too much. He pulled his swords from their jeweled scab-
bards and charged right by Matron Malice, yelling, "Show
her, young warrior!"
Drizzt's eyes became burning flames at the approach of
his wild instructor. His scimitars came into his hands as
quickly as if he had willed them to appear.
It was a good thing they had! Zak came in on Drizzt with a
fury that the young drow had never before seen, more so
even than the time Zak had shown Drizzt the value of the
cross-down parry. Sparks flew as sword rang against scimi-
tar, and Drizzt found himself driven back, both of his arms
already aching from the thudding force of the heavy blows.
"What are you. . “ Drizzt tried to ask.
"Show her” Zak growled, slamming in again and again.
Drizzt barely dodged one cut that surely would have
killed him. Still, confusion kept his moves purely defensive.
Zak slapped one of Drizzt's scimitars, then the other, out
wide, and used an unexpected weapon, bringing his foot
straight up in front of him and slamming his heel into
Drizzt's nose.
Drizzt heard the crackle of cartilage and felt the warmth
of his own blood running freely down his face. He dove
back into a roll, trying to keep a safe distance from his
crazed opponent until he could realign his senses.
From his knees he saw Zak;a short distance away and ap-
proaching. "Show her!" Zak growled angrily with every de-
termined step.
The purple flames of faerie fire limned Drizzt's skin, mak-
ing him an easier target. He responded the only way he
could; he dropped a globe of darkness over himself and Zak.
Sensing the weapon master's next move, Drizzt dropped to
his belly and scrambled out, keeping his head low-a wise
choice.
At his first realization of the darkness, Zak had quickly
levitated up about ten feet and rolled right over, sweeping
his blades down to Drizzt's face level.
When Drizzt came clear of the other side of the darkened
globe, he looked back and saw only the lower half of Zak's
legs. He didn't need to watch anything more to understand
the weapon master's deadly blind attacks. Zak would have
cut him apart if he had not dropped low in the blackness.
Anger replaced confusion. When Zak dropped from his
magical perch and came rushing back out the front of the
globe, Drizzt let his rage lead him back into the fight. He
spun a pirouette just before he reached Zak, his lead scimi.
tar cutting a gracefully arcing line and his other following in
a deceptively sharp stab straight over that line.
Zak dodged the thrusting point and put a backhand block
on the other.
Drizzt wasn't finished. He set his thrusting blade into a se.
ries of short, wicked pokes that kept Zak on the retreat for a
dozen steps and more, back into the conjured darkness.
They now had to rely on their incredibly keen sense of hear.
ing and their instincts. Zak finally managed to regain afoot.
hold, but Drizzt immediately set his own feet into action,
kicking away whenever the balance of his swinging blades
allowed for it. One foot even slipped through Zak's de.
fenses, blasting the breath from the weapon master's lungs.
They came back out the side of the globe, and Zak, too,
glowed in the outline of faerie fire. The weapon master felt
sickened by the hatred etched on his young student's face,
but he realized that this time, neither he nor Drizzt had
been given a choice in the matter. This fight had to be ugly,
had to be real. Gradually, Zak settled into an easy rhythm,
solely defensive, and let Drizzt, in his explosive fury, wear
himself down.
Drizzt played on and on, relentless and tireless. Zak
coaxed him by letting him see openings where there were
none, and Drizzt was always quick to oblige, launching a
thrust, cut, or kick.
Matron Malice watched the spectacle silently. She
couldn't deny the measure of training Zak had given her
son; Drizzt was-physically-more than ready for battle.
Zak knew that, to Matron Malice, sheer skill with weap-
ons might not be enough. Zak had to keep Malice from con-
versing with Drizzt for any length of time. She would not
approve of her son's attitudes.
Drizzt was tiring now, Zak could see, though he recog-
nized the weariness in his student's arms to be partly decep-
tion.
"Go with it” he muttered silently, and he suddenly
"twisted" his ankle, his right arm flailing out wide and low
as he struggled for balance, opening a hole in his defenses
that Drizzt could not resist.
