"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'Urden?" 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 I 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 buffoon 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, I 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 I now need them” She stopped her son and turned him to face her so that he might understand the implications of her every word. "Alton DeVir's claim against House Do'Urden 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'Urden?" 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. To 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 unerstand the complexities of the ruling hierarchy. With Alton 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 Sorcere”
"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 explained. "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 consider” he said. "He is impatient and daring. What are the consequences to House Hun'ett if he strikes House Do'Urden 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 perfectly 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 enact a pretense of justice, to make an example of the unsuccessful 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 adamantite fence of the Do'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 gathering!"
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, recognizing Malice, riding her enchanted carriage, as a matron mother. Drow commoners halted conversations and remained 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 narrow 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 Malice 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 counterpart, 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 continued. "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 offended 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 business 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 previous 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 Baenre 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. "Nobles 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 monsters, 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 conjured 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. Lightning 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 experiencing. 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 window. A dozen crossbow quarrels struck him simultaneously, 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 tumble 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 dismissed through the braziers' gates and the students and instructors 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 consequences to run away. He did not notice the artistry of Menzoberranzan on the return trip to House Do'Urden.
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
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'Urden?" 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 I 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 buffoon 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, I 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 I now need them” She stopped her son and turned him to face her so that he might understand the implications of her every word. "Alton DeVir's claim against House Do'Urden 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'Urden?" 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. To 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 unerstand the complexities of the ruling hierarchy. With Alton 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 Sorcere”
"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 explained. "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 consider” he said. "He is impatient and daring. What are the consequences to House Hun'ett if he strikes House Do'Urden 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 perfectly 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 enact a pretense of justice, to make an example of the unsuccessful 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 adamantite fence of the Do'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 gathering!"
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, recognizing Malice, riding her enchanted carriage, as a matron mother. Drow commoners halted conversations and remained 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 narrow 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 Malice 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 counterpart, 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 continued. "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 offended 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 business 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 previous 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 Baenre 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. "Nobles 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 monsters, 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 conjured 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. Lightning 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 experiencing. 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 window. A dozen crossbow quarrels struck him simultaneously, 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 tumble 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 dismissed through the braziers' gates and the students and instructors 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 consequences 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 duties in this farce?"
Briza and Maya nodded. "I have never heard of such a deception” Maya remarked. "Is it necessary?"
"It was planned for another of the house” Briza answered, looking to Matron Malice for confirmation. "Nearly four centuries ago”
"Yes” agreed Malice. "The same was to be done to Zaknafein, 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 reasoned.
"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 response. "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 animated 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 features 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 animated 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 silent 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, beside 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 explained. "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 absolute silence. Before he had even finished admiring them, though, Maya gave him the next gift, even more magnificent.
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 fitting 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 promised. The goblin's smile returned tenfold; it could not comprehend 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 begin, 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 opponent 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, continued 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 predicament, 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 released Byuchyuch from her holding spell then, to let Drizzt see the agony on the phony drow's face and hear the gurgles 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 shoulder 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 female. 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 expectations 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, tearing 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 reminder 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 controlled. "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, reminding himself that this time he had something worth arguing 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 anger 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 broken 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 ascent of House Do'Urden. I am not, and have not been, ungrateful.
"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 drow Academy. Perhaps they were better off dead.
"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 duties in this farce?"
Briza and Maya nodded. "I have never heard of such a deception” Maya remarked. "Is it necessary?"
"It was planned for another of the house” Briza answered, looking to Matron Malice for confirmation. "Nearly four centuries ago”
"Yes” agreed Malice. "The same was to be done to Zaknafein, 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 reasoned.
"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 response. "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 animated 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 features 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 animated 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 silent 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, beside 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 explained. "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 absolute silence. Before he had even finished admiring them, though, Maya gave him the next gift, even more magnificent.
