had wasted no time in beating that instinct out of him. The
place of a page prince was servitude, and the only eyes a
page prince's were worthy of meeting were those of the
creatures that scurried across the stone floor-except the
eyes of a spider, of course; Drizzt had to avert his gaze
whenever one of the eight-legged things crawled into his vi-
sion. Spiders were too good for the likes of a page prince.
"Look at me” Malice said again, her tone hinting at volatile
impatience. Drizzt had witnessed the explosions before, a
wrath so incredibly vile that it swept aside anything and
everything in its path. Even Briza, so pompous and cruel,
ran for hiding when the matron mother grew angry.
Drizzt forced his gaze up tentatively, scanning his moth-
er's black robes, using the familiar spider pattern along the
garment's back and sides to judge the angle of his gaze. He
fully expected, as every inch passed, a smack on his head, or
a lashing on his back-Briza was behind him, always with
her snake-headed whip near her anxious hand.
Then he saw her, the mighty Matron Malice Do'Urden,
her heat-sensing eyes flashing red and her face cool, not
flushed with angry heat. Drizzt kept tense, still expecting a
punishing blow.
"Your tenure as page prince is ended” Malice explained.
"You are secondboy of House Do'Urden now and are ac-
corded all the. . “
Drizzt's gaze unconsciously slipped back to the floor.
"Look at me!" his mother screamed in sudden rage.
Terrified, Drizzt snapped his gaze back to her face, which
now was glowing a hot red. On the edge of his vision he saw
the wavering heat of Malice's swinging hand, though he was
not foolish enough to try to dodge the blow. He was on the
floor then, the side of his face bruised.
Even in the fall, though, Drizzt was alert and wise enough
to keep his gaze locked on to that of Matron Malice.
"No more a servant!" the matron mother roared. "Th con-
tinue acting like one would bring disgrace to our family”
She grabbed Drizzt by the throat and dragged him roughly
to his feet.
"If you dishonor House Do'Urden” she promised, her face
an inch from his, "I will put needles into your purple eyes."
Drizzt didn't blink. In the six years since Vierna had relin-
quished care of him, putting him into general servitude to
all the family, he had come to know Matron Malice well
enough to understand all of the subtle connotations of her
threats. She was his mother-for whatever that was
worth-but Drizzt did not doubt that she would enjoy stick.
ing needles in his eyes.
"This one is different” Vierna said, "in more than the
shade of his eyes”
"In what way, then?" Zaknafein asked, trying to keep his
curiosity at a professional level. Zak had always liked Vierna
better than the others, but she recently had been ordained
a high priestess, and had since become too eager for her
own good.
Vierna slowed the pace of her gait-the door to the
chapel's antechamber was in sight now. "It is hard to say”
she admitted. "Drizzt is as intelligent as any male child I
have ever known; he could levitate by the age of five. Yet, af.
ter he became the page prince, it took weeks of punishment
to teach him the duty of keeping his gaze to the floor, as if
such a simple act ran unnaturally counter to his constitu-
tion”
Zaknafein paused and let Vierna move ahead of him. "Un-
natural?" he whispered under his breath, considering the
implications of Vierna's observations. Unusual, perhaps, for
a drow, but exactly what Zaknafein would expect-and
hope for-from a child of his loins.
He moved behind Vierna into the lightless anteroom. Mal-
ice, as always, sat in her throne at the head of the spider
idol, but all the other chairs in the room had been moved to
the walls, even though the entire family was present. This
was to be a formal meeting, Zak realized, for only the ma-
tronmother was accorded the comfort of a seat.
"Matron Malice” Vierna began in her most reverent voice,
"I present to you Zaknafein, as you requested”
Zak moved up beside Vierna and exchanged nods with
Malice, but he was more intent on the youngest Do'Urden,
standing naked to the waist at the matron mother's side.
Malice held up one hand to silence the others, then mo-
tioned for Briza, holding a house piwafwi, to continue.
An expression of elation brightened Drizzt's childish face
as Briza, chanting through the appropriate incantations,
placed the magical cloak, black and shot with streaks of pur-
ple and red, over his shoulders.
