Homeland (The Legend of Drizzt #1)(81)

From the chamber’s low height and the gnomes’ nervous movements, Drizzt realized that this group had taken flight.

The gnomes began a quiet conversation in their own tongue, which Drizzt could not begin to understand. One of them asked the nome who had ordered Drizzt to be quiet, apparently the leader, a heated question. Another grunted his accord and spoke some harsh words, turning on Drizzt with a dangerous look in his eyes.

The leader slapped the other gnome hard on the back and sent him off through one of the two low exits in the chamber, then put the others into defensive positions. He walked over to Drizzt. “You come with us to Blingdenstone,” he said in hesitant words.

“Then?” Drizzt asked.

Belwar shrugged. “The king’ll decide. If you cause me no trouble, I’ll tell him to let you go.”

Drizzt laughed cynically.

“Well, then,” said Belwar, “if the king says to kill you, I’ll make sure it comes in a single clean blow.”

Again Drizzt laughed. “Do you believe that I believe?” he asked. “Torture me now and have your fun. That is your evil way!”

Belwar started to slap him but held his hand in check. “Svirfnebli don’t torture!” he declared, louder than he should have. “Drow elves torture!” He turned away but spun back, reiterating his promise. “A single clean blow.”

Drizzt found that he believed the sincerity in the gnome’s voice, and he had to accept that promise as a measure of mercy far greater than the gnome would have received if Dinin’s patrol had captured him. Belwar turned to walk away, but Drizzt, intrigued, had to learn more of the curious creature.

“How have you learned my language?” he asked.

“Gnomes are not stupid,” Belwar retorted, unsure of what Drizzt was leading to.

“Nor are drow,” Drizzt replied earnestly, “but I have never heard the language of the svirfnebli spoken in my city.”

“There once was a drow in Blingdenstone,” Belwar explained, now nearly as curious about Drizzt as Drizzt was about him.

“Slave,” Drizzt reasoned.

“Guest!” Belwar snapped. “Svirfnebli keep no slaves!”

Again Drizzt found that he could not refute the sincerity in Belwar’s voice. “What is your name?” he asked.

The gnome laughed at him. “Do you think me stupid?” Belwar asked. “You desire my name that you might use its power in some dark magic against me!”

“No,” Drizzt protested.

“I should kill you now for thinking me stupid!” Belwar growled, ominously lifting his heavy pick.

Drizzt shifted uncomfortably, not knowing what the gnome would do next.

“My offer remains,” Belwar said, lowering the pick. “No trouble, and I tell the king to let you go,” Belwar didn’t believe that would happen any more than did Drizzt, so the svirfneblin, with a helpless shrug, offered Drizzt the next best thing. “Or else, a single clean blow.”

A commotion from one of the tunnels turned Belwar away. “Belwar,” called one of the other gnomes, rushing back into the small chamber. The gnome leader turned a wary eye on Drizzt to see if the drow had caught the mention of his name.

Drizzt wisely kept his head turned away, pretending not to listen. He had indeed heard the name of the gnome leader who had shown him mercy.

Belwar, the other svirfneblin had said. Belwar, a name that Drizzt would never forget. Fighting from down the passageway caught everyone’s attention, then, and several svirfnebli scrambled ack into the chamber. Drizzt knew from their excitement that the drow patrol was close behind.

Belwar started barking out commands, mostly organizing the retreat down the chamber’s other tunnel. Drizzt wondered where he would fit into the gnome’s thinking.

Certainly Belwar couldn’t hope to outrun the drow patrol dragging along a prisoner.

Then the gnome leader suddenly stopped talking and stopped moving. Too suddenly.

The drow clerics had led the way in with their insidious, paralyzing spells. Belwar and another gnome were held fast by the dweomer, and the rest of the gnomes, realizing this, broke into a wild scramble for the rear exit.

The drow warriors, Guenhwyvar leading the way, charged into the room. Any relief Drizzt might have felt at seeing his feline friend unharmed was buried under the ensuing slaughter. Dinin and his troops cut into the disorganized gnomes with typical drow savagery.

In seconds-horrible seconds that seemed like hours to Drizzt-only Belwar and the other gnome caught in the clerical spell remained alive in the chamber. Several of the svirfnebli had managed to flee down the back corridor, but most of the drow patrol was off in pursuit.

Masoj came into the chamber last, looking thoroughly wretched in his mud-covered clothing. He remained at the tunnel exit and did not even look Drizzt’s way, except to note that his panther was standing protectively beside the secondboy of House Do’Urden.

“Again you have found your measure of luck, and more,” Dinin said to Drizzt as he cut his brother’s bonds. Looking around at the carnage in the chamber, Drizzt wasn’t so sure.

Dinin handed him back his scimitars, then turned to the drow standing watch over the two paralyzed gnomes. “Finish them,” Dinin instructed.

A wide smile spread over the other drow’s face, and he pulled a jagged knife from his belt. He held it up in front of a gnome’s face, teasing the helpless creature. “Can they see it?” he asked the high priestess.