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 fitting 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 promised. The goblin's smile returned tenfold; it could not comprehend 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 begin, 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 opponent 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, continued 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 predicament, 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 released Byuchyuch from her holding spell then, to let Drizzt see the agony on the phony drow's face and hear the gurgles 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 shoulder 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 female. 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 expectations 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, tearing 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 reminder 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 controlled. "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, reminding himself that this time he had something worth arguing 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 anger 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 broken 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 ascent of House Do'Urden. I am not, and have not been, ungrateful.
"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 drow 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 workmanship was exquisite, but it was the work done on the weapon after the dark elves had acquired it that made it so very special. None of the races of the surface or Underdark could outdo the dark elves in the art of enchanting weapons. Imbued 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 reminiscences, 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, where Drizzt was hard at work spinning attack routines against a practice dummy.
Zak paused to watch the young drow at practice, wondering if Drizzt would ever again consider the dance of weapons 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 torments, the Academy would destroy him. The weapon master 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 promised, 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, stubbornly 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 savagely 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 continued his lesson. "Do you know the emotions of murder?" he spat. "Have you reconciled yourself to the act you committed?"
Drizzt's only answers were a frustrated growl and a renewed attack.
"Ah, the pleasure of plunging your sword into the bosom of a high priestess” Zak taunted. "To 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 reputation into the Academy before you. Other students, even masters, will whisper your name as you pass. 'Drizzt Do'Urden; 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 offensive. He allowed Drizzt to continue the initiative for many minutes, dreading its conclusion, the outcome he had already 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 victory, Zak slipped his empty hand into a pouch and grabbed a magical little ceramic ballone 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 occasions that Zak reversed feigned disadvantage into clear advantage.
Zak fingered the ball, unable to come to terms with what he must do.
Drizzt walked him through an attack sequence, then another, 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 anything Drizzt had ever imagined.
Zak had prudently closed his eyes, but Drizzt, surprised, could not accept the sudden change. His head burned in agony, 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 anticipate 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, realizing 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. "To 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 silence. 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 unanswerable 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 acknowledge 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. Remember, though, the consequences of such skills. Always 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 lament. "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 shoulder 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 simple 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 whispered, realizing how little he knew of his homeland beyond the walls of his own house. Zak's words-Zak's ragepressed in on Drizzt as he stood there, reminding him of his ignorance and hinting at a dark path ahead.
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 reminiscences, 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, where Drizzt was hard at work spinning attack routines against a practice dummy.
Zak paused to watch the young drow at practice, wondering if Drizzt would ever again consider the dance of weapons 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 torments, the Academy would destroy him. The weapon master 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 promised, 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, stubbornly 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 savagely 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 continued his lesson. "Do you know the emotions of murder?" he spat. "Have you reconciled yourself to the act you committed?"
Drizzt's only answers were a frustrated growl and a renewed attack.
"Ah, the pleasure of plunging your sword into the bosom of a high priestess” Zak taunted. "To 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 reputation into the Academy before you. Other students, even masters, will whisper your name as you pass. 'Drizzt Do'Urden; 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 offensive. He allowed Drizzt to continue the initiative for many minutes, dreading its conclusion, the outcome he had already 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 victory, Zak slipped his empty hand into a pouch and grabbed a magical little ceramic ballone 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 occasions that Zak reversed feigned disadvantage into clear advantage.
Zak fingered the ball, unable to come to terms with what he must do.
Drizzt walked him through an attack sequence, then another, 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 anything Drizzt had ever imagined.
Zak had prudently closed his eyes, but Drizzt, surprised, could not accept the sudden change. His head burned in agony, 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 anticipate 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, realizing 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. "To 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 silence. 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 unanswerable 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 acknowledge 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. Remember, though, the consequences of such skills. Always 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 lament. "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 shoulder 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 simple 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 whispered, realizing how little he knew of his homeland beyond the walls of his own house. Zak's words-Zak's ragepressed in on Drizzt as he stood there, reminding him of his ignorance and hinting at a dark path ahead.