"Greetings, Zaknafein Do'Urden” Drizzt said heartily,
drawing stunned looks from all in the room. Matron Malice
had not granted him privilege to speak; he hadn't even
asked her permission!
"I am Drizzt, secondboy of House Do'Urden, no more the
page prince. 1 can look at you now-1 mean at your eyes and
not your boots. Mother told me so” Drizzt's smile disap-
peared when he looked up at the burning scowl of Matron
Malice.
Vierna stood as if turned to stone, her jaw hanging open
and her eyes wide in disbelief.
Zak, too, was amazed, but in a different manner. He
brought a hand up to pinch his lips together, to prevent
them from spreading into a smile that would have inevita-
bly erupted into belly-shaking laughter. Zak couldn't re-
member the last time he had seen the matron mother's face
so very bright!
Briza, in her customary position behind Malice, fumbled
with her whip, too confounded by her young brother's
actions to even know what in the Nine Hells she should do.
That was a first, Zak knew, for Malice's eldest daughter
rarely hesitated when punishment was in order.
At the matron's side, but now prudently a step farther
away, Drizzt quieted and stood perfectly still, biting down
on his bottom lip. Zak could see, though, that the smile re-
mained in the young drow's eyes. Drizzt's informality and
disrespect of station had been more than an unconscious
slip of the tongue and more than the innocence of inexperi-
ence.
The weapon master took a long step forward to deflect
the matron mother's attention from Drizzt. "Secondboy?"
he asked, sounding impressed, both for the sake of Drizzt's
swelling pride and to placate and distract Malice. "Then it is
time for you to train”
Malice let her anger slip away, a rare event. "Only the ba-
sics at your hand, Zaknafein. If Drizzt is to replace Nalfein,
his place at the Academy will be in Sorcere. Thus the bulk of
his preparation will fall upon Rizzen and his knowledge,
limited though it may be, of the magical arts”
"Are you so certain that wizardry is his lot, Matron?" Zak
was quick to ask.
"He appears intelligent” Malice replied. She shot an angry
glare at Drizzt. "At least, some of the time. Vierna reported
great progress with his command of the innate powers. Our
house needs a new wizard” Malice snarled reflexively, re-
minded of Matron Baenre's pride in her wizard son, the
Archmage of the city. It had been sixteen years since Mal-
ice's meeting with the First Matron Mother of Menzober-
ranzan, but she had never forgotten even the tiniest detail
of that encounter. "Sorcere seems the natural course”
Zak took a flat coin from his neck-purse, flipped it into a
spin, and snatched it out of the air. "Might we see?" he
asked.
"As you will” Malice agreed, not surprised at Zak's desire
to prove her wrong. Zak placed little value in wizardry, pre-
ferring the hilt of a blade to the crystal rod component of a
lightning bolt.
Zak moved to stand before Drizzt and handed him the
coin. "Flip it”
Drizzt shrugged, wondering what this vague conversa-
tion between his mother and the weapon master was all
about. Until now, he had heard nothing of any future pro-
fession being planned for him, or of this place called Sor-
cere. With a consenting shrug of his shoulders, he slid the
coin onto his curled index finger and snapped it into the air
with his thumb, easily catching it. He then held it back out to
Zak and gave the weapon master a confused look, as if to
ask what was so important about such an easy task.
Instead of taking the coin, the weapon master pulled an-
other from his neck-purse. "1ry both hands” he said to
Drizzt, handing it to him.
Drizzt shrugged again, and in one easy motion, put the
coins up and caught them.
Zak turned an eye on Matron Malice. Any drow could
have performed that feat, but the ease with which this one
executed the catch was a pleasure to observe. Keeping a sly
eye on the matron, Zak produced two more coins. "Stack
two on each hand and send all four up together” he in-
structed Drizzt.
Four coins went up. Four coins were caught. The only
parts of Drizzt's body that had even flinched were his arms.
