Homeland (The Legend of Drizzt #1)(54)

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 incredible 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, studying 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 progress,” Alton DeVir said to Drizzt one day. “Thank you, Master Faceless One,” Drizzt replied hesitantly, more than a little intimidated that a master of Sorcere 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. Truly, 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?” Alton 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 combat, 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 discharged. 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 attack 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, foolish 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 helplessly 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 attacked 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 replied, 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 student 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.