drizzt then reacted on an impulse,
agilely snapping a foot up between the hilts of his crossed
blades and into his opponent's face. The stunned son of
House Baenre fell back against the wall.

  "I knew the parry was wrong!" Drizzt cried, already sa-
voring the next time he would get the opportunity to foil the
double-thrust low in a session against Zak.

  "He is good;' Hatch'net gasped again to his glowing com-
panion.

  Dazed, Berg'inyon could not fight his way out of the disad-
vantage. He put a globe of darkness around himself, but
Drizzt waded right in, more than willing to fight blindly.

  Drizzt put the son of House Baenre through a quick series
of attacks, ending with one of Drizzt's scimitar poles against
Berg'inyon's exposed neck.

  "I am defeated;' the young Baenre conceded, feeling the
pole. Hearing the call, Master Hatch'net dispelled the dark-
ness. Berg'inyon set both his weapons on the stone and
slumped down, and the blue light appeared on his face.
Drizzt couldn't hold back the widening grin. Were there
any here that he could not defeat? he wondered.

  Drizzt then felt an explosion on the back of his head that
dropped him to his knees. He managed to look back in time
to see Kelnozz walking away.

  "A fool;' Hatch'net chuckled, putting his light on Drizzt,
then turning his gaze upon Dinin. " A good fool:'

  Dinin crossed his arms in front of his chest, his face glow-
ing brightly now in a flush of embarrassment and anger.

  Drizzt felt the cool stone against his cheek, but his only
thoughts at that moment were rooted in the past, locked
onto Zaknafein's sarcastic, but painfully accurate, state-
ment: "It is our way!"

                         Chapter 13
                    The Price of Winning


  "You deceived me;' Drizzt said to Kelnozz that night in the
barracks. The room was black around them and no other Stu-
dents stirred in their cots, exhausted from the day's fighting
and from their endless duties serving the older students.

  Kelnozz fully expected this encounter. He had guessed
Drizzt's naivete early on, when Drizzt had actually queried
him about the rules of engagement. An experienced drow
warrior, particularly a noble, should have known better,
should have understood that the only rule of his existence
was the pursuit of victory. Now, Kelnozz knew I this foolish
young Do'Urden would not strike at him for his earlier
actions-vengeance fueled by anger was not one of Drizzt's
traits.

  "Why?" Drizzt pressed, finding no answer forthcoming
from the smug commoner of House Kenafin.

  The volume of Drizzt's voice caused Kelnozz to glance
around nervously. They were supposed to be sleeping; if a
master heard them arguing. . .

  "What is the mystery?" Kelnozz signaled back in the hand
code, the warmth of his fingers glowing clearly to Drizzt's
heat-sensing eyes. "I acted as I had to act, though I now be-
lieve I should have held off a bit longer. Perhaps, if you had
defeated a few more, I might have finished higher than
third in the class:'

  "If we had worked together, as we had agreed, you might
have won, or finished second at the least;' Drizzt signaled
back, the sharp movements of his hands reflecting his anger. 

  "Most assuredly second;' Kelnozz replied. "I knew from 
the beginning that I would be no match for you. You are the
finest swordsman I have ever seen:'

  "Not by the masters' standing;' Drizzt grumbled aloud. 

  Eighth is not so low;' Kelnozz whispered back. 
Berg'inyon is only ranked tenth, and he is from the ruling
house of Menzoberranzan. You should be glad that your
standing is not to be envied by your classmates:' A shuffle
outside the room's door sent Kelnozz back into the silent
mode. "Holding a higher rank means only that I have more
fighters eyeing my back as a convenient place to rest their
daggers;'

  Drizzt let the implications of Kelnozz's statement slip by;
he refused to consider such treachery in the Academy.
"Berg'inyon was the finest fighter I saw in the grand melee;'
he signaled. "He had you beaten until I interceded on your
behalf ;'

  Kelnozz smiled the thought away. "Let Berg'inyon serve as
cook in some lowly house for alii care;' he whispered even
more quietly than before-for the son of House Baenre's
bunk was only a few yards away. "He is tenth, yet I, Kelnozz
of Kenafin, am third!"

  "I am eighth;' said Drizzt, an uncharacteristic edge on his
voice, more anger than jealousy, "but I could defeat you
with any weapon;'

  Kelnozz shrugged, a strangely blurring movement to on- 
lookers seeing in the infrared spectrum. "You did not;' he
signaled. "I won our encounter;'

  "Encounter?" Drizzt gasped. "You deceived me, that is all!"

  "Who was left standing?" Kelnozz pointedly reminded
him. "Who wore the blue light of a master's wand?" 

  "Honor demands that there be rules of engagement;' 
growled Drizzt.

  "There is a rule;' Kelnozz snapped back at him. "You may
do whatever you can get away with. I won our encounter,
Drizzt Do'Urden, and I hold the higher rank! That is all that
matters!"

  In the heat of the argument, their voices had grown too 
loud. The door to the room swung wide, and a master 
stepped onto the threshold, his form vividly outlined by the
hallway's blue lights. Both students promptly rolled over
and closed their eyes-and their mouths.

  The finality of Kelnozz's last statement rocked Drizzt to
some prudent observations. He realized then that his
friendship with Kelnozz had come to an end-and, perhaps,
that he and Kelnozz had never been friends at all.

  "You have seen him?" Alton asked, his fingers tapping anx-
iously on the small table in the highest chamber of his pri-
vate quarters. Alton had set the younger students of
Sorcere to work repairing the blasted place, but the scorch
marks on the stone walls remained, a legacy of Alton's fire-
ball.

  "I have;' replied Masoj. "I have heard of his skill with
weapons:'

  "Eighth in his class after the grand melee;' said Alton, "a
fine achievement:'

  "By all accounts, he has the prowess to be first;' said Ma-
soj. "One day he will claim that title. 1 shall be careful
around that one:'

  "He will never live to claim it!" Alton promised. "House
Do'Urden puts great pride in this purple-eyed youth, and
thus 1 have decided upon Drizzt as my first target for re-
venge. His death will bring pain to that treacherous Matron
Malice!"

  Masoj saw a problem here and decided to put it to rest
once and for all. "You will not harm him;' he warned Alton.

  "You will not even go near him:'
Alton's tone became no less grim. "I have waited two
decades-" he began.

  "You can wait a few more;' Masoj snapped back. "I remind
you that you accepted Matron SiNafay's invitation into
House Hun'ell. Such an alliance requires obedience. Matron
SiNafay-our matron mother-has placed upon my shoul-
ders the task of handling Drizzt Do'Urden, and I will exe-
cute her will:'

  Alton rested back in his seat across the table and put what
was left of his acid-torn chin into a slender palm, carefully
weighing the words of his secret partner.

  "Matron SiNafay has plans that will bring you all the re-
venge you could possibly desire;' Masoj continued. "I warn
you now, Alton DeVir;' he snarled, emphasizing the sur-
name that was not Hun'ett, "that if you begin a war with
House Do'Urden, or even put them on the defensive with
any act of violence unsanctioned by Matron SiNafay, you
will incur the wrath of House Hun'ett. Matron SiNafay will
expose you as a murderous imposter and will exact every
punishment allowable by the ruling council upon your piti-
ful bones!"

  Alton had no way to refute the threat. He was a rogue,
without family beyond the adopted Hun'etts. If SiNafay
turned against him, he would find no allies. "What plan does
SiNafay . . . Matron SiNafay . . . have for House Do'Urden?"
he asked calmly. "Tell me of my revenge so that I may sur-
vive these torturous years of waiting:'

  Masoj knew that he had to act carefully at this point. His
mother had not forbidden him to tell Alton of the future
course of action, but if she had wanted the volatile DeVir to
know, Masoj realized, she would have told him herself.

  "Let us just say that House Do'Urden's power has grown,
and continues to grow, to the point where it has become a
very real threat to all the great houses;' Masoj purred, lov-
ing the intrigue of positioning before a war. "Witness the fall
of House DeVir, perfectly executed with no obvious trail.
Many of Menzoberranzan's nobles would rest easier if . . . "

  He let it go at that, deciding that he probably had said too
much already.

  By the hot glimmer in Alton's eyes, Masoj could tell that
the lure had been strong enough to buy Alton's patience.

  The Academy held many disappointments for young
Drizzt, particularly in that first year, when so many of the
dark realities of drow society, realities that Zaknafein had
barely hinted at, remained on the edges of Drizzt's cogni-
zance with stubborn resilience. He weighed the masters'
lectures of hatred and mistrust in both hands, one side hold-
ing the masters' views in the context of the lectures, the
other bending those same words into the very different
logic assumed by his old mentor. The truth seemed so am-
biguous, so hard to define. Through all of the examination,
Drizzt found that he could not escape one pervading fact: In
his entire young life, the only treachery he had ever
witnessed-and so often!-was at the hands of drow elves.
The physical training of the Academy, hours on end of du-
eling exercises and stealth techniques, was more to Drizzt's
liking. Here, with his weapons so readily in his hands, he
freed himself of the disturbing questions of truth and per-
ceived truth.

  Here he excelled. If Drizzt had come into the Academy
with a higher level of training and expertise than that of his
classmates, the gap grew only wider as the grueling months
passed. He learned to look beyond the accepted defense and
attack routines put forth by the masters and create his own
methods, innovations that almost always at least equaled-
and usually outdid-the standard techniques.

  At first, Dinin listened with increasing pride as his peers
exalted in his younger brother's fighting prowess. So glow-
ing came the compliments that the eldest son of Matron
Malice soon took on a nervous wariness. Dinin was the
elderboy of House Do'Urden, a title he had gained by elimi-
nating Nalfein. Drizzt, showing the potential to become one
of the finest swordsmen in all of Menzoberranzan, was now
the secondboy of the house, eyeing, perhaps, Dinin's title.
Similarly, Drizzt's fellow students did not miss the grow-
ing brilliance of his fighting dance. Often they viewed it too
close for their liking! They looked upon Drizzt with seeth-
ing jealousy, wondering if they could ever measure up
against his whirling scimitars. Pragmatism was ever a
strong trait in drow elves. These young students had spent
the bulk of their years observing the elders of their families
twisting every situation into a favorable light. Everyone of
them recognized the value of Drizzt Do'Urden as an ally,
and thus, when the grand melee came around the next year,

  Drizzt was inundated with offers of partnership.

  The most surprising query came from Kelnozz of House
Kenafin, who had downed Drizzt through deceit the pre-
vious year. "Do we join again, this time to the very top of the
class?" the haughty young fighter asked as he moved beside
Drizzt down the tunnel to the prepared cavern. He moved
around and stood before Drizzt easily, as if they were the
best of friends, his forearms resting across the hilts of his
belted weapons and an overly friendly smile spread across
his face.

  Dnzzt could not even answer. He turned and walked
away, pointedly keeping his eye over one shoulder as he
left.

  "Why are you so amazed?" Kelnozz pressed, stepping
quickly to keep up.

  Drizzt spun on him. "How could I join again with one who
so deceived me?" he snarled. "I have not forgotten your
trick!"

  "That is the point;' Kelnozz argued. "You are more wary
this year; certainly I would be a fool to attempt such a move
again!"

  "How else could you win?" said Drizzt. "You cannot defeat
me in open battle:' His words were not a boast, just a fact
that Kelnozz accepted as readily as Drizzt.

  "Second rank is highly honored;' Kelnozz reasoned.
Drizzt glared at him. He knew that Kelnozz would not set-
tle for anything less than ultimate victory. "If we meet in the
melee;' he said with cold finality, "it will be as opponents:' He
walked off again, and this time Kelnozz did not follow.

  Luck bestowed a measure of justice upon Drizzt that day,
for his first opponent, and first victim, in the grand melee
was none other than his former partner. Dnzzt found
Kelnozz in the same corridor they had used as a defensible
starting point the previous year and took him down with his
very first attack combination. Drizzt somehow managed to
hold back on his winning thrust, though he truly wanted to
jab his scimitar pole into Kelnozz's ribs with all his strength.

  Then Drizzt was off into the shadows, picking his way
carefully until the numbers of surviving students began to
dwindle. With his reputation, Drizzt had to be extra wary,
for his classmates recognized a common advantage in elimi-
nating one of his prowess early in the competition. Working
alone, Drizzt had to fully scope out every battle before he
engaged, to ensure that each opponent had no secret com-
panions lurking nearby.

  This was Drizzt's arena, the place where he felt most
comfortable, and he was up to the challenge. In two hours,
only five competitors remained, and after another two
hours of cat and mouse, it came down to only two: Drizzt
and Berg'inyon Baenre.

  Drizzt moved out into an open stretch of the cavern.

  "Come out, then, student Baenre!" he called. "Let us settle
this challenge openly and with honor!"
Watching from the catwalk, Dinin shook his head in disbe-
lief.

  "He has relinquished all advantage;' said Master Hat-
ch'net, standing beside the elderboy of House Do'Urden. " As
the better swordsman, he had Berg'inyon worried and un-
sure of his moves. Now your brother stands out in the open,
showing his position:'

  "Still a fool;' Dinin muttered.

  Hatch'net spotted Berg'inyon slipping behind a stalagmite
mound a few yards behind Drizzt. "It should be settled
soon:'

  "Are you afraid?" Drizzt yelled into the gloom. "If you
truly deserve the top rank, as you freely boast, then come
out and face me openly. Prove your words, Berg'inyon
Baenre, or never speak them again!"

  The expected rush of motion from behind sent Drizzt into
a sidelong roll.

  "Fighting is more than swordplay!" the son of House
Baenre cried as he came on, his eyes gleaming at the advan-
tage he now seemed to hold.

  Berg'inyon stumbled then, tripped up by a wire Drizzt
had set out, and fell flat to his face. Drizzt was on him in a
flash, scimitar pole tip in at Berg'inyon's throat.

  "So I have learned;' Drizzt replied grimly.

  "Thus a Do'Urden becomes the champion;' Hatch'net ob-
served, putting his blue light on the face of House Baenre's
defeated son. Hatch'net then stole Dinin's widening smile
with a prudent reminder: "Elderboys should beware se-
condboys with such skills:'

  While Drizzt took little pride in his victory that second
year, he took great satisfaction in the continued growth of
his fighting skills. He practiced every waking hour when he
was not busy in the many serving duties of a young student.
Those duties were reduced as the years passed-the young-
est students were worked the hardest-and Drizzt found
more and more time in private training. He reveled in the
dance of his blades and the harmony of his movements. His
scimitars became his only friends, the only things he dared
to trust.

  He won the grand melee again the third year, and the year
after that, despite the conspiracies of many others against
him. 1b the masters, it became obvious that none in Drizzt's
class would ever defeat him, and the next year they placed
him into the grand melee of students three years his senior.

  He won that one, too.

  The Academy, above anything else in Menzoberranzan,
was a structured place, and though Drizzt's advanced skill
defied that structure in terms of battle prowess, his tenure
as a student would not be lessened. As a fighter, he would
spend ten years in the Academy, not such a long time con-
sidering the thirty years of study a wizard endured in 50r-
cere, or the fifty years a budding priestess would spend in
Arach- Tinilith. While fighters began their training at the
young age of twenty, wizards could not start until their
twenty-fifth birthday, and clerics had to wait until the age
of forty.

  The first four years in Melee-Magthere were devoted to
singular combat, the handling of weapons. In this, the mas-
ters could teach Drizzt little that Zaknafein had not already
shown him.

  After that, though, the lessons became more involved.

  The young drow warriors spent two full years learning
group fighting tactics with other warriors, and the subse-
quent three years incorporated those tactics into warfare
techniques beside, and against, wizards and clerics.

  The final year of the Academy rounded out the fighters'
education. The first six months were spent in Sorcere,
learning the basics of magic use, and the last six, the prelude
to graduation, saw the fighters in tutelage under the priest-
esses of Arach- Tinilith.

  All the while there remained the rhetoric, the hammering
in of those precepts that the Spider Queen held so dear,
those lies of hatred that held the drow in a state of controlla-
ble chaos.
  
  Drizzt, the Academy became a personal challenge, a
private classroom within the impenetrable womb of his
whirling scimitars. Inside the adamantite walls he formed
with those blades, Drizzt found he could ignore the many
injustices he observed all around him, and could somewhat
insulate himself against words that would have poisoned his
heart. The Academy was a place of constant ambition and
deceit, a breeding ground for the ravenous, consuming
hunger for power that marked the life of all the drow.
Drizzt would survive it unscathed, he promised himself.

  As the years passed, though, as the battles began to take
on the edge of brutal reality, Drizzt found himself caught up
time and again in the heated throes of situations he could
not so easily brush away.
          

                   Chapter 14
                 Proper Respect


  They moved through the winding tunnels as quietly as a
whispering breeze, each step measured in stealth and end-
ing in an alert posture. They were ninth-year students
working on their last year in Melee-Magthere, and they op-
erated as often outside the cavern of Menzoberranzan as
within. No longer did padded poles adorn their belts; ada-
mantite weapons hung there now, finely forged and cruelly
edged.

  At times, the tunnels closed in around them, barely wide
enough for one dark elf to squeeze through. Other times,
the students found themselves in huge caverns with walls
and ceilings beyond their sight. They were drow warriors,
trained to operate in any type of Underdark landscape and
learned in the ways of any foe they might encounter.

  "Practice patrols;' Master Hatch'net had called these
drills, though he had warned the students that "practice pa-
trols" often met monsters quite real and unfriendly.
Drizzt, still rated in the top of his class and in the point po.
sition, led this group, with Master Hatch'net and ten other
students following in formation behind. Only twenty-two of
the original twenty-five in Drizzt's class remained. One had
been dismissed-and subsequently executed-for a foiled
assassination attempt on a higher-ranking student, a second
had been killed in the practice arena, and a third had died in
his bunk of natural causes-for a dagger in the heart quite
naturally ends one's life.

  In another tunnel a short distance away, Berg'inyon
Baenre, holding the class's second rank, led Master Dinin
and the other half O

  The class in a similar exercise.
Day after day, Driz t and the others had struggled to keep
the fine edge of rea iness. In tJIree months of these mock
patrols, the group had encountered only one monster, a
cave fisher, a nasty crablike denizen of the Underdark. Even
that conflict had provided only brief excitement, and no
practical experience, for the cave fisher had slipped out
along the high ledges before the drow patrol could even get
a strike at it.

  This day, Drizzt sensed something different. Perhaps it
was an unusual edge on Master Hatch'net's voice or a tin.
gling in the stones of the cavern, a subtle vibration that
hinted to Drizzt's subconscious of other creatures in the
maze of tunnels. Whatever the reason, Drizzt knew enough
to follow his instincts, and he was not surprised when the
telltale glow of a heat source flitted down a side passage on
the periphery of his vision. He signaled for the rest of the
patrol to halt, then quickly climbed to a perch on a tiny
ledge above the side passage's exit.

  When the intruder emerged into the main tunnel, he
found himself lying back.down on the floor with two scimi.
tar blades crossed over his neck. Drizzt backed away imme.
diately when he recognized his victim as another drow
student.

  "What are you doing down here?" Master Hatch'net de.
manded of the intruder. "You know that the tunnels outside
Menzoberranzan are not to be traveled by any but the pa.
troIs!"

  "Your pardon, Master;' the student pleaded. "I bring news
of an alert:'

  All in the patrol crowded around, but Hatch'net backed
them off with a glare and ordered Drizzt to set them out in
defensive positions.

  "A child is missing;' the student went on, "a princess of
House Baenre! Monsters have been spotted in the tunnels!"

  "What sort of monsters?" Hatch'net asked. A loud clacking
noise, like the sound of two stones being clapped together,
answered his question.

  "Hook horrors!" Hatch'net signaled to Drizzt at his side.

  Drizzt had never seen such beasts, but he had learned
enough about them to understand why Master Hatch'net
had suddenly reverted to the silent hand code. Hook hor-
rors hunted through a sense of hearing more acute than
that of any other creature in all the Underdark. Drizzt im-
mediately relayed the signal around to the others, and they
held absolutely quiet for instructions from the master. This
was the situation they had trained to handle for the last nine
years of their lives, and only the sweat on their palms belied
the calm readiness of these young drow warriors.

  "Spells of darkness will not foil hook horrors;' Hatch'net
signaled to his troops. "Nor will these:' He indicated the pis-
tol crossbow in his hand and the poison-tipped dart it held, a
common first-strike weapon of the dark elves. Hatch'net
put the crossbow away and drew his slender sword.

  "You must find a gap in the creature's bone armor;' he re-
minded the others, "and slip your weapon through to the
flesh:' He tapped Drizzt on the shoulder, and they started
off together, the other students falling into line behind
them.

  The clacking resounded clearly, but, echoing off the stone
walls of the tunnels, it provided a confusing beacon for the
hunting drbw. Hatch'net let Drizzt steer their course and
was impressed by the way the student soon discerned the
pattern of the echo riddle. Drizzt's step came in confidence,
though many of the others in the patrol glanced about anx-
iously unsure of the peril's direction or distance.

  Then a singular sound froze them all where they stood,
cutting through the din of the clacking monsters and re-
sounding again and again, surrounding the patrol in the
echoing madness of a terrifying wail. It was the scream of a
child.

  "Princess of House Baenre!" Hatch'net signaled to Drizzt.

  The master started to order his troops into a battle forma-
tion, but Drizzt didn't wait to watch the commands. The
scream had sent a shudder of revulsion through his spine,
and when it sounded again, it lighted angry fires in his lav-
ender eyes.

  Drizzt sprinted off down the tunnel, the cold metal of his
scimitars leading the way.

  Hatch'net organized the patrol into quick pursuit. He
hated the thought of losing a student as skilled as Drizzt, but
he considered, too, the benefits of Drizzt's rash actions. If
the others watched the finest of their class die in an act of
stupidity, it would be a lesson they would not soon forget.

  Drizzt cut around a sharp corner and down a straight ex-
panse of narrow, broken walls. He heard no echoes now,
just the ravenous clacking of the waiting monsters and the
muffled cries of the child.

  His keen ears caught the slight sounds of his patrol at his
back, and he knew that if he was able to hear them, the
hook horrors surely could. Drizzt would not relinquish the
passion or the immediacy of his quest. He climbed to a ledge
ten feet above the floor, hoping it would run the length of
the corridor- When he slipped around a final bend, he could
barely distinguish the heat of the monsters' forms through
the blurring coolness of their bony exoskeletons, shells
nearly equal in temperature to the surrounding stone.

  He made out five of the giant beasts, two pressed against
the stone and guarding the corridor and three others far-
ther back, in a little cul-de-sac, toying with some-crying-
object.

  Drizzt mustered his nerve and continued along the ledge,
using all the stealth he had ever learned to creep by the sen-
tries. Then he saw the child princess, lying in a broken heap
at the foot of one of the monstrous bipeds. The motion of
her sobs told Drizzt that she was alive. Drizzt had no inten-
tion of engaging the monsters if he could help it, hoping that
he might perhaps slip in and steal the child away.

  Then the patrol came headlong around the bend in the
corridor, forcing Drizzt to action.

  "Sentries!" he screamed in warning, probably saving the
lives of the first four of the group. Drizzt's attention
abruptly returned to the wounded child as one of the hook
horrors raised its heavy, clawed foot to crush her.

  The beast stood nearly twice Drizzt's height and out-
weighed him more than five times over. It was fully ar-
mored in the hard shell of its exoskeleton and adorned with
gigantic clawed hands and a long and powerful beak. Three
of the monsters stood between Drizzt and the child.

  Drizzt couldn't care about any of those details at that hor-
rible, critical moment. His fears for the child outweighed
any concern for the danger looming before him. He was a
drow warrior, a fighter trained and outfitted for battle,
while the child was helpless and defenseless.

  Two of the hook horrors rushed at the ledge, just the
break Drizzt needed. He rose up to his feet and leaped out
over them, coming down in a fighting blur onto the side of
the remaining hook horror. The monster lost all thoughts of
the child as Drizzt's scimitars snapped in at its beak relent-
lessly, cracking into its facial armor in a desperate search
for an opening.

  The hook horror fell back, overwhelmed by its oppo-
nent's fury and unable to catch up to the blades' blinding,
stinging movements.

  Drizzt knew that he had the advantage on this one, but he
knew, as well, that two others would soon be at his back. He
did not relent. He slid down from his perch on the monster's
side and rolled around to block its retreat, dropping be-
tween its stalagmitelike legs and tripping it to the stone.

  Then he was on top of it, poking furiously as it floundered
on its belly.

  The hook horror desperately tried to respond, but its ar-
mored shell was too encumbering for it to twist out from
under the assault.

  Drizzt knew his own situation was even more desperate.
Battle had been joined in the corridor, but Hatch'net and the
others couldn't possibly get through the sentries in time to
stop the two hook horrors undoubtedly charging his back.

  Prudence dictated that Drizzt relinquish his position over
this one and spin away into a defensive posture.

  The child's agonized scream, however, overruled pru-
dence. Rage burned in Drizzt's eyes so blatantly that even
the stupid hook horror knew its life was soon to end. Drizzt
put the tips of his scimitars together in a "V" and plunged
them down onto the back of the monster's skull with all his
might. Seeing a slight crack in the creature's shell, Drizzt
crossed the hilts of his weapons, reversed the points, and
split a clear opening in the monster's defense. He then
snapped the hilts together and plunged the blades straight
down, through the soft flesh and into the monster's brain.
A heavy claw sliced a deep line across Drizzt's shoulders,
tearing his piwafwi and drawing blood. He dove forward
into a roll and came up with his wounded back to the far
wall. Only one hook horror moved in at him; the other
picked up the child.

  "No!" Drizzt screamed in protest. He started forward,
only to be slapped back by the attacking monster. Then, par-
alyzed, he watched in horror as the other hook horror put
an end to the child's screams.

  Rage replaced determination in Drizzt's eyes. The closest
hook horror rushed at him, meaning to crush him against
the stone. Drizzt recognized its intentions and didn't even
try to dodge out of the way. Instead, he reversed his grip on
his weapons and locked them against the wall, above his
shoulders.

  With the momentum of the monster's eight-hundred-
pound bulk carrying it on, even the armor of its shell could
not protect the hook horror from the adamantite scimitars.

  It slammed Drizzt up against the wall, but in doing so im-
paled itself through the belly.
The creature jumped back, trying to wriggle free, but it
could not escape the fury of Drizzt Do'Urden. Savagely the
young drow twisted the impaled blades. He then shoved off
from the wall with the strength of anger, tumbling the giant
monster backward.

  Two of Drizzt's enemies were dead, and one of the hook
horror sentries in the hallway was down, but Drizzt found
no relief in those facts. The third hook horror towered over
him as he desperately tried to get his blades free from his
latest victim. Drizzt had no escape from this one.
  The second patrol arrived then, and Dinin and Berg'inyon
Baenre rushed into the cul-de-sac, along the same ledge
Drizzt had taken. The hook horror turned away from
Drizzt just as the two skilled fighters came at it.

  Drizzt ignored the painful gash in his back and the cracks
he had no doubt suffered in his slender ribs. Breathing
came to him in labored gasps, but this, too, was of no conse-
quence. He finally managed to free one of his blades, and he
charged at the monster's back. Caught in the middle of the
three skilled drow, the hook horror went down in seconds.

  The corridor was finally cleared, and the dark elves
rushed in all around the cul-de-sac. They had lost only one
student in their battle against the monster sentries.

  "A princess of House Barrison'del'armgo;' remarked one
of the students in Dinin's patrol, looking at the child's body.

  "House Baenre, we were told;' said another student, one
from Hatch'net's group. Drizzt did not miss the discrepancy.
Berg'inyon Baenre rushed over to see if the victim was in-
deed his youngest sister.

  "Not of my house;' he said with obvious relief after a quick
inspection. He then laughed as further examination re-
vealed a few other details about the corpse. "Not even a
princess!" he declared.

  Drizzt watched it all curiously, noting the impassive, cal-
lous attitude of his companions most of all.

  Another student confirmed Berg'inyon's observation. "A
boy child!" he spouted. "But of what house?"

  Master Hatch'net moved over to the tiny body and
reached down to take the purse from around the child's
neck. He emptied its contents into his hand, revealing the
emblem of a lesser house.

  " A lost waif;' he laughed to his students, tossing the empty
purse back to the ground and pocketing its contents, "of no
consequence:'

  "A fine fight;' Dinin was quick to add, "with only one loss.
Go back to Menzoberranzan proud of the work you have ac-
complished this day:'

  Drizzt slapped the blades of his scimitars together in a re-
sounding ring of protest.

  Master Hatch'net ignored him. "Form up and head back;'
he told the others. "You all performed well this day:' He then
glared at Drizzt, stopping the angry student in his tracks.

  "Except for you!" Hatch'net snarled. "I cannot ignore the
fact that you downed two of the beasts and helped with a
third;' Hatch'net scolded, "but you endangered the rest of
us with your foolish bravado!"

  "I warned of the sentries-" Drizzt stuttered.

  "Damn your warningl" shouted the master. "You went off
without command! You ignored the accepted methods of
battle! You led us in here blindly! Look at the corpse of your
fallen companion!" Hatch'net raged, pointing to the dead
student in the corridor. "His blood is on your hands!

  "I meant to save the child;' Drizzt argued.

  "We all meant to save the child!" retorted Hatch'net.
Drizzt was not so certain. What would a child be doing
out in these corridors all alone? How convenient that a
group of hook horrors, a rarely seen beast in the region of
Menzoberranzan, just happened by to provide training for
this "practice patrol:' Tho convenient, Drizzt knew, consid-
ering that the passages farther from the city teemed with
the true patrols of seasoned warriors, wizards, and even
clerics.

  "You knew what was around the bend in the tunnel;'
Drizzt said evenly, his eyes narrowing at the master.
The slap of a blade across the wound on his back made
Drizzt lurch in pain, and he nearly lost his footing. He
turned to find Dinin glaring down at him.

  "Keep your foolish words unspoken;' Dinin warned in a
harsh whisper, "or 1 will cut out your tongue:'

  "The child was a plant;' Drizzt insisted when he was alone
with his brother in Dinin's room.

  Dinin's response was a stinging smack across the face.

  "They sacrificed him for the purpose of the drill;' growled
the unrelenting younger Do'Urden.

  Dinin launched a second punch, but Drizzt caught it in
midswing. "You know the truth of my words;' Drizzt said.

  "You knew about it all along:'

  "Learn your place, Secondboy;' Dinin replied in open
threat, "in the Academy and in the family:' He pulled away
from his brother.

  "Th the Nine Hells with the Academy!" Drizzt spat at
Dinin's face. "If the family holds similar. . :' He noticed that
Dinin's hands now held sword and dirk.

  Drizzt jumped back, his own scimitars coming out at the
ready. "I have no desire to fight you, my brother;' he said.

  "Know well that if you attack, I will defend. Only one of us
will walk out of here:'

  Dinin considered his next move carefully. If he attacked
and won, the threat to his position in the family would be at
an end. Certainly no one, not even Matron Malice, would
question the punishment he levied against his impertinent
younger brother. Dinin had seen Drizzt in battle, though.

  Two hook horrors! Even Zaknafein would be hard pressed
to attain such a victory. Still, Dinin knew that if he did not
carry through with his threat, if he let Drizzt face him
down, he might give Drizzt confidence in their future strug-
gles, possibly inciting the treachery he had always expected
from the secondboy.

  "What is this, then?" came a voice from the room's door-
way. The brothers turned to see their sister Vierna, a mis-
tress of Arach- Tinilith. "Put your weapons away;' she
scolded. "House Do'Urden cannot afford such infighting
now!"

  Realizing that he had been let off the hook, Dinin readily
complied with the demands, and Drizzt did likewise.

  "Consider yourselves fortunate;' said Vierna, "for I'll not
tell Matron Malice of this stupidity. She would not be merci-
ful, I promise you:'

  "Why have you come unannounced to Melee-Magthere?"
asked the elderboy, perturbed by his sister's attitude. He,
too, was a master of the Academy, even if he was only a
male, and deserved some respect.

  Vierna glanced up and down the hallway, then closed the
door behind her. "Th warn my brothers;' she explained qui-
etly. "There are rumors of vengeance against our house:'

  "By what family?" Dinin pressed. Drizzt just stood back in
confused silence and let the two continue. "For what deed?"

  "For the elimination of House DeVir, I would presume;' re-
plied Vierna. "Little is known; the rumors are vague. I
wanted to warn you both, though, so that you might keep
your guard especially high in the coming months:'

  "House DeVir fell many years ago;' said Dinin. "What pen-
alty could still be enacted?"

  Vierna shrugged. "They are just rumors;' she said. "Ru-
mors to be listened to!"

  "We have been accused of a wrongful deed?" Drizzt
asked. "Surely our family must callout this false accuser:'
Vierna and Dinin exchanged smiles. "Wrongful?" Vierna
laughed.

  Drizzt's expression revealed his confusion.

  "On the very night you were born;' Dinin explained,

  "House DeVir ceased to exist. An excellent attack, thank
you:'

  "House Do'Urden?" gasped Drizzt, unable to come to
terms with the startling news. Of course, Drizzt knew of
such battles, but he had held out hope that his own family
was above that sort of murderous action.

  "One of the finest eliminations ever carried out;' Vierna
boasted. "Not a witness left alive:'

  "You. . . our family. . . murdered another family?"

  "Watch your words, Secondboy;' Dinin warned. "The
deed was perfectly executed. In the eyes of Menzoberran-
zan, therefore, it never happened:'

  "But House DeVir ceased to exist;' said Drizzt.

  "The child;' said Dinin with a laugh.

  A thousand possibilities assaulted Drizzt at that awful mo-
ment, a thousand pressing questions that he needed an-
swered. One in particular stood out vividly, welling like a
lump of bile in his throat.

  "Where was Zaknafein that night?" he asked.

  "In the chapel of House DeVir's clerics, of course;' replied
Vierna. "

  Knafein plays his part in such business so very well:'

  Drizzt rocked back on his heels, hardly able to believe
what he was hearing. He knew that Zak had killed drow be-
fore, had killed clerics of Lloth before, but Drizzt had al.
ways assumed that the weapon master had acted out of
necessity, in self.defense.

  "You should show more respect to your brother;' Vierna
scolded him. "Th draw weapons against Dinin! You owe him
your life!"

  "You know?" Dinin chuckled, casting Vierna a curious
glance.

  "You and I were melded that night;' Vierna reminded him.

  "Of course I know:'

  "What are you talking about?" asked Drizzt, almost afraid
to hear the reply.

  "You were to be the third.born male in the family;' Vierna
explained, "the third living son:'

  "I have heard of my brother Nal-" The name stuck in
Drizzt's throat as he began to understand. All he had ever
been able to learn of Nalfein was that he had been killed by
another drow.

  "You will learn in your studies at Arach. Tinilith that third
living sons are customarily sacrificed to Lloth;' Vierna con.
tinued. "So were you promised. On the night that you were
born, the night that House Do'Urden battled House DeVir,
Dinin made his ascent to the position of elderboy:' She cast a
sly glance at her brother, standing with his arms proudly
crossed over his chest.

