Homeland (The Legend of Drizzt #1)(94)

“You could have let the cave fisher do the deed for you,” Drizzt retorted, “but you did not! You charged in and saved my life! Fight the urges, Guenhwyvar! Remember me as your friend, a better companion than Masoj Hun’ett could ever be!”

Guenhwyvar backed away another step, caught in a pull that it could not yet resolve. Drizzt watched the cat’s ears come up from its head and knew that he was winning the contest.

“Masoj claims ownership,” he went on, confident that the cat, through some intelligence Drizzt could not know, understood the meaning of his words. “I claim friendship. I am your friend, Guenhwyvar, and I’ll not fight against you,” He leaped forward, arms unthreateningly wide, face and chest fully exposed. “Even at the cost of my own life!”

Guenhwyvar did not strike. Emotions pulled at the cat stronger than any magical spell, those same emotions that had put Guenhwyvar into action when it first saw Drizzt in the cave fisher’s clutches.

Guenhwyvar reared up and leaped out, crashing into Drizzt and knocking him to his back, then burying him in a rush of playful slaps and mock bites.

The two friends had won again; they had defeated two foes this day. When Drizzt paused from the greeting to consider all that had transpired, though, he realized that one of the victories was not yet complete. Guenhwyvar was his in spirit now’ but still held by another, one who did not deserve the cat, who enslaved the cat in a life that Drizzt could no longer witness.

None of the confusion that had followed Drizzt Do’Urden out of Menzoberranzan that night remained. For the first time in his life, he saw the road he must follow, the path to his own freedom. He remembered Zaknafein’s warnings, and the same impossible alternatives that he had contemplated, to no resolution.

Where, indeed, could a drow elf go? “Worse to be trapped within a lie,” he whispered absently.

The panther cocked its head to the side, sensing again that Drizzt’s words carried great importance. Drizzt returned the curious stare with one that came suddenly grim.

“Take me to your master,” he demanded, “your false master.”





Chapter 27

Untroubled Dreams


Zaknafein sank down into his bed in an easy sleep, the most comfortable rest he had ever known. Dreams did come to him this night, a rush of dreams. Far from tumultuous, they only enhanced his comfort. Zak was free now of his secret, of the lie that had dominated every day of his adult life.

Drizzt had survived! Even the dreaded Academy of Menzoberranzan could not daunt the youth’s indomitable spirit and sense of morality. Zaknafein Do’Urden was no longer alone. The dreams that played in his mind showed him the same wonderful possibilities that had followed Drizzt out of the city.

Side by side they would stand, unbeatable, two as one against the perverted foundations of Menzoberranzan.

A stinging pain in his foot brought Zak from his slumbers. He saw Briza immediately, at the bottom of his bed, her snake whip in hand. Instinctively, Zak reached over the side to fetch his sword.

The weapon was gone. Vierna stood at the side of the room, holding it. On the opposite side, Maya held Zak’s other sword.

How had they come in so stealthily? Zak wondered. Magical silence, no doubt, but Zak was still surprised that he had not sensed their presence in time. Nothing had ever caught him unawares, awake or asleep.

Never before had he slept so soundly, so peacefully. Perhaps, in Menzoberranzan, such pleasant dreams were dangerous.

“Matron Malice will see you,” Briza announced.

“I am not properly dressed,” Zak replied casually. “My belt and weapons, if you please.”

“We do not please!” Briza snapped, more at her sisters than at Zak. “You will not need the weapons.” Zak thought otherwise.

“Come, now,” Briza commanded, and she raised the whip.

“I should be certain of Matron Malice’s intentions before I acted so boldly, were I you,” Zak warned. Briza, reminded of the power of the male she now threatened, lowered her weapon.

Zak rolled out of bed, putting the same intense glare alternately on Maya and Vierna, watching their reactions to better conclude Malice’s reasons for summoning him.

They surrounded him as he left his room, keeping a cautious but ready distance from the deadly weapon master.

“Must be serious,” Zak remarked quietly, so that only Briza, in front of the troupe, could hear. Briza turned and flashed him a wicked smile that did nothing to dispel his suspicions. Neither did Matron Malice, who leaned forward in her throne in anticipation even before they entered the room.

“Matron,” Zak offered, dipping into a bow and pulling the side of his nightshirt out wide to draw attention to his inappropriate dress. He wanted to let Malice know his feelings of being ridiculed at such a late hour.

The matron offered no return greeting. She rested back in her throne. One slender hand rubbed her sharp chin, while her eyes locked upon Zaknafein.

“Perhaps you could tell me why you’ve summoned me,” Zak dared to say, his voice still holding an edge of sarcasm. “I would prefer to return to my slumbers. We should not give House Hun’ett the advantage of a tired weapon master.”

“Drizzt has gone,” growled Malice. The news slapped Zak like a wet rag. He straightened, and the teasing smile disappeared from his face.

“He left the house against my commands,” Malice went on. Zak relaxed visibly; when Malice announced that rizzt was gone, Zak had first thought that she and her devious cohorts had driven him out or killed him.