his dagger back into its sheath. "I could kill you, I agree, but to what
gain? I take no pleasure in killing."
"But murder does not displease you," Drizzt retorted.
"I do as I must," Entreri said, dismissing the biting comment under a
veil of laughter.
Drizzt recognized this man all too well. Passionless and pragmatic, and
undeniably skilled in the ways of dealing death. Looking at Entreri, Drizzt
saw what he himself might have become if he had remained in Menzoberranzan
among his similarly amoral people. Entreri epitomized the tenets of drow
society, the selfish heartlessness that had driven Drizzt from the bowels
of the world in outrage. He eyed the assassin squarely, detesting every
inch of the man, but somehow unable to detach himself from the empathy he
felt.
He had to make a stand for his principles now, he decided, just as he
had those years ago in the dark city. "You do as you must," he spat in
disgust, disregarding the possible consequences. "No matter the cost."
"No matter the cost," Entreri echoed evenly, his self-satisfying smile
distorting the insult into a compliment. "Be glad that I am so practical,
Drizzt Do'Urden, else you would never have awakened from your fall.
"But enough of this worthless arguing. I have a deal to offer you that
might prove of great benefit to us both." Drizzt remained silent and gave
no hints to the level of his interest.
"Do you know why I am here?" Entreri asked.
"You have come for the halfling."
"You are in error," replied Entreri. "Not for the halfling, but for the
halfling's pendant. He stole it from my master, though I doubt that he
would have admitted as much to you."
"I guess more than I am told," Drizzt said, ironically leading into his
next suspicion. "Your master seeks vengeance as well, does he not?"
"Perhaps," said Entreri without a pause. "But the return of the pendant
is paramount. So I offer this to, you: We shall work together to find the
road back to your friends. I offer my assistance on the journey and your
life in exchange for the pendant. Once we are there, persuade the halfling
to surrender it to me and I shall go on my way and not return. My master
retrieves his treasure and your little friend lives out the rest of his
life without looking over his shoulder."
"On your word?" Drizzt balked.
"On my actions," Entreri retorted. He pulled the scimitar from his belt
and tossed it to Drizzt. "I have no intentions of dying in these forsaken
mines, drow, nor do you, I would hope."
"How do you know I will go along with my part when we rejoin my
companions?" asked Drizzt, holding the blade out before him in inspection,
hardly believing the turn of events.
Entreri laughed again. "You are too honorable to put such doubts in my
mind, dark elf. You will do as you agree, of that I am certain! A bargain,
then?"
Drizzt had to admit the wisdom of Entreri's words. Together, they stood
a fair chance of escaping from the lover levels. Drizzt wasn't about to
pass up the opportunity to find his friends, not for the price of a pendant
that usually got Regis into more trouble than it was worth. "Agreed," he
said.
The passageway continued to brighten at each turn, not with flickering
light, as with torches, but in a continuous glow. The noise of machinery
increased proportionately and the two had to shout to each other to be
understood.
Around a final bend, they came to the abrupt end of the mine, its last
supports opening into a huge cavern. They moved tentatively through the
supports and onto a small ledge that ran along the side of a wide gorge -
the great undercity of Clan Battlehammer.
Luckily they were on the top level of the chasm, for both walls had
been cut into huge steps right down to the floor, each one holding rows of
the decorated doorways that had once marked the entrances to the houses of
Bruenor's kin. The steps were mostly empty now, but Drizzt, with the
countless tales Bruenor had told to him, could well imagine the past glory
of the place. Ten thousand dwarves, untiring in their passion for their
beloved work, hammering at the mithril and singing praises to their gods.
What a sight that must have been! Dwarves scrambling from level to
level to show off their latest work, a mithril item of incredible beauty
and value. And yet, judging from what Drizzt knew of the dwarves in Icewind
Dale, even the slightest imperfection would send the artisans scurrying
back to their anvils, begging their gods for forgiveness and the gift of
skill sufficient to craft a finer piece. No race in all the Realms could
claim such pride in their work as the dwarves, and the folk of Clan
Battlehammer were particular even by the standards of the bearded people.
Now only the very floor of the chasm bustled in activity, for, hundreds
of feet below them and stretching off in either direction, loomed the
central forges of Mithril Hall, furnaces hot enough to melt the hard metal
from the mined stone. Even at this height Drizzt and Entreri felt the
searing heat, and the intensity of the light made them squint. Scores of
squat workers darted about, pushing barrows of ore or fuel for the fires.
Duergar, Drizzt assumed, though he couldn't see them clearly in the glare
from this height.
Just a few feet to the right of the tunnel exit, a wide, gently arching
ramp spiraled down to the next lower step. To the left, the ledge moved on
along the wall, narrow and not designed for casual passage, but farther
down its course, Drizzt could see the black silhouette of a bridge arching
across the chasm.