  "I can speak of it now;' Vierna smiled at Dinin, who nod-
ded his head in accord. "It happened too long ago for any
punishment to be brought against Dinin:'

  "What are you talking about?" Drizzt demanded. Panic
hovered all about him. "What did Dinin do?"

  "He put his sword into Nalfein's back;' Vierna said calmly.
Drizzt swam on the edge of nausea. Sacrifice? Murder?

  The annihilation of a family, even the children? What were
his siblings talking about?

  "Show respect to your brother!" Vierna demanded. "You
owe him your life.

  "I warn the both of you;' she purred, her ominous glare
shaking Drizzt and knocking Dinin from his confident ped-
estal._"House Do'Urden may be on a course of war. If either
of you strike out against the other, you will bring the wrath
of aU your sisters and Matron Malice-four high
priestesses-down upon your worthless soul!" Confident
that her threat carried sufficient weight, she turned and
left the room.

  "I will go;' Drizzt whispered, wanting only to skulk away
to a dark corner.

  "You will go when you are dismissed!" Dinin scolded. "Re-
member your place, Drizzt Do'Urden, in the Academy and
in the family:'

  " As you remembered yours with Nalfein?"

  "The battle against DeVir was won;' Dinin replied, taking
no offense. "The act brought no peril to the family:'

  Another wave of disgust swept over Drizzt. He felt as if
the floor were climbing up to swallow him, and he almost
hoped that it would.

  "It is a difficult world we inhabit;' Dinin said.

  "We make it so;' Drizzt retorted. He wanted to continue
further, to implicate the Spider Queen and the whole
amoral religion that would sanction such destructive and
treacherous actions. Drizzt wisely held his tongue, though.
Dininwanted him dead; he understood that now. Drizzt un-
derstood as well that if he gave his scheming brother the op-
portunity to turn the females of the family against him,
Dinin surely would.

  "You must learn;' Dinin said, again in a controlled tone, "to
accept the realities of your surroundings. You must learn to
recognize your enemies and defeat them:'

  "By whatever means are available;' Drizzt concluded.

  "The mark of a true warrior!" Dinin replied with a wicked
laugh.

  "Are our enemies drow elves?"

  "We are drow warriors!" Dinin declared sternly. "We do
what we must to survive."

  " As you did, on the night of my birth;' Drizzt reasoned,
though at this point, there was no remaining trace of out-
rage in his resigned tone. "You were cunning enough to get
away cleanly with the deed:'

  Dinin's reply, though expected, stung the younger drow
profoundly.

  "It never happened:'


                     Chapter 15
                  On The DarkSide




  "I am Drizzt-"

  "I know who you are;' replied the student mage, Drizzt's
appointed tutor in Sorcere. "Your reputation precedes you.
Most in all the Academy have heard of you and of your
prowess with weapons:'

  Drizzt bowed low, a bit embarrassed.

  "That skill will be of little use to you here;' the mage went
on. "I am to tutor you in the wizardly arts, the dark side of
magic, we call them. This is a test of your mind and your
heart; meager metal weapons will play no part. Magic is the
true power of our people!"

  Drizzt accepted the berating without reply. He knew that
the traits this young mage was boasting of were also neces-
sary qualities of a true fighter. Physical attributes played
only a minor role in Drizzt's style of battle. Strong will and
calculated maneuvers, everything the mage apparently be-
lieved only wizards could handle, won the duels that Drizzt
fought.

  "I will show you many marvels in the next few months;'
the mage went on, "artifacts beyond your belief and spells
of a power beyond your experience!"

  "May I know your name?" Drizzt asked, trying to sound
somewhat impressed by the student's continued stream of
self-glorification. Drizzt had already learned quite a lot
about wizardry from Zaknafein, mostly of the weaknesses
inherent in the class. Because of magic's usefulness in situa-
tions other than battle; drow wizards were accorded a high
position in the society, second to the clerics of Lloth. It was a
wizard, after all, who lighted the glowing Narbondel, time
clock of the city, and wizards who lighted faerie fires on the
sculptures of the decorated houses.

  Zaknafein had little respect for wizards. They could kill
quickly and from a distance, he had warned Drizzt, but if
one could get in close to them, they had little defense
against a sword.

  "Masoj;' replied the mage. "Masoj Hun'ett of House
Hun'ett, beginning my thirtieth and final year of study. Soon
I will be recognized as a full wizard of Menzoberranzan,
with all of the privileges accorded my station:'

  "Greetings, then, Masoj Hun'ett;' Drizzt replied. "I, too,
have but a year remaining in my training at the Academy,
for a fighter spends only ten years:'

  "A lesser talent:' Masoj was quick to remark. "Wizards
study thirty years before they are even considered prac-
ticed enough to go out and perform their craft:'

  Again Drizzt accepted the insult graciously. He wanted to
get this phase of his instruction over with, then finish out
the year and be rid of the Academy altogether.

  Drizzt found his six months under Masoj's tutelage actu-
ally the best of his stay at the Academy. Not that he came to
care for Masoj; the budding wizard constantly sought ways
to remind Drizzt of fighters' inferiority. Drizzt sensed a
competition between himself and Masoj, almost as if the
mage were setting him up for some future conflict. The
young fighter shrugged his way through it, as he always
had, and tried to get as much out of the lessons as he could.

  Drizzt found that he was quite proficient in the ways of
magic. Every drow, the fighters included, possessed a de-
gree of magical talent and certain innate abilities. Even
drow children could conjure a globe of darkness or edge
their opponents in a glowing outline pf harmless colored
flames. Drizzt handled these tasks easily, and in a few
weeks, he could manage several cantrips and a few lesser
spells.

  With the innate magical talents of the dark elves also came
a resistance to magical attacks, and that is where Zaknafein
had recognized the wizards' greatest weakness. A wizard
could cast his most powerful spell to perfection, but if his in-
tended victim was a drow elf, the wizard may well have
found no results for his efforts. The surety of a well-aimed
sword thrust always impressed Zaknafein, and Drizzt, after
witnessing the drawbacks of drow magic during those first
weeks with Masoj, began to appreciate the course of train-
ing he had been given.

  He still found great enjoyment in many of the things Masoj
showed him, particularly the enchanted items housed in the
tower of Sorcere. Drizzt held wands and staves of incredi-
ble power and went through several attack routines with a
sword so heavily enchanted that his hands tingled from its
touch.

  Masoj, too, watched Drizzt carefully through it all, study-
ing the young warrior's every move, searching for some
weakness that he might exploit if House Hun'ett and House
Do'Urden ever did fall into the expected conflict. Several
times, Masoj saw an opportunity to eliminate Drizzt, and he
felt in his heart that it would be a prudent move. Matron
SiNafay's instructions to him, though, had been explicit and
unbending.

  Masoj's mother had secretly arranged for him to be
Drizzt's tutor. This was not an unusual situation; instruction
for fighters during their six months in Sorcere was always
handled one-on-one by higher-level Sorcere students. When
she had told Masoj of the setup, SiNafay quickly reminded
him that his sessions with the young Do'Urden remained no
more than a scouting mission. He was not to do anything
that might even hint of the planned conflict between the
two houses. Masoj was not fool enough to disobey.

  Still, there was one other wizard lurking in the shadows,
who was so desperate that even the warnings of the matron
mother did little to deter him.

  "My student, Masoj, has informed me of your fine prog-
ress;' Alton DeVir said to Drizzt one day.

  "Thank you, Master Faceless One;' Drizzt replied hesi-
tantly, more than a little intimidated that a master of Sor-
cere had invited him to a private audience.

  "How do you perceive magic, young warrior?" Alton
asked. "Has Masoj impressed you?"

  Drizzt didn't know how to respond. 1ruly, magic had not
impressed him as a profession, but he did not want to insult
a master of the craft. "I find the art beyond my abilities;' he
said tactfully. "For others, it seems a powerful course, but i
believe my talents are more closely linked to the sword:'

  "Could your weapons defeat one of magical power?" AI.
ton snarled. He quickly bit back the sneer, trying not to tip
off his intent.

  Drizzt shrugged. "Each has its place in battle;' he replied.

  "Who could say which is the mightier? As with every com-
bat, it would depend upon the individuals engaged:'

  "Well, what of yourself?" Alton teased. "First in your class,
I have heard, year after year. 'The masters of Melee-
Magthere speak highly of your talents:'

  Again Drizzt found himself flushed with embarrassment.
More than that, though, he was curious as to why a master
and student of Sorcere seemed to know so much about him.

  "Could you stand against one of magical powers?" asked
Alton. "Against a master of Sorcere, perhaps?"

  "I do not-" Drizzt began, but Alton was too enmeshed in
his own ranting to hear him.

  "Let us learn!" the Faceless One cried. He drew out a thin
wand and promptly loosed a bolt of lightning at Drizzt.
Drizzt was down into a dive before the wand even dis-
charged. The lightning bolt sundered the door to Alton's
highest chamber and bounced about the adjoining room,
breaking items and scorching the walls.

  Drizzt came rolling back to his feet at the side of the room,
his scimitars drawn and ready. He still was unsure of this
master's intent.

  "How many can you dodge?" Alton teased, waving the
wand in a threatening circle. "What of the other spells I
have at my disposal-those that attack the mind, not the
body?"

  Drizzt tried to understand the purpose of this lesson and
the part he was meant to play in it. Was he supposed to at-
tack this master?

  "These are not practice blades;' he warned, holding his
weapons out toward Alton.

  Another bolt roared in, forcing Drizzt to dodge back to his
original position. "Does this seem like practice to you, fool-
ish Do'Urden?" Alton growled. "Do you know who I am?"
Alton's time of revenge had come-damn the orders of
Matron SiNafay!

  Just as Alton was about to reveal the truth to Drizzt, a
dark form slammed into the master's back, knocking him to
the floor. He tried to squirm away but found himself help-
lessly pinned by a huge black panther.
Drizzt lowered the tips of his blades; he was at a loss to
understand any of this.

  "Enough, Guenhwyvar!" came a call from behind Alton.
Looking past the fallen master and the cat, Drizzt saw Masoj
enter the room.

  The panther sprang away from Alton obediently and
moved to rejoin its master. It paused on its way, to consider
Drizzt, who stood ready in the middle of the room.
So enchanted was Drizzt with the beast, the graceful flow
of its rippling muscles and the intelligence in its saucer eyes,
that he paid little attention to the master who had just at-
tacked him, though Alton, unhurt, was back to his feet and
obviously upset.

  "My pet;' Masoj explained. Drizzt watched in amazement
as Masoj dismissed the cat back to its own plane of existence
by sending its corporeal form back into the magical onyx
statuette he held in his hand.

  "Where did you get such a companion?" Drizzt asked.

  "Never underestimate the powers of magic;' Masoj re-
plied, dropping the figurine into a deep pocket. His beaming
smile became a scowl as he looked to Alton.

  Drizzt, too, glanced at the faceless master. That a stu-
dent had dared to attack a master seemed impossibly odd
to the young fighter. This situation grew more puzzling
each minute.

  Alton knew that he had overstepped his bounds, and that
he would have to pay a high price for his foolishness if he
could not find some way out of this predicament.

  "Have you learned your lesson this day?" Masoj asked
Drizzt, though Alton realized that the question was also di-
rected his way.

  Drizzt shook his head. "I am not certain of the point of all
this;' he answered honestly.

  "A display of the weakness of magic;' Masoj explained, try-
ing to disguise the truth of the encounter, "to show you the
disadvantage caused by the necessary intensity of a casting
wizard; to show you the vulnerability of a mage obsessed-"
he eyed Alton directly at this point-"with spellcasting. The
complete vulnerability when a wizard's intended prey be-
comes his overriding concern:'

  Drizzt recognized the lie for what it was, but he could
not understand the motives behind this day's events. Why
would a master of Sorcere attack him so? Why would Ma-
soj, still just a student, risk so much to come to his defense?

  "Let us bother the master no more;' Masoj said, hoping to
deflect Drizzt's curiosity further. "Come with me now to our
practice hall. 1 will show you more of Guenhwyvar, my mag-
ical pet:'

  Drizzt looked to Alton, wondering what the unpredicta-
ble master would do next.

  "Do go;' Alton said calmly, knowing the facade Masoj had
begun would be his only w~y around the wrath of his
adopted matron mother. "I am confident that this day's les-
son was learned;' he said, his eyes on Masoj.

  Drizzt glanced back to Masoj, then back to Alton again.
He let it go at that. He wanted to learn more of Guen-
hwyvar.

  When Masoj had Drizzt back in the privacy of the tutor's
own room, he took out the polished onyx figurine in the
form of a panther and called Guenhwyvar back to his side.
The mage breathed easier after he had introduced Drizzt
to the cat, for Drizzt spoke no more about the incident
with Alton.

  Never before had Drizzt encountered such a wonderful
magical item. He sensed a strength in Guenhwyvar, a dig-
nity, that belied the beast's enchanted nature. lruly, the
cat's sleek muscles and graceful moves epitomized the hunt-
ing qualities drow elves so dearly desired. Just by watching

  Guenhwyvar's movements, Drizzt believed, he could im-
prove his own techniques.

  Masoj let them play together and spar together for hours,
grateful that Guenhwyvar could help him smooth over any
damage that foolish Alton had done.

  Drizzt had already put his meeting with the faceless mon-
ter far behind him.

  "Matron SiNafay would not understand;' Masoj warned
Alton when they were alone later that day.

  "You will tell her;' Alton reasoned matter-of-factly. So frus-
trated was he with his failure to kill Drizzt that he hardly
cared.

  Masoj shook his head. "She need not know:'

  A suspicious smile found its way across Alton's disfigured
face. "What do you want?" he asked coyly. "Your tenure
here is almost at its end. What more might a master do for
Masoj?"

  "Nothing;' Masoj replied. "I want nothing from you:'

  "Then why?" Alton demanded. "I desire no debts follow.
ing my paths. This incident is to be done with here and
nowl"

  "It is done;' Masoj replied. Alton didn't seem convinced.

  "What could I gain from telling Matron SiNafay of your
foolish actions?" Masoj reasoned. "Likely, she would kill you,
and then the coming war with House Do'Urden would have
no basis. You are the link we need to justify the attack. I de-
sire this battle; I'll not risk it for the little pleasure I might
find in your tortured demise:'

  "I was foolish;' Alton admitted, more somberly. "I had not
planned to kill Drizzt when I summoned him here, just to
watch him and learn of him, so that I might savor more
when the time to kill him finally arrived. Seeing him before
me, though, seeing a cursed Do'Urden standing unpro-
tected before me . . . !"

  "I understand;' said Masoj sincerely. "I have had those
same feelings when looking upon that one:'

  "You have no grudge against House Do'Urden:'

  "Not the house;' Masoj explained, "that one! I have
watched him for nearly a decade, studied his movements
and his attitudes:'

  "You like not what you see?" Alton asked, a hopeful tone in
his voice.

  "He does not belong;' Masoj replied grimly. "After six
months by his side, I feel I know him less now than I ever
did. He displays no ambition, yet has emerged victorious
from his class's grand melee nine years in a row. It's unprec-
edented! His grasp of magic is strong; he could have been a
wizard, a very powerful wizard, if he had chosen that
course of study:'

  Masoj clenched his fist, searching for the words to convey
his true emotions about Drizzt. "It is all too easy for him;' he
snarled. "There is no sacrifice in Drizzt's actions, no scars
for the great gains he makes in his chosen profession:'

  "He is gifted;' Alton remarked, "but he trains as hard as
any I have ever seen, by all accounts:'

  "That is not the problem;' Masoj groaned in frustration.

  There was something less tangible about Drizzt Do'Urden's
character that truly irked the young Hun'ett. He couldn't
recognize it now, because he had never witnessed it in any
dark elf before, and because it was so very foreign to his
own makeup. What bothered Masoj-and many other stu-
dents and masters-was the fact that Drizzt excelled in all
the fighting skills the drow elves most treasured but hadn't
given up his passion in return. Drizzt had not paid the price
that the rest of the drow children were made to sacrifice
long before they had even entered the Academy.

  "It is not important;' Masoj said after several fruitless min-
utes of contemplation. "I will learn more of the young
Do'Urden in time:'

  "His tutelage under you was finished, I had thought;' said
Alton. "He goes to Arach- Tinilith for the final six months of
his training-quite inaccessible to you:'

  "We both graduate after those six months;' Masoj ex-
plained. "We will share our indenture time in the patrol
forces together:'

  "Many will share that time;' Alton reminded him. "Dozens
of groups patrol the corridors of the region. You may never
even see Drizzt in all the years of your term:'

  "I already have arranged for us to serve in the same
group;' replied Masoj. He reached into his pocket and pro-
duced the onyx figurine of the magical panther.

  "A mutual agreement between yourself and the young
Do'Urden;' Alton reasoned with a complimentary smile.

  "It appears that Drizzt has become quite fond of my pet;'
Masoj chuckled.

  "Tho fond?" Alton warned. "You should watch your back
for scimitars:'

  Masoj laughed aloud. "Perhaps our friend, Do'Urden,
should watch his back for panther claws!"



                       Chapter 16
                       Sacrilege



  "Last day;' Drizzt breathed in relief as he donned his cer-
emonial robes. If the first six months of this final year, learn-
ing the subtleties of magic in Sorcere, had been the most
enjoyable, these last six in the school of Lloth had been the
least. Every day, Drizzt and his classmates had been sub-
jected to endless eulogies to the Spider Queen, tales and
prophecies of her power and of the rewards she bestowed
upon loyal servants.
  
  "Slaves" would have been a better word, Drizzt had come
to realize, for nowhere in all this grand school to the drow
deity had he heard anything synonymous with, or even
hinting at, the word love. His people worshiped Llothj the
females of Menzoberranzan gave over their entire exist-
ence in her servitude. Their giving was wholly wrought of
selfishness, though; a cleric of the Spider Queen aspired to
the position of high priestess solely for the personal power
that accompanied the title.

  It all seemed so very wrong in Drizzt's heart.

  Drizzt had drifted through the six months of Arach-
Tinilith with his customary stoicism, keeping his eyes low
and his mouth shut. Now, finally, he had come to the last
day, the Ceremony of Graduation, an event most holy to the
drow, and wherein, Vierna had promised him, he would
come to understand the true glory of Lloth.

  With tentative steps, Drizzt moved out from the shelter of
his tiny, unadorned room. He worried that this ceremony
had become his personal trial. Up to now, very little about
the society around Drizzt had made any sense to him, and
he wondered, despite his sister's assurances, whether the
events of this day would allow him to see the world as his
kin saw it. Drizzt's fears had taken a spiral twist, one rolling
out from the other to surround him in a predicament he
could not escape.

  Perhaps, he worried, he truly feared that the day's events
would fulfill Vierna's promise.

  Drizzt shielded his eyes as he entered the circular cer-
emonial hall of Arach- Tinilith. A fire burned in the center of
the room, in an eight-legged brazier that resembled, as
everything in this place seemed to resemble, a spider. The
headmistress of all the Academy, the matron mistress, and
the other twelve high priestesses serving as instructors of
Arach- Tinilith, including Drizzt's sister, sat cross-legged in a
circle around the brazier. Drizzt and his classmates from
the school of fighters stood along the wall behind them.

  "Ma ku!" the matron mistress commanded, and all was si-
lent save the crackle of the brazier's flames. The door to the
room opened again, and a young cleric entered. She was to
be the first graduate of Arach- Tinilith this year, Drizzt had
been told, the finest student in the school of Lloth. Thus, she
had been awarded the highest honors in this ceremony. She
shrugged off her robes and walked naked through the ring
of sitting priestesses to stand before the flames, her back to
the matron mistress.

  Drizzt bit his lip, embarrassed and a little excited. He had
never seen a female in such a light before, and he suspected
that the sweat on his brow was from more than the bra-
zier's heat. A quick glance around the room told him that his
classmates entertained similar ideas.

  "Rae-go si'n'ee calamay:' the matron mistress whispered,
and red smoke poured from the brazier, colpring the room
in a hazy glow. It carried an aroma with it, rich and sickly
sweet. As Drizzt breathed the scented air, he felt himself
grow lighter and wondered if he soon would be floating off
the floor!

  The flames in the brazier suddenly roared higher, causing
Drizzt to squint against the brightness and turn away. The
clerics began a ritual chant, though the words were unfa-
miliar to Drizzt. He hardly paid them any heed, though, for
he was too intent on holding his own thoughts in the over-
powering swoon of the inebriating haze.

  "Glabrezu;' the matron mistress moaned, and Drizzt rec-
ognized the tone as a summons, the name of a denizen of
the lower planes. He looked back to the events at hand and
saw the matron mistress holding a single-tongued snake
whip.

  "Where did she get that?" Drizzt mumbled, then he real.
ized that he had spoken aloud and hoped he hadn't dis-
turbed the ceremony. He was comforted when he glanced
around, for many of his classmates were mumbling to them-
selves, and some seemed hardly able to hold their balance.

  "Call to it;' the matron mistress instructed the naked stu-
dent.

  Tentatively, the young cleric spread her arms out wide
and whispered, "Glabrezu:'

  The flames danced about the rim of the brazier. The
smoke wafted into Drizzt's face, compelling him to inhale it.
His legs tingled on the edge of numbness, yet they somehow
felt more sensitive, more alive, than they ever had before.

  "Glabrezu;' he heard the student say again louder, and
Drizzt heard, too, the roar of the flames. Brightness as-
saulted him, but somehow he didn't seem to care. His gaze
roamed about the room, unable to find a focus, unable to
place the strange, dancing sights in accord with the ritual's
sounds.

  He heard the high priestesses gasping and coaxing the stu-
dent on, knowing the conjuring to be at hand. He heard the
snap of the snake whip-another incentive?-and cries of

  "Glabrezu!" from the student. So primal, so powerful, were
these screams that they cut through Drizzt and the other
males in the room with an intensity they never would have
believed possible.

  The flames heard the call. They roared higher and higher
and began to take shape. One sight caught the vision of all in
the room now-caught it and held it fully. A giant head, a
goat-horned dog, appeared within the flames, apparently
studying this alluring young drow student who had dared
to utter its name.

  Somewhere beyond the otherplanar form, the snake
whip cracked again, and the female student repeated her
call, her cry beckoning, praying.

  The giant denizen of the lower planes stepped through
the flames. The sheer unholy power of the creature
stunned Drizzt. Glabrezu towered nine feet and seemed
much more, with muscled arms ending in giant pincers in-
stead of hands and a second set of smaller arms, normal
arms, protruding from the front of its chest.

  Drizzt's instincts told him to attack the monster and res-
cue the female student, but when he looked around for sup-
port, he found the matron mistress and the other teachers
of the school back in their ritualistic chanting, this time with
an excited edge permeating their every word.

  Through all the haze and the daze, the talJtalizing, dizzy-
ing aroma of the smoky red incense continued its assault on
reality. Drizzt trembled, teetered on a narrow ledge of con-
trol, his gathering rage fighting the scented smoke's confus-
ing allure. Instinctively, his hands went to the hilts of the
scimitars on his belt.

  Then a hand brushed against his leg.

  He looked down to see a mistress, reclined and asking him
to join her-a scene that had suddenly become general
around the chamber.

  The smoke continued its assault on him. ;

  The mistress beckoned to him, her fingernails lightly
scraping the skin of his leg.

  Drizzt ran his fingers through his thick hair, trying to find
some focal point in the dizziness. He did not like this loss of
control, this mental numbness that stole the fine edge of his
reflexes and alertness.

  He liked even less the scene unfolding before him. The
sheer wrongness of it assaulted his soul. He pulled away
from the mistress's hopeful grasp and stumbled across the
room, tripping over numerous entwined forms too engaged
to take note of him. He made the exit as quickly as his wob-
bly legs could carry him, and he rushed out of the room,
pointedly closing the door behind him.

  Only the screams of the female student followed him. No
stone or mental barricade could block them out.

  Drizzt leaned heavily against the cool stone wall, grasping
at his stomach. He hadn't even paused to consider the impli-
cations of his actions; he knew only that he had to get out of
that foul room.

  Vierna then was beside him, her robe opened casually in
the front. Drizzt, his head clearing, began to wonder about
the price of his actions. The look on his sister's face, he
noted with still more confusion, was not one of scorn.

  "You prefer privacy;' she said, her hand resting easily on
Drizzt's shoulder. Vierna made no move to close her robe. "I
understand;' she said.

  Drizzt grabbed her arm and pulled her away. "What in-
sanity is this?" he demanded.

  Vierna's face twisted as she came to understand her
brother's true intentions in leaving the ceremony. "You
refused a high priestess!" she snarled at him. "By the laws,
she could kill you for your insolence:'

  "I do not even know her;' Drizzt shot back. "I am expected
to-"

  "You are expected to do as you are instructed!"

  "I care nothing for her;' Drizzt stammered. He found he
could not hold his hands steady.

  "Do you think Zaknafein cared for Matron Malice?"
Vierna replied, knowing that the reference to Drizzt's hero
would surely sting him. Seeing that she had indeed
wounded her brother, Vierna softened her expression and
took his arm. "Come back;' she purred, "into the room.

  There is still time:'

  Drizzt's cold glare stopped her as surely as the point of a
scimitar.

  "The Spider Queen is the deity of our people;' Vierna
sternly reminded him. "I am one of those who speaks her
will:'

  "I would not be so proud of that;' Drizzt retorted, clinging
to his anger against the wave of very real fear that threat-
ened to defeat his principled stand.

  Vierna slapped him hard across the face. "Go back to the
ceremony!" she demanded.

  "Go kiss a spider;' Drizzt replied. "And may its pincers tear
your cursed tongue from your mouth:'
It was Vierna now who could not hold her hands steady.

  "You should take care when you speak to a high priestess;'
she warned.

  "Damn your Spider Queen!" Drizzt spat. "Though I am
certain Lloth found damnation eons ago!"

  "She brings us power!" Vierna shrieked.

  "She steals everything that makes us worth more than the
stone we walk upon!" Drizzt screamed back.

  "Sacrilege'" Vierna sneered, the word rolling off her
tongue like the whistle of the matron mistress's snake whip.
A climactic, anguished scream erupted from inside the
room.

  "Evil union;' Drizzt muttered, looking away.

  "There is a gain;' Vierna replied, quickly back in control of
her temper.

  Drizzt cast an accusing glance her way. "Have you had a
similar experience?"

  "I am a high priestess;' was her simple reply.
Darkness hovered all about Drizzt, outrage so intense
that he nearly swooned. "Did it please you?" he spat.

  "It brought me power;' Vierna growled back. "You cannot
understand the value:'

  "What did it cost you?"

  Vierna's slap nearly knocked Drizzt from his feet. "Come
with me;' she said, grabbing the front of his robe. "There is a
place I want to show to you:'

  They moved out from Arach. Tinilith and across the Acad-
emy's courtyard. Drizzt hesitated when they reached the
pillars that marked the entrance to Tier Breche.

  "I cannot pass between these;' he reminded his sister. "I
am not yet graduated from Melee-Magthere:'

  "A formality;' Vierna replied, not slowing her pace at all. "I
am a mistress of Arach- Tinilith; 1 have the power to gradu-
ate you:'

  Drizzt wasn't certain of the truth of Vierna's claim, but
she was indeed a mistress of Arach- Tinilith. As much as
Drizzt feared the edicts of the Academy, he didn't want to
anger Vierna again.

  He followed her down the wide stone stairs and out into
the meandering roadways of the city proper.

  "Home?" he dared to ask after a short while.

  "Not yet;' came the curt reply. Drizzt didn't press the point
any further.

  They veered off to the eastern end of the great cavern,
across from the wall that held House Do'Orden, and came to
the entrances of three small tunnels, all guarded by glowing
statues of giant scorpions. Vierna paused for just a moment
to consider which was the correct course, then led on again,
down the smallest of the tunnels.

  The minutes became an hour, and still they walked. The
passage widened and soon led them into a twisting cata-
comb of crisscrossing corridors. Drizzt quickly lost track of
the path behind them as they made their way through, but
Vierna followed a predetermined course that she knew
well.

  Then, beyond a low archway, the floor suddenly dropped
away and they found themselves on a narrow ledge over-
looking a wide chasm. Drizzt looked at his sister curiously
but held his question when he saw that she was deep in the
concentration. She uttered a few simple commands, then
tapped herself and Drizzt on the forehead.

  "Come;' she instructed, and she and Drizzt stepped off the
ledge and levitated down to the chasm floor.

  A thin mist, from some unseen hot pool or tar pit, hugged
the stone. Drizzt could sense the danger here, and the evil.

  A brooding wickedness hung in the air as tangibly as the
mist.

  "Do not fear;' Vierna signaled to him. "I have put a spell of
masking upon us. They cannot see us:'

  "They?" Drizzt's hands asked, but even as he motioned in
the code, he heard a scuttling off to the side. He followed
Vierna's gaze down to a distant boulder and the wretched
thing perched upon it.

  At first, Drizzt thought it was a drow elf, and from the
waist up, it was indeed, though bloated and pale. Its lower
body, though, resembled a spider, with eight arachnid legs
to support its frame. The creature held a bow ready in its
hands but seemed confused, as though it could not discern
what had entered its lair.

  Vierna was pleased by the disgust on her brother's face as
he viewed the thing. "Look upon it well, younger brother;'
she signaled. "Behold the fate of those who anger the Spider
Queen:'

  "What is it?" Drizzt signaled back quickly.

  " A drider;' Vierna whispered in his ear. Then, back in the
silent code, she added, "Lloth is not a merciful deity:'

  Drizzt watched, mesmerized, as the drider shifted its po-
sition on the boulder, searching for the intruders. Drizzt
couldn't tell if it was a male or female, so bloated was its
torso, but he knew that it didn't matter. The creature was
not a natural creation and would leave no descendants be-
hind, whatever its gender. It was a tormented body, nothing
more, hating itself, in all probability, more than everything
else around it.

  "I am merciful;' Vierna continued silently, though she
knew her brother's attention was fully on the drider. She
rested back flat against the stone wall.

  Drizzt spun on her, suddenly realizing her intent.
Then Vierna sank into the stone. "Goodbye, little brother;'
came her final call. "This is a better fate than you deserve:'

  "No!" Drizzt growled, and he clawed at the empty wall un-
til an arrow sliced into his leg. The scimitars flashed out in
his hands as he spun back to face the danger. The drider
took aim for a second shot.

  Drizzt meant to dive to the side, to the protection of an-
other boulder, but his wounded leg immediately fell numb
and useless. Poison.

  Drizzt just got one blade up in time to deflect the second
arrow, and he dropped to one knee to clutch at his wound.

  He could feel the cold poison making its way through his
limb, but he stubbornly snapped off the arrow shaft and
turned his attention back to the attacker. He would have to
worry about the wound later, would have to hope that he
could tend to it in time. Right now, his only concern was to
get out of the chasm.

  He turned to flee, to seek a sheltered spot where he could
levitate back up to the ledge, but he found himself face-to-
face with another drider.

  An axe sliced by his shoulder, barely missing its mark.

  Drizzt blocked the return blow and launched his second
scimitar into a thrust, which the drider stopped with a sec-
ond axe.

  Drizzt was composed now, and was confident that he
could defeat this foe, even with one leg limiting his
mobility-until an arrow cracked into his back.

  Drizzt lurched forward under the weight of the blow, but
managed to parry another attack from the drider before
him. Drizzt dropped to his knees and fell face-down.

  When the axe-wielding drider, thinking Drizzt dead,
started toward him, Drizzt kicked into a roll that put him
squarely under the creature's bulbous belly. He plunged his
scimitar up with all his strength, then curled back under the
deluge of spidery fluids.

  The wounded drider tried to scurry away but fell to the
side, its insides draining out onto the stone floor. Still, Drizzt
had no hope. His arms, too, were numb now, and when the
other wretched creature descended upon him, he could not
hope to fight it off. He struggled to cling to consciousness,
searching for some way out, battling to the bitter end. His
eyelids became heavy. . . .

  Then Drizzt felt a hand grab his robe, and he was roughly
lifted to his feet and slammed against the stone wall.

  He opened his eyes to see his sister's face.

  "He lives;' Drizzt heard her say. "We must get him back
quickly and tend to his wounds:'

  Another figure moved in front of him.

  "I thought this the best way;' Vierna apologized.

  "We cannot afford to lose him;' came an unemotional re-
ply. Drizzt recognized the voice from his past. He fought
through the blur and forced his eyes to focus.

  "Malice;' he whispered. "Mother:'

  Her enraged punch brought him into a clearer mind-set.

  "MatrQn Malice!" she growled, her angry scowl only an
inch from Drizzt's face. "Do not ever forget that!"

  To Drizzt, her coldness rivaled the poison's, and his relief
at seeing her faded away as quickly as it had flooded
through him.

  "You must learn your place!" Malice roared, reiterating
the command that had haunted Drizzt all of his young life.

  "Hear my words;' she demanded, and Drizzt heard them
keenly. "Vierna brought you to this place to have you killed.
She showed you mercy:' Malice cast a disappointed glance at
her daughter.

  "I understand the will of the Spider Queen better than
she;' the matron continued, her spittle spraying Drizzt with
every word. "If ever you speak ill of Lloth, our goddess,
again, I will take you back to this place myself! But not to kill
you; that would be too easy:' She jerked Drizzt's head to the
side so that he could look upon the grotesque remains of the
drider he had killed.

  "You will come back here;' Malice assured him, "to be-
come a drider!"


               Part 4
             Guenhwyvar

What eyes are these that see
The pain I know in my innermost soul?
What eyes are these that see
The twisted strides of my kindred,
Led on in the wake of toys unbridled:
Arrow, bolt, and sword tip?


Yours. . . aye, yours,
Straight run and muscled spring,
Soft on padded paws, sheathed claws,
Weapons rested for their need,
Stained not by frivolous blood
Or murderous deceit.


Face to face, my mirror,
Reflection in a still pool by light.
Would that I might keep that image
Upon this face mine own.
Would that I might keep that heart
Within my breast untainted.


Hold tight to the proud honor of yo
Mighty Guenhwyvar,
And hold tight to my side,
My dearest friend.

        -Drizzt Do'Urden




                   Chapter 17

                   Homecoming

  Drizzt was graduated-formally-on schedule and with
the highest honors in his class. Perhaps Matron Malice had
whispered into the right ears, smoothing over her son's in-
discretions, but Drizzt suspected that more likely none of
those present at the Ceremony of Graduation even remem-
bered that he had left.

  He moved through the decorated gate of House Do'Urden,
drawing stares from the common soldiery, and over to the
cavern floor below the balcony. "So I am home;' he re-
marked under his breath, "for whatever that means:' After
what had happened in the drider lair, Drizzt wondered if he
would ever view House Do'Urden as his home again. Ma-
tron Malice was expecting him. He didn't dare arrivp,.late.

  "It is good that you are home;' Briza said to him when she
saw him rise up over the balcony's railing.

  Drizzt stepped tentatively through the entryway beside
his oldest sister, trying to get a firm grasp on his surround.
ings. Home, Briza called it, but to Drizzt, House Do'Urden
seemed as unfamiliar as the Academy had on his first day as
a student. Thn years was not such a long time in the centu-
ries of life a drow elf might know, but to Drizzt, more than
the decade of absence now separated him from this place.

