"He could get killed”
The evil inflections of his voice told the panther his intent
before he ever spoke the words.
"Go to him, my pet” Masoj purred. "Find him out there in
the gloom and kill him!" He studied Guenhwyvar's reaction,
measured the horror he had laid on the cat. Guenhwyvar
stood rigid, as unmoving as the statue used to summon it.
"Go!" Masoj ordered. "You cannot resist your master's
commands! I am your master, unthinking beast! You seem to
forget that fact too often!"
Guenhwyvar resisted for a long moment, a heroic act in it.
self, but the magic's urges, the incessant pull of the master's
command, outweighed any instinctive feelings the great
panther might have had. Reluctantly at first, but then
pulled by the primordial desires of the hunt, Guenhwyvar
sped off between the enchanted statues guarding the tun-
nel and easily found Drizzt's scent.
Alton DeVir slumped back behind the largest of the stalag-
mite mounds, disappointed at Masoj's tactics. Masoj would
let the cat do his work for him; Alton would not even wit-
ness Drizzt Do'Urden's death!
Alton fingered the powerful wand that Matron SiNafay
had given to him when he set out after Masoj that night.
It seemed that the item would play no role in Drizzt's
demise.
Alton took comfort in the item, knowing that he would
have ample opportunity to put it to proper use against the
remainder of House Do'Urden.
Drizzt fought for the first half of his ascent, kicking and
spinning, ducking his shoulders under any outcrop he
passed in a futile effort to hold back the pull of the cave
fisher. He knew from the outset, though, against those war.
rior instincts that refused to surrender, that he had no
chance to halt the incessant pull.
Halfway up, one shoulder bloodied, the other bruised,
and with the floor nearly thirty feet below him, Drizzt re-
signed himself to his fate. If he would find a chance against
the crablike monster that waited at the top of the line, it
would be in the last instant of the ascent. For now, he could
only watch and wait.
Perhaps death was not so bad an alternative to the life he
would find among the drow, trapped within the evil frame-
work of their dark society. Even Zaknafein, so strong and
powerful and wise with age, had never been able to come to
terms with his existence in Menzoberranzan; what chance
did Drizzt have?
When Drizzt had passed through his small bout with self-
pity, when the angle of his ascent changed, showing him the
lip of the final ledge, the fighting spirit within him took over
once again. The cave fisher might have him, he decided
then, but he'd put a boot or two into the thing's eyes before
it got its meal!
He could hear the clacking of the anxious monster's eight
crablike legs. Drizzt had seen a cave fisher before, though it
had scrambled away before he and his patrol could catch up
to it. He had imagined it then, and could imagine it now, in
battle. Thro of its legs ended in wicked claws, pincers that
snipped up prey to fit into the maw.
Drizzt turned himself face-in to the cliff, wanting to view
the thing as soon as his head crested the ledge. The anxious
clacking grew louder, resounding alongside the thumping
of Drizzt's heart. He reached the ledge.
Drizzt peeked over, only a foot or two from the monster's
long proboscis, with the maw just inches behind. Pincers
reached out to grab him before he could get his footing; he
would get no chance to kick out at the thing.
He closed his eyes, hoping again that death would be pref-
erable to his life in Menzoberranzan.
A familiar growl then brought him from his thoughts.
Slipping through the maze of ledges, Guenhwyvar came
in sight of the cave fisher and Drizzt just before Drizzt had
reached the final ledge. This was a moment of salvation or
death for the cat as surely as for Drizzt. Guenhwyvar had
traveled here under Masoj's direct command, giving no con-
sideration to its duty and acting only on its own instincts in
accord with the compelling magic. Guenhwyvar could not
go against that edict, that premise for the cat's very exist-
ence . .. until now.
The scene before the panther, with Drizzt only seconds
from death, brought to Guenhwyvar a strength unknown
to the cat, and unforeseen to the creator of the magical figu-
rine. That instant of terror gave a life to Guenhwyvar be.
yond the scope of the magic.