"Two-hands” Zak said to Malice. "This one is a fighter. He
belongs in Melee-Magthere”
"I have seen wizards perform such feats” Malice retorted,
not pleased by the look of satisfaction on the troublesome
weapon master's face. Zak once had been Malice's pro-
claimed husband, and quite often since that distant time she
took him as her lover. His skills and agility were not con-
fined to the use of weapons. But along with the pleasures
that Zaknafein gave to Malice, sensual skills that had
prompted Malice to spare Zak's life on more than a dozen
occasions, came a multitude of headaches. He was the finest
weapon master in Menzoberranzan, another fact that Mal-
ice could not ignore, but his disdain, even contempt, for the
Spider Queen had often landed House Do'Urden into trou-
ble.
Zak handed two more coins to Drizzt. Now enjoying the
game, Drizzt put them into motion. Six went up. Six came
down, the correct three landing in each hand.
"Two-hands” Zak said more emphatically. Matron Malice
motioned for him to continue, unable to deny the grace of
her youngest son's display.
"Could you do it again?" Zak asked Drizzt.
With each hand working independently, Drizzt soon had
the coins stacked atop his index fingers, ready to flip. Zak
stopped him there and pulled out four more coins, building
each of the piles five high. Zak paused a moment to study
the concentration of the young drow (and also to keep his
hands over the coins and ensure that they were brightened
enough by the warmth of his body heat for Drizzt to prop-
erly see them in their flight).
"Catch them all, Secondboy” he said in all seriousness.
"Catch them all, or you will land in Sorcere, the school of
magic. That is not wher~ you belong!"
Drizzt still had only a vague idea of what Zak was talking
about, but he could tell from the weapon master's intensity
that it must be important. He took a deep breath to steady
himself, then snapped the coins up. He sorted their glow
quickly, discerning each individual item. The first two fell
easily into his hands, but Drizzt saw that the scattering pat-
tern of the rest would not drop them so readily in line.
Drizzt exploded into action, spinning a complete circle,
his hands an undecipherable blur of motion. Then he
straightened suddenly and stood before Zak. His hands
were in fists at his sides and a grim look lay on his face.
Zak and Matron Malice exchanged glances, neither quite
sure of what had happened.
Drizzt held his fists out to Zak and slowly opened them, a
confident smile widening across his childish face.
Five coins in each hand.
Zak blew a silent whistle. It had taken him, the weapon
master of the house, a dozen tries to complete that maneu-
ver with ten coins. He walked over to Matron Malice.
"Two-hands” he said a third time. "He is a fighter, and I am
out of coins”
"How many could he do?" Malice breathed, obviously im-
pressed in spite of herself.
"How many could we stack?" Zaknafein shot back with a
triumphant smile.
Matron Malice chuckled out loud and shook her head. She
had wanted Drizzt to replace Nalfein as the house wizard,
but her stubborn weapon master had, as always, deflected
her course. "Very well, Zaknafein” she said, admitting her
defeat. "The secondboy is a fighter”
Zak nodded and started back to Drizzt.
"Perhaps one day soon to be the weapon master of House
Do'Urden” Matron Malice added to Zak's back. Her sarcasm
stopped Zak short, and he eyed her over his shoulder.
"With this one” Matron Malice continued wryly, wrench-
ing back the upper hand with her usual lack of shame,
"could we expect anything less?"
Rizzen, the present patron of the family shifted uncom-
fortably. He knew, and so did everyone-even the slaves of
House Do'Urden-that Drizzt was not his child.
"Three rooms?" Drizzt asked when he and Zak entered
the large training hall at the southernmost end of the Do'Ur-
den complex. Balls of multicolored magical light had been
spaced along the length of the high-ceilinged stone room,
basking the entirety in a comfortably dim glow. The hall
had only three doors: one to the east, which led to an outer
chamber that opened onto the balcony of the house; one di-
rectly across from Drizzt, on the south wall, leading into the
last room in the house; and the one from the main hallway
that they had just passed through. Drizzt knew from the
many locks Zak was now fastening behind them that he
wouldn't often be going back that way.
"One room” Zak corrected.
"But two more doors” Drizzt reasoned, looking out across
the room. "With no locks”
"Ah” Zak corrected, "their locks are made of common
sense” Drizzt was beginning to get the picture. "That door”