  Maya joined them in the great corridor leading to the
chapel anteroom. "Greetings, Prince Drizzt;' she said, and
Drizzt couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or not. "We
have heard of the honors you achieved at Melee-Magthere.

  Your skill did House Do'Urden proud:' In spite of her words,
Maya could not hide a derisive chuckle as she finished the
thought. "Glad, I am, that you did not become drider food:'

  Drizzt's glare stole the smile from her face.

  Maya and Briza exchanged concerned glances. They
knew of the punishment Vierna had put upon their younger
brother, and of the vicious scolding he had received at the
hands of Matron Malice. They each cautiously rested a hand
on their snake whips, not knowing how foolish their dan-
gerous young brother might have become.

  It was not Matron Malice or Drizzt's sisters that now had
Drizzt measuring every step before he took it. He knew
where he stood with his mother and knew what he had to
do to keep her appeased. There was another member of the
family, though, that evoked both confusion and anger in
Drizzt. Of all his kin, only Zaknafein pretended to be what
he was not. As Drizzt made his way to the chapel, he
glanced anxiously down every side passage, wondering
when Zak would make his appearance.

  "How long before you leave for patrol?" Maya asked, pull-
ing Drizzt from his contemplations.

  "Thro days;' Drizzt replied absently, his eyes still darting
from shadow to shadow. Then he was at the anteroom door,
with no sign of Zak. Perhaps the weapon master was
within, standing beside Malice.

  "We know of your indiscretions; Briza snapped, suddenly
cold, as she placed her hand on the latch to the anteroom's
door. Drizzt was not surprised by her outburst. He was be-
ginning to expect such explosions from the high priestesses
of the Spider Queen.

  "Why could you not just enjoy the pleasures of the cere-
mony?" Maya added. "We are fortunate that the mistresses
and the matron of the Academy were too involved in their
own excitement to note your movements. You would have
brought shame upon our entire house!"

  "You might have placed Matron Malice in Lloth's disfavor;
Briza was quick to add.

  The best thing I could ever do for her, Drizzt thought. He
quickly dismissed the notion, remembering Briza's uncanny
proficiency at reading minds.

  "Let us hope he did not;' Maya said grimly to her sister.

  "The tides of war hang thick in the air?'

  "I have learned my place;' Drizzt assured them. He bowed
low. "Forgive me, my sisters, and know that the truth of the
drow world is fast opening before my young eyes. Never
will 1 disappoint House Do'Urden in such a way again?'
So pleased were his sisters at the proclamation that the
ambiguity of Drizzt's words slipped right past them. Then
Drizzt, not wanting to push his luck too far, also slipped past
them, making his way through the door, noting with relief
that Zaknafein was not in attendance.

  "All praises to the Spider Queen!" Briza yelled after him.

  Drizzt paused and turned to meet her gaze. He bowed low
a second time. "As it should be;' he muttered.
Creeping behind the small group, Zak had studied Drizzt's
every move, trying to measure the toll a decade at the Acad-
emy had exacted on the young fighter.

  Gone now was the customary smile that lit Drizzt's face.

  Gone, too, Zak supposed, was the innocence that had kept
this one apart from the rest of Menzoberranzan.

  Zak leaned back heavily against the wall in a side passage.
He had caught only portions of the conversation at the ante-
room door. Most clearly he had heard Drizzt's heartfelt ac-
cord with Briza's honoring of Lloth.

  "What have I done?" the weapon master asked himself. He
looked back around the bend in the main corridor, but the
door to the anteroom had already closed.
  
  "Truly, when I look upon the drow-the drow warrior!-
that was my most treasured, I shame for my cowardice:'
Zak lamented. "What has Drizzt lost that 1 might have
saved?"

  He drew his smooth sword from its scabbard, his sensitive
fingers running the length of the razor edge. "A finer blade
you would be had you tasted the blood of Drizzt Do'Urden,
to deny this world, our world, another soul for its taking, to
free that one from the unending torments of life!" He low-
ered the weapon's tip to the floor.

  "But I am a coward;' he said. "I have failed in the one act
that could have brought meaning to my pitiful existence.
The secondboy of House Do'Urden lives, it would appear,
but Drizzt Do'Urden, my 'Two-hands, is long dead;' Zak
looked back to the emptiness where Drizzt had been stand-
ing, the weapon master's expression suddenly a grimace.

  "Vet this pretender lives.

  "A drow warrior;'

  Zak's weapon clanged to the stone floor and his head
slumped down to be caught by the embrace of his open
palms, the only shield Zaknafein Do'Urden had ever found.
Drizzt spent the next day at rest, mostly in his room, try-
ing to keep out of the way of the other members of his im-
mediate family. Malice had dismissed him without a word in
their initial meeting, but Drizzt did not want to confront her
again. Likewise, he had little to say to Briza and Maya, fear-
ing that sooner or later they would begin to understand the
true connotations of his continuing stream of blasphemous
responses. Most of all, though, Drizzt did not want to see
Zaknafein, the mentor he had once thought of as his salva-
tion against the realities around him, the one glowing light
in the darkness that was Menzoberranzan.

  That, too, Drizzt believed, had been only a lie.

  On his second day home, when Narbondel, the time clock
of the city, had just begun its cycle of light, the door to
Drizzfs small chamber swung open and Briza walked in.

  "An audience with Matron Malice;' she said grimly.

  A thousand thoughts rushed through Drizzfs mind as he
grabbed his boots and followed his oldest sister down the
passageways to the house chapel. Had Malice and the others
discovered his true feelings toward their evil deity? What
punishments did they now have waiting for him? Uncon-
sciously, Drizzt eyed the spider carvings on the chapel's
arched entrance.

  "You should be more familiar and more at ease with this
place;' Briza scolded, noting his discomfort. "It is the place
of our people's highest glories:'

  Drizzt lowered his gaze and did not respond-and was t
careful not to even think of the many stinging retorts he felt
in his heart.

  His confusion doubled when they entered the chapel, for
Rizzen, Maya, and Zaknafein stood before the matron
mother, as expected. Beside them, though, stood Dinin and
Vierna.

  "We are all present;' Briza said, taking her place at her
Imother's side.

  "Kneel;' Malice commanded, and the whole family fell to
its knees. The matron mother paced slowly around them all,
each pointedly dropping his or her eyes in reverence, or
just in common sense, as the great lady walked by.

  Malice stopped beside Drizzt. "You are confused by the .!
presence of Dinin and Vierna;' she said. Drizzt looked up at :
her. "Do you not yet understand the subtle methods of our'
survival?"

  "I had thought that my brother and sister were to con-
tinue on at the Academy;' Drizzt explained.

  "That would not be to our advantage;' Malice replied.

  "Does it not bring a house strength to have mistresses and 
masters seated at the Academy?" Drizzt dared to ask. !

  "It does;' repli~d Malice, "but it separates the power. You
have heard tidings of war?"

  "I have heard hinting of trouble;' said Drizzt, looking over
at Vierna, "though nothing more tangible:'

  "Hinting?" Malice huffed, angered that her son could not
understand the importance. "They are more than most
houses ever hear before the blade falls!" She spun away
from Drizzt and addressed the whole group. "The rumors
hold truth;' she declared.

  "Who?" asked Briza. "What house conspires against House
Do'Urden?"

  "None behind us in rank;' Dinin replied, though the ques- 
tion had not been asked to him and it was not his place to
speak unbidden. 

  "How do you know this?" Malice asked, letting the over-
sight pass. Malice understood Dinin's value and knew that
his contributions to this discussion would be important.

  "We are the ninth house of the city;' Dinin reasoned, "but
among our ranks we claim four high priestesses, two of
them former mistresses of Arach- Tinilith:' He looked at Zak.

  "We have, as well, two former masters of Melee-Magthere,
and Drizzt was awarded the highest laurels from the school
of fighters. Our soldiers number nearly four hundred, all
skilled and battle-tested. Only a few houses claim more:'

  "What is your point?" Briza asked sharply.

  "We are the ninth house;' Dinin laughed, "but few above
us could defeat us. . . :'

  " And none behind;' Matron Malice finished for him. "Vou
show good judgment, Elderboy. I have come to the same
conclusions:'

  "One of the great houses fears House Do'Urden;' Vierna
concluded. "It needs us gone to protect its own position:'

  "That is my belief;' Malice answered. "An uncommon
practice, for family wars usually are initiated by the lower-
ranking house, desiring a better position within the city hi-
erarchy:'

  "Then we must take great care;' Briza said.

  Drizzt listened carefully to their words, trying to make
sense of it all. His eyes never left Zaknafein, though, who
knelt impassively at the side. What did the callous weapon
master think of all this? Drizzt wondered. Did the thought
of such a war thrill him, that he might be able to kill more
dark elves?

  Whatever his feelings, Zak gave no outward clue. He sat
quietly and by all appearances was not even listening to the
conversation.

  "It would not be Baenre;' Briza said, her words sounding
like a plea for confirmation. "Certainly we have not yet be-
come a threat to them!"

  "We must hope you are correct;' Malice replied grimly, re-
membering vividly her tour of the ruling house. "Likely, it is
one of the weaker houses above us, fearing its own un-
steady position. I have not yet been able to learn any incrim-
inating information against any in particular, so we must
prepare for the worst. Thus, I have called Vierna and Dinin
back to my side:'

  "If we learn of our enemies, . . :' Drizzt began impulsively.

  All eyes snapped upon him. It was bad enough for the elder-
boy to speak without being addressed, but for the second-
boy, just graduated from the Academy, the act could be
considered blasphemous.

  Wanting all perspectives, Matron Malice again let the
oversight pass. "Continue;' she prompted.

  "If we discover which house plots against us;' Drizzt said
quietly, "could we not expose it?"

  "To what end?" Briza snarled at him. "Conspiracy without
action is no crime:'

  "Then might we use reason?" Drizzt pressed, continuing
against the barrage of incredulous glares that came at him
from every face in the room-except from Zak's. "If we are
the stronger, then let them submit without battle. Rank
House Do'Urden as it should be and let the assumed threat
to the weaker house be ended:'

  Malice grabbed Drizzt by the front of his cloak and
heaved him to his feet. "I forgive your foolish thoughts;' she
growled, "this time!" She dropped him back to the floor, and
the silent reprimands of his siblings descended upon him.
Again, though, Zak's expression did not match the others
in the room. Indeed, Zak put a hand up over his mouth to
hide his amusement. Perhaps there remained a bit of the
Drizzt Do'Urden he had known, he dared to hope. Perhaps
the Academy had not fully tainted the young fighter's spirit.
Malice whirled on the rest of the family, simmering fury
and lust glowing in her eyes. "This is not the time to fear!
This;' she cried, a slender finger pointing out from in front
of her face, "is the time to dream! We are House Do'Urden,
Daermon N'a'shezbaernon, of power beyond the under-
standing of the great houses. We are the unknown entity of
this war. We hold every advantage!

  "Ninth house?" she laughed. "In short time, only seven
houses will remain ahead of us!"

  "What of the patrol?" Briza cut in. "Are we to allow the se-
condboy to go off alone, exposed?"

  "The patrol will begin our advantage;' the conniving ma-
tron explained. "Drizzt will go, and included in his group
will be a member of at least four of the houses above us:'

  "One may strike at him;' Briza reasoned.

  "No;' Malice assured her. "Our enemies in the coming war
would not reveal themselves so clearly-not yet. The ap-
pointed assassin would have to defeat two Do'Urdens in
such a confrontation:'

  "Two?" asked Vierna.

  "Again, Lloth has shown us her favor;' explained Malice.

  "Dinin will lead Drizzt's patrol group:'

  The elderboy's eyes lit up at the news. "Then Drizzt and I
might become the assassins in this conflict;' he purred.

  The smile disappeared from the matron mother's face.

  "You will not strike without my consent;' she warned in a
tone so cold that Dinin fully understood the consequences
of disobedience, ''as you have done in the past:'

  Drizzt did not miss the reference to Nalfein, his murdered
bfother. His mother knew! Malice had done nothing to pun-
ish her murderous son. Now Drizzt's hand went up to his
face, to hide an expression of horror that only could have
brought him trouble in this setting.

  "You are there to learn;' Matron Malice said to Dinin, "to
protect your brother, as Drizzt is there to protect you. Do
not destroy our advantage for the gain of a single kill:' An
evil smile found its way back onto her bone-hued face. "But,
if you learn of our enemy, . . :' she said.

  "If the proper opportunity presents itself, . . :' Briza fin-
ished, guessing her mother's wicked thoughts and throwing
an equally vile smile the matron's way.

  Malice looked upon her eldest daughter with approval.

  Briza would prove a fine successor for the house!

  Dinin's smile became wide and lascivious. Nothing pleased
the elderboy of House Do'Urden more than the opportunity
for an assassination.

  "Go, then, my family;' Malice said. "Remember that un-
friendly eyes are upon us, watching our every move, wait-
ing for the time to strike:'

  Zak was the first out of the chapel, as always, this time
with an added spring in his step. It wasn't the prospect of
fighting another war that guided his moves, though the
thought of killing more clerics of the Spider Queen certainly
pleased him. Rather, Drizzt's display of naivete, his contin-
ued misconceptions of the common weal of drow existence,
brought Zak hope.

  Drizzt watched him go, thinking Zak's strides reflected
his desire to kill. Drizzt didn't know whether to follow and
confront the weapon master here and now or to let it pass,
to shrug it away as readily as he had dismissed most of the
cruel world around him. The decision was made for him
when Matron Malice stepped in front of him and kept him
in the chapel.
 
  "To you, I say this;' she began when they were alone. "You
have heard the mission I placed upon your shoulders. I will
not tolerate failure!"

  Drizzt shrank back from the power of her voice.

  "Protect your brother;' came the grim warning, "or I shall
give you to Lloth for judgment:'

  Drizzt understood the implications, but the matron took
the pleasure to spell them out anyway.

  "You would not enjoy your life as a drider:'

  A lightning blast cut across the still black waters of the un-
derground lake, searing the heads of the approaching wa-
ter trolls. Sounds of battle echoed through the cavern.
Drizzt had one monster-scrags, they were called-
cornered on a small peninsula, blocking the wretched
thing's path back to the water. Normally, a single drow faced
off evenly against a water troll would not have the advan-
tage, but as the others of his patrol group had come to see in
the past few weeks, Drizzt was no ordinary young drow.

  The scrag came on, oblivious to its peril. A single, blinding
movement from Drizzt lopped off the creature's reaching
arms. Drizzt moved in quickly for the kill, knowing too well
the regenerative powers of trolls.

  Then another scrag slipped out of the water at his back.

  Drizzt had expected this, but he gave no outward indica-
tion that he saw the second scrag coming. He kept his con-
centration ahead of him, driving deep slashes into the
maimed and all but defenseless troll's torso.

  Just as the monster behind him was about to latch its
claws onto him, Drizzt fell to his knees and cried, "Now!"

  The concealed panther, crouched in the shadows at the
peninsula's base, did not hesitate. One great stride brought
Guenhwyvar into position, and it sprang, crashing heavily
onto the unsuspecting scrag, tearing the life from the thing
before it could respond to the attack.

  Drizzt finished off his troll and turned to admire the pan-
ther's work. He extended his hand, and the great cat nuz-
zled it. How well the two fighters had come to know each
other! thought Drizzt.

  Another blast of lightning thundered in, this one close
enough to steal Drizzt's sight.

  "Guenhwyvar!" Masoj Hun'ett, the bolt's caster, cried. "1b
my side!"

  The panther managed to brush against Drizzt's leg as it
moved to obey. When his vision returned, Drizzt walked off
in the other direction, not wanting to view the scolding that
Guenhwyvar always seemed to receive when he and the cat
worked together.

  Masoj watched Drizzt's back as he went, wanting to put a
third bolt right between the young Do'Urden's shoulder
blades. The wizard of House Hun'ett did not miss the spec-
ter of Dinin Do'Urden, off to the side, watching with more
than casual glances.

  "Learn your loyalties!" Masoj snarled at Guenhwyvar.1bo
often, the panther left the wizard's side to join in combat
with Drizzt. Masoj knew that the cat was better comple-
mented by the moves of a fighter, but he knew, too, the vul-
nerability of a wizard involved in spellcasting. Masoj
wanted Guenhwyvar at his side, protecting him from
enemies-he shot another glance at Dinin-and "friends"
alike.

  He threw the statuette to the ground at his feet. "Begone!"
he commanded.

  In the distance, Drizzt had engaged another scrag and
made short work of it as well. Masoj shook his head as he
watched the display of swordsmanship. Every day, Drizzt
grew stronger.

  "Give the order to kill him soon, Matron SiNafay;' Masoj
whispered. The young wizard did not know how much
longer he would be able to carry out the task. Masoj won-
dered whether he could win the fight even now.
Drizzt shielded his eyes as he struck a torch to seal a dead
troll's wounds. Only fire ensured that trolls would not recu-
perate, even from the grave.

  The other battles had died away as well, Drizzt noted, and
he saw the flames of torches springing up all across the
bank of the lake. He wondered if all of his twelve drow com-
panions had survived, though he also wondered if he truly
cared. Others were more than ready to take their places.
Drizzt knew that the only companion who really
mattered-Guenhwyvar-was safely back in its home on
the Astral Plane.

  "Form a guard!" came Dinin's echoing command as the
slaves, goblins, and orcs moved in to search for troll trea-
sure, and to salvage whatever they might of the scrags.

  When the fires had consumed the scrag he'd set ablaze,
Drizzt dipped his torch in the black water, then paused for a '
moment to let his eyes readjust to the darkness. "Another
day;' he said softly, "another enemy defeated:'

  He liked the excitement of patrolling, the thrill of the edge
of danger, and the knowledge that he was now putting his
weapons to use against vile monsters.

  Even here, though, Drizzt could not escape the lethargy
that had come to pervade his life, the generill. resignation
that marked his every step. For, though his battles these
days were fought against the horrors of the Underdark,
monsters killed of necessity, Drizzt had not forgotten the
meeting in the chapel of House Do'Urden.

  He knew that his scimitars soon would be put to use
against the flesh of drow elves.

  Zaknafein looked out over Menzoberranzan, as he so of-
ten did when Drizzt's patrol group was out of the city. Zak
was torn between wanting to sneak out of the house to fight
at Drizzt's side, and hoping that the patrol would return
with the news that Drizzt had been slain.

  Would Zak ever find the answer to the dilemma of the
youngest Do'Urden? he wondered. Zak knew that he could
not leave the house; Matron Malice was keeping a very close
eye on him. She sensed his anguish over Drizzt, Zak knew,
and she most definitely did not approve. Zak was often her
lover, but they shared little other than that.

  Zak thought back to the battles he and Malice had fought
over Vierna, another child of common concern, centuries
before. Vierna was a female, her fate sealed from the mo-
ment of her birth, and Zak could do nothing to halt the as-
sault of the Spider Queen's overwhelming religion.

  Did Malice fear that he might have better luck influencing
the actions of a male child? Apparently the matron did, but
even Zak was not so certain if her fears were justified; even
he couldn't measure his influence over Drizzt.

  He peered out over the city now, silently watching for the
patrol group's return-waiting, as always, for Drizzt's safe
return, but secretly hoping, that his dilemma would be
ended by the claws and fangs of a lurking monster.


                      Chapter 18
                    The Black Room



  "My greetings, Faceless One;' the high priestess said,
pushing past Alton into his private chambers in Sorcere.
  
  "And mine to you, Mistress Vierna;' Alton replied, trying
to keep the fear out of his voice. Vierna Do'Urden coming to
see him at this time had to be more than coincidence. "What
act has brought me the honor of a visit from a mistress oL
Arach- Tinilith?"

  "No longer a mistress;' said Vierna. "I have returned to my
home:'

  Alton paused to consider the news. He knew that Dinin
Do'Urden had also resigned his position at the Academy.

  "Matron Malice has brought her family back together;'
Vierna continued. "There are stirrings of war. You have
heard them, no doubt?"

  "Just rumors;' Alton stuttered, now beginning to under-
stand why Vierna had come to call on him. House Do'Urden
had used the Faceless One before in its plotting-in its at-
tempt to assassinate Alton! Now, with rumors of war whis-
pered throughout Menzoberranzan, Matron Malice was
re-establishing her network of spies and assassins.

  "You know of them?" Vierna asked sharply.

  "I have heard little;' Alton breathed, careful now not to
anger the powerful female. "Not enough to report to your
house. I did not even suspect that House Do'Urden was in-
volved until now, when you informed me:' Alton could only
hope that Vierna had no detection spell aimed at his words.
Vierna relaxed, apparently appeased by the explanation.

  "Listen more carefully to the rumors, Faceless One;' she
said. "My brother and I have left the Academy; you are to be
the eyes and ears of House Do'Urden in this place:'

  "But. . :' Alton stuttered.

  Vierna held up a hand to stop him. "We know of our fail-
ure in our last transaction;' she said. She bowed low, some-
thing a high priestess rarely did to a male. "Matron Malice
sends her deepest apologies that the unguent you received
for the assassination of Alton DeVirdid not restore the fea-
tures to your face:'

  Alton nearly choked on the words, now understanding
why an unknown messenger had delivered the jar of heal-
ing salve some thirty years before. The cloaked figure was
an agent of House Do'Urden, come to repay the Faceless
One for his assassination of Alton! Of course, Alton had
never even tried the unguent. With his luck, it would have
worked, and would have restored the features of Alton
DeVir.

  "This time, your payment cannot fail;' Vierna went on,
though Alton, too caught up in the irony of it all, hardly lis-
tened. "House Do'Urden possesses a wizard's staff but no
wizard worthy to wield it. It belonged to Nalfein, my
brother, who died in the victory over DeVir:'

  Alton wanted to strike out at her. Even he wasn't that stu-
pid, though.

  "If you can discern which house plots against House
Do'Urden;' Vierna promised, "the staff will be yours! A trea-
sure indeed for such a small act:'

  "I will do what I can;' Alton replied, having no other re-
sponse to the incredible offer.

  "That is all Matron Malice asks of you;' said Vierna, and
she left the wizard, quite certain that House Do'Urden had
secured a capable agent within the Academy.

  "Dinin and Vierna Do'Urden have resigned their posi-
tions;' said Alton excitedly as the diminutive matron mother
came to him later that same evening.

  "This is already known to me;' replied SiNafay Hun'ett.
  
  She looked around disdainfully at the littered and scorched
room, then took a seat at the small table.

  "There is more;' Alton said quickly, not wanting SiNafay to
get upset about being disturbed over old news. "} have had a
visitor this day, Mistress Vierna Do'Urden'"

  "She suspects?" Matron SiNafay growled.

  "No, no!" Alton replied. "Quite the opposite. House Do'Ur-
den wishes to employ me as a spy, as it once employed the
Faceless One to assassinate me'"

  SiNafay paused for a moment, stunned, then issued a
laugh straight from her belly. "Ah, the ironies of our lives!"
she roared.

  "had heard that Dinin and Vierna were sent to the Acad-
emy only to oversee the education of their younger
brother;' remarked Alton.

  "An excellent cover;' SiNafay replied. "Vierna and Dinin
were sent as spies for the ambitious Matron Malice. My
compliments to her:'

  "Now they suspect trouble;' Alton stated, sitting opposite
his matron mother.

  "They do;' agreed SiNafay. "Masoj patrols with Drizzt, but
House Do'Urden has also managed to plant Dinin in the
group:'

  "Then Masoj is in danger;' reasoned Alton.

  "No;' said SiNafay. "House Do'Urden does not know that
House Hun'ell perpetrates the threat against it, else it would
not have come to you for information. Matron Malice
knows your identity:'

  A look of terror crossed Alton's face.

  "Not your true identity;' SiNafay laughed at him. "She
knows the Faceless One as Gelroos Hun'ell, and she would
not have come to a Hun'ell if she suspected our house:'

  "Then we have an excellent opportunity to throw House
Do'Urden into chaos!" Alton cried. "If I implicate another
house, even Baenre, perhaps, our position will be strength-
ened:' He chuckled at the possibilities. "Malice will reward
me with a staff of great power-a weapon I will turn against
her at the proper moment!"

  "Matron Malice!" SiNafay corrected sternly. Even though
she and Malice were soon to be open enemies, SiNafay
would not permit a male to show such disrespect to a ma-
tron mother. "Do you really believe that you could carry out
such a deception?"

  "When Mistress Vierna returns. . :'

  "You will not deal with a lesser priestess with such valued
information, foolish DeVir. You will face Matron Malice her-
self, a formidable foe. If she sees through your lies, do you
know what she will do to your body?"

  Alton gulped audibly. "I am willing to take the risk;' he
said, crossing his arms resolutely on the table.

  "What of House Hun'ett when the biggest lie is revealed?"
SiNafay asked. "What advantage will we enjoy when Ma-
tron Malice knows the Faceless One's true identity?"

  "I understand;' Alton answered, crestfallen but unable to
refute SiNafay's logic. "Then what are we to do? What am I
to do?"
Matron SiNafay was already considering their next

  moves. "You will resign your tenure;' she said at length. "Re-
turn to House Hun'ett, within my protection:'

  "Such an act might also implicate House Hun'ett to Matron
Malice:' Alton reasoned.

  "It may;' replied SiNafay, "but it is the safest route. I will go
to Matron Malice in feigned anger, telling her to leave House
Hun'ett out of her troubles. If she wishes to make an inform-
ant of a member of my family, then she should come to me
for permission-though I'll not grant it this time!"

  SiNafay smiled at the possibilities of such an encounter.

  "My anger, my fear, alone could implicate a greater house
against House Do'Urden, even a conspiracy between more
than one house:' she said, obviously enjoying the added ben-
efits. "Matron Malice will certainly have much to think
about, and much to worry about!"

  Alton hadn't even heard SiNafay's last comments. The
words about granting her permission "this time" had
brought a disturbing notion into his mind. " And did she?" he
dared to ask, though his words were barely audible.

  "What do you mean?" asked SiNafay, not following his
thoughts.

  "Did Matron Malice come to you?" Alton continued,
frightened but needing an answer. "Thirty years ago. Did
Matron SiNafay grant her permission for Gelroos Hun'ett to
becom~ an agent, an assassin to complete House DeVir's
elimination?"

  A wide smile spread across SiNafay's face, but it vanished
in the blink of an eye as she threw the table across the room,
grabbed Alton by the front of his robes, and pulled him
roughly to within an inch of her scowling visage.

  "Never confuse personal feelings with politics!" the tiny
but obviously strong matron growled, her tone carrying the
unmistakable weight of an open threat. t, And never ask me
such a question again!"

  She threw Alton to the floor but didn't release him from
her penetrating glare.

  Alton had known all along that he was merely a pawn in
the intrigue between House Hun'ett and House Do'Urden, a
necessary link for Matron SiNafay to carry out her treach-
erous plans. Every now and then, though, Alton's personal
grudge against House Do'Urden caused him to forget his
lowly place in this conflict. Looking up now at SiNafay's
bared power, he realized that he had overstepped the
bounds of his position.

  At the back end of the mushroom grove, the southern
wall of the cavern that housed Menzoberranzan, was a
small, heavily guarded cave. Beyond the ironbound doors
stood a single room, used only for gatherings of the city's
eight ruling matron mothers.

  The smoke of a hundred sweet-smelling candles perme-
ated the air; the matron mothers liked it that way. After al-
most half a century of studying scrolls in the candlelight of
Sorcere, Alton did not mind the light, but he was indeed un-
comfortable in the chamber. He sat at the back end of a
spider-shaped table, in a small, unadorned chair reserved
for guests of the council. Between the table's eight hairy legs
were the ruling matron mothers' thrones, all jeweled and
dazzling in the candlelight.

  The matrons filed in, pompous and wicked, casting belit-
tling glares at the male. SiNafay, at Alton's side, put a hand
on his knee and gave him a reassuring wink. She would not
have dared to request a gathering of the ruling council if she
was not certain of the worthiness of her news. The ruling
matron mothers viewed their seats as honorary in nature
and did not appreciate being brought together except in
times of crisis.

  At the head of the spider table sat Matron Baenre, the
most powerful figure in all of Menzoberranzan, an ancient
and withered female with malicious eyes and a mouth unac-
customed to smiles.

  "We are gathered, SiNafay;' Baenre said when all eight
members had found their appointed chairs. "For what rea-
son have you summoned the council?"

  "To discuss a punishment;' SiNafay replied.

  "Punishment?" Matron Baenre echoed, confused. The re-
cent years had been unusually quiet in the drow city, with-
out an incident since the Thken'duis-Freth conflict. To the
First Matron's knowledge, no acts had been committed that
might require a punishment, certainly none so blatant as to
force the ruling council to action. "What individual deserves
this?"

  "Not an individual;' explained Matron SiNafay. She
glanced around at her peers, measuring their interest. "A
house;' she said bluntly. "Daerrnon N'a'shezbaernon, House
Do'Urden:' Several gasps of disbelief came in reply, as SiNa-
fay had expected.

  "House Do'Urden?" Matron Baenre questioned, surprised
that any would implicate Matron Malice. By all of Baenre's
knowledge, Malice remained in high regard with the Spider
Queen, and House Do'Urden had recently placed two in-
structors in the Academy.

  "For what crime do you dare to charge House Do'Urden?"
asked one of the other matrons.
  
  Are these words of fear, SiNafay?" Matron Baenre had to
ask. Several of the ruling matrons had expressed concern
about House Do'Urden. It was well known that Matron Mal-
ice desired a seat on the ruling council, and, by all measures
of the power of her house, she seemed destined to get it.

  "I have appropriate cause;' SiNafay insisted.

  "The others seem to doubt you;' replied Matron Baenre.

  "You should explain your accusation-quickly, if you value
your reputation:'

  SiNafay knew that more than her reputation was at stake;
in Menzoberranzan, a false accusation was a crime on par
with murder. "We all remember the fall of House DeVir;'

  SiNafay began. "Seven of us now gathered sat upon the rul.
ing council beside Matron Ginafae DeVir:'

  "House DeVir is no more;' Matron Baenre reminded her.

  "Because of House Do'Urden;' SiNafay said bluntly.

  This time the gasps came out as open anger.

  "How dare you speak such words?" came one reply.

  "Thirty years!" came another. "The issue has been
forgotten!"

  Matron Baenre quieted them all before the clamor rose
into violent action-a not uncommon occurrence in the
council chamber. "SiNafay;' she said through the dry sneer
on her lips. "One cannot make such an accusation; one can-
not discuss such beliefs openly so long after the event! You
know our ways. If House Do'Urden did indeed commit this
act, as you insist, it deserves our compliments, not our pun-
ishment, for it carried it through to perfection. House DeVir
is no more, I say. It does not exist"

  Alton shifted uneasily, caught somewhere between rage
and despair. SiNafay was far from dismayed, though; this
was going exactly as she had envisioned and hoped.

  "Oh, but it does!" she responded, rising to her feet. She
pulled the hood from Alton's head. "In this person!"

  "Gelroos?" asked Matron Baenre, not understanding.

  "Not Gelroos;' SiNafay replied. "Gelroos Hun'ett died the
night House DeVir died. This male, Alton DeVir, assumed
Gelroos's identity and position, hiding from further attacks
by House Do'Urden!"

  Baenre whispered some instructions to the matron at her
right side, then waited as she went through the semantics of
a spell. Baenre motioned for Sinafay to return to her seat,
then faced Alton.

  "Speak your name;' Baenre commanded.

  "I am Alton DeVir;' Alton said, gaining strength from the
identity he had waited so very long to proclaim, "son of Ma-
tron Ginafae and a student of Sorcere on the night House
Do'Urden attacked:'

  Baenre looked to the matron at her side.

  "He speaks the truth;' the matron assured her. Whispers
sprang up all around the spider table, of amusement more
than anything else.

  "That is why 1 summoned the ruling council;' SiNafay
quickly explained.

  "Very well, SiNafay;' said Matron Baenre. "My compli-
ments to you, Alton DeVir, on your resourcefulness anc;i
ability to survive. For a male, you have shown great courage
and wisdom. Surely you both know that the council cannot
exact punishment upon a house for a deed committed so
long ago. Why would we so desire? Matron Malice Do'Ur-
den sits in the favor of the Spider Queen; her house shows
great promise. You must reveal to us greater need if you
wish any punishment against House Do'Urden:'

  "I do not wish such a thing;' SiNafay quickly replied. "This
matter, thirty years removed, is no longer in the realm of
the ruling council. House Do'Urden does indeed show
promise, my peers, with four high priestesses and a host oj
other weapons, not the least of which being their second
boy, Drizzt, first graduate of his class:' She had purposel)
mentioned Drizzt, knowing that the name would strike.
wound in Matron Baenre. Baenre's own prized son, Berg'i
nyon, had spent the last nine years ranked behind the won
derful young Do'Urden.

  "Then why have you bothered us?" Matron Baenre de
manded, an unmistakable edge in her voice.

  "To ask you to close your eyes;' SiNafay purred. "Alton is I

  Hun'ett now, under my protection. He demands vengeance
for the act committed against his family, and, as a surviving
member of the attacked family, he has the right of accusa.
tion:'

  "House Hun'ett will stand beside him?" Matron Baenre
asked, turning curious and amused.

  "Indeed;' replied SiNafay. "Thus is House Hun'ett bound!"

  "Vengeance?" another matron quipped, also now more
amused than angered. "Or fear? It would seem to my ears
that the matron of House Hun'ett uses this pitiful DeVir
creature for her own gain. House Do'Urden aspires to
higher ranking, and Matron Malice desires to sit upon the
ruling council, a threat to House Hun'ett, perhaps?"

  "Be it vengeance or prudence, my claim-Alton DeVir's
claim-must be deemed as legitimate;' replied SiNafay, "to
our mutual gain:' She smiled wickedly and looked straight
to the First Matron. "lb the gain of our sons, perhaps, in
their quest for recognition:'

  "Indeed;' replied Matron Baenre in a chuckle that
sounded more like a cough. A war between Hun'ett and
Do'Urden might be to everyone's gain, but not, Baenre sus-
pected, as SiNafay believed. Malice was a powerful matron,
and her family truly deserved a ranking higher than ninth.
If the fight did come, Malice probably would get her seat on
the council, replacing SiNafay.

  Matron Baenre looked around at the other matrons, and
guessed from their hopeful expressions that they shared
her thoughts. Let Hun'ett and Do'Urden fight it out; what-
ever the outcome, the threat of Matron Malice would be
ended. Perhaps, Baenre hoped, a certain young Do'Urden
male would fall in battle, propelling her own son into the p0-
sition he deserved.

  Then the First Matron spoke the words SiNafay had come
to hear, the silent permission of Menzoberranzan's ruling
council.

  "This matter is settled, my sisters;' Matron Baenre de-
clared, to the accepting nods of all at the table. "It is good
that we never met this day:' 


                          Chapter 19
                       Promises of Glory


  "Have you found the trail?" Drizzt whispered, moving up
beside the great panther. He gave Guenhwyvar a pat on the
side and knew from the slackness of the cat's muscles that
no danger was nearby.

