Homeland (The Legend of Drizzt #1)(9)

A snap of his whip was the only explanation he offered as he smashed a tiny ceramic globe at his feet. The sphere shattered, dropping out a pellet that Briza had enchanted for just such occasions, a pellet glowing with the brightness of daylight.

For eyes accustomed to blackness, tuned in to heat emanations, the intrusion of such radiance came in a blinding flash of agony. The clerics’ cries of pain only aided Zak in his systematic trek around the room, and he smiled widely under his hood every time he felt his sword bite into drow flesh.

He heard the beginnings of a spell across the way and knew that one of the DeVirs had recovered enough from the assault to be dangerous. The weapon master did not need his eyes to aim, however, and the crack of his whip took Matron Ginafae’s tongue right out of her mouth.

Briza placed the newborn on the back of the spider idol and lifted the ceremonial dagger, pausing to admire its cruel workmanship. Its hilt was a spider’s body sporting eight legs, barbed so as to appear furred, but angled down to serve as blades. Briza lifted the instrument above the baby’s chest. “Name the child,” she implored her mother. “The Spider Queen will not accept the sacrifice until the child is named!”

Matron Malice lolled her head, trying to fathom her daughter’s meaning. The matron mother had thrown every thing into the moment of the spell and the birth, and she was now barely coherent.

“Name the child!” Briza commanded, anxious to feed her hungry goddess.

“It nears its end,” Dinin said to his brother when they met in a lower hall of one of the lesser pillars of House DeVir. “Rizzen is winning through to the top, and it is believed that Zaknafein’s dark work has been completed.”

“Two score of House DeVir’s soldiers have already turned allegiance to us,” Nalfein replied.

“They see the end,” laughed Dinin. “One house serves them as well as another, and in the eyes of commoners no house is worth dying for. Our task will be finished soon.”

“Too quickly for anyone to take note,” Nalfein said. “Now Do’Urden, Daermon N’a’shezbaernon, is the Ninth House of Menzoberranzan, and DeVir be damned!”

“Alert!” Dinin cried suddenly, eyes widening in feigned horror as he looked over his brother’s shoulder.

Nalfein reacted immediately, spinning to face the danger at his back, only to put the true danger at his back. For even as Nalfein realized the deception, Dinin’s sword slipped into his spine. Dinin put his head to his brother’s shoulder and pressed his cheek to Nalfein’s, watching the red sparkle of heat leave his brother’s eyes.

“Too quickly for anyone to take note,” Dinin teased, echoing is brother’s earlier words.

He dropped the lifeless form to his feet. “Now Dinin is elderboy of House Do’Urden, and Nalfein be damned.”

“Drizzt,” breathed Matron Malice. “The child’s name is Drizzt!”

Briza tightened her grip on the knife and began the ritual. “Queen of Spiders, take this babe,” she began. She raised the dagger to strike. “Drizzt Do’Urden we give to you in payment for our glorious vic--.”

“Wait!” called Maya from the side of the room. Her melding with her brother Nalfein had abruptly ceased. It could only mean one thing. “Nalfein is dead,” she announced. “The baby is no longer the third living son.”

Vierna glanced curiously at her sister. At the same instant that Maya had sensed Nalfein’s death, Vierna, melded with Dinin, had felt a strong emotive surge. Elation? Vierna brought a slender finger up to her pursed lips, wondering if Dinin had successfully pulled off the assassination.

Briza still held the spider-shaped knife over the babe’s chest, wanting to give this one to Lloth.

“We promised the Spider Queen the third living son,” Maya warned. “And that has been given.”

“But not in sacrifice,” argued Briza.

Vierna shrugged, at a loss. “If Lloth accepted Nalfein, then he has been given. To give another might evoke the Spider Queen’s anger.”

“But to not give what we have promised would be worse still!” Briza insisted.

“Then finish the deed,” said Maya.

Briza clenched down tight on the dagger and began the ritual again. “Stay your hand,” Matron Malice commanded, propping herself up in the chair. “Lloth is content, our victory is won. Welcome, then, your brother, the newest member of House Do’Urden.”

“Just a male,” Briza commented in obvious disgust, walking away from the idol and the child.

“Next time we shall do better,” Matron Malice chuckled, though she wondered if there would be a next time. She approached the end of her fifth century of life, and drow elves, even young ones, were not a particularly fruitful lot. Briza had been born to Malice at the youthful age of one hundred, but in the almost four centuries since, Malice had produced only five other children. Even this baby, Drizzt, had come as a surprise, and Malice hardly expected that she would ever conceive again.

“Enough of such contemplations,” Malice whispered to herself exhausted. “There will be ample time.” She sank back into her chair and fell into fitful, though wickedly pleasant, dreams of heightening power.

Zaknafein walked through the central pillar of the DeVir complex, his hood in his hand and his whip and sword comfortably replaced on his belt. Every now and then a ring of battle sounded, only to be quickly ended. House Do’Urden had rolled through to victory, the tenth house had taken the fourth, and now all that remained was to remove evidence and witnesses. One group of lesser female clerics marched through, tending to the wounded Do’Urdens and animating the corpses of those beyond their ability, so that the bodies could walk away from the crime scene. Back at the Do’Urden compound, those corpses not beyond repair would be resurrected and put back to work.