The Crystal Shard(The Icewind Dale Trilogy 1)(80)

Drizzt knew that he was pursuing a dangerous line of questions, but he accepted the risk. Even with a major demon standing barely ten feet away, Drizzt figured that his chances for survival at this moment were better than those of his friends in Bryn Shander. "Still my masters are concerned that the tower may be harmed in the coming battle with the humans," he bluffed.

Errtu took another moment to consider Drizzt. The appearance of the dark elves complicated the demon's simple plan to inherit Crenshinibon from Kessell. If the mighty drow lords of the huge city of Menzoberranzan truly had designs upon the relic, the demon knew that they would get it. Certainly Kessell, even with the power of the shard behind him, could not withstand them. The mere presence of this drow changed the demon's perceptions of its relationship with Crenshinibon. How Errtu wished that it could simply devour Kessell and flee with the relic before the dark elves were too involved!

Yet Errtu had never considered the drow as enemies, and the demon had come to despise the bumbling wizard. Perhaps an alliance with the dark elves could prove beneficial to both sides.

"Tell me, unequaled champion of darkness," Drizzt pressed, "is Crenshinibon in peril?"

"Bah!" snorted Errtu. "Even the tower that is merely a reflection of Crenshinibon is impervious. It absorbs all attacks directed against its mirrored walls and reflects them back on their source! Only the pulsating crystal of strength, the very heart of Cryshal-Tirith, is vulnerable, and that is safely hidden away."

"Inside?"

"Of course."

"But if someone were to get into the tower," Drizzt reasoned, "how well protected would he then find the heart?"

"An impossible task!" the demon replied. "Unless the simple fishermen of Ten-Towns have some spirit at their service. Or perhaps a high priest, or an arch-mage to weave spells of unveiling. Surely your masters know that Cryshal-Tirith's door is invisible and undetectable to any beings inherent to the present plane the tower rests upon. No creature of this material world, your race included, could find its way in!"

"But..." Drizzt pressed anxiously.

Errtu cut him short. "Even if someone stumbled into the structure," he growled, impatient with the relentless stream of impossible suppositions, "he would have to pass by me. And the limit of Kessell's power within the tower is considerable indeed, for the wizard has become an extension of Crenshinibon itself, a living outlet for the crystal shard's unfathomable strength! The heart lies beyond the very focal point of Kessell's interaction with the tower, and up to the very tip..." The demon stopped, suddenly suspicious of Drizzt's line of questioning. If the lore-wise drow lords were truly intent upon Crenshinibon, why weren't they more aware of its strengths and weaknesses?

Errtu understood its mistake then. It examined Drizzt once again, but with a different focus. When it had first encountered the drow, stunned by the mere presence of a dark elf in this region, it had searched for deception in the physical attributes of Drizzt, himself, to determine if his drow features were an illusion, a clever yet simple shapealteration trick within the power of even a minor mage.

When Errtu was convinced that a true drow and no illusion stood before it, it had accepted the credibility of Drizzt's story as consistent with the characteristics of the dark elves' style.

Now, though, the demon scoured the peripheral clues beyond Drizzt's black skin, noting the items he carried and the area he had staked out for their meeting. Nothing that Drizzt had upon his person, not even the weapons sheathed on his hips, emanated the distinct magical properties of the underworld. Perhaps the drow masters had outfitted their spies more appropriately for the surface world, Errtu reasoned. From what it had learned of the dark elves during its many years of service in Menzoberranzan, this drow's presence was certainly not outrageous.

But creatures of chaos survived by trusting no one.

Errtu continued his scan for a clue of Drizzt's authenticity. The only item the demon had spotted that reflected on Drizzt's heritage was a thin silver chain strung around his slender neck, a piece of jewelry common among the dark elves for holding a small pouch of wealth. Concentrating upon this, Errtu discovered a second chain, finer than the first, weaving in and out of the other. The demon followed the almost imperceptible crease in Drizzt's jerkin created by the long chain.

Unusual, it noted, and possibly revealing. Errtu pointed at the chain, spoke a command word, and raised its outstretched finger into the air.

Drizzt tensed when he felt the emblem slipping up from under his leather jerkin. It passed up over the neckline of the garment and dropped to the extent of the chain, hanging openly upon his chest.

Errtu's evil grin widened along with its squinting eyes. "Unusual choice for a drow," it hissed sarcastically. "I would have expected the symbol of Llolth, demon queen of your people. She would not be pleased!" From nowhere, it seemed, a many-thonged whip appeared in one of the demon's hands and a jagged, cruelly notched blade in the other.

At first, Drizzt's mind whirled down a hundred avenues, exploring the most feasible lies he could spin to get him out of this fix. But then he shook his head resolutely and pushed the lies away. He would not dishonor his deity.

At the end of the silver chain hung a gift from Regis, a carving the halfling had done from the bone of one of the few knuckleheads he had ever hooked. Drizzt had been deeply touched when Regis presented it to him, and he considered it the halfling's finest work. It twirled around on the long chain, its gentle grades and shading giving it the depth of a true work of art.