  "Gone, then;' Drizzt said, staring off into the emptiness of
the corridor in front of them. "'Wicked gnomes: my
brother called them when we found the tracks by the pool.
Wicked and stupid:' He sheathed his scimitar and knelt be-
side the panther, his arm comfortable draped across
Guenhwyvar's back. "They're smart enough to elude our pa-
trol:'

  The cat looked up as if it had understood his every word,
and Drizzt rubbed a hand roughly over Guenhwyvar's, his
finest friend's, head. Drizzt remembered clearly his elation
on the day, a week before, when Dinin had announced-to
Masoj Hun'ett's outrage-that Guenhwyvar would be de-
ployed at the patrol's point position beside Drizzt.

  "The cat is mine!" Masoj had reminded Dinin.

  "You are mine!" Dinin, the patrol leader, had replied, end-
ing any further debate. Whenever the figurine's magic
would permit, Masoj summoned Guenhwyvar from the As-
tral Plane and bid the cat to run up in front, bringing Drizzt
an added degree of safety and a valued companion.

  Drizzt knew from the unfamiliar heat patterns on the
wall that they had gone the limit of their patrol route. He
had purposely put a lot of ground, more than was advised,
between himself and the rest of the patrol. Drizzt had confi-
dence that he and Guenhwyvar could take care of them-
selves, and with the others far behind, he could relax and
enjoy the wait. The minutes Drizzt spent in solitude gave 
him the time he needed in his endless effort to sort through
his confused emotions. Guenhwyvar, seemingly non- .
judgmental and always approving, offered Drizzt a perfect 
audience for his audible contemplations.

  "I begin to wonder the worth of it all;' Drizzt whispered to
the cat. "I do not doubt the value of these
Patrols-this week,

  Alone, we have defeated a dozen monsters that might have
brought great harm to the city-but to what end?" 

  He looked deeply into the panther's saucer eyes and
found sympathy there, and Drizzt knew that Guenhwyvar
somehow understood his dilemma.

  "Perhaps I still do not know who I am;' Drizzt mused, "or
who my people are. Every time 1 find a clue to the truth, it
leads me down a path that 1 dare not continue upon, to con- :
clusions I cannot accept:'

  "You are drow;' came a reply behind them. Drizzt turned
abruptly to see DiDin a few feet away, a look of grave con-
cern on his face. '

  "The gnomes have fled beyond our reach;' Drizzt said,
trying to deflect his brother's concerns. '

  "Have you not learned what it means to be a drow?" DiDin
asked. "Have you not come to understand the course of our
history and the promise of our future?"

  "I know of our history as it was taught at the Academy;'
Drizzt replied. "They were the very first lessons we re-
ceived. Of our future, and more so of the place we now re-
side, though, I do not understand:'

  "You know of our enemies;' Dinin prompted.

  "Countless enemies;' replied Drizzt with a heavy sigh.

  "They fill the holes of the Underdark, always waiting for us
to let down our guard. We will not, and our enemies will fall i
to our power:'

  " Ah, but our true enemies do not reside in the lightless ca-
verns of our world;' said Dinin with a sly smile. "Theirs is a
world strange and evil:' Drizzt knew who Dinin was refer-
ring to, but he suspected that his brother was hiding some-
thing.

  "The faeries;' Drizzt whispered, and the word prompted a
jumble of emotions within him. All of his life, he had been
told of his evil cousins, of how they had forced the drow
into the bowels of the world. Busily engaged in the duties of
his everyday life, Drizzt did not think of them often, but
whenever they came to mind, he used their name as a litany
against everything he hated in his life. If Drizzt could some-
how blame the surface elves-as every other drow seemed
to blame them-for the injustices of drow society, he could
find hope for the future of his people. Rationally, Drizzt had
to dismiss the stirring legends of the elven war as another of
the endless stream of lies, but in his heart and hopes, Drizzt
clung desperately to those words.

  He looked back to Dinin. "The faeries;' he said again,

  "whatever they may be:'

  Dinin chuckled at his brother's relentless sarcasm; it had
become so commonplace. "They are as you have learned;'
he assured Drizzt. "Without worth and vile beyond your
imagination, the tormentors of our people, who banished us
in eons past; who forced-"

  "I know the tales;' Drizzt interrupted, alarmed at the in-
creasing volume of his excited brother's voice. Drizzt
glanced over his shoulder. "If the patrol is ended, let us meet
the others closer to the city. This place is too dangerous for
such discussions:' He rose to his feet and started back,
Guenhwyvar at his side.

  "Not as dangerous as the place I soon will lead you;' Dinin
replied with that same sly smile.
Drizzt stopped and looked at him curiously.

  "I suppose you should know;' Dinin teased. "We were se-
lected because we are the finest of the patrol groups, and
you have certainly played an important role in our attaining
that honor:'

  "Chosen for what?"

  "In a fortnight, we will leave Menzoberranzan;' explained
Dinin. "Our trail will take us many days and many miles
from the city:'

  "How long'?" Qrizzt asked, suddenly very curious. 

  Two weeks, maybe three;' replied Dinin, "but well worth
the time. We shall be the ones, my young brother, who enact
a measure of revenge upon our most hated foes, who strike
a glorious blow for the Spider Queen!"

  Drizzt thought that he understood, but the notion was too
outrageous for him to be certain.

  "The elves!" Dinin beamed. "We have been chosen for 
surface raid!" 

  Drizzt was not as openly excited as his brother, unsure of
the implications of such a mission. At last he would get to
view the surface elves and face the truth of his heart and
hopes. Something more real to Drizzt, the disappointment
he had known for so many years, tempered his elation, re-
minded him that while the truth of the elves might bring an
excuse to the dark world of his kin, it might instead take
away something more important. He was unsure how to
feel. 

  "The surface;' Alton mused. "My sister went there once-
on a raid. A most marvelous experience, so she said:' He
looked at Masoj, not knowing how to figure the forlorn ex-
pression on the young Hun'ett's face. "Now your patrol
makes the journey. I envy you:'

  "I am not going;' Masoj declared.

  "Why?" Alton gasped. "This is a rare opportunity indeed.
Menzoberranzan-to the anger of Lloth, I am certain-has
not staged a surface raid in two decades. It may be twenty
more years before the next, and by then you will no longer
be among the patrols:'

  Masoj looked out from the small window of Alton's room
in House Hun'ett, surveying the compound.

  "Besides;' Alton continued quietly, "up there, so far from
prying eyes, you might find the chance to dispose of two
Do'Urden's. Why would you not go?"

  "Have you forgotten a ruling that you played a part in?"
Masoj asked, whirling on Alton accusingly. Two decades
ago, the masters of Sorcere decided that no wizards are to travel anywhere near the surface!"

  "Of course;' Alton replied, remembering the meeting. Sor-
cere seemed so distant to him now I though he had been,
within the Hun'ett house for only a few weeks. "We con- 
cluded that drow magic may work differently- 
unexpectedly-under the open sky;' he explained. "On that
raid twenty years ago-"

  "I know the story;' Masoj growled, and he finished the sen-
tence for Alton. "A wizard's fireball expanded beyond its
normal dimensions, killing several drow. Dangerous side- 
effects, you masters called it, though I've a belief that the 
wizard conveniently disposed of some enemies under the 
guise of an accident!" 

  "Yes;' Alton agreed. "So said the rumors. In the absence of 
evidence. . :' He let the thought go, seeing that he was doing 
little to comfort Masoj. "That was so long ago;' he said, try- 
ing to offer some hope. "Have you no recourse?" 

  "None;' Masoj replied. "Things move so very slowly in
Menzoberranzan; I doubt that the masters have even begun.
their investigation into the matter.

  "A pity;' Alton said. "It would have been the perfect oppor-
tunity:'

  "No more of that!" Masoj scolded. "Matron SiNafay has not 
given me her command to eliminate Drizzt Do'Urden or his 
brother. You have already been warned to keep your per- 
sonal desires to yourself. When the matron bids me to 
strike, I will not fail her. Opportunities can be created

  "You speak as if you already know how Drizzt Do'Urden 
will die;' Alton said. 

  An smile spread over Masoj's face as he reached into the .
pocket of his robe and produced the onyx figurine, his un.
thinking magical slave, which the foolish Drizzt had come to
trust so dearly. "Oh, I do;' he replied, giving the statuette of 
Guenhwyvar an easy toss, then catching it and holding it out 
on display.

  "I do.

  The members of the chosen raiding party quickly came to 
realize that this would be no ordinary mission. They did not
go out on patrol from Menzoberranzan at all during the
next week. Rather, they remained, day and night, seques-
teredwithin a barrack of Melee-Magthere. Through nearly
every waking hour, the raiders huddled around an oval ta-
ble in a conference room, hearing the detailed plans of their
pending adventure, and, over and over again, Master Hat-
ch'net, the master of Lore, spinning his tales of the vile
elves.

  Drizzt listened intently to the stories, allowing himself,
forcing himself, to fall within Hatch'net's hypnotic web. The
tales had to be true; Drizzt did not know what he would
hold onto to preserve his principles if they were not. 
Dinin presided over the raid's tactical preparations, dis- 
playing maps of the long tunnels the group would travel,
grilling them over and over until they had memorized the
route perfectly.

  To this, as well, the eager raiders-except for Drizzt-
listened intently, all the while fighting to keep their excite-
ment from bursting out in a wild cheer. As the week of
preparations neared its end, Drizzt took note that one mem-
ber of the patrol group had not been attending. At first,
Drizzt had reasoned that Masoj was learning his duties in
the raid in Sorcere, with his old masters. With the depar-
ture time fast approaching and the battle plans clearly tak-
ing shape, though, Drizzt began to understand that Masoj
would not be joining them.

  "Where is our wizard?" Drizzt dared to ask in the late I
hours of one session.

  Dinin, not appreciating 1he interruption, glared at his 
brother. "Masoj will not be joining us;' he answered, know-
ing that others might now share Drizzt's concern, a distrac-
tion they could not afford at such a critical time.

  "Sorcere has decreed that no wizards may travel to the
surface, Master Hatch'net explained. "Masoj Hun'ett will 
await your return in the city. It is a great loss to you indeed,
for Masoj has proven his worth many times over. Fear not,
though, for a cleric of Arach- Tinilith shall accompany you.

  "What of . .  Drizzt began above the approving whispers
of the other raiders.

  Dinin cut his brother's thoughts short, easily guessing the
question. "The cat belongs to Masoj;' he said flatly. "The cat
stays behind.

  "I could talk to Masoj;' Drizzt pleaded.

 Dinin's stern glance answered the question without the
need for words. "Our tactics will be different on the sur-
face;' he said to all the group, silencing their whispers. "The
surface is a world of distance, not the blind enclosures of
bending tunnels. Once our enemies are spotted, our task
will be to surround them, to close off the distances:' He
looked straight at his young brother. "We will have no need
of a point guard, and in such a conflict, a spirited cat could
well prove more trouble than aid:'

  Drizzt had to be satisfied with the answer. Arguing would
not help, even jf he could get Masoj to let him take the
panther-which he knew in his heart he could not. He
shook the brooding desires out of his head and forced him-
self to hear his brother's words. This was to be the greatest
challenge of Drizzt's young life, and the greatest danger.

  Over the final two days, as the battle plan became in-
grained into every thought, Drizzt found himself growing
more and more agitated. Nervous energy kept his palms
moist with sweat, and his eyes darted about, too alert.
Despite his disappointment over Guenhwyvar, Drizzt
could not deny the excitement that bubbled within him.
This was the adventure he had always wanted, the answer
to his questions of the truth of his people. Up there, in the
vast strangeness of that foreign world, lurked the surface
elves, the unseen nightmare that had become the common
enemy, and thus the common bond, of all the drow. Drizzt
would discover the glory of battle, exacting proper revenge
upon his people's most hated foes. Always before, Drizzt
had fought out of necessity, in training gyms or against the
stupid monsters that ventured too near his home.

  Drizzt knew that this encounter would be different. This
time his thrusts and cuts would be carried by the strength
of deeper emotions, guided by the honor of his people and
their common courage and resolve to strike back against
their oppressors. He had to believe that.

  Drizzt lay back in his cot the night before the raiding par-
ty's departure and brought his scimitars through some
slow-motion maneuvers above him.

  "This time;' he whispered aloud to the blades while mar-
veling at their intricate dance even at such a slow speed.

  "This time your ring will sound out in the song of justice!"
He placed the scimitars down at the side of his cot and
rolled over to find some needed sleep. "This time;' he said
again, teeth clenched and eyes shining with determination.
Were his proclamations his belief or his hope? Drizzt had
dismissed the disturbing question the very first time it had
entered his thoughts, having T1;0 more room for doubts than
he had for brooding. He no longer considered the possibility
of disappointment; it had no place in the heart of a drow
warrior.

  To Dinin, though, studying Drizzt curiously from the
shadows of the doorway, it sounded as if his younger
brother was trying to convince himself of the truth of his
own words.

                      Chapter 20 
                  That Foreign World


  The fourteen members of the patrol group made their
way through twisting tunnels and giant caverns that sud-
denly opened wide before them. Silent on magical boots and
nearly invisible behind their piwafwis, they communicated
only in their hand code. For the most part, the ground's
slope was barely perceptible, though at times the group
climbed straight up rocky chimneys, every step and every
handhold drawing them nearer their goal. They crossed
through the boundaries of claimed territories, of monsters
and the other races, but the hated gnomes and even the
duergar dwarves wisely kept their heads hidden. Few in all
the Underdark would purposely intercept a drow raiding
party.

  By the end of a week, all of the drow could sense the dif-
ference in their surroundings. The depth still would have
seemed stifling to a surface dweller, but the dark elves were
accustomed to the constant oppression of a thousand thou-
sand tons of rock hanging over their heads. They turned
every corner expecting the stone ceiling to flyaway into the
vast openness of the surface world.

  Breezes wafted past them-not the sulfur-smelling hot
winds rising off the magma of deep earth, but moist air,
scented with a hundred aromas unknown to the drow. It
was springtime above, though the dark elves, in their sea-
sonless environs, knew nothing of that, and the air was full
of the scents of new-blossomed flowers and budding trees.

  In the seductive allure of those tantalizing aromas, Drizzt
had to remind himself again and again that the place they
approached was wholly evil and dangerous. Perhaps, he
thought, the scents were merely a diabolical lure, a bait to
an unsuspecting creature to bring it into the surface world's
murderous grip.

  The cleric of Arach. Tinilith who was traveling with the
raiding party walked near to one wall and pressed her face
against every crack she encountered. "This one will suffice;'
she said a short time later. She cast a spell of seeing and
looked into the tiny crack, no more than a finger's width, a
second time.

  "How are we to get through that?" one of the patrol memo
bers signaled to another. Dinin caught the gestures and
ended the silent conversation with a scowl.

  "It is daylight above;' the cleric announced. "We shall have
to wait here:'

  "For how long?" Dinin asked, knowing his patrol to be on
the edge of readiness with their long-awaited goal so very
near.

  "I cannot know;' the cleric replied. "No more than half a
cycle of Narbondel. Let us remove our packs and rest while
we may:'

  Dinin would have preferred to continue, just to keep his
troops busy, but he did not dare speak against the priestess.

  The break did not prove a long one, though, for a couple of
hours later, the cleric checked through the crack once more
and announced that the time had come.

  "You first;' Dinin said to Drizzt. Drizzt looked at his
brother incredulously, having no idea of how he could pass
through such a tiny crack.

 "Come;' instructed the cleric, who now held a many-holed
orb. "Walk past me and continue through:'

  As Drizzt passed the cleric, she spoke the orb's command
word and held it over Drizzt's head. Black flakes, bl&cker
than Drizzt's ebony skin, drifted over him, and he felt a tre-
mendous shudder ripple across his spine.

  The others looked on in amazement as Drizzt's body nar-
rowed to the width of a hair and he became a two-
dimensional image, a shadow of his former self.
  Drizzt did not understand what was happening, but the
crack suddenly widened before him. He slipped into it,
found movement in his present form merely an enactment
of will, and, drifted through the twists, turns, and bends of
the tiny channel like a shadow on the broken face of a rocky
cliff. He then was in a long cave, standing across from its sin-
gle exit.

  A moonless night had fallen, but even this seemed bright
to the deep-dwelling drow. Drizzt felt himself pulled to-
ward the exit, toward the surface world's openness. The
other raiders began slipping through the crack and into the
cavern then, one by one with the cleric coming in last.
Drizzt was the first to feel the shudder as his body resumed
its natural state. In a few moments, they all were eagerly
checking their weapons.

  "I will remain here;' the cleric told Dinin. "Hunt well. The
Spider Queen is watching:'

  Dinin warned his troops once again of the dangers of the
surface, then he moved to the front of the cave, a small hole
on the side of a rocky spur of a tall mountain. "For the Spi-
der Queen;' Dinin proclaimed. He took a steadying breath
and led them through the exit, under the open sky.

  Under the stars! While the others seemed nervous under
those revealing lights, Drizzt found his gaze pulled heaven-
ward to the countless points of mystical twinkling. Bathed
in the starlight, he felt his heart lift and didn't even notice
the joyful singing that rode on the night wind, so fitting it
seemed.

  Dinin heard the song, and he was experienced enough to
recognize it as the eldritch calling of the surface elves. He
crouched and surveyed the horizon, picking out the light of
a single fire down in the distant expanse of a wooded valley.
He nudged his troops to action-and pointedly nudged the
wonderment from his brother's eyes-and started them off.

  Drizzt could see the anxiety on his companions' faces, so
contrasted by his own inexplicable sense of serenity. He sus-
pected at once that something was very wrong with the
whole situation. In his heart Drizzt had known from the
minute he had stepped out of the tunnel that this was not
the vile world the masters at the Academy had taken such
pains to describe. He did feel unusual with no stone ceiling
above him, but not uncomfortable. If the stars, calling to his
heartstrings, were indeed reminders of what the next day
might bring, as Master Hatch'net had said, then surely the
next day would not be so terrible.

  Only confusion dampened the feeling of freedom that
Drizzt felt, for either he had somehow fallen into a trap of
perception, or his companions, his brother included,
viewed their surroundings through tainted eyes.

  It fell on Drizzt as another unanswered burden: were his
feelings of comfort here weakness or truth of heart?

  "They are akin to the mushroom groves of our home;'
Dinin assured the others as they tentatively moved under
the perimeter boughs of a small forest, "neither sentient nor
harmful:'

  Still, the younger dark elves flinched and brought their
weapons to the ready whenever a squirrel skipped across a
branch overheard or an unseen bird called out to the night.
The dark elves' was a silent world, far different from the
chattering life of a springtime forest, and in the Underdark,
nearly every living thing could, and most certainly would,
try to harm anything invading its lair. Even a cricket's chirp
sounded ominous to the alert ears of the drow.

  Dinin's course was true, and soon the faerie song
drowned out every other sound and the light of a fire be-
came visible through the boughs. Surface elves were the
most alert of the races, and a human-or even a sneaky
halfling-would have had little chance of catching them un-
awares.

  The raiders this night were drow, more skilled in stealth
than the most proficient alley thief. Their footfalls went un-
heard, even across beds of dry, fallen leaves, and their
crafted armor, shaped perfectly to the contours of their
slender bodies, bent with their movements without a rustle.
Unnoticed, they lined the perimeter of the small glade,
where a score of faeries danced and sang.

  Transfixed by the sheer joy of the elves' play, Drizzt
hardly noticed the commands his brother issued then in the
silent code. Several children danced among the gathering,
marked only by the size of their bodies, and were no freer
in spirit than the adults they accompanied. So innocent they
all seemed, so full of life and wistfulness, and obviously
bonded to each other by friendship more profound than
Drizzt had ever known in Menzoberranzan. So unlike the
stories Hatch'net had spun of them, tales of vile, hating
wretches.

  Drizzt sensed more than saw that his group was on the
move, fanning out to gain a greater advantage. Still he did
not take his eyes from the spectacle before him. Dinin
tapped him on the shoulder and pointed to the small cross-
bow that hung from his belt, then slipped off into position in
the brush off to the side.

  Drizzt wanted to stop his brother and the others, wanted
to make them wait and observe the surface elves that they
were so quick to name enemies. Drizzt found his feet rooted
to the earth and his tongue weighted heavily in the sudden
dryness that had come into his mouth. He looked to Dinin
and could only hope that his brother mistakenly thought his
labored breaths the exultations of battle-lust. .

  Then Drizzt's keen ears heard the soft thrum of a dozen
tiny bowstrings. The elven song carried on a moment
longer, until several of the group dropped to the earth.

  "Not" Drizzt screamed in protest, the words torn from his
body by a profound rage even he did not understand. The
denial sounded like just another war cry to the drow raid-
ers, and before the surface elves could even begin to react,
Dinin and the others were upon them.

  Drizzt, too, leaped into the glade's lighted ring, his weap-
ons in hand, though he had given no thought to his next
move. He wanted only to stop the battle, to put an end to the
scene unfolding before him.

  Quite at ease in their woodland home, the surface elves
weren't even armed. The drow warriors sliced through
their ranks mercilessly, cutting them down and hacking at
their bodies long after the light of life had flown from their
eyes.

  One terrified female, dodging this way and that, came be-
fore Drizzt. He dipped the tips of his weapons to the earth,
searching for some way to give a measure of comfort.
The female then jerked straight as a sword dove into her
back, its tip thrusting right through her slender form.
Drizzt watched, mesmerized and horrified, as the drow
warrior behind her grasped the weapon hilt in both hands
and twisted it savagely. The female elf looked straight at
Drizzt in the last fleeting seconds of her life, her eyes crying
for mercy. Her voice was no more than the sickening gurgle
of blood.

  His face the exultation of ecstacy, the drow warrior tore
his sword free and sliced it across, taking the head from the
elven female's shoulders.

  "Vengeance!" he cried at Drizzt, his face contorted in furi-
ous glee, his eyes burning with a light that shone demonic to
the stunned Drizzt. The warrior hacked at the lifeless body
one more time, then spun away in search of another kill.

  Only a moment later, another elf, this one a young girl,
broke free of the massacre and rushed in Drizzt's direction,
screaming a single word over and over. Her cry was in the
tongue of the surface elves, a dialect foreign to Drizzt, but
when he looked upon her fair face, streaked with tears, he
understood what she was saying. Her eyes were on the mu-
tilated corpse at his feet; her anguish outweighed even the
terror of her own impending doom. She could only be cry-
ing, "Mother!"

  Rage, horror, anguish, and a dozen other emotions racked
Drizzt at that horrible moment. He wanted to escape his
feelings, to lose himself in the blind frenzy of his kin and ac-
cept the ugly reality. How easy it would have been to throw
away the conscience that pained him so.

  The elven child rushed up before Drizzt but hardly saw
him, her gaze locked upon her dead mother, the back of the
child's neck open to a single, clean blow. Drizzt raised his
scimitar, unable to distinguish between mercy and murder.

  "Yes, my brother!" Dinin cried out to him, a call that cut
through his comrades' screams and whoops and echoed in
Drizzt's ears like an accusation. Drizzt looked up to see
Dinin, covered from head to foot in blood and standing
amid a hacked cluster of dead elves.

  "Today you know the glory it is to be a drow!" Dinin cried,
and he punched a victorious fist into the air. "today we ap-
pease the Spider Queen!"

  Drizzt responded in kind, then snarled and reared back
for a killing blow.

  He almost did it. In his unfocused outrage, Drizzt Do'Ur-
den almost became as his kin. He almost stole the life from
that beautiful child's sparkling eyes.

  At the last moment, she looked up at him, her eyes shining
as a dark mirror into Drizzt's blackening heart. In that re-
flection, that reverse image of the rage that guided his hand,
Drizzt Do'Urden found himself.

  He brought the scimitar down in a mighty sweep, watch-
ing Dinin out of the corner of his eye as it whisked harm-
lessly past the child- In the same motion, Drizzt followed
with his other hand, catching the girl by the front of her tu-
nic and pulling her face-down to the ground.

  She screamed, unharmed but terrified, and Drizzt saw
Dinin thrust his fist into the air again and spin away.

  Drizzt had to work quickly; the battle was almost at its
gruesome end. He sliced his scimitars expertly above the
huddled child's back, cutting her clothing but not so much
as scratching her tender skin. Then he used the blood of the
headless corpse to mask the trick, taking grim satisfaction
that the elven mother would be pleased to know that, in
dying, she had saved the life of her daughter.

  "Stay down;' he whispered in the child's ear. Drizzt knew
that she could not understand his language, but he tried to
keep his tone comforting enough for her to guess at the de-
ception. He could only hope he had done an adequate job a
moment later, when Dinin and several others came over to
him.

  "Well done!" Dinin said exuberantly, trembling with sheer
excitement. " A score of the orc-bait dead and not a one of us
even injured! The matrons of Menzoberranzan will be
pleased indeed, though we'll get no plunder from this pitiful
lot!" He looked down at the pile at Drizzt's feet, then clapped
his brother on the shoulder.

  Did they think they could get away?" Dinin roared.

  Drizzt fought hard to sublimate his disgust, but Dinin was
so entranced by the bloodbath that he wouldn't have no-
ticed anyway.

  "Not with you here!" Dinin continued. "1Wo kills for
Drizzt! "

  "One kill!" protested another, stepping beside Dinin.

  Drizzt set his hands firmly on the hilts of his weapons and
gathered up his courage. If this approaching drow had
guessed the deception, Drizzt would fight to save the elven
child. He would kill his companions, even his brother, to
save the little girl with the sparkling eyes-until he himself
was slain. At least then Drizzt would not have to witness
their slaughter of the child.

  Luckily, the problem never came up. "Drizzt got the
child;' the drow said to Dinin, "but I got the elder female. I
put my sword right through her back before your brother
ever brought his scimitars to bear!"

  It came as a reflex, an unconscious strike against the evil
all about him. Drizzt didn't even realize the act as it hap-
pened, but a moment later, he saw the boasting drow lying
on his back, clutching at his face and groaning in agony.
Only then did Drizzt notice the burning pain in his hand,
and he looked down to see his knuckles, and the scimitar
hilt they clutched, spattered with blood.

  "What are you about?" Dinin demanded.

  Thinking quickly, Drizzt did not even reply to his brother.

  He looked past Dinin, to the squirming form on the ground,
and transferred all the rage in his heart into a curse that the
others would accept and respect. "If ever you steal a kill
from me again;' he spat, sincerity dripping from his false
words, "I will replace the head lost from its shoulders with
your own!"

  Drizzt knew that the elven child at his feet, though doing
her best, had begun a slight shudder of sobbing, and he de-
cided not to press his luck. "Come, then;' he growled. "Let us
leave this place. The stench of the surface world fills my
mouth with bile!"

  He stormed away, and the others, laughing, picked up
their dazed comrade and followed.

  "Finally;' Dinin whispered as he watched his brother's
tense strides. "Finally you have learned what it is to be a
drow warrior!"

  Dinin, in his blindness, would never understand the irony
of his words.

  "We have one more duty before we return home;' the
cleric explained to the group when it reached the cave's en-
trance. She alone knew of the raid's second purpose. "The
matrons of Menzoberranzan have bid us to witness the ulti-
mate horror of the surface world, that we might warn our
kindred:'

  Our kindred? Drizzt mused, his thoughts black with sar-
casm. As far as he could see, the raiders had already wit-
nessed the horror of the surface world: themselves!

  "There!" Dinin cried, pointing to the eastern horizon.

  The tiniest shading of light limned the dark outline of dis-
tant mountains. A surface dweller would not even have no-
ticed it, but the dark elves saw it clearly, and all of them,
even Drizzt, recoiled instinctively.

  "It is beautiful;' Drizzt dared to remark after taking a mo-
ment to consider the spectacle.

  Dinin's glare came at him icy cold, but no colder than the
look the cleric cast Drizzt's way. "Remove your cloaks and
equipment, even your armor;' she instructed .the group.

  "Quickly. Place them within the shadows of the cave so that
they will not be affected by the light:'

  When the task was completed, the cleric led them out into
the growing light. "Watch;' was her grim command.

  The eastern sky assumed a hue of purplish pink, then
pink altogether, its brightening causing the dark elves to
squint uncomfortably. Drizzt wanted to deny the event, to
put it into the same pile of anger that denied the master of
Lore's words concerning the surface elves.

  Then it happened; the top rim of the sun crested the east-
ern horizon. The surface world awakened to its warmth, its
life-giving energy. Those same rays assaulted the drow
elves' eyes with the fury of fire, tearing into orbs unaccus-
tomed to such sights.

  "Watch!" the cleric cried at them. "Witness the depth of
the horror!"

  One by one, the raiders cried out in pain and fell into the
cave's darkness, until Drizzt stood alone beside the cleric in
the growing daylight. lruly the light assaulted Drizzt as
keenly as it had his kin, but he basked in it, accepting it as
his purgatory, exposing him for all to view while its stinging
fires cleansed his soul.

  "Come:' the cleric said to him at length, not understanding
his actions. "We have borne witness. We may now return to
our homeland:'

  "Homeland?" Drizzt replied, subdued.

  "Menzoberranzan!" the cleric cried, thinking the male
confused beyond reason. "Come, before the inferno burns
the skin from your bones. Let our surface cousins suffer the
flames, a fitting punishment for their evil hearts!"
Drizzt chuckled hopelessly. A fitting punishment? He
wished that he could pluck a thousand such suns from the
sky and set them in every chapel in Menzoberranzan, to
shine eternally.

  Then Drizzt could take the light no more. He scrambled
dizzily back into the cave and donned his outfit. The cleric
had the orb in hand, and Drizzt again was the first through
the tiny crack. When all the group rejoined in the tunnel be-
yond, Drizzt took his position at the point and led them back
into the descending path's deepening gloom-back down
into the darkness of their existence.

                       Chapter 21
               May It Please The Goddess


   "Did you please the goddess?" Matron Malice asked, her
question as much a threat as an inquiry. At her side, the
other females of House Do'Urden, Briza, Vierna, and Maya,
looked on impassively, hiding their jealousy.

   "Not a single drow was slain;' Dinin replied, his voice thick
with the sweetness of drow evil. "We cut them and slashed
them!" He drooled as his recounting of the elven slaughter
brought back the lust of the moment. "Bit them and ripped
them!"

   "What of you?" the matron mother interrupted, more
concerned with the consequences to her own family's
standing than with the raid's general success.

  "Five;' Dinin answered proudly. "I killed five, all of them
females!"

  The matron's smile thrilled Dinin. Then Malice scowled as
she turned her gaze on Drizzt. "And him?" she inquired, not
expecting to be pleased with the answer. Malice did not doubt
her youngest son's prowess with weapons, but she had come
to suspect that Drizzt had too much of Zaknafein's emotional
makeup to ever be an attribute in such situations.

  Dinin's smile confused her. He walked over to Drizzt and
draped an arm comfortably across his brother's shoulders.

  "Drizzt got only one kill;' Dinin began, "but it was a female
child:'

  "Only one?" Malice growled.

  From the shadows off to the side, Zaknafein listened in
dismay. He wanted to shut out the elderboy Do'Urden's
damning words, but they held Zak in their grip. Of all the
evils Zak had ever encountered in Menzoberranzan, this
surely had to be the most disappointing. Drizzt had killed a
child.

  "But the way he did it!" Dinin exclaimed. "He hacked her
apart; sent all of Lloth's fury slicing into her twitching body!
The Spider Queen must have treasured that kill above all
the others:'

  "Only one;' Matron Malice said again, her scowl hardly
softening.

  "He would have had two;' Dinin continued. "Shar Nadal of
House Maevret stole one from his blade-another female:'

  "Then Lloth will look with favor on House Maevret;' Briza
reasoned.

  "No;' Dinin replied. "Drizzt punished Shar Nadal for his
actions. The son of House Maevret would not respond to the
challenge:'

  The memory stuck in Drizzt's thoughts. He wished that
Shar Nadal had come back at him, so he could have vented
his rage more fully. Even that wish sent pangs of guilt cours-
ing through Drizzt.

  "Well done, my children;' Malice beamed, now satisfied
that both of them had acted properly in the raid. "The Spi-
der Queen will look upon House Do'Urden with favor for
this event. She will guide us to victory over this unknown
house that seeks to destroy us:'

  Zaknafein left the audience hall with his eyes down and
one hand nervously rubbing his sword's hilt. Zak remem-
bered the time he had deceived Drizzt with the light bomb,
when he had Drizzt defenseless and beaten. He could have
spared the young innocent from his horrid fate. He could
have killed Drizzt then and there, mercifully, and released
him from the inevitable circumstances of life in Menzober-
ranzan.

  Zak paused in the long corridor and turned back to watch
the chamber. Drizzt and Dinin came out then, Drizzt casting
Zak a single, accusatory look and pointedly turning away
down a side passage.

  The gaze cut through the weapon master. "So it has come
to this;' Zak murmured to himself. "The youngest warrior
of House Do'Urden, so full of the hate that embodies our
race, has learned to despise me for what I am:'

  Zak thought again of that moment in the training gym,
that fateful second when Drizzt's life teetered on the edge
of a poised sword. It indeed would have been a merciful act
to kill Drizzt at that time.

  With the sting of the young drow warrior's gaze still cut-
ting so keenly into his heart, Zak couldn't decide whether
the deed would have been more merciful to Drizzt or to
himself.

  "Leave us;' Matron SiNafay commanded as she swept into
the small room lighted by a candle's glow. Alton gawked at
the request; it was, after all, his personal room! Alton pru-
dently reminded himself that SiNafay was the matron
mother of the family, the absolute ruler of House Hun'ett.
With a few awkward bows and apologies for his hesitation,
he backed out of the room.

  Masoj watched his mother cautiously as she waited for Al-
ton to move away. From SiNafay's agitated tone, Masoj un-
derstood the significance of her visit. Had he done
something to anger his mother? Or, more likely, had Alton?
When SiNafay spun back on him, her face twisted in evil
glee, Masoj realized that her agitation was really excite-
ment.

  "House Do'Urden has erred!" she snarled. "It has lost the
Spider Queen's favor!"

  "How?" Masoj replied. He knew that Dinin and Drizzt had
returned from a successful raid, an assault that all of the
city was talking about in tones of high praise.

  "I do not know the details;' Matron SiNafay replied, find-
ing a measure of calmness in her voice. "One of them, per-
haps one of the sons, did something to displease Lloth. This
was told to me by a handmaiden of the Spider Queen. It
must be true!"

  "Matron Malice will work quickly to correct the situation;'
Masoj reasoned. "How long do we have?"

  "Lloth's displeasure will not be revealed to Matron Mal-
ice;' SiNafay replied. "Not soon. The Spider Queen knows
all. She knows that we plan to attack House Do'Urden, and
only an unfortunate accident will inform Matron Malice of
her desperate situation before her house is crushed!

  "We must move quickly;' Matron SiNafay went on. "Within
ten cycles of Narbondei, the first strike must fall! The full
battle will begin soon after, before House Do'Urden can link
its loss to our wrongdoing:'

  "What is to be their sudden loss?" Masoj prompted, think-
ing, hoping, he had already guessed the answer.

  His mother's words were like sweet music to his ears.

  "Drizzt Do'Urden;' she purred, "the favored son. Kill him
Masoj rested back and clasped his slender fingers behind
his head, considering the command.