By the time Drizzt had opened his eyes, the battle was in
full fury. Guenhwyvar leaped atop the cave fisher but
nearly went right over, for the monster's six remaining legs
were rooted to the stone by the same goo that held Drizzt
fast to the long filament. Undaunted, the cat raked and bit, a
ball of frenzy trying to find a break in the fisher's armored
shell.
The monster retaliated with its pincers, flipping them
over its back with surprising agility and finding one of
Guenhwyvar's forelegs.
Drizzt was no longer being pulled in; the monster had
other business to attend to.
Pincers cut through Guenhwyvar's soft flesh, but the cat's
blood was not the only dark fluid staining the cave fisher's
back. Powerful feline claws tore up a section of the shell ar-
mor, and great teeth plunged beneath it. As the cave fisher's
blood splattered to the stone, its legs began to slip.
Watching the goo under the crablike legs dissolve as the
blood of the monster struck it, Drizzt understood what
would happen as a line of that same blood made its way
down the filament, toward him. He would have to strike fast
if the opportunity came; he would have to be ready to help
Guenhwyvar.
The fisher stumbled to the side, rolling Guenhwyvar
away and spinning Dmzt over in a complete bumping cir-
cuit.
Still the blood oozed down the line, and Drizzt felt the fila-
ment's hold loosen from his top hand as the liquid came in
contact.
Guenhwyvar was up again, facing the fisher, looking for
an attack route through the waiting pincers.
Drizzt's hand was free. He snapped up a scimitar and dove
straight ahead, sinking the tip into the fisher's side. The
monster reeled about, the jolt and the continuing blood
flow shaking Drizzt from the filament altogether. The drow
was agile enough to find a handhold before he had fallen
far, though his drawn scimitar tumbled down to the floor.
Drizzt's diversion opened the fisher's defenses for just a
moment, and Guenhwyvar did not hesitate. The cat bar-
reled into its foe, teeth finding the same fleshy hold they
had already ripped. They went deeper, under the skin, "
crushing organs as Guenhwyvar's raking claws kept the pin-
cers at bay.
By the time Drizzt climbed back to the level of the battle,
the cave fisher shuddered in the throes of death. Drizzt
pulled himself up and rushed to his friend's side.
Guenhwyvar retreated step for step, its ears flattened and
teeth bared.
At first, Drizzt thought that the pain of a wound blinded
the cat, but a quick survey dispelled that theory. Guenhwy-
var had only one injury, and that was not serious. Drizzt
had seen the cat with worse.
Guenhwyvar continued to retreat, continued to growl, as
the incesant pounding of Masoi's command, back again af-
ter the Instant of terror, hammered at its heart. The cat
fought the urges, tried to see Drizzt as an ally, not as prey,
but the urges.
"What is wrong, my friend?" Drizzt asked softly, resisting
the urge to draw his remaining blade in defense. He
dropped to one knee. "Do you not recognize me? How often
we have fought together!"
Guenhwyvar crouched low and tamped down its hind
legs, preparing, Drizzt knew, to spring. Still Drizzt did not
draw his weapon, did nothing to threaten the cat. He had to
trust that Guenhwyvar was true to his perceptions, that the
panther was everything he believed it to be. What now
could be guiding these unfamiliar reactions? What had
brought Guenhwyvar out here at this late hour?
Drizzt found his answers when he remembered Matron
Malice's warnings about leaving House Do'Urden.
"Masoj sent you to kill me!" he said bluntly. His tone con-
fused the cat, and it relaxed a bit, not yet ready to spring.
"You saved me, Guenhwyvar. You resisted the command”
Guenhwyvar's growl sounded in protest.
"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, un-
derstood 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,
W?o 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 im-
possible alternatives that he had contemplated, to no resolu-
tion.
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 mas-
ter”
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 tumultu-
ous, 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 Men-
zoberranzan 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. Magi-
cal 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. Per-
haps, in Menzoberranzan, such pleasant dreams were dan-
gerous.
"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 1 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 alter.
nately on Maya and Vierna, watching their reactions to bet.
ter conclude Malice's reasons for summoning him.
They surrounded him as he left his room, keeping a cau.
tious 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 inap.
propriate 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