The expected thrust came in a flash, and Zak's left arm
streaked in a short cross-cut that slapped the scimitar right
out of Drizzt's hand.
"Ha!" Drizzt cried, having expected the move and launch-
ing his second ruse. His remaining scimitar knifed over
Zak's left shoulder, inevitably dipping in the follow-through
of the parry.
But by the time Drizzt even launched the second blow,
Zak was already down to his knees. As Drizzt's blade cut
harmlessly high, Zak sprang to his feet and launched a right
cross, hilt first, that caught Drizzt squarely in the face. A
stunned Drizzt leaped back a long step and stood perfectly
still for a long moment. His remaining scimitar dropped to
the ground, and his glossed eyes did not blink.
"A feint within a feint within a feint!" Zak calmly ex-
plained.
Drizzt slumped to the floor, unconscious.
Matron Malice nodded her approval as Zak walked back
over to her. "He is ready for the Academy” she remarked.
Zak's face turned sour and he did not answer.
"Vierna is there already” Malice continued, "to teach as a
mistress in Arach- Tinilith, the School of Lloth. It is a high
honor”
A laurel for House Do'Urden, Zak knew, but he was smart
enough to keep his thoughts silent.
"Dinin will leave soon” said the matron.
Zak was surprised. Two children serving as masters in the
Academy at the same time? "You must have worked hard to
get such accommodations” he dared to remark.
Matron Malice smiled. "Favors owed, favors called in”
"To what end?" asked Zak. "Protection for Drizzt?"
Malice laughed aloud. "From what I have just witnessed,
Drizzt would more likely protect the other two!"
Zak bit his lip at the comment. Dinin was still twice the
fighter and ten times the heartless killer as Drizzt. Zak
knew that Malice had other motives.
"Three of the first eight houses will be represented by no
fewer than four children in the Academy over the next two
decades” Matron Malice admitted. "Matron Baenre's own
son will begin in the same class as Drizzt”
"So you have aspirations” Zak said. "How high, then, will
House Do'Urden climb under the guidance of Matron Mal-
ice?"
"Sarcasm will cost you your tongue” the matron mother
warned. "We would be fools to let slip by such an opportu-
nity to learn more of our rivals!"
"The first eight houses” Zak mused. "Be cautious, Matron
Malice. Do not forget to watch for rivals among the lesser
houses. There once was a house named DeVir that made
such a mistake”
"No attack will come from behind” Malice sneered. "We
are the ninth house but boast more power than but a hand-
ful of others. None will strike at our backs; there are easier
targets higher up the line”
"And all to our gain” Zak put in.
"That is the point of it all, is it not?" Malice asked, her evil
smile wide on her face.
Zak didn't need to respond; the matron knew his true feel.
ings. That precisely was not the point.
"Speak less and your jaw will heal faster” Zak said later,
when he again was alone with Drizzt.
Drizzt cast him a vile glance.
The weapon master shook his head. "We have become
Chapter 9
Families
"Come quickly” Zak instructed Drizzt one evening after
they had finished their sparring. By the urgency of the
weapon master's tone, and by the fact that Zak didn't even
pause to wait for Drizzt, Drizzt knew that something impor-
tant was happening.
He finally caught up to Zak on the balcony of House
Do'Urden, where Maya and Briza already stood.
"What is it?" Drizzt asked.
Zak pulled him close and pointed out across the great ca-
vern, to the northeastern reaches of the city. Lights flashed
and faded in sudden bursts, a pillar of fire rose into the air,
then disappeared.
"A raid” Briza said offhandedly. "Minor houses, and of no
concern to us”
Zak saw that Drizzt did not understand.
"One house has attacked another” he explained. "Re-
venge, perhaps, but most likely an attempt to climb to a
higher rank in the city”
"The battle has been long” Briza remarked, "and still the
lights flash”
Zak continued to clarify the event for the confused se-
condboy of the house. "The attackers should have blocked
the battle within rings of darkness. Their inability to do so
might indicate that the defending house was ready for the
raid”
"All cannot be going well for the attackers” Maya agreed.
