Homeland (The Legend of Drizzt #1)(67)

Then the First Matron spoke the words SiNafay had come to hear, the silent permission of Menzoberranzan’s ruling council.

“This matter is settled, my sisters,” Matron Baenre declared, the accepting nods of all at the table. “It is good that we never met this day.”





Chapter 19

Promises of Glory


“Have you found the trail?” Drizzt whispered, moving up beside the great panther. He gave Guenhwyvar a pat on the side and knew from the slackness of the cat’s muscles that no danger was nearby.

“Gone, then,” Drizzt said, staring off into the emptiness of the corridor in front of them. “’Wicked gnomes: my brother called them when we found the tracks by the pool. Wicked and stupid,” He sheathed his scimitar and knelt beside the panther, his arm comfortable draped across Guenhwyvar’s back. “They’re smart enough to elude our patrol.”

The cat looked up as if it had understood his every word, and Drizzt rubbed a hand roughly over Guenhwyvar’s, his finest friend’s, head. Drizzt remembered clearly his elation on the day, a week before, when Dinin had announced-to Masoj Hun’ett’s outrage that Guenhwyvar would be deployed at the patrol’s point position beside Drizzt.

“The cat is mine!” Masoj had reminded Dinin.

“You are mine!” Dinin, the patrol leader, had replied, ending any further debate. Whenever the figurine’s magic would permit, Masoj summoned Guenhwyvar from the Astral Plane and bid the cat to run up in front, bringing Drizzt an added degree of safety and a valued companion.

Drizzt knew from the unfamiliar heat patterns on the wall that they had gone the limit of their patrol route. He had purposely put a lot of ground, more than was advised, between himself and the rest of the patrol. Drizzt had confidence that he and Guenhwyvar could take care of themselves, and with the others far behind, he could relax and enjoy the wait. The minutes Drizzt spent in solitude gave him the time he needed in his endless effort to sort through his confused emotions. Guenhwyvar, seemingly non- judgmental and always approving, offered Drizzt a perfect audience for his audible contemplations.

“I begin to wonder the worth of it all,” Drizzt whispered to the cat. “I do not doubt the value of these Patrols-this week, alone, we have defeated a dozen monsters that might have brought great harm to the city-but to what end?”

He looked deeply into the panther’s saucer eyes and found sympathy there, and Drizzt knew that Guenhwyvar somehow understood his dilemma.

“Perhaps I still do not know who I am,” Drizzt mused, “or who my people are. Every time I find a clue to the truth, it leads me down a path that I dare not continue upon, to conclusions I cannot accept.”

“You are drow,” came a reply behind them. Drizzt turned abruptly to see Dinin a few feet away, a look of grave concern on his face.

“The gnomes have fled beyond our reach,” Drizzt said, trying to deflect his brother’s concerns.

“Have you not learned what it means to be a drow?” Dinin asked. “Have you not come to understand the course of our history and the promise of our future?”

“I know of our history as it was taught at the Academy,” Drizzt replied. “They were the very first lessons we received. Of our future, and more so of the place we now reside, though, I do not understand.”

“You know of our enemies,” Dinin prompted.

“Countless enemies,” replied Drizzt with a heavy sigh. “They fill the holes of the Underdark, always waiting for us to let down our guard. We will not, and our enemies will fall to our power.”

“Ah, but our true enemies do not reside in the lightless caverns of our world,” said Dinin with a sly smile. “Theirs is a world strange and evil.” Drizzt knew who Dinin was referring to, but he suspected that his brother was hiding something.

“The faeries,” Drizzt whispered, and the word prompted a jumble of emotions within him. All of his life, he had been told of his evil cousins, of how they had forced the drow into the bowels of the world. Busily engaged in the duties of his everyday life, Drizzt did not think of them often, but whenever they came to mind, he used their name as a litany against everything he hated in his life. If Drizzt could somehow blame the surface elves-as every other drow seemed to blame them-for the injustices of drow society, he could find hope for the future of his people. Rationally, Drizzt had to dismiss the stirring legends of the elven war as another of the endless stream of lies, but in his heart and hopes, Drizzt clung desperately to those words.

He looked back to Dinin. “The faeries,” he said again, “whatever they may be.”

Dinin chuckled at his brother’s relentless sarcasm; it had become so commonplace. “They are as you have learned,” he assured Drizzt. “Without worth and vile beyond your imagination, the tormentors of our people, who banished us in eons past; who forced-.”

“I know the tales,” Drizzt interrupted, alarmed at the increasing volume of his excited brother’s voice. Drizzt glanced over his shoulder. “If the patrol is ended, let us meet the others closer to the city. This place is too dangerous for such discussions,” He rose to his feet and started back, Guenhwyvar at his side.

“Not as dangerous as the place I soon will lead you,” Dinin replied with that same sly smile. Drizzt stopped and looked at him curiously.