  "You will not fail me;' SiNafay warned.

  "I will not;' Masoj assured her. "Drizzt, though young, is al-
ready a powerful foe. His brother, a former master of
Melee-Magthere, is never far from his side:' He looked up at
his matron mother, his eyes gleaming. "May I kill the
brother, too?"

  "Be cautious, my son;' SiNafay replied. "Drizzt Do'Urden is
your target. Concentrate your efforts toward his death.

  " As you command;' Masoj replied, bowing low.
SiNafay liked the way her young son heeded to her de-
sires without question. She started out of the room, confi-
dent in Masoj's ability to perform the task.

  "If Dinin Do'Urden somehow gets in the way;' she said,
turning back to throw Masoj a gift for his obedience, "you
may kill him, too:'

  Masoj's expression revealed too much eagerness for the
second task.

  "You will not fail me!" SiNafay said again, this time in an
open threat that stole some of the wind out of Masoj's filling
sails. "Drizzt Do'Urden must die within ten days!"

  Masoj forced any distracting thoughts of Dinin out of his
mind. "Drizzt must die;' he whispered over and over, long
after his mother had gone. He already knew how he wanted
to do it. He only had to hope that the opportunity would
come soon.

  The awful memory of the surface raid followed Drizzt,
haunted him, as he wandered the halls of Daermon
N'a'shezbaernon. He had rushed from the audience cham-
ber as soon as Matron Malice had dismissed him, and had
slipped away from his brother at the first opportunity,
wanting only to be alone.

  The images remained: the broken sparkle in the young el-
ven girl's eyes as she knelt over her murdered mother's
corpse; the elven woman's horrified expression, twisting in
agony as ghar Nadal ripped the life from her body. The sur-
face elves were there in Drizzt's thoughts; he could not dis.
miss them. They walked beside Drizzt as he wandered, as
real as they had been when Drizzt's raiding group had de.
scended upon their joyful song. 

  Drizzt wondered if he would ever be alone again. 
Eyes down, consumed by his empty sense of loss, Drizzt c
did not mark the path before him. He jumped back, startled,
when he turned a corner and bumped into somebody.
He stood facing Zaknafein.

  "You are home;' the weapon master said absently, his
blank face revealing none of the tumultuous emotions swirl-
ing through his mind.

  Drizzt wondered if he could properly hide his own grim-
ace. "For a day;' he replied, equally nonchalant, though his
rage with Zaknafein was no less intense. Now that Drizzt
had witnessed the wrath of drow elves firsthand, Zak's re-
puted deeds rang out to Drizzt as even more evil. "My patrol
group goes back out at Narbondel's first light. 

  "So soon?" asked Zak, genuinely surprised. 

  "We are summoned.

  Drizzt replied, starting past. zat 
caught him by the arm.

  "General patrol?" he asked.

  "Focused;' Drizzt replied." Activity in the eastern tunnels:'

  "So the heroes are summoned;' chuckled Zak.

  Drizzt did not immediately respond. Was there sarcasm in
Zak's voice? Jealousy, perhaps, that Drizzt and Dinin were
allowed to go out to fight, while Zak had to remain within
the House Do'Urden's confines to fulfill his role as the fami-
ly's fighting instructor? Was Zak's hunger for blood so great
that he could not accept the duties thrust upon them all?

  Zak had trained Drizzt and Dinin, had he not? And hun-
dreds of others; he'd transformed them into living weapons,
into murderers.

  "How long will you be out?" Zak pressed, more interested
in Drizzt's whereabouts.

  Drizzt shrugged. "A week at the longest:'

  "And then?"

  "Horne:'

  "That is good;' said Zak. "I will be pleased to see you back
within the walls of House Do'Orden:' Drizzt didn't believe a
word of it.

  Zak then slapped him on the shoulder in a sudden, unex-
pected movement designed to test Drizzt's reflexes. More
surprised than threatened, Drizzt accepted the pat without
response, not sure of his uncle's intent.

  "The gym, perhaps?" asked Zak. "You and I, as it once
was.

  Impossible! Drizzt wanted to shout. Never again would it
be as it once was. Drizzt held those thoughts to himself and
nodded his assent. "I would enjoy that;' he replied, secretly
wondering how much satisfaction he would gain by cutting
Zaknafein down. Drizzt knew the truth of his people now,
and knew that he was powerless to change anything. Maybe
he could make a change in his private life, though. Maybe by
destroying Zaknafein, his greatest disappointment, Drizzt
could remove himself from the wrongness around him.

  "As would I, Zak said, the friendliness of his tone hiding
his private thoughts-thoughts identical to Drizzt's.

  "In a week, then;' Drizzt said, and he pulled away, unable
to continue the encounter with the drow who once had
been his dearest friend, and who, Drizzt had come to learn,
was truly as devious and evil as the rest of his kin.

  "Please, my matron;' Alton whimpered, "it is my right. I
beg of you!"

  "Rest easy, foolish DeVir;' SiNafay replied, and there was
pity in her voice, an emotion seldom felt and almost never
revealed.

  "I have waited-"

  "The time is almost upon you;' SiNafay countered, her
tone growing more threatening. "You have tried for this one
before?'

  Alton's grotesque gawk brought a smile to SiNafay's face.

  Yes, she said, "I know of your bungled attempt on Drizzt
Do'Urden's life. If Masoj had not arrived, the young warrior
would probably have slain you?'

  "I would have destroyed him!" Alton growled.
SiNafay did not argue the point. "Perhaps you would have
won;' she said, "only to be exposed as a murderous impos-
ter, with the wrath of all of Menzoberranzan hanging over
your head!"

  "I did not care?'

  "You would have cared, I promise you!" Matron SiNafay
sneered. "You would have forfeited your chance to claim a
greater revenge. 1rust in me, Alton DeVir. Your-our-
victory is at hand?'

  "Masoj will kill Drizzt, and maybe Dinin;' Alton grumbled.

  "There are other Do'Urdens awaiting the fell hand of Al-
ton DeVir;' Matron SiNafay promised. "High priestesses?'
Alton could not dismiss the disappointment he felt at not
being allowed to go after Drizzt. He badly wanted to kill that
one. Drizzt had brought him embarrassment that day in his
chambers at Sorcere; the young draw should have died
quickly and quietly. Alton wanted to make up for that mis-
take.

  Alton also could not ignore the promise that Matron SiNa-
fay had just made to him. The thought of killing one or more
of the high priestesses of House Do'Urden did not displease
him at all.

  The pillowy softness of the plush bed, so different from
the rest of the hard stone world of Menzoberranzan, of.
fered Drizzt no relief from the pain. Another ghost had
reared up to overwhelm even the images of carnage on the
surface: the specter of Zaknafein.

  Dinin and Vierna had told Drizzt the truth of the weapon
master, of Zak's role in the fall of House DeVir, and of how
Zak so enjoyed slaughtering other drow-other drow who
had done nothing to wrong him or deserve his wrath.

  So Zaknafein, too, took part in this evil game of drow life,
the endless quest to please the Spider Queer.

  " As I so pleased her on the surface?" Drizzt couldn't help
but mumble, the sarcasm of the spoken words bringing him
some small measure of comfort.

  The comfort Drizzt felt in saving the life of the elven child
seemed such a minor act against the overwhelming wrongs
his raiding group had exacted on her people. Matron Mal.
ice, his mother, had so enjoyed hearing the bloody recount.
ing. Drizzt remembered the elven child's horror at the sight
of her dead mother. Would he, or any dark elf, be so devas.
tated if they looked upon such a sight. Unlikely, he thought.

  Drizzt hardly shared a loving bond with Malice, and most
draw would be too engaged in measuring the consequences
of their mother's death to their own station to feel any sense
of loss.

  Would Malice have cared if either Drizzt or Dinin had
fallen in the raid? Again Drizzt knew the answer. All that
Malice cared about was how the raid affected her own base
of power. She had reveled in the notion that her children
had pleased her evil goddess.

  What favor would Uoth show to House Do'Urden if she
knew the truth of Drizzt's actions? Drizzt had no way to
measure how much, if any, interest the Spider Queen had
taken in the raid. Lloth remained a mystery to him, one he
had no desire to explore. Would she be enraged if she knew
the truth of the raid? Or if she knew the truth of Drizzt's
thoughts at this moment?

  Drizzt shuddered to think of the punishments he might
be bringing upon himself, but he had already firmly de-
cided upon his course of action, whatever the conse-
quences. He would return to House Do'Urden in a week. He
would go then to the practice gym for a reunion with his old
teacher.

  He would kill Zaknafein in a week.

  Caught up in the emotions of a dangerous and heartfelt
decision, Zaknafein hardly heard the biting scrape as he ran
the whetstone along his sword's gleaming edge.

  The weapon had to be perfect, with no jags or burrs. This
deed had to be executed without malice or anger.

  A clean blow, and Zak would rid himself of the demons of
his own failures, hide himself once again within the sanctu-
ary of his private chambers, his secret world. A clean blow,
and he would do what he should have done a decade before.

  "If only I had found the strength then; he lamented. "How
much grief might I have spared Drizzt? How much pain did
his days at the Academy bring to him, that he is so very
changed?" The words rang hollow in the empty room. They
were just words, useless now, for Zak had already decided
that Drizzt was out of reason's reach. Drizzt was a drow
warrior, with all of the wicked connotations carried in such
a title.

  The choice was gone to Zaknafein if he wished to hold any
pretense of value to his wretched existence. This time, he
could not stay his sword. He had to kill Drizzt.


                     Chapter 22
                Gnomes,Wicked Gnomes


Among the twists and turns of the tunnel mazes of the
Underdark, slipping about their silent way, went the
svirfnebli, the deep gnomes. Neither kind nor evil, and so
out of place in this world of pervading wickedness, the deep
gnomes survived and thrived. Haughty fighters, skilled in
crafting weapons and armor, and more in tune to the songs
of the stone than even the evil gray dwarves, the svirfnebli
continued their business of plucking gems and precious
metals in spite of the perils awaiting them at every turn.

  When the news came back to Blingdenstone, the cluster
of tunnels and caverns that composed the deep gnomes'
city, that a rich vein of gemstones had been discovered
twenty miles to the east-as the rockworm, the thoqqua,
burrowed-Burrow-warden Belwar Dissengulp had to
climb over a dozen others of his rank to be awarded the
privilege of leading the mining expedition. Belwar and all of
the others knew well that forty miles east-as the rock-
worm burrowed-would put the expedition dangerously
close to Menzoberranzan, and that even getting there
would mean a week of hiking, probably through the territo-
ries of a hundred other enemies. Fear was no measure
against the love svirfnebli had for gems, though, and every
day in the Underdark was a risk.

  When Belwar and his forty miners arrived in the small ca-
vern described by the advance scouts and inscribed with
the gnomes' mark of treasure, they found that the claims
had not been exaggerated. The burrow-warden took care
not to get overly excited, though. He knew that twenty
thousand drow elves, the svirfnebli's most hated and feared
enemy, lived fewer than five miles away.

  Escape tunnels became the first order of business, wind-
ing constructions high enough for a three-foot gnome but
not for a taller pursuer. All along the course of these the
gnomes placed breaker walls, designed to deflect a light-
ning bolt or offer some protection from the expanding
flames of a fireball.

  Then, when the true mining at last began, Belwar kept
fully a third of his crew on guard at all times and walked the
area of the work with one hand always clutching the magi-
cal emerald, the summoning stone, he kept on a chain
around his neck.

  "Three full patrol groups;' Drizzt remarked to Dinin
when they arrived at the open "field" on the eastern side of
Menzoberranzan. Few stalagmites lined this region of the
city, but it did not seem so open now, with dozens of anxious
drow milling about.

  "Gnomes are not to be taken lightly;' Dinin replied. "They
are wicked and powerful-"

  " As wicked as surface elves?" Drizzt had to interrupt, cov-
ering his sarcasm with false exuberance.

  " Almost;' his brother warned grimly, missing the connota-
tions of Drizzt's question. Dinin pointed off to the side,
where a contingent of female drow was coming in to join
the group. "Clerics;' he said, "and one of them a high priest-
ess. The rumors of activity must have been confirmed:'

  A shudder coursed through Drizzt, a tingle of prebattle
excitement. That excitement was altered and lessened,
though, by fear, not of physical harm, or even of the
gnomes. Drizzt feared that this encounter might be a repeat
of the surface tragedy.

  He shook the black thoughts away and reminded himself
that this time, unlike the surface expedition, his home was
being invaded. The gnomes had crossed the boundaries of
the draw realm. If they were as evil as Dinin and all the oth-
ers claimed, Menzoberranzan had no choice but to respond
with force. If.

  Drizzt's patrol, the most celebrated group among the
males, was selected to lead, and Drizzt, as always, took the
point position. Still unsure, he wasn't thrilled with the as-
signment, and as they started out, Drizzt even contem-
plated leading the group astray. Or perhaps, Drizzt thought,
he could contact the gnomes privately before the others ar.
rived and warn them to flee.

  Drizzt realized the absurdity of the notion. He couldn't
stop the wheels of Menzoberranzan from turning along
their designated course, and he couldn't do anything to hin-
der the two score drow warriors, excited and impatient, at
his back. Again he was trapped and on the edge of despair.
Masoj Hun'ett appeared then and made everything better.

  "Guenhwyvar!" the young wizard called, and the great
panther came bounding. Masoj left the cat beside Drizzt
and headed back toward his place in the line.

  Guenhwyvar could no more hide its elation at seeing
Drizzt than Drizzt could contain his own smile. With the in-
terruption of the surface raid, and then his time back home,
he hadn't seen Guenhwyvar in mere than a month.

  Guenhwyvar thumped against Drizzt's side as it passed,
nearly knocking the slender drow from his feet. Drizzt re-
sponded with a heavy pat, vigorously rubbing a hand over
the cat's ear.

  They both turned back together, suddenly conscious of
the unhappy glare boring into them. There stood Masoj,
arms crossed over his chest and a visible scowl heating up
his face.

  "I shan't use the cat to kill Drizzt;' the young wizard mut-
tered to himself. "I want the pleasure for myself
Drizzt wondered if jealousy prompted that scowl. Jeal-
ousy of Drizzt and the cat, or of everything in general? Ma-
soj had been left behind when Drizzt had gone to the
surface. Masoj had been no more than a spectator when the
victorious raiding party returned in glory. Drizzt backed
away from Guenhwyvar, sensitive to the wizard's pain.

  As soon as Masoj had moved away to take his position far-
ther down the line, Drizzt dropped to one knee and threw a
headlock on Guenhwyvar.

  Drizzt found himself even gladder for Guenhwyvar's
companionship when they passed beyond the familiar tun-
nels of the normal patrol routes. It was a saying in Menzo-
berranzan that "no one is as alone as the point of a draw
patrol;' and Drizzt had come to understand this keenly in
the last few months. He stopped at the far end of a wide way
and held perfectly still, focusing his ears and eyes to the
trails behind him. He knew that more than forty drow were
approaching his position, fully arrayed for battle and agi-
tated. Still, not a sound could Drizzt detect, and not a mo.
tion was discernable in the eerie shadows of cool stone.
Drizzt looked down at Guenhwyvar, waiting patiently by his
side, and started off again.

  He could sense the hot presence of the war party at his
back. That intangible sensation was the only thing that dis-
proved Drizzt's feelings that he and Guenhwyvar were
quite alone.

  Near the end of that day, Drizzt heard the first signs of
trouble. As he neared an intersection in the tunnel, cau-
tiously pressed close to one wall, he felt a subtle vibration in
the stone. It came again a second later, and then again, and
Drizzt recognized it as the rhythmic tapping of a pick or
hammer.

  He took a magically heated sheet, a small square that fit
into the palm of his hand, out of his pack. One side of the
item was shielded in heavy leather, but the other shone
brightly to eyes seeing in the infrared spectrum. Drizzt
flaslted it down the tunnel behind him, and a few seconds
later, Dinin came up to his side.

  "Hammer;' Drizzt signaled in the silent code, pointing to
the wall. Dinin pressed against the stone and nodded in con-
firmation.

  "Fifty yards?" Dinin's hand motions asked.,

  "Less than one hundred;' Drizzt confirmed.

  With his own prepared sheet, Dinin flashed the get-ready
signal into the gloom behind him, then moved with Drizzt
and Guenhwyvar around the intersection toward the tap-
ping.

  Only a moment later, Drizzt looked upon svirfnebli
gnomes for the very first time. 1\'\10 guards stood barely
twenty feet away, chest-high to a drow and hairless, with
skin strangely akin to the stone in both texture and heat ra-
diations. The gnomes' eyes glowed brightly in the telltale
red of infravision. One glance at those eyes reminded Drizzt
and Dinin that deep gnomes were as much at home in the
darkness as were the drow, and they both prudently
ducked behind a rocky outcropping in the tunnel.

  Dinin promptly signaled to the next drow in line, and so
on, until the entire party was alerted. Then he crouched
low and peeked out around the bottom of the outcropping.
The tunnel continued another thirty feet beyond the gnome
guards and around a slight bend, ending in some larger
chamber. Dinin couldn't clearly see this area, but the glow
of it, from the heat of the work and a cluster of bodies,
spilled out into the corridor.

  Again Dinin signaled back to his hidden comrades, and
then he turned to Drizzt. "Stay here with the cat;' he in-
structed, and he darted back down around the intersection
to formulate plans with the other leaders.

  Masoj a few places back in the line, noted Dinin's move-
ment and wondered if the opportunity to deal with Drizzt
had suddenly come upon him. If the patrol was discovered
with Drizzt all alone up in front, was there some way Masoj
could secretly blast the young Do'Urden? The opportunity,
if ever it was truly there, passed quickly, though, as other
drow soldiers came up beside the plotting wizard. Dinin
soon returned from the back of the line and headed back to
join his brother.

  "The chamber has many exits;' Dinin signaled to Drizzt
when they were together. "The other patrols are moving
into Dosition around the !!nome!;"

  "Might we parley with the gnomes?" Drizzt's hands asked
in reply, almost subconsciously. He recognized the expres-
sion spreading across Dinin's face, but knew that he had al-
ready plung~d in. "Send them away without conflict?"
Dinin grabbed Drizzt by the front of his piwafwi and
pulled him close, too close, to that terrible scowl. "I will for-
get that you asked that question;' he whispered, and he
dropped Drizzt back to the stone, considering the issue
closed.

  "You start the fight;' Dinin signaled. "When you see the
sign from behind, darken the corridor and rush past the
guards. Get to the gnome leader; he is the key to their
strength with the stone:'

  Drizzt didn't fully understand what gnomish power his
brother hinted at, but the instructions seemed simple
enough, if somewhat suicidal.

  "Take the cat if the cat will go;' Dinin continued. "The en-
tire patrol will be by your side in moments. The remaining
groups will corne in from the other passages:'
Guenhwyvar nuzzled up to Drizzt, more than ready to
follow him into battle. Drizzt took comfort in that when
Dinin departed, leaving him alone again at the front. Only a
few seconds later carne the command to attack. Drizzt
shook his head in disbelief when he saw the signal; how fast
drow warriors found their positions!

  He peeked around at the gnomish guards, still holding
their silent vigil, completely unaware. Drizzt drew his
blades and patted Guenhwyvar for luck, then called upon
the innate magic of his race and dropped a globe of dark-
ness in the corridor.

  Squeals of alarm sounded throughout the tunnels, and
Drizzt charged in, diving right into the darkness between
the unseen guards and rolling back to his feet on the other
side of his spell, only two running strides from the small
chamber. He saw a dozen gnomes scrambling about, trying
to prepare their defenses. Few of them paid Drizzt any at-
tention, though, as the sounds of battle erupted from vari-
ous side corridors.

  One gnome chopped a heavy pick at Drizzt's shoulder.

  Drizzt got a blade up to block the blow but was amazed at
the strength in the diminutive gnome's arms. Still, Drizzt
could then have killed his attacker with the other scimitar.

  Too many doubts, and too many memories, though,
haunted his actions. He brought a leg up into the gnome's
belly, sending the little creature sprawling.

  Belwar Dissengulp, next in line for Drizzt, noted how eas-
ily the young drow had dispatched one of his finest fighters
and knew that the time had already come to use his most
powerful magic. He pulled the emerald summoning stone
from his neck and threw it to the ground at Drizzt's feet.

  Drizzt jumped back, sensing the emanations of magic. Be-
hind him, Drizzt heard the approach of his companions,
overpowering the shocked gnome guards and rushing to
join him in the chamber. Then Drizzt's attentions went
squarely to the heat patterns of the stone floor in front of
him. The grayish lines wavered and swam, as if the stone
was somehow coming alive.

  The other drow fighters roared in past Drizzt, bearing
down on the gnome leader and his charges. Drizzt didn't
follow, guessing that the event unfolding at his feet was
more critical than the general battle now echoing through-
out the complex.

  Fifteen feet tall and seven wide, an angry, towering hu-
manoid monster of living stone rose before Drizzt.

  "Elemental" came a scream to the side. Drizzt glanced
over to see Masoj, Guenhwyvar at his side, fumbling
through a spellbook, apparently in search of some
dweomer to battle this unexpected monster. Th Drizzt's dis-
may, the frightened wizard mumbled a couple of words and
vanished.

  Drizzt set his feet under him, and took a measure of the
monster, ready to spring aside in an instant. He could sense
the thing's power, the raw strength of the earth embodied
in living arms and legs.

  A lumbering arm swung out in a wide arc, whooshing
above Drizzt's ducking head and slamming into the cavern
wall, crushing rocks into dust.

  "Do not let it hit me;' Drizzt instructed himself in a whis-
per that came out as a disbelieving gasp. As the elemental
recoiled its arm, Drizzt poked a scimitar at it, chipping away
a small chunk, barely a scratch. The elemental grimaced in
pain-apparently Drizzt could indeed hurt it with his en-
chanted weapons.

  Still standing in the same spot off to the side, the invisible
Masoj held his next spell in check, watching the spectacle
and waiting for the combatants to weaken each other. Per-
haps the elemental would destroy Drizzt altogether. Invisi-
ble shoulders gave a resigned shrug. Masoj decided to let
the gnomish power do his dirty work for him.
The monster launched another blow, and another, and 
Drizzt dove forward and scrambled through the thing's
stone pillar legs. The elemental reacted quickly and
stomped heavily with one foot, barely missing the agile 
drow, and sending branching cracks in the floor for many
feet in either direction.

  Drizzt was up in a flash, slicing and thrusting with both
his blades into the elemental's backside, then springing back
out of reach as the monster swung about, leading with an-
other ferocious blow.

  The sounds of battle grew more distant. The gnomes had
taken flight-those that were still alive-but the drow war.
riors were in full pursuit, leaving Drizzt to face the elemen-
tal.

  The monster stomped again, the thunder of its foot nearly
knocking Drizzt from his feet, and then it came in hard, fall-
ing down at Drizzt, using the tonnage of its body as a 
weapon. If Drizzt had been even slightly surprised, or if his 
reflexes had not been honed to such perfection, he surely 
would have been crushed flat. He managed to get to the side 
of the monster's bulk, while taking only a glancing blow
from a swinging arm.

  Dust rushed up from the terrific impact; cavern walls and
ceiling cracked and dropped flecks and stones to the floor.

  As the elemental regained its feet, Drizzt backed away,
overwhelmed by such unconquerable strength.

  He was all alone against it, or so Drizzt thought. A sudden
ball of hot fury enveloped the elemental's head, claws rak-
ing deep scratches into its face.

  "Guenhwyvart" Drizzt and Masoj shouted in unison,
Drizzt in elation that an ally had been found, and Masoj in
rage. The wizard did not want Drizzt to survive this battle,
and he dared not launch any magical attacks, at Drizzt or
the elemental, with his precious Guenhwyvar in the way.

  "Do something, wizard!" Drizzt cried, recognizing the
shout and understanding now that Masoj was still around.
The elemental bellowed in pain, its cry sounding as the
rumble of huge boulders crashing down a rocky mountain.
Even as Drizzt moved back in to help his feline friend, the
monster spun, impossibly quick, and dove headfirst to the
floor.

  "No!" Drizzt cried, realizing that Guenhwyvar would be
crushed. Then the cat and the elemental, instead of slam-
ming against the stone, sank down into it!

  The purple flames of faerie fire outlined the figures of the
gnomes, showing the way for drow arrows and swords.
The gnomes countered with magic of their own, illusionary
tricks mostly. "Down here!" one drow soldier cried, only to
slam face first into the stone of a wall that had appeared as
the entrance to a corridor.

  Even though the gnome magic managed to keep the dark
elves somewhat confused, Belwar Dissengulp grew fright-
ened. His elemental, his strongest magic and only hope, was
taking too long with the single drow warrior far back in the
main chamber. The burrow-warden wanted the monster by
his side when the main combat began. He ordered his forces
into tight defensive formations, hoping that they could hold
out.

  Then the drow warriors, detained no more by gnomish
tricks, were upon them, and fury stole Belwar's fear. He
lashed out with his heavy pickaxe, smiling grimly as he felt
the mighty weapon bite into draw flesh.

  All magic was aside now, all formations and carefully laid
battle plans dissolved into the wild frenzy of the brawl.
Nothing mattered, except to hit the enemy, to feel the pick
head or blade sinking into flesh. Above all others, deep
gnomes hated the drow, and in all the Underdark there was
nothing a dark elf enjoyed more than slicing a svirfnebli into
littler pieces.

  Drizzt rushed to the spot, but only the unbroken section
of floor remained. "Masoj?" he gasped, looking for some an.
swers from the one schooled in such strange magic.
Before the wizard could answer, the floor erupted behind
Drizzt. He spun, weapons ready, to face the towering ele-
mental.

  Then Drizzt watched in helpless agony as the broken mist
that was the great panther, his dearest companion, rolled
off the elemental's shoulders and broke apart as it neared
the floor.

  Drizzt ducked another blow, though his eyes never left
the dissipating dust-and-mist cloud. Was Guenhwyvar no
more? Was his only friend gone from him forever? A new
light grew in Drizzt lavender eyes, a primal rage that sim-
mered throughout his body. He looked back to the elemen-
tal, unafraid.

  "You are dead;' he promised, and he walked in.

  The elemental seemed confused, though of course it
could not understand Drizzt's words. It dropped a heavy
arm straight down to squash its foolish opponent. Drizzt did
not even raise his blades to parry, knowing that every ounce
of his strength could not possibly deflect such a blow. Just
as the falling arm was about to reach him, he dashed for-
ward, within its range.

  The quickness of his move surprised the elemental, and
the ensuing flurry of swordplay took Masoj's breath away.
The wizard had never seen such grace in battle, such fluid-
ity of motion. Drizzt climbed up and down the elemental's
body, hacking and slashing, digging the points of his weap-
ons home and flicking off pieces of the monster's stone skin.

  The elemental howled its avalanche howl and spun in cir-
cles, trying to catch up to Drizzt and squash him once and
for all. Blind anger brought new levels of expertise to the
magnificent young swordsman, though, and the elemental
caught nothing but air or its own stony body under its
heavy slaps.

  "Impossible;' Masoj muttered when he found his breath.
Could the young Do'Urden actually defeat an elemental?
Masoj scanned the rest of the area. Several drow and many
gnomes lay dead or grievously wounded, but the main fight-
ing was moving even farther away as the gnomes found
their tiny escape tunnels and the drow, enraged beyond
good sense, followed them.

  Guenhwyvar was gone. In this chamber, only Masoj, the
elemental, and Drizzt remained as witnesses. The invisible
wizard felt his mouth draw up in a smile. Now was the time
to strike.

  Drizzt had the elemental lurching to one side, nearly
beaten, when the bolt roared in, a blast of lightning that
blinded the young drow and sent him flying into the cham-
ber's back wall. Drizzt watched the twitch of his hands, the
wild dance of his stark white hair before his unmoving eyes.
He felt nothing-no pain, no reviving draw of air into his
lungs-and heard nothing, as if his life force had been some-
how suspended.

  The attack dispelled Masoj's dweomer of invisibility, and
he came back in view, laughing wickedly. The elemental,
down in a broken, crumbled mass, slowly slipped back into
the security of the stone floor.

  "Are you dead?" the wizard asked Drizzt, the voice break-
ing the hush of Drizzt's deafness in dramatic booms. Drizzt
could not answer, didn't really know the answer anyway.

  "Tho easy;' he heard Masoj say, and he suspected that the
wizard was referring to him and not the elemental.

  Then Drizzt felt a tingling in his fingers and bones and his
lungs heaved suddenly, grabbing a volume of air. He gasped
in rapid succession, then found control of his body and real-
ized that he would survive.

  Masoj glanced around for returning witnesses and saw
none. "Good;' he muttered as he watched Drizzt regain his
senses. The wizard was truly glad that Drizzt's death had
not been so very painless. He thought of another spell that
would make the moment more fun.

  A hand-a gigantic stone hand-reached out of the floor
just then and grasped Masoj's leg, pulling his feet right into
the stone.

  The wizard's face twisted in a silent scream.

  Drizzt's enemy saved his life. Drizzt snatched up one of
the scimitars from the ground and hacked at the elemental's
arm. The weapon sliced in, and the monster, its head reap-
pearing between Drizzt and Masoj, howled in rage and pain
and pulled the trapped wizard deeper into the stone.

  With both hands on the scimitar's hilt, Drizzt struck as
hard as he could, splitting the elemental's head right in half.
This time the rubble did not sink back into its earthen plane;
this time the elemental was destroyed.

  "Get me out of here!" Masoj demanded. Drizzt looked at
him, hardly believing that Masoi was still alive, for he was
waist deep in solid stone.

  "How?" Drizzt gasped. "You. . :' He couldn't even find the
words to express his amazement.

  "Just get me out!" the wizard cried.
Drizzt fumbled about, not knowing where to begin.

  "Elementals travel between planes;' Masoj explained,
knowing that he had to calm Drizzt down if he ever wanted
to get out of the floor. Masoj knew, too, that the conversa-
tion could go a long way in deflecting Drizzt's obvious suspi-
cions that the lightning bolt had been aimed at him. "The
ground an earth elemental traverses becomes a gate be-
tween the Plane of Earth and our plane, the Material Plane.

  The stone parted around me as the monster pulled me in,
but it is quite uncomfortable:' He twitched in pain as the
stone tightened around one foot. "The gate is closing fast!"

  "Then Guenhwyvar might be . . :' Drizzt started to reason.

  He plucked the statuette right out of Masoj's front pocket
and carefully inspected it for any flaws in its perfect design.

  "Give me that!" Masoj demanded, embarrassed and angry.
Reluctantly, Drizzt handed the figurine over. Masoj
glanced at it quickly and dropped it back into the pocket. f

  "Is Guenhwyvar unharmed?" Drizzt had to ask. !

  "It is not your concern;' Masoj snapped back. The wizard,
too, was worried about the cat, but at this moment,

  Guenhwyvar was the least of his troubles. "The gate is clos.
ing;' he said again. "Go get the clerics!"

  Before Drizzt could start off, a slab of stone in the wall be.
hind him slid away, and the rock-hard fist of Belwar Dis-
sengulp slammed into the back of his head.

                      Chapter 23
                 A Single Clean Blow


  "The gnomes took him;' Masoj said to Dinin when the pa-
trol leader returned to the cavern. The wizard lifted his
arms over his head to give the high priestess and her assist-
ants a better view of his predicament.

  "Where?" Dinin demanded. "Why did they let you live?"

  Masoj shrugged. "A secret door;' he explained, "some-
where on the wall behind you. I suspect that they would
have taken me as well, except. . :' Masoj looked down at the
floor, still holding him tightly up to the waist. "The gnomes
would have killed me, but for your arrival:'

  "You are fortunate, wizard;' the high priestess said to Ma-
soj. "I have memorized a spell this day that will release the
stone's hold on you:' She whispered some instructions to
her assistants and they took out water skins and pouches of
clay and began tracing a ten foot square on the floor around
the trapped wizard. The high priestess moved over to the
wall of the chamber and prepared for her prayers.

  "Some have escaped;' Dinin said to her.

  The high priestess understood. She whispered a quick de-
tection spell and studied the wall. "Right there;' she said.
Dinin and another male rushed over to the spot and soon
found the almost imperceptible outline to the secret door.

  As the high priestess began her incantation, one of her
cleric assistants threw the end of a rope to Masoj. "Hold on;'
the assistant teased, "and hold your breath!"

  "Wait -" Masoj began, but the stone floor all around him
transformed into mud and the wizard slipped under.

  The clerics, laughing, pulled Masoj out a moment later.

  "Nice spell;' the wizard remarked, spitting mud.

  "It has its purposes;' replied the high priestess. "Especially
when we fight against the gnomes and their tricks with the
stone. I carried it as a safeguard against earth elementals:'
She looked at a piece of rubble at her feet, unmistakably one
eye and the nose of such a creature. "I see that my spell was
not needed in that manner:'

  "I destroyed that one;' Masoj lied.

  "Indeed;' said the high priestess, unconvinced. She could
tell by the cut of the rubble that a blade had made the
wound. She let the issue drop when the scrape of sliding
stone turned them all to the wall.

  "A maze;' moaned the fighter beside Dinin when he
peered into the tunnel. "How will we find them?"
Dinin thought for a moment, then spun on Masoj. "They
have my brother;' he said, an idea coming to mind. "Where
is your cat?"

  " About;' Masoj stalled, guessing Dinin's plan and not really
wanting Drizzt rescued.

  "Bring it to me;' Dinin ordered. "The cat can smell Drizzt:'

  "I cannot. . . I mean;' Masoj stuttered.

  "Now, wizard!" Dinin commanded. "Unless you wish me
to tell the ruling council that some of the gnomes escaped
because you refused to help!"

  Masoj tossed the figurine to the ground and called for
Guenhwyvar, not really knowing what would happen next.
Had the earth elemental really destroyed Guenhwyvar? The
mist appeared, in seconds transforming into the panther's
corporeal body.

  "Well;' Dinin prompted, indicating the tunnel.

  "Go find Drizzt!" Masoj commanded the cat. Guenhwyvar
sniffed around the area for a moment, then bounded off
down the small tunnel, the drow patrol in silent pursuit.

  "Where. . :' Drizzt started when he finally began the long
climb from the depths of unconsciousness. He understood
that he was sitting, and knew, too, that his hands were
bound in front of him.

  A small but undeniably strong hand caught him by the
back of the hair and pulled his head back roughly.

  "Quiet!" Belwar whispered harshly, and Drizzt was sur-
prised that the creature could speak his language. Belwar
let go of Drizzt and turned to join other svirfnebli.

  From the chamber's low height and the gnomes' nervous
movements, Drizzt realized that this group had taken flight.

  The gnomes began a quiet conversation in their own
tongue, which Drizzt could not begin to understand. One of
them asked the gnome who had ordered Drizzt to be quiet,
apparently the leader, a heated question. Another grunted
his accord and spoke some harsh words, turning on Drizzt
with a dangerous look in his eyes.

  The leader slapped the other gnome hard on the back and
sent him off through one of the two low exits in the cham-
ber, then put the others into defensive positions. He walked
over to Drizzt. "You come with us to Blingdenstone;' he said
in hesitant words.

