Homeland (The Legend of Drizzt #1)(56)

“It is not important,” Masoj said after several fruitless minutes of contemplation. “I will learn more of the young Do’Urden in time.”

“His tutelage under you was finished, I had thought,” said Alton. “He goes to Arach-Tinilith for the final six months of his training-quite inaccessible to you.”

“We both graduate after those six months,” Masoj explained. “We will share our indenture time in the patrol forces together.”

“Many will share that time,” Alton reminded him. “Dozens of groups patrol the corridors of the region. You may never even see Drizzt in all the years of your term.”

“I already have arranged for us to serve in the same group,” replied Masoj. He reached into his pocket and produced the onyx figurine of the magical panther.

“A mutual agreement between yourself and the young Do’Urden,” Alton reasoned with a complimentary smile.

“It appears that Drizzt has ecome quite fond of my pet,” Masoj chuckled.

“Too fond?” Alton warned.

“You should watch your back for scimitars,” Masoj laughed aloud. “Perhaps our friend, Do’Urden, should watch his back for panther claws!”





Chapter 16

Sacrilege


“Last day,” Drizzt breathed in relief as he donned his ceremonial robes. If the first six months of this final year, learning the subtleties of magic in Sorcere, had been the most enjoyable, these last six in the school of Lloth had been the least. Every day, Drizzt and his classmates had been subjected to endless eulogies to the Spider Queen, tales and prophecies of her power and of the rewards she bestowed upon loyal servants.

“Slaves,” would have been a better word, Drizzt had come to realize, for nowhere in all this grand school to the drow deity had he heard anything synonymous with, or even hinting at, the word love. His people worshiped Lloth, the females of Menzoberranzan gave over their entire existence in her servitude. Their giving was wholly wrought of selfishness, though; a cleric of the Spider Queen aspired to the position of high priestess solely for the personal power that accompanied the title.

It all seemed so very wrong in Drizzt’s heart. Drizzt had drifted through the six months of Arach-Tinilith with his customary stoicism, keeping his eyes low and his mouth shut. Now, finally, he had come to the last day, the Ceremony of Graduation, an event most holy to the drow, and wherein, Vierna had promised him, he would come to understand the true glory of Lloth.

With tentative steps, Drizzt moved out from the shelter of his tiny, unadorned room. He worried that this ceremony had become his personal trial. Up to now, very little about the society around Drizzt had made any sense to him, and he wondered, despite his sister’s assurances, whether the events of this day would allow him to see the world as his kin saw it. Drizzt’s fears had taken a spiral twist, one rolling out from the other to surround him in a predicament he could not escape.

Perhaps, he worried, he truly feared hat the day’s events would fulfill Vierna’s promise.

Drizzt shielded his eyes as he entered the circular ceremonial hall of Arach-Tinilith. A fire burned in the center of the room, in an eight-legged brazier that resembled, as everything in this place seemed to resemble, a spider. The headmistress of all the Academy, the matron mistress, and the other twelve high priestesses serving as instructors of Arach-Tinilith, including Drizzt’s sister, sat cross legged in a circle around the brazier.

Drizzt and his c lassmates from the school of fighters stood along the wall behind them.

“Ma ku!” the matron mistress commanded, and all was silent save the crackle of the brazier’s flames. The door to the room opened again, and a young cleric entered. She was to be the first graduate of Arach-Tinilith this year, Drizzt had been told, the finest student in the school of Lloth. Thus, she had been awarded the highest honors in this ceremony. She shrugged off her robes and walked naked through the ring of sitting priestesses o stand before the flames, her back to the matron mistress.

Drizzt bit his lip, embarrassed and a little excited. He had never seen a female in such a light before, and he suspected that the sweat on his brow was from more than the brazier’s heat. A quickglance around the room told him that his classmates entertained similar ideas.

“Rae-go si’n’ee calamay,” the matron mistress whispered, and red smoke poured from the brazier, coloring the room in a hazy glow. It carried an aroma with it, rich and sickly sweet. As Drizzt breathed the scented air, he felt himself grow lighter and wondered if he soon would be floating off the floor!

The flames in the brazier suddenly roared higher, causing Drizzt to squint against the brightness and turn away. The clerics began a ritual chant, though the words were unfamiliar to Drizzt. He hardly paid them any heed, though, for he was too intent on holding his own thoughts in the overpowering swoon of the inebriating haze.

“Glabrezu,” the matron mistress moaned, and Drizzt recognized the tone as a summons, the name of a denizen of the lower planes. He looked back to the events at hand and saw the matron mistress holding a single-tongued snake whip.

“Where did she get that?” Drizzt mumbled, then he realized that he had spoken aloud and hoped he hadn’t disturbed the ceremony. He was comforted when he glanced around, for many of his classmates were mumbling to themselves, and some seemed hardly able to hold their balance.