Homeland (The Legend of Drizzt #1)(36)

“I sent him and Rizzen to the Academy to deliver a message 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 Teken’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 ain 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.