  "Then?" Drizzt asked.

  Belwar shrugged. "The king'll decide. If you cause me no
trouble, I'll tell him to let you go:'

  Drizzt laughed cynically.

  "Well, then;' said Belwar, "if the king says to kill you, I'll
make sure it comes in a single clean blow:'
Again Drizzt laughed. "Do you believe that I believe?" he
asked. "Thrture me now and have your fun. That is your evil
way!"

  Belwar started to slap him but held his hand in check.

  "Svirfnebli don't torture!" he declared, louder than he
should have. "Drow elves torture!" He turned away but
spun back, reiterating his promise." A single clean blow:'

  Drizzt found that he believed the sincerity in the gnome's
voice, and he had to accept that promise as a measure of
mercy far greater than the gnome would have received if
Dinin's patrol had captured him. Belwar turned to walk
away, but Drizzt, intrigued, had to learn more of the curi-
ous creature.

  "How have you learned my language?" he asked.

  "Gnomes are not stupid;' Belwar retorted, unsure of what
Drizzt was leading to.

  "Nor are drow;' Drizzt replied earnestly, "but I have never
heard the language of the svirfnebli spoken in my city:'

  "There once was a draw in Blingdenstone;' Belwar ex-
plained, now nearly as curious about Drizzt as Drizzt was
about him.

  "Slave;' Drizzt reasoned.

  "Guest!" Belwar snapped. "Svirfnebli keep no slaves!"

  Again Drizzt found that he could not refute the sincerity
in Belwar's voice. "What is your name?" he asked.

  The gnome laughed at him. :'Do you think me stupid?"

  Belwar asked. "You desire my name that you might use its
power in some dark magic against me!"

  "No;' Drizzt protested.

  "I should kill you now for thinking me stupid!" Belwar
growled, ominously lifting his heavy pick. Drizzt shifted un-
comfortably, not knowing what the gnome would do next.

  "My offer remains;' Belwar said, lowering the pick. "No
trouble, and 1 tell the king to let you go:' Belwar didn't be-
lieve that would happen any more than did Drizzt, so the
svirfneblin, with a helpless shrug, offered Drizzt the next
best thing. "Or else, a single clean blow:'

  A commotion from one of the tunnels turned Belwar
away. "Belwar;' called one of the other gnomes, rushing
back into the small chamber. The gnome leader turned a
wary eye on Drizzt to see if the drow had caught th~ men-
tion of his name.

  Drizzt wisely kept his head turned away, pretending not
to listen. He had indeed heard the name of the gnome leader
who had shown him mercy. Belwar, the other svirfneblin
had said. Belwar, a name that Drizzt would never forget.
Fighting from down the passageway caught everyone's at-
tention, then, and several svirfnebli scrambled back into
the chamber. Drizzt knew from their excitement that the
drow patrol was close behind.

  Belwar started barking out commands, mostly organizing
the retreat down the chamber's other tunnel. Drizzt won.
dered where he would fit into the gnome's thinking. Cer.
tainly Belwar couldn't hope to outrun the drow patrol
dragging along a prisoner.

  Then the gnome leader suddenly stopped talking and
stopped moving. Tho suddenly.

  The drow clerics had led the way in with their insidious,
paralyzing spells. Belwar and another gnome were held fast
by thedweomer, and the rest of the gnomes, realizing this,
broke into a wild scramble for the rear exit.

  The drow warriors, Guenhwyvar leading the way,
charged into the room. Any relief Drizzt might have felt at
seeing his feline friend unharmed was buried under the en.
suing slaughter. Dinin and his troops cut into the disorgan-
ized gnomes with typical drow savagery.

  In seconds-horrible seconds that seemed like hours to
Drizzt-only Belwar and the other gnome caught in the
clerical spell remained alive in the chamber. Several of the
svirfnebli had managed to flee down the back corridor, but
most of the drow patrol was off in pursuit.

  Masoj came into the chamber last, looking thorougWy
wretched in his mud.covered clothing. He remained at the
tunnel exit and did not even look Drizzt's way, except to
note that his panther was standing protectively beside the
secondboy of House Do'Urden.

  "Again you have found your measure of luck, and more;'
Dinin said to Drizzt as he cut his brother's bonds.
Looking around at the carnage in the chamber, Drizzt
wasn't so sure.

  Dinin handed him back his scimitars, then turned to the
drow standing watch over the two paralyzed gnomes. "Fin-
ish them;' Dinin instructed.

  A wide smile spread over the other drow's face, and he
pulled a jagged knife from his belt. He held it up in front of a
gnome's face, teasing the helpless creature. "Can they see
it?" he asked the high priestess.

  "That is the fun of the spell;' the high priestess replied.

  "The svirfneblin understands what is about to happen. Even
now he is struggling to break out of the hold:'

  "Prisoners!" Drizzt blurted.

  Dillin and the others turned to him, the draw with the
dagger wearing a scowl both angry and disappointed.

  "For House Do'Urden?" Drizzt asked Dinin hopefully. "We
could benefit fram-"

  "Svirfnebli do not make good slaves:' Dinin replied.

  "No; agreed the high priestess, moving beside the dagger-
wielding fighter. She nodded to the warrior and his smile re-
turned tenfold. He struck hard. Only Belwar remained.

  The warrior waved his blood-stained dagger ominously
and moved in front of the gnome leader.

  "Not that one!" Drizzt protested, unable to bear anymore.

  "Let him live!" Drizzt wanted to say that Belwar could do
them no harm, and that killing the defenseless gnome
would be a cowardly and vile act. Drizzt knew that appeal-
ing to his kin for mercy would be a waste of time.

  Dinin's expression was more a look of anger than curios-
ity this time.

  "If you kill him, then no gnomes will remain to return to
their city and tell of our strength; Drizzt reasoned, grasp-
ing at the one slim hope he could find. "We should send him
back to his people, send him back to tell them of their folly
in entering the domain of the draw!"
Dinin looked back to the high priestess for advice.

  "It seems proper reasoning; she said with a nod.

  Dinin was not so certain of his brother's motives. Not tak-
ing his eyes off Drizzt, he said to the warrior, "Then cut off
the gnome's hands:'

  Drizzt didn't flinch, realizing that if he did, Dinin would
surely slaughter Belwar.

  The warrior replaced the dagger on his belt and took out
his heavy sword.

  "Wait; said Dinin, still eyeing Drizzt. "Release him from
the spell first; I want to hear his screams:'

  Several drow moved over to put the tips of their swords at
Belwar's neck as the high priestess released her magical
hold. Belwar made no moves.

  The appointed drow warrior grasped his sword in both
hands, and Belwar, brave Belwar, held his arms straight out
and motionless in front of him.

  Drizzt averted his gaze, unable to watch and awaiting,
fearing, the gnome's cry.

  Belwar noted Drizzt's reaction. Was it compassion?

  The drow warrior then swung his sword. Belwar never
took his stare off Drizzt as the sword cut across his wrists,
lighting a million fires of agony in his arms.

  Neither did Belwar scream. He wouldn't give Dinin the
satisfaction. The gnome leader looked back to Drizzt one fi-
nal time as two drow fighters ushered him out of the cham-
ber, and he recognized the true anguish, and the apology,
behind the young drow's feigned impassive facade.

  Even as Belwar was leaving, the dark elves who had
chased off after the fleeing gnomes returned from the other
tunnel. "We could not catch them in these tiny passage-
ways;' one of them complained.

  "Damn!" Dinin growled. Sending a handless gnome victim
back to Blingdenstone was one thing, but letting healthy
members of the gnome expedition escape was quite an-
other. "I want them caught!"

  "Guenhwyvar can catch them;' Masoj proclaimed, then he
called the cat to his side and eyed Drizzt all the while.
Drizzt's heart raced as the wizard patted the great cat.

  "Come, my pet;' Masoj said. "There is hunting left to be
done!" The wizard watched Drizzt squirm at the words,
knowing that Drizzt did not approve of Guenhwyvar engag-
ing in such tactics.

  "They are gone?" Drizzt asked Dinin, his voice on the edge
of desperation.

  "Running all the way back to Blingdenstone;' Dinin replied
calmly. "If we let them:'

  " And will they return?"

  Dinin's sour scowl reflected the absurdity of his brother's
question. "Would you?"

  "Our task is complete, then;' Drizzt reasoned, trying
vainly to find some way out of Masoj's ignoble designs for
the panther.

  "We have won the day;' Dinin agreed, "though our own
losses have been great. We may find still more fun, with the
help of the wizard's pet?'

  "Fun;' Masoj echoed pointedly at Drizzt. "Be gone,
Guenhwyvar, into the tunnels. Let us learn how fast a
frightened gnome may run!"

  Only a few minutes later, Guenhwyvar came back into the
chamber, dragging a dead gnome in its mouth.

  "Return!" Masoj commanded as Guenhwyvar dropped the
body at his feet. "Bring me more!"

  Drizzt's heart dropped at the sound of the corpse flopping
to the stone floor. He looked into Guenhwyvar's eyes and
saw a sadness as profound as his own. The panther was a
hunter, as honorable in its own way as was Drizzt. Th.the
evil Masoj, though, Guenhwyvar was a toy and nothing
more, an instrument for his perverted pleasures, killing for
no reason other than its master's joy of killing.

  In the hands of the wizard, Guenhwyvar was no more
than a murderer.

  Guenhwyvar paused at the entrance to the small tunnel
and looked to Drizzt almost apologetically.

  "Return!" Masoj screamed, and he kicked the cat in the
rear. Then Masoj, too, turned an eye back on Drizzt, a vin-
dictive eye. Masoj had missed his chance to kill the young
Do'Urden; he would have to be careful how he explained
such a mistake to his unforgiving mother. Masoj decided to
worry about that unpleasant encounter later. For now, at
least, he had the satisfaction of watching Drizzt suffer.

  Dinin and the others were oblivious to the unfolding
drama between Masoj and Drizzt; too engaged in their wait
for Guenhwyvar's return; too engaged in their speculations
of the expressions of terror the gnomes would cast back at
such a perfect killer; too caught up in the macabre humor of
the moment, that perverted drow humor that brought
laughter when tears were needed.

                       Part 5
                      Zaknafein


  Zaknafein Do'Urden: mentol; teachel; friend. I, in the
blind agony of my own frustrations, more than once came
to recognize Zaknafein as none of these. Did I ask of him
more than he could give? Did I expect perfection of a tor-
mented soul; hold Zaknafein up to standards beyond his ex-
periences, or standards impossible in the face of his
experiences?

  I might have been him. I might have lived, trapped within
the helpless rage, buried under the daily assault of the wick-
edness that is Menzoberranzan and the pervading evil that
is my own family; never in life to find escape.

  It seems a logical assumption that we learn from the mis-
takes of our elders. This, I believe, was my salvation. With-
out the example of Zaknafein, I, too, would have found no
escape-not in life.

  Is this course I have chosen a better way than the life
Zaknafein knew? I think, yes, though I find despair often
enough sometimes to long for that other way. It would have
been easie~ Jruth, though, is nothing in the face of self-
falsehood, and principles are of no value if the idealist can-
not live up to his own standards.

  This, then, is a better way.

  I live with many laments, for my people, for myself, but
mostly for that weapon mastel; lost to me now, who showed
me how-and why-to use a blade.

  There is no pain greater than this; not the cut of a jagged-
edged dagger nor the fire of a dragon's breath. Nothing
burns in your heart like the emptiness of losing something,
someone, before you truly have learned of its value. Often
now I lift my cup in a futile toast, an apology to ears that
cannot hear:

To Zak, the one who inspired my courage.

                     Chapter 24
                To Know Our Enemies


  "Eight drow dead, and one a cleric;' Briza said to Matron
Malice on the balcony of House Do'Urden. Briza had rushed
back to the compound with the first reports of the encoun-
ter, leaving her sisters at the central plaza of Menzoberran-
zan with the gathered throng, awaiting further
information. "But nearly two score of the gnomes died, a
clear victory?'

  "What of your brothers?" asked Malice. "How did House
Do'Urden fare in this encounter?"
  
  "As with the surface elves, Dinin's hand slew five;' replied
Briza. "They say that he led the main assault fearlessly, and
he killed the most gnomes?'

  Matron Malice beamed with the news, though she sus-
pected that Briza, standing patiently behind a smug smile,
was holding something dramatic back from her. "What of
Drizzt?" the matron demanded, having no patience for her
daughter's games. "How many svirfnebli fell at his feet?"

  "None;' Briza replied, but still the smile remained. "Still
the day belonged to Drizztl" she added quickly, seeing an an-
gry scowl spreading across her volatile mother's face. Mal-
ice did not seem amused.

  "Drizzt defeated an earth elemental;' Briza cried, "all
alone, almost, with only minor help from a wizard! The high
priestess of the patrol named the kill his!"
Matron Malice gasped and turned away. Drizzt had ever
been an enigma to her, as fine with the blade as any but lack-
ing the proper attitude and the proper respect. Now this: an
earth elemental! Malice herself had seen such a monster
ravage an entire drow raiding party, killing a dozen sea-
soned warriors before wandering off on its way. Yet her
son, her confusing son, had defeated one single-handedly!

  "Uoth will favor us this day;' Briza commented, not quite
understanding her mother's reaction.

  Briza's words struck an idea in Malice. "Gather your sis-
ters;' she commanded. "We shall meet in the chapel. If
House Do'Urden so fully won the day out in the tunnels,
perhaps the Spider Queen will grace us with some informa-
tion:'

  "Vierna and Maya await the forthcoming news in the city
plaza;' Briza explained, mistakenly believing her mother to
be referring to information about the battle. "Surely we will
know the entire story within an hour:'

  "I care nothing for a battle against gnomes!" Malice
scolded. "You have told everything that is important to our
family; the rest does not matter. We must parlay your broth-
ers' heroics into gain:'

  To learn of our enemies!" Briza blurted as she realized
what her mother had in mind.

  "Exactly;' replied Malice. "'lb learn which house it is that
threatens House Do'Urden. If the Spider Queen truly finds
favor with us this day, she may grace us with the knowledge
we need to defeat our enemies!"

  A short while later, the four high priestesses of House
Do'Urden gathered around the spider idol in the chapel an-
teroom. Before them, in a bowl of the deepest onyx, burned
the sacred incense-sweet, deathlike, and favored by the
yochlol, the handmaidens of Lloth.

  The flame moved through a variety of colors, from orange
to green to brilliant red. It then took shape, heard the
beckons of the four priestesses and the urgency in the voice
of Matron Malice. The top of the fire, no longer dancing,
smoothed and rounded, assumed the form of a hairless
head, then stretched upward, growing. The flame disap-
peared, consumed by the yochlol's image, a half.melted pile
of wax with grotesquely elongated eyes and a drooping
mouth.

  "Who has summoned me?" the small figure demanded tel.
epathically. The yochlol's thoughts, too powerful for its di-
minutive stature, boomed within the heads of the gathered
drow.

  "I have, handmaiden;' Malice replied aloud, wanting her
daughters to hear. The matron bowed her head. "I am Mal-
ice, loyal servant of the Spider Queen:'
In a puff of smoke, the yochlol disappeared, leaving only
glowing incense embers in the onyx bowl. A moment later,
the handmaiden reappeared, full size, standing behind Ma-
tron Malice. Briza, Vierna, and Maya held their breath as
the being laid two sickly tentacles on their mother's shoul-
ders.

  Matron Malice accepted the tentacles without reply, con-
fident in her cause for summoning the yochlol.

  "Explain to me why you dare to disturb me;' came the
yochlol's insidious thoughts.

  "To ask a simple question;' Malice replied silently, for no
words were necessary to communicate with a handmaiden.

  "One whose answer you know:'

  "Does this question interest you so greatly?" the yochlol
asked. "You risk such dire consequences:'

  "It is imperative that I learn the answer;' replied Matron
Malice. Her three daughters watched curiously, hearing the
yochlol's thoughts but only guessing at their mother's un-
spoken replies.

  "If the answer is so important, and it is known to the
handmaidens, and thus to the Spider Queen, do you not be-
lieve that Lloth would have given it to you if she so chose?"

  "Perhaps, before this day, the Spider Queen did not deem
me worthy to know;' Malice responded. "Things have
changed:'

  The handmaiden paused and rolled its elongated eyes
back into its head as if communicating with some distant
plane.

  "Greetings, Matron Malice Do'Urden;' the yochlol said
aloud after a few tense moments. The creature's spoken
voice was calm and overly smooth for the thing's grotesque
appearance.

  "My greetings to you, and to your mistress, Queen of Spi.
ders;' replied Malice. She shot a wry smile at her daughters
and still didn't turn to face the creature behind her. Appar.
ently Malice's guess of Lloth's favor had been correct.

  "Daermon N'a'shezbaernon has pleased Lloth;' the hand.
maiden said. "The males of your house have won the day,
even above the females that journeyed with them. I must ac-
cept Matron Malice Do'Urden's summons:' The tentacles
slid off Malice's shoulders, and the yochlol stood rigid be.
hind her, awaiting her commands.

  "Glad I am to please the Spider Queen;' Malice began. She
sought the proper way to phrase her question. "For the
summons, as I have said, I beg only the answer to a simple
question:'

  " Ask it;' prompted the yochlol, and the mocking tone told
Malice and her daughters that the monster already knew
the question.

  "My house is threatened, say the rumors;' said Malice. 

  "Rumors?" The yochlollaughed an evil, grating sound.

  "I trust in my sources;' Malice replied defensively. 
would not have called upon you if I did not believe tpe
threat:'

  "Continue;' said the yochlol, amused by the whole affair.

  "They are more than rumors, Matron Malice Do'Urden. An. 
other house plans war upon you:' ,

  Maya's immature gasp brought scornful eyes upon her
from her mother and her sisters.

  "Name this house to me;' Malice pleaded. "If Daermon
N'a'shezbaernon truly has pleased the Spider Queen this
day, then I bid Lloth to reveal our enemies, that we might
destroy them!"
  
  And if this other house also has pleased the Spider
Queen?" the handmaiden mused. "Would Lloth then betray
it to you?"

  "Our enemies hold every advantage;' Malice protested.

  "They know of House Do'Urden. No doubt they watch us
every day, laying their plans. We ask Lloth Qnly to give us
knowledge equal to that of our enemies. Reveal them and let
us prove which house is more worthy of victory:'

  "What if your enemies are greater than you?" asked the
handmaiden. "Would Matron Malice Do'Urden then call
upon Lloth to intervene and save her pitiful house?"

  "No!" cried Malice. "We would call upon those powers that
Uoth has given us to fight our foes. Even if our enemies are
the more powerful, let Lloth be assured that they will suffer
great pain for their attack on House Do'Urden!"

  Again the handmaiden sank back within itself, finding the
link to its home plane, a place darker than Menzoberran-
zan. Malice clenched tightly to Briza's hand, to her right,
and Vierna's, to her left. They in turn passed along the con-
firmation of their bond to Maya, at the foot of the circle.

  "The Spider Queen is pleased, Matron Malice Do'Urden:'
the handmaiden said at length. "'ll'Ust that she will favor
House Do'Urden more than your enemies when battle rings
out-perhaps. . . " Malice flinched at the ambiguity of that
final word, grudgingly accepting that Lloth never made any
promises, at any time.

  "What of my question;' Malice dared to protest, "the rea-, "
son for the summons?"

  There came a bright flash that stole the four clerics' vi-
sion. When their eyesight returned to them, they saw the
yochlol, tiny again, and glaring out at them from the flames
of the onyx bowl.

  "The Spider Queen does not give an answer that is already
known!" The handmaiden proclaimed, the sheer power of
its otherworldly voice cutting into the drow ears. The fire
erupted in another blinding flash, and the yochlol disap-
peared, leaving the precious bowl sundered into a dozen
pieces.

  Matron Malice grabbed a large piece of the shattered
onyx and threw it against a wall. "Already known?" she
cried in rage. "Known to whom? Who in my family keeps
this secret from me?"

  "Perhaps the one who knows does not know that she
knows:' Briza put in, trying to calm her mother. "Or perhaps
the information is newly found, and she has not yet had the
chance to come to you with it:'

  "She?" growled Matron Malice. "What 'she' do you speak
of, Briza? We are all here. Are any of my daughters stupid
enough to miss such an obvious threat to our family?"

  "No, Matron!" Vierna and Maya cried together, terrified of
Malice's growing wrath, rising beyond control.

  "Never have I seen any sign!" said Vierna.

  "Nor I!" added Maya. "By your side I have been these many
weeks, and I have seen no more than you!"

  " Are you implying that I have missed something?" Malice
growled, her knuckles white at her sides.

  "No, Matron!" Briza shouted above the commotion, loud
enough to settle her mother for the moment and turn Mal.
ice's attention fully upon her eldest daughter.

  "Not she, then;' Briza reasoned. "He. One of your sons may
have the answer, or Zaknafein or Rizzen, perhaps:'

  "Yes;' agreed Vierna. "They are only males, too stupid to
understand the importance of minor details:'

  "Drizzt and Dinin have been out of the house;' added
Briza, "out of the city. In their patrol group are children of
every powerful house, every house that would dare to
threaten us!"

  The fires in Malice's eyes glowed, but she relaxed at the
reasoning. "Bring them to me when they return to Menzo-
berranzan;' she instructed Vierna and Maya. "You;' she said
to Briza, "bring Rizzen and Zaknafein. All the family must
be present, so that we may learn what we may learn!"

  "The cousins, and the soldiers, too?" asked Briza. "Perhaps
one beyond the immediate family knows the answer:'

  "Should we bring them together, as well?" offered Vierna,
her voice edged with the rising excitement of the moment.

  "A gathering of the whole clan, a general war party of
House Do'Urden?"

  "No;' Malice replied, "not the soldiers or the cousins. I do
not believe they are involved in this; the handmaiden would
have told us the answer if one of my direct family did not
know it. It is my embarrassment to ask a question whose an.
swer should be known to me, whose answer someone
within the circle of my family knows:' She gritted her teeth
as she spat out the rest of her thoughts.

  "I do not enjoy being embarrassed!"

  Drizzt and Dinin came into the house a short while later,
exhausted and glad the adventure was over. They had
barely passed the entrance and turned down the wide cor-
ridor that led to their rooms when they bumped into Zakna-
fein, coming the other way.

  "So the hero has returned;' Zak remarked, eyeing Drizzt
directly. Drizzt did not miss the sarcasm in his voice.

  "We've completed our job-successfully;' Dinin shot back,
more than a little perturbed at being excluded from Zak's
greeting. "I led-"

  "I know of the battle;' Zak assured him. "It has been end-
lessly recounted throughout the city. Now leave us, Elder-
boy. I have unfinished business with your brother:'

  "I leave when I choose to leave!" DiDin growled.
Zak snapped a glare upon him. "I wish to speak to Drizzt,
only to Drizzt, so leave:'

  DiDin's hand went to his sword hilt, not a smart move. Be-
fore he even moved the weapon hilt an inch from the scab-
bard, Zak had slapped him twice in the face with one hand.

  The other had somehow produced a dagger and put its tip
at DiDin's throat.

  Drizzt watched in amazement, certain that Zak would kill
DiDin if this continued.

  "Leave;' Zak said again, "on your life:'
DiDin threw his hands up and slowly backed away. "Ma-
tron Malice will hear of this!" he warned.

  "I will tell her myself;' Zak laughed at him. "Do you think
she will trouble herself on your behalf, fool? As far as Ma-
tron Malice cares, the family males determine their own hi-
erarchy. Go away, Elderboy. Come back when you have
found the courage to challenge me:'

  "Come with me, brother;' DiDin said to Drizzt.

   "We have business;' Zak reminded Drizzt.

  Drizzt looked to both of them, once and back again,
stunned by their open willingness to kill each other. "I will
stay;' he decided. "I do indeed have unfinished business
with the weapon master:'

  "As you choose, hero;' Dinin spat, and he turned on his
heel and stormed away.

  "You have made an enemy;' Drizzt remarked to Zak.

  "I have made many;' Zak laughed, "and I will make many
more before my day ends! But no mind. Your actions have
inspired jealousy in your brother-your older brother. You
are the one who should be wary:'

  "He hates you openly;' reasoned Drizzt.

  "But would gain nothing from my death;' Zak replied. "I
am no threat to Dinin, but you. . . " He let the word hang in
the air.

  "Why would I threaten him?" Drizzt protested. "Dinin has
nothing I desire:'

  "He has power;' Zak explained. "He is the elderboy now
but was not always:'

  "He killed Nalfein, the brother I never met:'

  "You know of this?" said Zak. "Perhaps Dinin suspects that
another secondboy will follow the same course he took to
become the elderboy of House Do'Urden:'

  "Enough;' Drizzt growled, tired of the whole stupid sys-
tem of ascension. How well you know it, Zaknafein, he
thought. How many did you murder to attain your position?

  "An earth elemental;' Zak said, blowing a low whistle with
the words. "It is a powerful foe that you defeated this day:'
He bowed low, showing Drizzt mockery beyond any doubt.

  "What is next for the young hero? A daemon, perhaps? A
demigod? Surely there is nothing that can-"

  "Never have I heard such senseless words stream from
your mouth;' Drizzt retorted. Now it was time for some sar-
casm of his own. "Is it that I have inspired jealousy in an-
other besides my brother?"

  "Jealousy?" Zak cried. "Wipe your nose, sniveling little
boy! A dozen earth elementals have fallen to my blade!

  Daemons, too! Do not overestimate your deeds or your abili-
ties. You are one warrior among a race of warriors. 1b for-
get that surely will prove fatal:' He ended the line with
pointed emphasis, almost in a sneer, and Drizzt began to
consider again just how real their appointed "practice" in
the gym would become.

  "I know my abilities;' Drizzt replied, "and my limitations. 1
have learned to survive:'

  "As have I;' Zak shot back, "for so many centuries!"

  "The gym awaits;' Drizzt said calmly.

  "Your mother awaits;' Zak corrected. "She bids us all to
the chapel. Fear not, though. There will be time for our
meeting:'

  Drizzt walked past Zak without another word, suspecting
that his and Zak's blades would finish the conversation for
them. What had become of Zaknafein? Drizzt wondered.

  Was this the same teacher who had trained him those years
before the Academy? Drizzt could not sort through his feel-
ings. Was he seeing Zak differently because of the things he
had learned of Zak's exploits, or was there truly something
different, something harder, about the weapon master's de-
meanor since Drizzt had returned from the Academy?

  The sound of a whip brought Drizzt from his contempla-
tions.

  "I am your patron!" he heard Rizzen say.

  "That's of no consequence!" retorted a female voice, the
voice of Briza. Drizzt slipped to the corner of the next inter-
section and peeked around. Briza and Rizzen faced off,
Rizzen unarmed, but Briza holding her snake-headed
whip.

  "Patron;' Briza laughed, "a meaningless title. You are a
male lending your seed to the matron and of no more im-
portance:'

  "Four I have sired;' Rizzen said indignantly.

  "Three!" Briza corrected, snapping the whip to accentu-
ate the point. "Viema is Zaknafein's, not yours! Nalfein is
dead, leaving only two. One of those is female and above
you. Only Dimn is truly under your rank!"

  Drizzt sank back against the wall and looked behind him
to the empty corridor he had just walked. He had always
suspected that Rizzen was not his true father. The male had
never paid him any mind, had never scolded him or praised
him or offered to him any advice or training. 1b hear Briza
say it, though, . .. and Rizzen not deny it!

  Rizzen fumbled about for some retort to Briza's stinging
words. "Does Matron Malice know of your desires?" he
snarled. "Does she know that her eldest daughter seeks her
title?"

  "Every eldest daughter seeks the title of matron mother;'
Briza laughed at him. "Matron Malice would be a fool to sus-
pect otherwise. I assure you that she is not, nor am I. I will
get the title from her when she is weak with age. She knows
and accepts this as fact?'

  "You admit that you will kill her?"

  "If not I, then Vierna. If not Vierna, then Maya. It is our
way, stupid male. It is the word of Lloth?'
Rage burned in Drizzt as he heard the evil proclamations,
but he remained silent at the corner.

  "Briza will not wait for age to steal her mother's power;'
Rizzen snarled, "not when a dagger will expedite the trans-
fer. Briza hungers for the throne of the house!"

  Rizzen's next words came out as an indecipherable
scream as the six-headed whip went to work again and
again.

  Drizzt wanted to intervene, to rush out and cut them both
down, but, of course, he could not. Briza acted now as she
had been taught, followed the words of the Spider Queen in
asserting her dominance over Rizzen. She wouldn't kill him,
Drizzt knew.

  But what if Briza got carried away in the frenzy? What if
she did kill Rizzen? In the empty void that was beginning to
grow in his heart, Drizzt wondered if he even cared.

  "You let him escape'" Matron SiNafay roared at her son.

  "You will learn not to disappoint me'"

  "No, my matron!" Masoi protested. "I hit him squarely
with a lightning bolt. He never even suspected the blow to
be aimed at him! 1 could not finish the deed; the monster
had me caught in the gate to its own plane!"

  SiNafay bit her lip, forced to accept her son's reasoning.
She knew that she had given Masoj a difficult mission.

  Drizzt was a powerful foe, and to kill him without leaving
an obvious trail would not be easy.

  "I will get him;' Masoj promised, determination showing
on his face "I have the weapon readied; Drizzt will be dead
before the tenth cycle, as you commanded:'

  "Why should I grant you another chance?" SiNafay asked
him. "Why should I believe that you will fare better the next
time you try?"

  "Because I want him dead!" Masoj cried. "More than even
you, my matron. I want to tear the life from Drizzt Do'Ur-
den! When he is dead,  want to rip out his heart and display
it as a trophy!"

  SiNafay could not deny her son's obsession. "Granted;' she
said. "Get him, Masoj Hun'ett. On your life, strike the first
blow against House Do'Urden and kill its secondboy:'

  Masoj bowed, the grimace never leaving his face, and
swept out of the room.

  "You heard everything'?" SiNafay signaled when the door
had closed behind her son. She knew that Masoj might well
have his ear to the door, and she did not want him to know
of this conversation.

  "I did;' Alton replied in the silent code, stepping out from
behind a curtain.

  "Do you concur with my decision?" SiNafay's hands asked.

  Alton was at a loss. He had no choice but to abide by his
matron mother's decisions, but he did not think that SiNafay
had been wise in sending Masoj back out after Drizzt. His si-
lence grew long.

  "You do not approve;' Matron SiNafay bluntly motioned.

  "Please, Matron Mother;' Alton replied quickly. "I would
not..."

  "You are forgiven;' SiNafay assured him. "I am not so cer-
tain that I shoutd have allowed Masoj a second opportunity.

  Too much could go wrong:'

  "Then why?" Alton dared to ask. "You did not grant me a
second chance, though I desire Drizzt Do'Urden's death 8S
fiercely as any:'

  SiNafay cast him a scornful glare, sending him back on his
courageous heels. "You doubt my judgment?"

  "No!" Alton cried aloud. He slapped a hand over his mouth
and dropped to his knees in terror. "Never, my matron;' he
signaled silently. "I just do not understand the problem as
clearly as you. Forgive me my ignorance:'

  SiNafay's laughter sounded like the hiss of a hundred an-
gry snakes. "We see together in this matter;' she assured AI.
ton. "I would no more give Masoj a second chance than I
gave you:'

  "But-" Alton started to protest.

  "Masoj will go back after Drizzt, but this time he will not
be alone;' SiNafay explained. "You will follow him, Alton
DeVir. Keep him safe and finish the deed, on your life:'

  Alton beamed at the news that he would finally find some
taste of vengeance. SiNafay's final threat didn't even con.
cem him. "Could it ever be any other way?" his hands asked
casually. 

  "Think!" Malice growled, her face close, her breath hot on
Drizzt's face. "You know somethifig!"

  Drizzt slumped back from the overpowering figure and
glanced nervously around at his gathered family. Dinin,
similarly grilled just a moment ago, kneeled with his chin in
hand. He tried vainly to come up with an answer before Ma-
tron Malice upped the level of the interrogation techniques.
Dinin did not miss Briza's motions toward her snake whip,
and the unnerving sight did little to aid his memory.

  Malice slapped Drizzt hard across the face and stepped
away. "One of you has learned the identity of our enemies:'
she snapped at her sons. "Out there, on patrol, one of you
has seen some hint, some sign:'

  "Perhaps we saw it but did not know it for what it was;'
Dinin offered.

  "Silence!" Malice screamed, her face bright with rage.

  "When you know the answer to my question, you may
speak! Only then!" She turned to Briza. "Help Dinin find his
memory!"

  Dinin dropped his head to his arms, folded on the floor in
front of him, and arched his back to accept the torture. 1b
do otherwise would only enrage Malice more.

  Drizzt closed his eyes and recounted the events of his
many patrols. He jerked involuntarily when he heard the
snake whip's crack and his brother's soft groan.

  "Masoj;' Drizzt whispered, almost unconsciously. He
looked up at his mother, who held her hand out to halt Bri.
za's attacks-to Briza's dismay.

  "Masoj Hun'ett;' Drizzt said more loudly. "In the fight
against the gnomes, he tried to kill me:'
All the family, particularly Malice and Dinin, leaned for-
ward toward Drizzt, hanging on his every word.

  "When I battled the elemental;' Drizzt explained, spitting
out the last word as a curse upon Zaknafein. He cast an an-
gry glare at the weapon master and continued, "Masoj
Hun'ett struck me down with a bolt of lightning:'

  "He may have been shooting for the monster;' Vierna in-
sisted. "Masoj insisted that it was he who killed the elemen-
tal, but the high priestess of the patrol denied his claim:'
"Masoj waited;' Drizzt replied. "He did nothing until I be-
gan to gain the advantage over the monster. Then he loosed
his magic, as much at me as at the elemental. I think he
hoped to destroy us both:'

  "House Hun'ett;' Matron Malice whispered.

  "Fifth House;' Briza remarked, "under Matron SiNafay:'

  "So that is our enemy;' said Malice.

  "Perhaps not;' said Dinin, wondering even as he spoke the
words why he hadn't left well enough alone. To disprove the
theory only invited more whipping.

  Matron Malicp did not like his hesitation as he reconsid-
ered the argument. "Explain!" she commanded.

  "Masoj Hun'ett was angry at being excluded from the sur-
face raid;' said DInin. "We left him in the city, only to witness
our triumphant return:' Dinin fixed his eyes straight on his
brother. "Masoj has ever been jealous of Drizzt and all the
glories that my brother has found, rightly or wrongly. Many
are jealous of Drizzt and would see him dead:'

  Drizzt shifted uncomfortably in his seat, knowing the last
words to be an open threat. He glanced over to Zaknafein
and marked the weapon master's smug smile.

  " Are you certain of your words?" Malice said to Drizzt,
shaking him from his private thoughts.

  "There is the cat;' Dinin interrupted, "Masoj Hun'ett's
magical pet, though it holds closer to Drizzt's side than to
the wizard's:'

  "Guenhwyvar walks the point beside me;' Drizzt pro- J
tested, "a position that you ordered:'

  "Masoj does not like it;' Dinin retorted.
Perhaps that is why you put the cat there, Drizzt thought,
but he kept the words to himself. Was he seeing conspira-
cies in coincidence? Or was his world so truly filled with de-
vious schemes and silent struggles for power?

