Homeland (The Legend of Drizzt #1)(91)

Drizzt returned the embrace, tentatively, still not guessing the depth of Zak’s elation. “My son!”

Drizzt nearly fainted, overwhelmed by the admission of what he had always suspected, and even more so by the knowledge that he was not the only one in his dark world angered by the ways of the drow. He was not alone.

“Why?” Drizzt asked, pushing Zak out to arm’s length. “Why have you stayed?”

Zak looked at him incredulously. “Where would I go? No one, not even a drow weapon master would survive for long out in the caverns of the Underdark. Too many monsters, and other races, hunger for the sweet blood of dark elves.”

“Surely you had options.”

“The surface?” Zak replied. “To face the painful inferno every day? No, my son, I am trapped, as you are trapped.”

Drizzt had feared that statement, had feared that he would find no solution from his newfound father to the dilemma that was his life. Perhaps there were no answers.

“You will do well in Menzoberranzan,” Zak said to comfort him. “You are strong, and Matron Malice will find an appropriate place for your talents, whatever your heart may desire.”

“To live a life of assassinations, as you have?” Drizzt asked, trying futilely to keep the rage out of his words.

“What choice is before us?” Zak answered, his eyes seeking the unjudging stone of the floor.

“I will not kill drow,” Drizzt declared flatly.

Zak’s eyes snapped back on him. “You will,” he assured his son. “In Menzoberranzan, you will kill or be killed.”

Drizzt looked away, but Zak’s words pursued him, could not be blocked out.

“There is no other way,” the weapon master continued softly. “Such is our world. Such is our life. You have escaped this long, but you will find that your luck soon will change.”

He grabbed Drizzt’s chin firmly and forced his son to look at him directly.

“I wish that it could be different,” Zak said honestly, “but it is not such a bad life. I do not lament killing dark elves. I perceive their deaths as their salvation from this wicked existence. If they care so dearly for their Spider Queen, then let them go and visit her!”

Zak’s growing smile washed away suddenly. “Except for the children,” he whispered. “Often have I heard the cries of dying children, though never, I promise you, have I caused them. I have always wondered if they, too, are evil, born evil. Or if the weight of our dark world bends them to fit our foul ways.”

“The ways of the demon Lloth,” Drizzt agreed. They both paused for many heartbeats, each privately weighing the realities of his own personal dilemma. Zak was next to speak, having long ago come to terms with the life that was offered to him.

“Lloth,” he chuckled. “She is a vicious queen, that one. I would sacrifice everything for a chance at her ugly face!”

“I almost believe you would,” Drizzt whispered, finding his smile.

Zak jumped back from him. “I would indeed,” he laughed heartily. “So would you!”

Drizzt flipped his lone scimitar up into the air, letting it spin over twice before catching it again by the hilt. “True enough!” he cried. “But no longer would I be alone!”





Chapter 26

Angler Of The Underdark


Drizzt wandered alone through the maze of Menzoberranzan, drifting past the stalagmite mounds, under the leering points of the great stone spears that hung from the cavern’s high ceiling. Matron Malice had specifically ordered all of the family to remain within the house, fearing an assassination attempt by House H un’ett.

Too much had happened to Drizzt this day for him to obey. He had to think, and contemplating such blasphemous thoughts, even silently, in a house full of nervous clerics might get him into serious trouble.

This was the quiet time of the city; the heat-light of Narbondel was only a sliver at the stone’s base, and most of the drow comfortably slept within their stone houses. Soon after he slipped through the adamantite gate of the House Do’Urden compound, Drizzt began to understand the wisdom of Matron Malice’s command. The city’s quiet now’ seemed to him like the crouched hush of a predator. It was poised to drop upon him from behind everyone of the: many blind corners he faced on this trek..”

He would find no solace here in which he might truly contemplate the day’s events, the revelations of Zaknafein, kindred in more than blood. Drizzt decided to break all the rules-that was the way of the drow, after all- and head out of the city, down the tunnels he knew so well from his weeks of patrol.

An hour later, he was still walking, lost in thought and feeling safe enough, for he was well within the boundaries of the patrol region. ‘

He entered a high corridor, ten paces wide and with broken walls lined in loose rubble and crossed by many ledges. It seemed as though the passage once had been much wider.

The ceiling was far beyond sight, but Drizzt had been through here a dozen times, up on the many ledges, and he gave the place no thought.

He envisioned the future, the times that he and Zaknafein, his father, would share now that no secrets separated them.

Together they would be unbeatable, a team of weapon masters, bonded by steel and emotions. Did House Hun’ett truly understand what it would be facing? The smile on Drizzt’s face disappeared as soon as he considered the implications: he and Zak, together, cutting through House Hun’ett’s ranks with deadly ease, through the ranks of drow elves-killing their own people.