The Crystal Shard(The Icewind Dale Trilogy 1)(57)

His guilt feelings flew away as he pulled a small lockpick from his beltpouch. He had never been formally trained in the thieving arts, but he was as agile and coordinated as any master burglar. With his sensitive fingers and acute hearing, he wasn't particularly challenged by the clumsy lock; in a matter of seconds, it fell open. Drizzt listened carefully for any sounds behind the door. Hearing none, he gently lifted the large bar and set it aside. Listening one last time, he drew one of his scimitars, held his breath in anticipation, and pushed in the door.

His breath came back out with a disappointed sigh. The room beyond glowed with the waning light of two torches. It was small and empty, except for a large, metal-rimmed mirror standing in its center. Drizzt dodged out of the mirror's path, well aware of some of the strange magical properties these items had been known to exhibit, and moved in to examine it more closely.

It was about half the height of a man but propped up to eye level by an intricately worked iron stand. That it was lined in silver and in such an out-of-the-way chamber led Drizzt to believe that there was something more here than an ordinary mirror. Yet his scrutinizing inspection revealed no arcane runes or markings of any kind that hinted at its properties.

Able to discover nothing unusual about the piece, Drizzt carelessly stepped in front of the glass. Suddenly a pinkish mist began to swirl within the mirror, giving the appearance of a three-dimensional space trapped within the flatness of the glass. Drizzt jumped to the side, more curious than afraid, and watched the growing spectacle.

The mist thickened and puffed as though fed by some hidden fire. Then its center mushroomed out and opened into a clear image of a man's face, a gaunt, hollowed visage painted in the tradition of some of the southern cities.

"Why do you bother me?" the face asked at the empty room before the mirror. Drizzt took another step to the side, further away from the apparition's line of sight. He considered confronting the mysterious mage, but figured that his friends had too much at stake for him to take such a reckless chance.

"Stand before me, Biggrin!" commanded the image. It waited for several seconds, sneering impatiently, and growing increasingly tense. "When I discover which of you idiots inadvertently summoned me, I shall turn you into a coney and put you in a pit of wolves!" the image screamed wildly. The mirror flashed suddenly and returned to normal.

Drizzt scratched his chin and wondered if there was anything more he could do or discover here. He decided that the risks were simply too great at this time.

* * *

When Drizzt returned through the lair, he found Wulfgar sitting with Guenhwyvar in the main passage just a few yards from the closed and barred front doors. The barbarian stroked the cat's muscled shoulders and neck.

"I see that Guenhwyvar has won your friendship," Drizzt said as he approached.

Wulfgar smiled. "A fine ally," he said, giving the animal a playful shake. "And a true warrior!" He started to rise but was thrown violently back to the floor.

An explosion rocked the lair as a ballista bolt slammed into the heavy doors, splintering their wooden bar and blasting them in. One of the doors broke cleanly in half and the other's top hinge tore away, leaving the door hanging awkwardly by its twisted bottom hinge.

Drizzt drew his scimitar and stood protectively over Wulfgar as the barbarian tried to regain his balance.

Abruptly a bearded fighter leaped onto the hanging door, a circular shield, its standard a mug of foaming ale, slung over one arm and a notched and bloodstained battle-ax poised in the other. "Come out and play, giants!" Bruenor called, banging his shield with his axe - as if his clan hadn't already made enough noise to rouse the lair!

"Rest easy, wild dwarf," Drizzt laughed. "The verbeeg are all dead."

Bruenor spotted his friends and hopped down into the tunnel, soon followed by the rest of the rowdy clan. "All dead!" the dwarf cried. "Damn ye, elf, I knew ye'd keep all the play to yerself!"

"What about the reinforcements?" Wulfgar asked.

Bruenor chuckled wickedly. "Some faith, will ye, boy? They're lumped in a common hole, though buryin's too good for 'em, I say! Only one's alive, a miserable orc who'll breath only as long as 'e wags 'is stinkin' tongue!"

After the episode with the mirror, Drizzt was more than a little interested in interrogating the orc. "Have you questioned him?" he asked Bruenor.

"Ah, he's mum to now," the dwarf replied. "But I've a few things should make 'im squeal!"

Drizzt knew better. Orcs were not loyal creatures, but under the enchantment of a mage, torturing techniques weren't usually much good. They needed something to counteract the magic, and Drizzt had a notion of what might work. "Go for Regis," he instructed Bruenor. "The halfling can make the orc tell us everything we want to know."

"Torturin'd be more fun," lamented Bruenor, but he, too, understood the wisdom of the drow's suggestion. He was more than a bit curious - and worried - about so many giants working together. And now with orcs beside them...

* * *

Drizzt and Wulfgar sat in the far corner of the small chamber, as far from Bruenor and the other two dwarves as they could get. One of Bruenor's troops had returned from Lonelywood with Regis that same night, and though they were all exhausted from marching and fighting, they were too anxious about the impending information to sleep. Regis and the captive orc had moved into the adjoining room for a private conversation as soon as the halfling had gotten the prisoner firmly under his control with his ruby pendant.