  "Are you certain of your words?" Malice asked Drizzt
again, pulling him from his pondering.

  "Masoj Hun'ett tried to kill me;' he asserted. "I do not
know his reasons, but his intent I do not doubt!"

  "House Hun'ett, then;' Briza remarked, "a mighty foe:'

  "We must learn of them;' Malice said. "Dispatch the
scouts! I will know the count of House Hun'ett's soldiers, its
wizards, and, particularly, its clerics:'

  "If we are wrong;' Dinin said. "If House Hun'ett is not the
conspiring house-"

  "We are not wrong!" Malice screamed at him.

  "The yochlol said that one of us knows the identity of our
enemy;' reasoned Vierna. "All we have is Drizzt's tale of
Masoj:'

  "Unless you are hiding something;' Matron Malice
growled at Dimn, a threat so cold and wicked that it stole
the blood from the elderboy's face.

  Dinin shook his head emphatically and slumped back,
having nothing more to add to the conversation.

  "Prepare a communion;' Malice said to Briza. ('Let us learn
of Matron SiNafay's standing with the Spider Queen:'

  Drizzt watched incredulously as the preparations began
at a frantic pace, each command from Matron Malice fol-
lowing a practiced defensive course. It wasn't the precision
of Drizzt's family's battle planning that amazed him-he
would expect nothing less from this group. It was the eager
gleam in every eye.


                     Chapter 25
                 The Weapon Masters


  "Impudent!" growled the yochlol. The fire in the brazier
puffed, and the creature again stood behind Malice, again
draped dangerous tentacles over the matron mother. "You
dare to summon me again?"

  Malice and her daughters glanced around, on the edge of 
panic. They knew that the mighty being was not toying with
them; the handmaiden truly was enraged this time.

  "House Do'Urden pleased the Spider Queen, it is true;' the
yochlol answered their unspoken thoughts, "but that one
act does not dispel the displeasure your family brought
upon Lloth in the recent past. Do not think that all is for-
given, Matron Malice Do'Urden!"

  How small and vulnerable Matron Malice felt now! Her
power paled in the face of the wrath of one of Lloth's per-
sonal servants.

  "Displeasure?" she dared to whisper. "How has my family
brought displeasure to the Spider Queen? By what act?" 

  The handmaiden's laughter erupted in a spout of flames 
and flying spiders, but the high priestesses held their posi-
tions. They accepted the heat and the crawling things as
part of their penance.

  "I have told you before, Matron Malice Do'Urden;' the
yochlol snarled with its droopy mouth, "and I shall tell you
one final time. The Spider Queen does not reply to ques-
tions whose answers are already known!" In a blast' of ex-
plosive energy that sent the four females of House

  Do'Urden tumbling to the floor, the handmaiden was gone. 
 
  Briza was the first to recover. She prudently rushed over!
to the brazier and smothered the remaining flames, thus
closing the gate to the Abyss, the yochlol's home plane.

  "Who?" screamed Malice, the powerful matriarch once
again. "Who in my family has invoked the wrath of Lloth?"

  Malice appeared small again then, as the implications of the
yochlol's warning became all too clear. House Do'Urden was
about to go to war with a powerful family. Without Lloth's
favor, House Do'Urden likely would cease to exist.

  "We must find the perpetrator;' Malice instructed her
daughters, certain that none of them was involved. They
were high priestesses, one and all. If any of them had done
some misdeed in the eyes of the Spider Queen, the sum-
moned yochlol surely would have exacted punishment on
the spot. By itself, the handmaiden could have leveled
House Do'Urden.

  Briza pulled the snake whip from her belt. "I will get the
information we require!" she promised.

  "No!" said Matron Malice. "We must not reveal our search.

  Be it a soldier or a member of House Do'Urden, the guilty
one is trained and hardened against pain. We cannot hope
that torture will pull the confession from his lips; not when
he knows the consequences of his actions. We must dis-
cover the cause of Lloth's displeasure immediately and
properly punish the criminal. The Spider Queen must stand
behind us in our struggles!"

  "How, then, are we to discern the perpetrator?" the eldest
daughter complained, reluctantly replacing the snake whip
on her belt.

  "Vierna and Maya, leave us;' Matron Malice instructed.

  "Say nothing of these revelations and do nothing to hint at
our purpose:'

  The two younger daughters bowed and scurried away,
not happy with their secondary roles but unable to do any-
thing about them.

  "First we will look;' Malice said to Briza. "We will see if we
can learn of the guilty one from afar:'

  Briza understood. "The scrying bowl;' she said. She
rushed from the anteroom and into the chapel proper. In
the central altar she found the valuable item, a wide golden
bowl laced throughout with black pearls. Hands trembling,
Briza placed the bowl atop the altar and reached into the
most sacred of the many compartments. This was the hold-
ing bin for the prized possession of House Do'Urden, a great
onyx chalice.

  Malice then joined Briza in the chapel proper and took the
chalice from her. Moving to the large font at the entrance to
the great room, Malice dipped the chalice into a sticky fluid,
the unholy water of her religion. She then chanted, "Spide-
rae aught icor ven:' The ritual complete, Malice moved back
to the altar and poured the unholy water into the golden
bowl.

  She and Briza sat down to watch.

  Drizzt stepped onto the floor of Zaknafein's training gym 
for the first time in more than a decade and felt as if he had
come home. He'd spent the best years of his young life
here-almost wholly here. For all the disappointments he 
had encountered since-and no doubt would continue to
experience throughout his life-Drizzt would never forget
that brief sparkle of innocence, that joy, he had known
when he was a student in Zaknafein's gym.

  Zaknafein entered and walked over to face his former stu-
dent. Drizzt saw nothing familiar or comforting in the
weapon master's face. A perpetual scowl now replaced the
once common smile. It was an angry demeanor trat hated 
everything around it, perhaps Drizzt most of all. Or had
iZaknafein always worn such a grimace? Drizzt had to won-
der. Had nostalgia glossed over Drizzt's memories of those
years of early training? Was this mentor, who had so often 
warmed Drizzt's heart with a lighthearted chuckle, actually.
the cold, lurking monster that Drizzt now saw before him?

  "Which has changed, Zaknafein:' Drizzt asked aloud,

  "you, my memories, or my perceptions?"

  Zak seemed not even to hear the whispered question.

  "Ah, the young hero has returned:' he said, "the warrior
with exploits beyond his years:'

  "Why do you mock me?" Dnzzt protested.

  "He .who killed the hook horrors:' Zak continued. His
swords were out in his hands now, and Drizzt responded
by drawing his scimitars. There was no need to ask the
rules of engagement in this contest, or the choice of weap-
ons.

  Drizzt knew, had known before he had ever come here,
that there would be no rules this time. The weapons would
be their weapons of preference, the blades that each of
them had used to kill so many foes.

  "He who killed the earth elemental:' Zak snarled deri-
sively. He launched a measured attack, a simple lunge with
one blade. Drizzt batted it aside without even thinking of
the parry.

  Sudden fires erupted in Zak's eyes, as if the first contact
had sundered all the emotional bonds that had tempered his
thrust. "He who killed the girl child of the surface elves!" he
cried, an accusation and no compliment. Now came the sec-
ond attack, vicious and powerful, an arcing swipe descend-
ing at Drizzt's head. "Who cut her apart to appease his own
thirst for blood!"

  Zak's words knocked Dnzzt off his guard emotionally,
wrapped his heart in confusion like some devious mental
whip. Drizzt was a seasoned warrior, though, and his re-
flexes did not register the emotional distraction. A scimitar
came up to catch the descending sword and deflected it
harmlessly aside.

  "Murderer!" Zak snarled openly. "Did you enjoy the dying
child's screams?" He came at Drizzt in a furious whirl,
swords dipping and diving, slicing at every angle.

  Drizzt, enraged by the hypocrite's accusations, matched
the fury, screaming out for no better reason than to hear
the anger of his own voice.

  Any watching the battle would have found no breath in
the next few blurring moments. Never had the Underdark
witnessed such a vicious fight as when these two masters of
the blade each attacked the demon possessing the other-
and himself. 

  Adamantite sparked and nicked, droplets of blood spat.
tered both the combatants, though neither felt any pain, ,
and neither knew if he'd injured the other. 

  Drizzt came with a two-blade sidelong swipe that drove 
Zak's swords out wide. Zak followed the motion quickly, 
turned a complete circle, and slammed back into Drizzt's 
thrusting scimitars with enough force to knock the young
warrior from his feet. Drizzt fell into a roll and came back 
up to meet his charging adversary. 

  A thought came over him.

  Drizzt came up high, too high, and Zak drove him back on
his heels. Drizzt knew what would soon be coming; he in-
vited it openly. Zak kept Drizzt's weapons high through sev.
eral combined maneuvers. He then went with the move that
had defeated Drizzt in the past, expecting that the best
Drizzt could attain would be equal footing: double-thrust
low.

  Drizzt executed the appropriate cross-down parry, as he
had to, and Zak tensed, waiting for his eager opponent to
try to improve the move. "Child killer!" he growled, goading
on Drizzt.

  Jie didn't know that Drizzt had found the solution.
With all the anger he had ever known, all the disappoint-
ments of his young life gathering within his foot, Drizzt fo-
cused on Zak. That smug face, feigning smiles and drooling
for blood.

  Between the hilts, between the eyes, Drizzt kicked, blow-
ing out every ounce of rage in a single blow.

  Zak's nose crunched flat. His eyes lolled upward, and
blood exploded over his hollow cheeks. Zak knew that he
was falling, that the devilish young warrior would be on
him in a flash, gaining an advantage that Zak could not hope
to overcome.

  "What of you, Zaknafein Do'Urden?" he heard Drizzt
snarl, distantly, as though he were falling far away. "I have
heard of the exploits of House Do'Urden's weapon master!

  How he so enjoys killing!" The voice was closer now, as

  Drizzt stalked in, and as the rebounding rage of Zaknafein
sent him spiraling back to the battle.

  "I have heard how murder comes so very easily to Zakna-
fein!" Drizzt spat derisively. "The murder of clerics, of other
drow! Do you so enjoy it all?" He ended the question with a
blow from each scimitar, attacks meant to kill Zak, to kill the
demon in them both.

  But Zaknafein was now fully back to consciousness, hat-
ing himself and Drizzt equally. At the last moment, his
swords came up and crossed, lightning fast, throwing
Drizzt's arms wide. Then Zak finished with a kick of his
own, not so strong from the prone position but accurate in
its search for Drizzt's groin.

  Drizzt sucked in his breath and twirled away, forcing
himself back into composure when he saw Zaknafein, still
dazed, rising to his feet. "Do you so enjoy it all?" he managed
to ask again.

  "Enjoy?" the weapon master echoed.

  "Does it bring you pleasure?" Drizzt grimaced.

  "Satisfaction!" Zak corrected. "I kill. Yes, I kill:'

  "You teach others to kill!"

  "To kill drow!" Zak roared, and he was back in Drizzt's
face, his weapons up but waiting for Drizzt to make the
next move.

  Zak's words again entwined Drizzt in a mesh of confu-
sion. Who was this drow standing before him?

  "Do you think that your mother would let me live if I did
not serve her evil designs?" Zak cried.
Drizzt did not understand.

  "She hates me;' Zak said, more in control as he began to
understand Drizzt's confusion, "despises me for what I
know:' Drizzt cocked his head.

  " Are you so blind to the evil around you?" Zak yelled in his
face. "Or has it consumed you, as it consumes all of them, in
this murderous frenzy that we call life?"

  "The frenzy that holds you?" Drizzt retorted, but there
was little conviction in his voice now. If he understood Zak's
words correctly-if Zak played the killing game simply be-
cause of his hatred for the perverted drow-the most Drizzt
could blame him for was cowardice.

  "No frenzy holds me;' Zak replied. "I live as best I can. 
survive in a world that is not my own, not my heart:' The la-
ment in his words, the droop of his head as he admitted his
helplessness, struck a familiar chord in Drizzt. "I kill, kill
drow, to serve Matron Malice-to placate the rage, the frus-
tration, that I know in my soul. When I hear the children
scream . . . " His gaze snapped up on Drizzt and he rushed in
all of a sudden, his fury returned tenfold.

  Drizzt tried to get his scimitars up, but Zak knocked one
of them across the room and drove the other aside. He
rushed in step with Drizzt's awkward retreat until he had
Drizzt pinned against a wall. The tip of Zak's sword drew a
droplet of blood from Drizzt's throat.

  "The child lives!" Drizzt gasped. "I swear, I did not kill the 
elven child!" 

  Zak relaxed a bit but still held Drizzt, sword to throat. 
Dinin said-"

  "Dinin was mistaken;' Drizzt replied frantically. "Fooled
by me. I knocked the child down-only to spare her-and
covered her with the blood of her murdered mother to
mask my own cowardice!" 

  Zak leaped back, overwhelmed. 

  "I killed no elves that day;' Drizzt said to him. "The only
times I desired to kill were my own companions!"

  "So now we know;' said Briza, staring into the scrying 
bowl, watching the conclusion of the battle between Drizzt
and Zaknafein and hearing their every word. "It was Drizzt
who angered the Spider Queen:'

  "You suspected him all along, as did I;' Matron Malice re-
plied, "though we both hoped differently.

  "So much promise!" Briza lamented. "How I wish that one -
had learned his place, his values. Perhaps. . . "

  "Mercy?" Matron Malice snapped at her. "Do you show
mercy that would further invoke the Spider Queen's dis-
pleasure?"

  "No, Matron;' Briza replied. "I had only hoped that Drizzt
could be used in the future, as you have used Zaknafein all
these years. Zaknafein is growing older:'

  "We are about to fight a war, my daughter;' Malice re-
minded her. "Lloth must be appeased. Your brother has
brought his fate upon himself; his actions were his own to
decide:'

  "He decided wrongly:'

  The words hit Zaknafein harder than Drizzt's boot had.

  The weapon master threw his swords to the ends of the
room and rushed in on Drizzt. He buried him in a hug so in-
tense that it took the young drow a long moment to even re-
alize what had happened.

  "You have survived!" Zak said, his voice broken by muf.
fled tears. "Survived the Academy, where all the others
died!"

  Drizzt returned the embrace, tentatively, still not guess-
ing the depth of Zak's elation.

  "My son!"

  Drizzt nearly fainted, overwhelmed by the admission of
what he had always suspected, and even more so by the
knowledge that he was not the only one in his dark world
angered by the ways of the drow. He was not alone.

  "Why?" Drizzt asked, pushing Zak out to arm's length.

  "Why have you stayed?"
Zak looked at him incredulously. "Where would 1 go? No
one, not even a drow weapon master would survive for long
out in the caverns of the Underdark. Tho many monsters,
and other races, hunger for the sweet blood of dark elves:'

  "Surely you had options:'

  "The surface?" Zak replied. "Th face the painful inferno
every day? No, my son, 1 am trapped, as you are trapped:'
Drizzt had feared that statement, had feared that he
would find no solution from his newfound father to the di-
lemma that was his life. Perhaps there were no answers.

  "You will do well in Menzoberranzan:' Zak said to comfort
him. "You are strong, and Matron Malice will find an appro-
priate place for your talents, whatever your heart may de-
sire:'

  "To live a life of assassinations, as you have?" Drizzt asked,
trying futilely to keep the rage out of his words.

  "What choice is before us?" Zak answered, his eyes seek. :
ing the unjudging stone of the floor.

  "I will not kill drow:' Drizzt declared flatly.

  Zak's eyes snapped back on him. "You will:' he assured his
son. "In Menzoberranzan, you will kill or be killed:'

  Drizzt looked away, but Zak's words pursued him, could
not be blocked out.

  "There is no other way; the weapon master continued
softly. "Such is our world. Such is our life. You have escaped
this long, but you will find that your luck soon will change:'

  He grabbed Drizzt's chin firmly and forced his son to look at
him directly.

  "I wish that it could be different; Zak said honestly, "but it
is not such a bad life. I do not lament killing dark elves. I per-
ceive their deaths as their salvation from this wicked exist-
ence. If they care so dearly for their Spider Queen, then let
them go and visit her!"

  Zak's growing smile washed away suddenly. "Except for
the children:' he whispered. "Often have I heard the cries of
dying children, though never, I promise you, have I caused
them. I have always wondered if they, too, are evil, born
evil. Or if the weight of our dark world bends them to fit our
foul ways:'

  "The ways of the demon Lloth; Drizzt agreed.

  They both paused for many heartbeats, each privately
weighing the realities of his own personal dilemma. Zak was
next to speak, having long ago come to terms with the life
that was offered to him.

  "Lloth; he chuckled. "She is a vicious queen, that one. I
would sacrifice everything for a chance at her ugly face!"

  "I almost believe you would;' Drizzt whispered, finding
his smile.

  Zak jumped back from him. "I would indeed;' he laughed
heartily. "So would you!"

  Drizzt flipped his lone scimitar up into the air, letting it
spin over twice before catching it again by the hilt. "True
enough!" he cried. "But no longer would 1 be alone!"
  

                        Chapter 26
                  Angler Of The Underdark


  Drizzt wandered alone through the maze of Menzober-
ranzan, drifting past the stalagmite mounds, under the leer-
ing points of the great stone spears that hung from the
cavern's high ceiling. Matron Malice had specifically or- 
dered all of the family to remain within the house, fearing 
an assassination attempt by House Hun'ett. Tho much had
happened to Drizzt this day for him to obey. He had to
think, and contemplating such blasphemous thoughts, even
silently, in a house full of nervous clerics might get him into
serious trouble.

  This was the quiet time of the city; the heat-light of Nar-
bondel was only a sliver at the stone's base, and most of the
drow comfortably slept within their stone houses. Soon af-
ter he slipped through the adamantite gate of the House 
Do'Urden compound, Drizzt began to understand the wis-
dom of Matron Malice's command. The city's quiet now'
seemed to him like the crouched hush of a predator. It was
poised to drop upon him from behind everyone of the:
many blind corners he faced on this trek. "

  He would find no solace here in which he might truly con- 
template the day's events, the revelations of Zaknafein, kin-
dred in more than blood. Drizzt decided to break all the
rules-that was the way of the drow, after all-and head out
of the city, down the tunnels he knew so well from his
weeks of patrol. ~

  An hour later, he was still walking, lost in thought and 
feeling safe enough, for he was well within the boundaries 
of the patrol region. '

  He entered a high corridor, ten paces wide and with bro-
ken walls lined in loose rubble and crossed by many ledges.

  It seemed as though the passage once had been much wider.

  The ceiling was far beyond sight, but Drizzt had been
through here a dozen times, up on the many ledges, and he
gave the place no thought.

  He envisioned the future, the times that he and Zaknafein,
his father, would share now that no secrets separated them.

  Together they would be unbeatable, a team of weapon mas-
ters, bonded by steel and emotions. Did House Hun'ett truly
understand what it would be facing? The smile on Drizzt's
face disappeared as soon as he considered the implications:
he and Zak, together, cutting through House Hun'ett's ranks
with deadly ease, through the ranks of drow elves-killing
their own people.

  Drizzt leaned against the wall for support, understanding
firsthand the frustration that had racked his father for
many centuries. Drizzt did not want to be like Zaknafein,
living only to kill, existing in a protective sphere of violence,
but what choices lay before him? Leave the city?

  Zak had balked when Drizzt asked him why he had not
left. "Where would I go?" Drizzt whispered now, echoing
Zak's words. His father had proclaimed them trapped, and
so it seemed to Drizzt.

  "Where would I go?" he asked again. "1i'avel the Under-
dark, where our people are so despised and a single drow
would become a target for everything he passed? Or to the
surface, perhaps, and let that ball of fire in the sky burn out
my eyes so that I may not witness my own death when the
elven folk descend upon me?"

  The logic of the reasoning trapped Drizzt as it had
trapped Zak. Where could a drow elf go? Nowhere in all the
Realms would an elf of dark skin be accepted.

  Was the choice then to kill? to kill drow?

  Drizzt rolled over against the wall, his physical movement
an unconscious act, for his mind whirled down the maze of
his future. It took him a moment to realize that his back was
against something other than stone.

  He tried to leap away, alert again now that his surround-
ings were not as they should be. When he pushed out, his
feet came up from the ground and he landed back in his
original position. Frantically, before he took the time to con-
sider his predicament, Drizzt reached behind his neck with
both hands.

  They, too, stuck fast to the translucent cord that held him.
Drizzt knew his folly then, and all the tugging in the world
would not free his hands from the line of the angler of the
Underdark, a cave fisher.

  "Foo!!" he scolded himself as he felt himself lifted from the 
ground. He should have suspected this, should have been 
more careful alone in the caverns. But to reach out bare- 
handed! He looked down at the hilts of his scimitars, useless 
in their sheaths. 

  The cave fisher reeled him in, pulled him up the long wall 
toward its waiting maw.

  Masoj Hun'ett smiled smugly to himself as he watched 
Drizzt depart the city. Time was running short for him, and
Matron SiNafay would not be pleased if he failed again in his 
mission to destroy the secondboy of House Do'Urden. Now;
Masoj's patience had apparently paid off, for Drizzt had 
come out alone, had left the city! There were no witnesses. 
It was too easy. 

  Eagerly the wizard pulled the onyx figurine from his .
pouch and dropped it to the ground. "Guenhwyvar!" he 
called as loudly as he dared, glancing around at the nearest
Istalagmite house for signs of activity.

  The dark smoke appeared and transformed a moment 
later into Masoj's magical panther. Masoj rubbed his hands 
together, thinking himself marvelous for having concocted 
such a devious and ironic end to the heroics of Drizzt 
Do'Urden
 "I have a job for you;' he told the cat, "one that you'll not
enjoy!"

  Guenhwyvar slumped casually and yawned as though the
wizard's words were hardly a revelation.

  "Your point companion has gone out on patrol;' Masoj ex-
plained as he pointed down the tunnel, "by himself. It's too
dangerous:'

  Guenhwyvar stood back up, suddenly very interested.

  "Drizzt should not be out there alone;' Masoj continued.

  "He could get killed:'

  The evil inflections of his voice told the panther his intent
before he ever spoke the words.

  "Go to him, my pet;' Masoj purred. "Find him out there in
the gloom and kill him!" He studied Guenhwyvar's reaction,
measured the horror he had laid on the cat. Guenhwyvar
stood rigid, as unmoving as the statue used to summon it.

  "Go!" Masoj ordered. "You cannot resist your master's
commands! I am your master, unthinking beast! You seem to
forget that fact too often!"

  Guenhwyvar resisted for a long moment, a heroic act in it.
self, but the magic's urges, the incessant pull of the master's
command, outweighed any instinctive feelings the great
panther might have had. Reluctantly at first, but then
pulled by the primordial desires of the hunt, Guenhwyvar
sped off between the enchanted statues guarding the tun-
nel and easily found Drizzt's scent.

  Alton DeVir slumped back behind the largest of the stalag-
mite mounds, disappointed at Masoj's tactics. Masoj would
let the cat do his work for him; Alton would not even wit-
ness Drizzt Do'Urden's death!

  Alton fingered the powerful wand that Matron SiNafay
had given to him when he set out after Masoj that night.
It seemed that the item would play no role in Drizzt's
demise.

  Alton took comfort in the item, knowing that he would
have ample opportunity to put it to proper use against the
remainder of House Do'Urden.

  Drizzt fought for the first half of his ascent, kicking and
spinning, ducking his shoulders under any outcrop he
passed in a futile effort to hold back the pull of the cave
fisher. He knew from the outset, though, against those war.
rior instincts that refused to surrender, that he had no
chance to halt the incessant pull.

  Halfway up, one shoulder bloodied, the other bruised,
and with the floor nearly thirty feet below him, Drizzt re-
signed himself to his fate. If he would find a chance against
the crablike monster that waited at the top of the line, it
would be in the last instant of the ascent. For now, he could
only watch and wait.

  Perhaps death was not so bad an alternative to the life he
would find among the drow, trapped within the evil frame-
work of their dark society. Even Zaknafein, so strong and
powerful and wise with age, had never been able to come to
terms with his existence in Menzoberranzan; what chance
did Drizzt have?

  When Drizzt had passed through his small bout with self-
pity, when the angle of his ascent changed, showing him the
lip of the final ledge, the fighting spirit within him took over
once again. The cave fisher might have him, he decided
then, but he'd put a boot or two into the thing's eyes before
it got its meal!

  He could hear the clacking of the anxious monster's eight
crablike legs. Drizzt had seen a cave fisher before, though it
had scrambled away before he and his patrol could catch up
to it. He had imagined it then, and could imagine it now, in
battle. Thro of its legs ended in wicked claws, pincers that
snipped up prey to fit into the maw.

  Drizzt turned himself face-in to the cliff, wanting to view
the thing as soon as his head crested the ledge. The anxious
clacking grew louder, resounding alongside the thumping
of Drizzt's heart. He reached the ledge.

  Drizzt peeked over, only a foot or two from the monster's
long proboscis, with the maw just inches behind. Pincers
reached out to grab him before he could get his footing; he
would get no chance to kick out at the thing.

  He closed his eyes, hoping again that death would be pref-
erable to his life in Menzoberranzan.

  A familiar growl then brought him from his thoughts.

  Slipping through the maze of ledges, Guenhwyvar came
in sight of the cave fisher and Drizzt just before Drizzt had
reached the final ledge. This was a moment of salvation or
death for the cat as surely as for Drizzt. Guenhwyvar had
traveled here under Masoj's direct command, giving no con-
sideration to its duty and acting only on its own instincts in
accord with the compelling magic. Guenhwyvar could not
go against that edict, that premise for the cat's very exist-
ence . .. until now.

  The scene before the panther, with Drizzt only seconds
from death, brought to Guenhwyvar a strength unknown
to the cat, and unforeseen to the creator of the magical figu-
rine. That instant of terror gave a life to Guenhwyvar be.
yond the scope of the magic.

  By the time Drizzt had opened his eyes, the battle was in
full fury. Guenhwyvar leaped atop the cave fisher but
nearly went right over, for the monster's six remaining legs
were rooted to the stone by the same goo that held Drizzt
fast to the long filament. Undaunted, the cat raked and bit, a
ball of frenzy trying to find a break in the fisher's armored
shell.

  The monster retaliated with its pincers, flipping them
over its back with surprising agility and finding one of
Guenhwyvar's forelegs.

  Drizzt was no longer being pulled in; the monster had
other business to attend to.

  Pincers cut through Guenhwyvar's soft flesh, but the cat's
blood was not the only dark fluid staining the cave fisher's
back. Powerful feline claws tore up a section of the shell ar-
mor, and great teeth plunged beneath it. As the cave fisher's
blood splattered to the stone, its legs began to slip.

  Watching the goo under the crablike legs dissolve as the
blood of the monster struck it, Drizzt understood what
would happen as a line of that same blood made its way
down the filament, toward him. He would have to strike fast
if the opportunity came; he would have to be ready to help
Guenhwyvar.

  The fisher stumbled to the side, rolling Guenhwyvar
away and spinning Dmzt over in a complete bumping cir-
cuit.

  Still the blood oozed down the line, and Drizzt felt the fila-
ment's hold loosen from his top hand as the liquid came in
contact.

  Guenhwyvar was up again, facing the fisher, looking for
an attack route through the waiting pincers.

  Drizzt's hand was free. He snapped up a scimitar and dove 
straight ahead, sinking the tip into the fisher's side. The 
monster reeled about, the jolt and the continuing blood 
flow shaking Drizzt from the filament altogether. The drow 
was agile enough to find a handhold before he had fallen
far, though his drawn scimitar tumbled down to the floor. 
Drizzt's diversion opened the fisher's defenses for just a 
moment, and Guenhwyvar did not hesitate. The cat bar-
reled into its foe, teeth finding the same fleshy hold they
had already ripped. They went deeper, under the skin, "
crushing organs as Guenhwyvar's raking claws kept the pin- 
cers at bay.

  By the time Drizzt climbed back to the level of the battle,
the cave fisher shuddered in the throes of death. Drizzt
pulled himself up and rushed to his friend's side.
Guenhwyvar retreated step for step, its ears flattened and
teeth bared.

  At first, Drizzt thought that the pain of a wound blinded 
the cat, but a quick survey dispelled that theory. Guenhwy- 
var had only one injury, and that was not serious. Drizzt
had seen the cat with worse. 

  Guenhwyvar continued to retreat, continued to growl, as
the incesant pounding of Masoi's command, back again af-
ter the Instant of terror, hammered at its heart. The cat 
fought the urges, tried to see Drizzt as an ally, not as prey, 
but the urges. 

  "What is wrong, my friend?" Drizzt asked softly, resisting 
the urge to draw his remaining blade in defense. He 
dropped to one knee. "Do you not recognize me? How often
we have fought together!"

  Guenhwyvar crouched low and tamped down its hind
legs, preparing, Drizzt knew, to spring. Still Drizzt did not
draw his weapon, did nothing to threaten the cat. He had to
trust that Guenhwyvar was true to his perceptions, that the
panther was everything he believed it to be. What now
could be guiding these unfamiliar reactions? What had
brought Guenhwyvar out here at this late hour?

  Drizzt found his answers when he remembered Matron
Malice's warnings about leaving House Do'Urden.

  "Masoj sent you to kill me!" he said bluntly. His tone con-
fused the cat, and it relaxed a bit, not yet ready to spring.

  "You saved me, Guenhwyvar. You resisted the command:'
Guenhwyvar's growl sounded in protest.

  "You could have let the cave fisher do the deed for you;'
Drizzt retorted, "but you did not! You charged in and saved
my life! Fight the urges, Guenhwyvar! Remember me as
your friend, a better companion than Masoj Hun'ett could
ever be!"

  Guenhwyvar backed away another step, caught in a pull
that it could not yet resolve. Drizzt watched the cat's ears
come up from its head and knew that he was winning the
contest.

  "Masoj claims ownership;' he went on, confident that the
cat, through some intelligence Drizzt could not know, un-
derstood the meaning of his words. "I claim friendship. I am
your friend, Guenhwyvar, and I'll not fight against you:' He
leaped forward, arms unthreateningly wide, face and chest
fully exposed. "Even at the cost of my own life!"

  Guenhwyvar did not strike. Emotions pulled at the cat
stronger than any magical spell, those same emotions that
had put Guenhwyvar into action when it first saw Drizzt in
the cave fisher's clutches.

  Guenhwyvar reared up and leaped out, crashing into
Drizzt and knocking him to his back, then burying him in a
rush of playful slaps and mock bites.

  The two friends had won again; they had defeated two
foes this day.

  When Drizzt paused from the greeting to consider all that
had transpired, though, he realized that one of the victories 
was not yet complete. Guenhwyvar was his in spirit now'
but still held by another, one who did not deserve the cat, 
W?o enslaved the cat in a life that Drizzt could no longer 
witness. 

  None of the confusion that had followed Drizzt Do'Urden 
out of Menzoberranzan that night remained. For the first 
time in his life, he saw the road he must follow, the path to 
his own freedom.
He remembered Zaknafein's warnings, and the same im- 
possible alternatives that he had contemplated, to no resolu-
tion.

  Where, indeed, could a drow elf go?

  "Worse to be trapped within a lie; he whispered absently. 

  The panther cocked its head to the side, sensing again that 
Drizzt's words carried great importance. Drizzt returned 
the curious stare with one that came suddenly grim. 

  "take me to your master;' he demanded, "your false mas-
ter:'

                     Chapter 27
                 Untroubled Dreams


  Zaknafein sank down into his bed in an easy sleep, the
most comfortable rest he had ever known. Dreams did
come to him this night, a rush of dreams. Far from tumultu-
ous, they only enhanced his comfort. Zak was free now of
his secret, of the lie that had dominated every day of his
adult life.

  Drizzt had survived! Even the dreaded Academy of Men-
zoberranzan could not daunt the youth's indomitable spirit
and sense of morality. Zaknafein Do'Urden was no longer
alone. The dreams that played in his mind showed him the
same wonderful possibilities that had followed Drizzt out of
the city.

  Side by side they would stand, unbeatable, two as one
against the perverted foundations of Menzoberranzan.

  A stinging pain in his foot brought Zak from his slumbers.

  He saw Briza immediately, at the bottom of his bed, her
snake whip in hand. Instinctively, Zak reached over the side
to fetch his sword.

  The weapon was gone. Vierna stood at the side of the
room, holding it. On the opposite side, Maya held Zak's
other sword.
 
  How had they come in so stealthily? Zak wondered. Magi-
cal silence, no doubt, but Zak was still surprised that he had
not sensed their presence in time. Nothing had ever caught
him unawares, awake or asleep.

  Never before had he slept so soundly, so peacefully. Per-
haps, in Menzoberranzan, such pleasant dreams were dan-
gerous.

  "Matron Malice will see you;' Briza announced.

  "I am not properly dressed:' Zak replied casually. "My belt
and weapons, if you please:'

  "We do not please!" Briza snapped, more at her sisters
than at Zak. "You will not need the weapons:'
Zak thought otherwise.

  "Come, now:' Briza commanded, and she raised the whip.

  "I should be certain of Matron Malice's intentions before I
acted so boldly, were 1 you:' Zak warned. Briza, reminded of
the power of the male she now threatened, lowered her
weapon.

  Zak rolled out of bed, putting the same intense glare alter.
nately on Maya and Vierna, watching their reactions to bet.
ter conclude Malice's reasons for summoning him.

  They surrounded him as he left his room, keeping a cau.
tious but ready distance from the deadly weapon master.

  "Must be serious:' Zak remarked quietly, so that only Briza,
in front of the troupe, could hear. Briza turned and flashed
him a wicked smile that did nothing to dispel his suspicions.
Neither did Matron Malice, who leaned forward in her
throne in anticipation even before they entered the room.

  "Matron:' Zak offered, dipping into a bow and pulling the
side of his nightshirt out wide to draw attention to his inap.
propriate dress. He wanted to let Malice know his feelings
of being ridiculed at such a late hour.

  The matron offered no return greeting. She rested back
in her throne. One slender hand rubbed her sharp chin,
while her eyes locked upon Zaknafein.

  "Perhaps you could tell me why you've summoned me:'

  Zak dared to say, his voice still holding an edge of sarcasm. "I
would prefer to return to my slumbers. We should not give
House Hun'ett the advantage of a tired weapon master:'

  "Drizzt has gone:' growled Malice.

  The news slapped Zak like a wet rag. He straightened, and
the teasing smile disappeared from his face.

  "He left the house against my commands:' Malice went on.

  Zak relaxed visibly; when Malice announced that Drizzt
was gone, Zak had first thought that she and qer devious co-
horts had driven him out or killed him.

  "A spirited boy;' Zak remarked. "Surely he will return
soon:'

  "Spirited;' Malice echoed, and her tone did not put the de-
scription in a positive light.

  "He will return;' Zak said again. "There's no need for our
alarm, for such extreme measures:' He glared at Briza,
though he knew well that the matron mother had called
him to audience to do more than tell him of Drizzt's depar-
ture.