Drizzt could hardly believe what he was hearing. Even
more alarming than the news itself was the way his family
talked about the event. They were so calm in their descrip-
tions, as if this was an expected occurrence.
"The attackers must leave no witnesses” Zak explained to
Drizzt, "else they will face the .wrath of the ruling council”
"But we are witnesses” Drizzt reasoned.
"No” Zak replied. "We are onlookers; this battle is none of
our affair. Only the nobles of the defending house are
awarded the right to place accusations against their attack-
ers”
"If any nobles are left alive” Briza added, obviously enjoy-
ing the drama.
At that moment, Drizzt wasn't sure if he liked this new
revelation. However he might have felt, he found that he
could not tear his gaze from the continuing spectacle of
drow battle. All the Do'Urden compound was astir now, sol-
diers and slaves running about in search of a better vantage
point and shouting out descriptions of the action and ru-
mors of the perpetrators.
This was drow society in all its macabre play, and while it
seemed ultimately wrong in the heart of the youngest mem-
ber of House Do'Urden, Drizzt could not deny the excite-
ment of the night. Nor could Drizzt deny the expressions of
obvious pleasure stamped upon the faces of the three who
shared the balcony with him.
Alton made his way through his private chambers one fi-
nal time, to make certain that any artifacts or tomes that
might seem even the least bit sacrilegious were safely hid-
den. He was expecting a visit from a matron mother, a rare
occasion for a master of the Academy not connected with
Arach- Tinilith, the School of Lloth. Alton was more than a
little anxious about the motives of this particular visitor, Ma-
tron SiNafay Hun'ett, head of the city's fifth house and
mother of Masoj, Alton's partner in conspiracy.
A bang on the stone door of the outermost chamber in his
complex told Alton that his guest had arrived. He straight-
ened his robes and took yet another glance around the
room. The door swung open before Alton could get there,
and Matron SiNafay swept into the room. How easily she
made the transformation-walking from the absolute dark
of the outside corridor into the candlelight of Alton's
chamber-without so much as a flinch.
SiNafay was smaller than Alton had imagined, diminutive
even by the standards of the drow. She stood barely more
than four feet high and weighed, by Alton's estimation, no
more than fifty pounds. She was a matron mother, though,
and Alton reminded himself that she could strike him dead
with a single spell.
Alton averted his gaze obediently and tried to convince
himself that there was nothing unusual about this visit. He
grew less at ease, however, when Masoj trotted in and to his
mother's side, a smug smile on his face.
"Greetings from House Hun'ett, Gelroos” Matron SiNafay
said. "Seventy-five years and more it has been since we last
talked”
"Gelroos?" Alton mumbled under his breath. He cleared
his throat to cover his surprise. "My greetings to you, Ma-
tron SiNafay” he managed to stammer. "Has it been so very
long?"
"You should come to the house” the matron said. "Vour
chambers remain empty”
My chambers? Alton began to feel very sick.
SiNafay did not miss the look. A scowl crossed her face
and her eyes narrowed evilly.
Alton suspected that his secret was out. If the Faceless
One had been a member of the Hun'ett family, how could Al-
ton hope to fool the matron mother of the house? He
scanned for the best escape route, or for some way he could
at least kill the traitorous Masoj before SiNafay struck him
down.
When he looked back toward Matron SiNafay, she had al-
ready begun a quiet spell. Her eyes popped wide at its com-
pletion, her suspicions confirmed.
"Who are you?" she asked, her voice sounding more curi-
ous than concerned.
There was no escape, no way to get at Masoj, standing
prudently close to his powerful mother's side.
"Who are you?" SiNafay asked again, taking a three-
headed instrument from her belt, the dreaded snake-
headed whip that injected the most painful and
incapacitating poison known to drow.
" Alton” he stuttered, having no choice but to answer. He
knew that since she now was on her guard, SiNafay would
use simple magic to detect any lies he might concoct. "I am
Alton DeVir”
"DeVir?" Matron SiNafay appeared at least intrigued. "Of