  "The secondboy disobeyed the matron mother;' Briza
snarled, a rehearsed interruption.

  "Spirited;' Zak said again, trying not to chuckle. "A minor
indiscretion:'

  "How often he seems to have those;' Malice commented.

  "Like another spirited male of House Do'Urden:'

  Zak bowed again, taking her words as a compliment. Mal-
ice already had his punishment decided, if she meant to
punish him at all. His actions now, at this trial-if that's what
it was-would be of little consequence.

  "The boy has displeased the Spider Queen!" Malice
growled, openly enraged and tired of Zak's sarcasm. "Even
you were not foolish enough to do that!"

  A dark cloud passed across Zak's face. This meeting was
indeed serious; Drizzt's life could be at stake.

  "But you know of his crime;' Malice continued, easing
back again. She liked that she had Zak concerned and on the
defensive. She had found his vulnerable spot. It was her
turn to tease.

  "Leaving the house?" Zak protested. "A minor error in
judgment. Lloth would not be concerned with such a trifle
issue:'

  "Do not feign ignorance, Zaknafein. You know that the el-
yen child lives!"

  Zak lost his breath in a sharp gasp. Malice knew! Damn it
all, Lloth knew!

  "We are about to go to war;' Malice continued calmly, "we
are not in Lloth's favor, and we must correct the situation:'

  She eyed Zak directly. "You are aware of our ways and know:
that we must do this:'

  Zak nodded, trapped. Anything he did now to disagree
would only make matters worse for Drizzt-if matters
could be worse for Drizzt.

  "The secondboy must be punished;' Briza said.
Another rehearsed interruption, Zak knew. He wondered
how many times Briza and Malice had practiced this
encounter.

  "Am I to punish him, then?" Zak asked. "I'll not whip the
boy; that is not my place:'

  "His punishment is none of your concern;' Malice said.

  "Then why disturb my slumber?" Zak asked, trying to de-
tach himself from Drizzt's predicament, more for Drizzt's
sake than his own.

  "I thought that you would wish to know;' Malice replied.

  "You and Drizzt became so close this day in the gym. Father
and son:'

  She saw! Zak realized. Malice, and probably that
wretched Briza, had watched the whole encounter! Zak's
head drooped as he came to know that he had unwittingly
played a part in Drizzt's predicament.

  "An elven child lives;' Malice began slowly, rolling out
each word in dramatic clarity, "and a young drow must die:'

  "No!" The word came out of Zak before he realized he was
speaking. He tried to find some escape. "Drizzt was young.
He did not understand. . . "

  "He knew exactly what he was doing!" Malice screamed
back at him. "He does not regret his actions! He is so like
you, Zaknafein! Tho like you:'

  "Then he can learn;' Zak reasoned. "I have not been a bur-
den to you, Mali-Matron Malice. You have profited by my
presence. Drizzt is no less skilled than I; he can be valuable
to us:'

  "Dangerous to us;' Matron Malice corrected. "You and he
standing together? The thought does not please me:'

  "His death will aid House Hun'ett;' Zak warned, grabbing 
at anything he could find to defeat the matron's intent. 

  "The Spider Queen demands his death;' Malice replied
sternly. "She must be appeased if Daermon N'a'shezbaernon
is to have any hope in its struggles against House Hun'ett:'

  "I beg you, do not kill the boy:'

  "Sympathy?" Malice mused. "It does not become a drow
warrior, Zaknafein. Have you lost your fighting will?"

  "I am old, Malice:'

 "Matron Malice!" Briza protested, but Zak put a look on
her so cold that she lowered her snake whip before she had
even begun to put it to use.

  "Older still will I become if Drizzt is put to his death:'

  "I do not desire this either;' Malice agreed, but Zak recog-
nized her lie. She didn't care about Drizzt, or about any-
thing else, beyond gaining the Spider Queen's favor.

  "Yet I see no alternative. Drizzt has angered Lloth, and she
must be appeased before our war:'

  Zak began to understand. This meeting wasn't about
Drizzt at all. "Thke me in the boy's stead;' he said.

  Malice's narrow grin could not hide her feigned surprise.

  This was what she had desired from the very beginning.

  "You are a proven fighter;' the matron argued. "Your
value, as you yourself have already admitted, cannot be un-
derestimated. To sacrifice you to the Spider Queen would
appease her, but what void will be left in House Do'Urden in
the wake of your passing?"

  " A void that Drizzt can fill;' Zak replied. He secretly hoped
that Drizzt, unlike he, would find some escape from it all,
some way around Matron Malice's evil plots.

  "You are certain of this?"

  "He is my equal in battle;' Zak assured her. "He will grow
stronger, too, beyond what Zaknafein has ever attained:'

  "You are willing to do this for him?" Malice sneered, eager
drool edging her mouth.

  "You know that I am;' Zak replied.

  "Ever the fool;' Malice put in.

  "To your dismay;' Zak continued, undaunted, "you know
that Drizzt would do the same for me:'

  "He is young;' Malice purred. "He will be taught better:'

  " As you taught me?" snapped Zak.

  Malice's victorious grin became a grimace. "I warn you,
Zaknafein; she growled in all her vile rage. "If you do any.
thing to disrupt the ceremony to appease the Spider Queen,
if, in the end of your wasted life, you choose to anger me
one final time, I will give Drizzt to Briza. She and her tortur.
ous toys will give him to Lloth!"

  Unafraid, Zak held his head high. "I have offered myself,
Malice;' he spat. "Have your fun while you may. In the end,
Zaknafein will be at peace; Matron Malice Do'Urden will
ever be at war!"

  Shaking in anger, the moment of triumph stolen by a few
simple words, Malice could only whisper, "lake him!"

  Zak offered no resistance as Vierna and Maya tied him to
the spider-shaped altar in the chapel. He watched Vierna
mostly, seeing an edge of sympathy rimming her quiet eyes.
She, too, might have been like him, but whatever hope he
had for that possibility had been buried long ago under the
relentless preaching of the Spider Queen.

  "You are sad;' Zak remarked to her.

  Vierna straightened and tugged tightly on one of Zak's
bonds, causing him to grimace in pain. "A pity;' she replied
as coldly as she could. "House Do'Urden must give much to
repay Drizzt's foolish deed. I would have enjoyed watching
the two of you together in battle:'

  "House Hun'ett would not have enjoyed the sight:' Zak re-
plied with a wink. "Cry not, . .. my daughter:'
Vierna slapped him across the face. "lake your lies to your
grave! "

  "Deny it as you choose, Vierna;' was all that Zak cared to
reply.

  Vierna and Maya backed away from the altar. Vierna
fought to hold her scowl and Maya bit back an amused
chuckle, as Matron Malice and Briza entered the room. The
matron mother wore her greatest ceremonial robe, black
and weblike, clinging and floating about her all at once, and
Briza carried a sacred coffer.

  Zak paid them no heed as they began their ritual, chant.
ing for the Spider Queen, offering their hopes for appease-
ment. Zak had his own hopes at that moment.

  "Beat them all;' he whispered under his breath. "Do more
than survive, my son, as I have survived. Live! Be true to the
callings in your heart:'

  Braziers roared to life; the room glowed. Zak felt the heat,
knew that contact to that darker plane had been achieved. 

  "Take this. . . " he heard Matron Malice chant, but he put
the words out of his thoughts and continued the final pray-
ers of his life.

  The spider-shaped dagger hovered over his chest. Malice
clenched the instrument in her bony hands, the sheen of
her sweat-soaked skin catching the orange reflection of the
fires in a surrealistic glow.

  Surreal, like the transition from life to death.


                       Chapter 28
                     Rightful Owner



  How long had it been? An hour? Thro? Masoj paced the
length of the gap between the two stalagmite mounds just a
few feet from the entrance to the tunnel that Drizzt, and
then Guenhwyvar, had taken. "The cat should have re-
turned by now;' the wizard grumbled, at the end of his pa.
tience.
  
  Relief flooded through his face a moment later, when 
Guenhwyvar's great black head peered around the edge of
the tunnel, behind one of the displacer beast statue guard.
ians. The fur around the cat's maw was conspicuously wet
with fresh blood.

  "It is done?" Masoj asked, barely able to contain a shout of
elation. "Drizzt Do'Urden is dead?"

  "Hardly;' came the reply. Drizzt, for all his idealism, had to
admit a tinge of pleasure as a cloud of dread cooled the
elated fires in the sinister wizard's cheeks.

  "What is this, Guenhwyvar?" Masoj demanded. "Do as I
bid you! Kill him now!"

  Guenhwyvar stared blankly at Masoj, then lay at Drizzt's
feet.

  "You admit your attempt on my life?" Drizzt asked.
Masoj measured the distance to his adversary-ten feet.
He might be able to get off one spell. Perhaps. Masoj had
seen Drizzt move, quick and sure, and had little desire to .
chance the attack if he could find another way out of this
predicament. Drizzt had not yet drawn a weapon, though
the young warrior's hands rested easily across the hilts of
his deadly blades. 
 
  "I understand;' Drizzt continued calmly. "House Hun'ett
and House Do'Urden are to battle:'

  "How did you know?" Masoj blurted without thinking, too
shocked by the revelation to consider that Drizzt might
merely be goading him into a larger admission.

  "I know much but care little:' Drizzt replied. "House
Hun'ett wishes to wage war against my family. For what rea-
son, I cannot guess:'

  "For the vengeance of House DeVir!" came a reply from a
different direction.

  Alton, standing on the side of a stalagmite mound, looked
down at Drizzt.

  A smile spread over Masoj's face. The odds had so quickly
changed.

  "House Hun'ett cares not at all for House DeVir:' Drizzt re-
plied, still composed in the face of this new development. "I
have learned enough of the ways of our people to know that
the fate of one house is not the concern of another:'

  "But it is my concernI" Alton cried, and he threw back the
cowl of his hood, revealing the hideous face, scarred by acid
for the sake of a disguise. "I am Alton DeVir, lone survivor of
House DeVir! House Do'Urden will die for its crimes against
my family, starting with you:'

  "I was not even born when the battle took place:' Drizzt
protested.

  "Of little consequence!" Alton snarled. "Vou are a Do'Ur-
den, a filthy Do'Urden. That is all that matters:'
Masoj tossed the onyx figurine to the ground. "Guenhwy-
var!" he commanded. "Be gone!"

  The cat looked over its shoulder to Drizzt, who nodded
his approval.

  "Be gone!" Masoj cried again. "I am your master! Vou can-
not disobey me!"

  "You do not own the cat:' Drizzt said calmly.

  "Who does, then?" Masoj snapped. "Vou?"

  "Guenhwyvar:' Drizzt replied. "Only Guenhwyvar. I
would think that a wizard would have a better understand-
ing of the magic around him:'

  With a low growl that might have been a mocking laugh,
Guenhwyvar loped across the stone to the figurine and dis-
sipated into smoky nothingness.

  The cat walked down the length of the planar tunnel, to-
ward its home in the Astral Plane. Ever before had

  Guenhwyvar been anxious to make this journey, to escape
the foul commands of its drow masters. This time, though,
the cat hesitated with every stride, looking back over its
shoulder to the dot of darkness that was Menzoberranzan.

  "Will you deal?" Drizzt offered.

  "You are in no position to bargain;' Alton laughed, draw-
ing out the slender wand that Matron SiNafay had given
him.

  Masoj cut him short. "Wait;' he said. "Perhaps Drizzt will
prove valuable to our struggle against House Do'Urden:' He
eyed the young warrior directly. "You will betray your fam-
ily?"

  "Hardly;' Drizzt snickered. " As I have already said to you, I
care little for the coming conflict. Let House Hun'ett and
House Do'Urden both be damned, as surely they will! My
concerns are personal:'

  "You must have something to offer us in exchange for
your gain;' Masoj explained. "Otherwise, what bargain can
you hope to make?"

  "I do have something to give to you in return;' Drizzt re-
plied, his voice calm, "your lives:'
Masoj and Alton looked to each other and laughed aloud,
but there was a trace of nervousness in their chuckles.

  "Give me the figurine, Masoj;' Drizzt continued, un-
daunted. "Guenhwyvar never belonged to you and will
serve you no more:'

  Masoj stopped laughing.

  "In return;' Drizzt went on before the wizard could reply,

  "I will leave House Do'Urden and not take part in the battle:'

  "Corpses do not fight:' Alton sneered.

  "I will take another Do'Urden with me;' Drizzt spat at him.

  " A weapon master. Surely House Hun'ett will have gained an
advantage if both Drizzt and Zaknafein-"

  "Silence!" Masoj screamed. "The cat is mine! I do not need
any bargains from a pitiful Do'Urden! You are dead, fool,
and House Do'Urden's weapon master will follow you to
your grave!"

  "Guenhwyvar is free!" Drizzt growled.

  The scimitars came out in Drizzt's hands. He had never re-
ally fought a wizard before, let alone two, but he remem.
bered vividly from past encounters the sting of their spells.
Masoj had already begun to cast, but of more concern was
Alton, out of quick reach and pointing that slender wand.

  Before Drizzt ever decided his course of action, the issue
was settled for him. A cloud of smoke engulfed Masoj and
he fell back, his spell disrupted with the shock.
Guenhwyvar was back.

  Alton was out of Drizzt's reach. Drizzt could not hope to
get to the wizard before the wand went off, but to
Guenhwyvar's streamlined feline muscles, the distance was
not so great. Hind legs tamped a footing and snapped,
launching the hunting panther through the air.

  Alton brought the wand to bear on this new nemesis in
time and released a mighty bolt, scorching Guenhwyvar's
chest. Greater strength than a single bolt, though, would be
needed to deter the ferocious panther. Stunned but still
fighting, Guenhwyvar slammed into the faceless wizard,
dropping him off the back side of the stalagmite mound.
The lightning bolt's flash stunned Drizzt as well, but he
continued to pursue Masoj and could only hope that
Guenhwyvar had survived. He rushed around the base of
the other stalagmite mound and came face-to-face with Ma-
soj, once again in the act of spellcasting. Drizzt didn't slow;
he ducked his head and barreled into his opponent, his
scimitars leading the way.

  He slipped right through his opponent-right through the
image of his opponent!

  Drizzt crashed heavily into the stone and rolled aside, try-
ing to escape the magical attack he knew was coming.

  This time, Masoj, standing fully thirty feet behind the pro.
jection of his image, was taking no chances with a miss. He
launched a volley of magical missiles of energy that veered
unerringly to intercept the dodging fighter. They slammed
into Drizzt, jolting him, bruising him under his skin.

  But Drizzt was able to shake away the numbing pain and
regain his footing. He knew where the real Masoj was stand-
ing now and had no intention of letting the trickster out of
sight again.

  A dagger in his hand, Masoj watched Drizzt's stalking ap-
proach.

  Drizzt didn't understand. Why wasn't the wizard prepar-
ing another spell? The fall had reopened the wound in
Drizzt's shoulder, and the magical bolts had torn his side
and a leg. The wounds were not serious, though, and Masoj
had no chance against him in physical combat.

  The wizard stood before him, unconcerned, dagger
drawn and a wicked smile on his face.

  Face down on the hard stone, Alton felt the warmth of his
own blood running freely between the melted holes that
were his eyes. The cat was higher up the side of the mound,
not yet fully recovered from the lightning bolt.

  Alton forced himself up and raised his wand for a second
strike. .. but the wand had snapped in half.

  Frantically Alton recovered the other piece and held it up
before his disbelieving eyes. Guenhwyvar was coming
again, but Alton didn't notice.

  The glowing ends of the wand, a power building within
the magical stick, enthralled him. "You cannot do that;' Al-
ton whispered in protest.

  Guenhwyvar leaped just as the broken wand exploded.

  A ball of fire roared up into Menzoberranzan's night,
chunks of rubble rocketed off the great cavern's eastern
wall and ceiling, and both Drizzt and Masoj were knocked
from their feet.

  "Now Guenhwyvar belongs to no one}' Masoj sneered,
tossing the figurine to the ground.

  "No DeVir remains to claim vengeance on House Do'Ur-
den;' Drizzt growled back, his anger holding off his despair.
Masoj became the focus of that anger, and the wizard's
mocking laughter led Drizzt toward him in a furious rush.

  Just as Drizzt got in range, Masoj snapped his fingers and
was gone.

  "Invisible:' Drizzt roared, slicing futilely at the empty air
before him. His exertions took the edge from his blind rage
and he realized that Masoj was no longer in front of him.

  How foolish he must seem to the wizard. How vulnerable!

  Drizzt crouched to listen. He sensed a distant chanting
from up above, on the cavern wall.

  Drizzt's instincts told him to dive to the side, but his new
understanding of wizards told him that Masoj would antici-
pate such a move. Drizzt feigned to the left and heard the
climactic words of the building spell. As the lightning blast
thundered harmlessly to the side, Drizzt sprinted straight
ahead, hoping his vision would return in time for him to get
to the wizard.

  "Damn you!" Masoj cried, understanding the feint as soon
as he had errantly fired. Rage became terror in the next in-
stant, as Masoj caught sight of Drizzt, sprinting across the
stone, leaping the rubble, and crossing the sides of the
mounds with all the grace of a hunting cat.

  Masoj fumbled in his pockets for the components to his
next spell. He had to be quick. He was fully twenty feet from
the cavern floor, perched on a narrow ledge, but Drizzt was
moving fast, impossibly fast!

  The ground beneath him did not register in Drizzt's con-
scious thoughts. The cavern wall would have seemed un-
climbable to him in a more rational state, but now he gave it
not a care. Guenhwyvar was lost to him. Guenhwyvar was
gone.

  That wicked wizard on the ledge, that embodiment of de-
monic evil, had caused it. Drizzt sprang to the wall, found
one hand free-he must have discarded one scimitar-and
caught a tenuous hold. It wasn't enough for a rational drow,
but Drizzt's mind ignored the protests of the muscles in his
straining fingers. He had only ten feet to go.

  Another volley of energy bolts thudded into Drizzt, ham-
mering the top of his head in rapid succession. 

  "How many spells remain, wizard?" he heard himself defi-
antly cry as he ignored the pain.

  Masoj fell back when Drizzt looked up at him, when the
burning light of those lavender orbs fell upon him like a pro-
nouncement of doom. He had seen Drizzt in battle many
times, and the sight of the fighting young warrior had
haunted him through all the planning of this assassination.
But Masoj had never seen Drizzt enraged before. If he
had, he never would have agreed to try to kill Drizzt. If he
had, he would have told Matron 5iNafay to go sit on a stalag-
mite.

  What spell was next? What spell could slow the monster
that was Drizzt Do'Urden?

  A hand, glowing with the heat of anger, grabbed the lip of
the ledge. Masoj stomped on it with the heel of his boot. The
fingers were broken-the wizard knew that the fingers
were broken-but Drizzt, impossibly, was up beside him
and the blade of a scimitar was through the wizard's ribs.

  "The fingers are broken!" the dying mage gasped in pro-
test.

  Drizzt looked down at his hand and realized the pain for
the first time. "Perhaps;' he said absently, "but they will
heal:'


  Drizzt, limping, found his other scimitar and cautiously
picked his way over the rubble of one of the mounds. Fight-
ing the fear within his broken heart, he forced himself to
peer over the crest at the destruction. The back side of the
mound glowed eerily in the residual heat, a beacon for the
awakening city.

  So much for stealth. .

  Pieces of Alton DeVir lay scattered at the bottom, around
the wizard's smoldering robes. "Have you found peace,
Faceless One?" Drizzt whispered, exhaling the last of his an-
ger. He remembered the assault Alton had launched against
him those years ago in the Academy. The faceless master
and Masoj had explained it away as a test for a budding war-
rior.

  "How long you have carried your hate;' Drizzt muttered
at the blasted bits of corpse.

  But Alton DeVir was not his concern now. He scanned the
rest of the rubble, looking for some clue to GuenhwyYar's
fate, not certain how a magical creature would fare in such
a disaster. Not a sign of the cat remained, nothing that
would even hmt that GuenhwyYar had ever been there.

  Drizzt consciously reminded himself that there was no
hope, but the anxious spring in his steps mocked his stern
visage. He rushed back down the mound and around the
other stalagmite, where Masoj and he had been when the
wand exploded. He spotted the onyx figurine immediately.

  He lifted it gently in his hands. It was warm, as though it,
too, had been caught in the blast, and Drizzt could sense
that its magic had diminished. Drizzt wanted to call the cat,
then, but he didn't dare, knowing that the travel between
the planes heavily taxed GuenhwyYar. If the cat had been in-
jured, Drizzt figured that it would be better to give it some
time to recuperate.

  "Oh, Guenhwyvar;' he moaned, "my friend, my brave
friend:' He dropped the figurine into his pocket.

  He could only hope that GuenhwyYar had survived.


                        Chapter 29
                          Alone


  Drizzt walked back around the stalagmite, back to the
body of Masoj Hun'ett. He had had no choice but to kill his
adversary; Masoj had drawn the battle lines.

  That fact did little to dispel the guilt in Drizzt as he looked
upon the corpse. He had killed another drow, had taken the
life of one of his own people. Was he trapped, as Zaknafein
had been trapped for so very many years, in a cycle of vio-
lence that would know no end?

  "Never again;' Drizzt vowed to the corpse. "Never again
will I kill a drow elf:'

  He turned away, disgusted, and knew as soon as heiooked
back to the silent, sinister mounds of the vast draw city that
he would not survive long in Menzoberranzan if he held to
that promise.

  A thousand possibilities whirled in Drizzt's mind as he
made his way through the winding ways of Menzoberran-
zan. He pushed the thoughts aside, stopped them from dull-
ing his alertness. The light was general now in Narbondel;
the drow day was beginning, and activity had started from
every corner of the city. In the world of the surface-
dwellers, the day was the safer time, when light exposed as-
sassins. In Menzoberranzan's eternal darkness, the daytime
of the dark elves was even more dangerous than the night.
Drizzt picked his way carefully, rolling wide from the
mushroom fence of the noblest houses, wherein lay House
Hun'ett. He encountered no more adversaries and made the
safety of the Do'Urden compound a short time later. He
rushed through the gate and by the surprised soldiers with-
out a word of explanation and shoved aside the guards be-
low the balcony.

  The house was strangely quiet; Drizzt would have ex-
pected them all to be up and about with battle imminent. He
gave the eerie stillness no more thought, and he cut a
straight line to the training gym and Zaknafein's private
quarters.

  Drizzt paused outside the gym's stone door, his hand
tightly clenched on the handle of the portal. What would he
propose to his father? That they leave? He and Zaknafein on
the perilous trails of the Underdark, fighting when they
must and escaping the burdensome guilt of their existence
under drow rule? Drizzt liked the thought, but he wasn't so
certain now, standing before the door, that he could con-
vince Zak to follow such a course. Zak could have left be-
fore, at any time during the centuries of his life, but when
Drizzt had asked him why he had remained, the heat had
drained from the weapon master's face. Were they indeed
trapped in the life offered to them by Matron Malice and
her evil cohorts?

  Drizzt grimaced away the worries; no sense in arguing to
himself with Zak only a few steps away.

  The training gym was as quiet as the rest of the house. Tho
quiet. Drizzt hadn't expected Zak to be there, but some-
thing more than his father was absent. The father's pres-
ence, too, was gone.

  Drizzt knew that something was wrong, and each step he
took toward Zak's private door quickened until he was in
full flight. He burst in without.a knock, not surprised to find
the bed empty.

  "Malice must have sent him out in search of me;' Drizzt
reasoned. "Damn, I have caused him trouble!" He turned to
leave, but something caught his eye and held him in the
room-Zak's sword belt.

  Never would the weapon master have left his room, not
even for functions within the safety of House Do'Urden,
without his swords. "Your weapon is your most trusted
companion;' Zak had told Drizzt a thousand times. "Keep it
ever at your side!"

  "House Hun'ett?" Drizzt whispered, wondering if the rival
house had magically attacked in the night, while he was out
battling Alton and Masoj. The compound, though, was se.
rene; surely the soldiers would have known if anything like
that had occurred.

  Drizzt picked up the belt for inspection. No blood, and the
clasp neatly unbuckled. No enemy had torn this from Zak.

  The weapon master's pouch lay beside it, also intact.

  "What, then?" Drizzt asked aloud. He replaced the sword
belt beside the bed, but slung the pouch across his neck,
and turned, not knowing where he should go next.

  He had to see about the rest of the family, he realized be- I
fore he had even stepped through the door. Perhaps then
this riddle about Zak would become more clear.

  Dread grew out of that thought as Drizzt headed down
the long and decorated corridor to the chapel anteroom.

  Had Malice, or any of them, brought Zak harm? For what,
purpose? The notion seemed illogical to Drizzt, but it i
nagged him every step, as if some sixth sense were warning
him.

  There still was no sign of anyone.

  The anteroom's ornate doors swung in, magically and si-
lently, even as Drizzt raised his hand to knock on them. He
saw the matron mother first, sitting smugly on her throne
at the rear of the room, her smile inviting.

  Drizzt's discomfort did not diminish when he entered.

  The whole family was there: Briza, Vierna, and Maya to the
sides of their matron, Rizzen and Dinin unobtrusively
standing beside the left wall. The whole family. Except for
Zak.

  Matron Malice studied her son carefully, noting his many
wounds. "I instructed you not to leave the house;' she said to
Drizzt, but she was not scolding him. "Where did your trav-
els take you?"

  "Where is Zaknafein?" Drizzt asked in reply. 

  "Answer the matron mother!" Briza yelled at him, her 
snake whip prominently displayed on her belt. 

  Drizzt glared at her and she recoiled, feeling the same bit-
ter chill that Zaknafein had cast over her earlier in the
night.

  "I instructed you not to leave the house;' Malice said again,
still holding calm. "Why did you disobey me?"

  "I had matters to attend;' Drizzt replied, "urgent matters. I
did not wish to bother you with them:'

  "War is upon us, my son;' Matron Malice explained. "You
are vulnerable out in the city by yourself. House Do'Urden
cannot afford to lose you now:'

  "My business had to be handled alone;' Drizzt answered.

  "Is it completed?"

  "It is:'

  "Then I trust that you will not disobey me again:' The
words came calm and even, but Drizzt understood at once
the severity of the threat behind them.

  "To other matters, then;' Malice went on.

  "Where is Zaknafein?" Drizzt dared to ask again.

  Briza mumbled some curse under her breath and pulled
the whip from her belt. Matron Malice threw an out-
stretched hand in her direction to stay her. They needed
tact, not brutality, to bring Drizzt under control at this criti-
cal time. There would be ample opportunities for punish-
ment after House Hun'ett was properly defeated.

  "Concern yourself not with the fate of the weapon mas-
ter;' Malice replied. "He works for the good of House Do'Ur-
den even as we speak-on a personal mission:'

  Drizzt didn't believe a word of it. Zak would never have
left without his weapons. The truth hovered about Drizzt's
thoughts, but he wouldn't let it in.

  "Our concern is House Hun'ett;' Malice went on, address-
ing them all. "The war's first strikes may fall this day:'

  "The first strikes already have fallen;' Drizzt interrupted.

  All eyes came back to him, to his wounds. He wanted to con-
tinue the discussion about Zak but knew that he would only
get himself, and Zak, if Zak was still alive, into further trou-
ble. Perhaps the conversation would bring him more clues.

  "You have seen battle?" Malice asked.

  "You know of the Faceless One?" Drizzt asked. 
 
  "Master of the Academy:' Dinin answered, "of Sorcere. 
have dealt with him often:' :,

  "He has been of use to us in the past:' said Malice, "but no
more, I believe. He is a Hun'ett, Gelroos Hun'ett:'

  "No:' Drizzt replied. "Once he may have been, but Alton
DeVir is his name. .. was his name:'

  "The link!" Dinin growled, suddenly comprehending.

  "Gelroos was to kill Alton on the night of House DeVir's fall!

  "It would seem that Alton DeVir proved the stronger:'
mused Malice, and all became clear to her. "Matron SiNafay
Hun'ett accepted him, used him to her gain:' she explained
to her family. She looked back to Drizzt. "You battled with
him?" 

  "He is dead:' Drizzt answered. ~
Matron Malice cackled with delight. 

  "One less wizard to deal with:' Briza remarked, replacing
the whip on her belt.

  "Two:' Drizzt corrected, but there was no boasting in his
voice. He was not proud of his actions. "Masoj Hun'ett is no
more:'

  "My son!" Matron Malice cried. "You have brought us a
great edge-in this war!" She glanced all about her family, in.
fecting them, except Drizzt, with her elation. "House
Hun'ett may not even choose to strike us now, knowing its
disadvantage. We will not let them get away! We will
destroy them this day and become the Eighth House of
Menzoberranzan! Woe to the enemies of Daermon N'a'shez.
baernon!

  "We must move at once, my family:' Malice reasoned, her
hands rubbing over each other in excitement. "We cannot
wait for an attack. We must take the offensive! Alton DeVir
is gone now; the link that justifies this war is no more.
Surely the ruling council knew of Hun'ett's intentions, and
with both her wizards dead and the element of surprise
lost, Matron SiNafay will move quickly to stop the battle:'

  Drizzt's hand unconsciously slipped into Zak's pouch 
the others joined Malice in her plotting. 

  "Where is Zak?" Drizzt demanded again, above the cho-
rus.

  Silence dropped as quickly as the tumult had begun.

  "He is of no concern to you, my son;' Malice said to him,
still keeping to her tact despite Drizzt's impudence. "You are
the weapon master of House Do'Urden now. Lloth has for-
given your insolence; you have no crimes weighing against
you. Your career may begin anew, to glorious heights!"

  Her words cut through Drizzt as surely as his own scimi-
tar might. "You killed him;' he whispered aloud, the truth
too awful to be contained in silent thought.

  The matron's face suddenly gleamed, hot with rage. "You
killed him!" she shot back at Drizzt. "Your insolence de-
manded repayment to the Spider Queen!"

  Drizzt's tongue got all tangled up behind his teeth.

  "But you live;' Malice went on, relaxing again in her chair,
''as the elven child lives!'

  Dinin was not the only one in the room to gasp audibly.

  "Yes, we know of your deception;' Malice sneered. "The
Spider Queen always knew. She demanded restitution!'

  "You sacrificed Zaknafein?" Drizzt breathed, hardly able
to get the words out of his mouth. "You gave him to that
damned Spider Queen?"

  "I would watch how I spoke of Queen Lloth;' Malice
warned. "Forget Zaknafein. He is not your concern. Look to
your own life, my warrior son. All glories are offered to
you, a station of honor!'

  Drizzt was indeed looking to his own life at that moment;
at the proposed path that offered him a life of battle, a life of
killing drow.

  "You have no options;' Malice said to him, seeing his in-
ward struggle. "I offer to you now your life. In exchange,
you must do as 1 bid, as Zaknafein once did!'

  "You kept your bargain with him;' Drizzt spat sarcasti-
cally.

  "I did!" Matron Malice protested. "Zaknafein went will-
ingly to the altar, for your sake!"

  Her words stung Drizzt for only a moment. He would not
accept the guilt for Zaknafein's death! He had followed the
only course he could, on the surface against the elves and
here in the evil city.

  "My offer is a good one;' Malice said. "I give it here, before
all the family. Both of us will benefit from the agreement, . . .
Weapon Master?"

  A smile spread across Drizzt's face when he looked into
Matron Malice's cold eyes, a grin that Mal~ce took as accept-
ance.

  "Weapon master?" Drizzt echoed. "Not likely:'

  Again Malice misunderstood. "I have seen you in battle;'
she argued. "1\410 wizards! You underestimate yourself:'

  Drizzt nearly laughed aloud at the irony of her words.

  She thought he would fail where Zaknafein had failed,
would fall into her trap as the former weapon master had
fallen, never to climb back out. "It is you who underestimate
me, Malice;' Drizzt said with threatening calm.

  "Matron!" Briza demanded, but she held back, seeing that
Drizzt and everyone else was ignoring her as the drama
played out.

  "You ask me to serve your evil designs;' Drizzt continued.

  He knew but didn't care that all of them were nervously fin.
gering weapons or preparing spells, were waiting for the
proper moment to strike the blasphemous fool dead. Those
childhood memories of the agony of snake whips reminded
him of the punishment for his actions. Drizzt's fingers
closed around a circular object, adding to his courage,
though he would have contii1ued in any case.

  "They are a lie, as our-no, your-people are a lie!"

  "Your skin is as dark as mine;' Malice reminded him. "You
are a drow, though you have never learned what that
means!"

  "Oh, I do know what it means:'

  "Then act by the rules!" Matron Malice demanded.

  "Your rules?" Drizzt growled back. "But your rules are a
damned lie as well, as great a lie as that filthy spider you
claim as a deity!"

  "Insolent slug!" Briza cried, raising her snake whip.

  Drizzt struck first. He pulled the object, the tiny ceramic
globe, from Zaknafein's pouch.

  "A true god damn you all!" he cried as he slammed the ball
to the stone floor. He snapped his eyes shut as the pebble
within the ball, enchanted by a powerful light-emanating
dweomer, exploded into the room and erupted into his kin's
sensitive eyes. "And damn that Spider Queen as well!"

  Malice reeled backward, taking her great throne right
over in a heavy crash to the hard stone. Cries of agony and
rage came from every corner of the room as the sudden
light bored into the stunned drow. Finally Vierna managed
to launch a countering spell and returned the room to its
customary gloom.

  "Get him!" Malice growled, still trying to shake off the
heavy fall. "I want him dead!"

  The others had hardly recovered enough to heed to her
commands, and Dmzt was already out of the house.

  Carried on the silent winds of the Astral Plane, the call
came. The entity of the panther stood up, ignoring its pains,
and took note of the voice, a familiar, comforting voice.

  The cat was off, then, running with all its heart and
strength to answer the summons of its new master.

  A short while later, Drizzt crept out of a little tunnel,
Guenhwyvar at his side, and moved through the courtyard
of the Academy to look down upon Menzoberranzan for
the last time.

  "What place is this;' Drizzt asked the cat quietly, "that I call
home? These are my people, by skin and by heritage, but I
am no kin to them. They are lost and ever will be.

  "How many others are like me, I wonder?" Drizzt whis-
pered, taking one final look. "Doomed souls, as was Zakna-
fein, poor Zak. 1 do this for him, Guenhwyvar; I leave as he
could not. His life has been my lesson, a dark scroll etched
by the heavy price exacted by Matron Malice's evil prom-
ises.

  "Good-bye, ZakJ" he cried, his voice rising in final defi.
ance. "My father. 'Dike heart, as do I, that when we meet
again, in a life after this, it will surely not be in the hellfire
our kin are doomed to endure!"

  Drizzt motioned the cat back into the tunnel, the entrance
to the untamed Underdark. Watching the cat's easy move-
ments, Drizzt realized again how fortunate he was to have
found a companion of like spirit, a true friend. The way
would not be easy for him and Guenhwyvar beyond the
guarded borders of Menzoberranzan. They would be un.
protected and alone-though better off, by Drizzt's
estimation-more than they Bver could be amid the eVilness
of the draw.

  Drizzt stepped into the tunnel behind Guenhwyvar and
left Menzoberranzan behind. 