Entreri motioned him back into the tunnel. "The bridge seems our best
route," the assassin said. "But I am wary of moving out across the ledge
with so many about."
"We have little choice," Drizzt reasoned. "We could backtrack and
search for some of the side corridors that we passed, but I believe them to
be no more than extensions of the mine complex and I doubt that they would
lead us back even this far."
"We must go on," Entreri agreed. "Perhaps the noise and glare will
provide us ample cover." Without further delay, he slipped out onto the
ledge and began making his way to the dark outline of the chasm bridge,
Drizzt right behind.
Although the ledge was no more than two feet wide at any point and much
narrower than that at most, the nimble fighters had no trouble navigating
it. Soon they stood before the bridge, a narrow walk of stone arching over
the bustle below.
Creeping low, they moved out easily. When they crossed the midpoint and
began the descent down the back half of the arch, they saw a wider ledge
running along the chasm's other wall. At the end of the bridge loomed a
tunnel, torchlit like the ones they had left on the upper level. To the
left of the entrance, several small shapes, Duergar, stood huddled in
conversation, taking no notice of the area. Entreri looked back at Drizzt
with a sneaky smile and pointed to the tunnel.
As silent as cats and invisible in the shadows, they crossed into the
tunnel, the group of Duergar oblivious to their passing.
Wooden supports rolled past the two easily now as they took up a swift
gait, leaving the undercity far behind. Roughhewn walls gave them plenty of
shadowy protection in the torchlight, and as the noise of the workers
behind them dimmed to a distant murmur they relaxed a bit and began looking
ahead to the prospect of meeting back up with the others.
They turned a bend in the tunnel and nearly ran over a lone Duergar
sentry.
"What're yer fer?" the sentry barked, mithril broadsword gleaming with
each flicker of the torchlight. His armor, too, chain mail, helm, and
shining shield, were of the precious metal, a king's treasure to outfit a
single soldier!
Drizzt passed his companion and motioned for Entreri to hold back. He
didn't want a trail of bodies to follow their escape route. The assassin
understood that the black elf might have some luck in dealing with this
other denizen of the underworld. Not wanting to let on that he was human,
and possibly hinder the credibility of whatever story Drizzt had concocted,
he hitched his cloak up over his face.
The sentry jumped back a step, his eyes wide in amazement when he
recognized Drizzt as a drow. Drizzt scowled at him and did not reply.
"Er . . . what might ye be doin' in the mines?" the Duergar asked,
rephrasing both his question and tone politely.
"Walking," Drizzt replied coldly, still feigning anger at the gruff
greeting he had initially received.
"And . . . uh . . . who might ye be?" stuttered the guard.
Entreri studied the gray dwarf's obvious terror of Drizzt. It appeared
that the drow carried even more fearful respect among the races of the
underworld than among the surface dwellers. The assassin made a mental note
of this, determined to deal with Drizzt even more cautiously in the future.
"I am Drizzt Do'Urden, of the house of Daermon N'a'shezbaernon, ninth
family of the throne to Menzoberranzan," Drizzt said, seeing no reason to
lie.
"Greetings!" cried the sentry, overly anxious to gain the favor of the
stranger. "Mucknuggle, I be, of Clan Bukbukken." He bowed low, his gray
beard sweeping the floor. "Not often do we greet guests in the mines. Be it
someone ye seek? Or something that I could be helpin' ye with?"
Drizzt thought for a moment. If his friends had survived the cave-in,
and he had to go on his hopes that they had, they would be making for
Garumn's Gorge. "My business here is complete," he told the Duergar. "I am
satisfied."
Mucknuggle looked at him curiously. "Satisfied?"
"Your people have delved too deep," Drizzt explained. "You have
disturbed one of our tunnels with your digging. Thus we have come to
investigate this complex, to ensure that it is not again inhabited by
enemies of the drow. I have seen your forges, gray one, you should be
proud."
The sentry straightened his belt and sucked in his belly. Clan
Bukbukken was indeed proud of its setup, though they had in truth stolen
the entire operation from Clan Battlehammer. "And ye're satisfied, ye say.
Then where might ye be headin' now, Drizzt Do'Urden? T'see the boss?"
"Who would I seek if I were?"
"Ain't ye not heared o' Shimmergloom?" answered Mucknuggle with a
knowing chuckle. "The Drake o' Darkness, he be, black as black and fiercer
than a pinstuck demon! Don't know 'ow he'll take to drow elves in his
mines, but we'll be seein'!"
"I think not," replied Drizzt. "I have learned all that I came to
learn, and now my trail leads home. I shan't disturb Shimmergloom, nor any
of your hospitable clan again."
"Me thinkin's that ye're goin' to the boss," said Mucknuggle, drawing
more courage from Drizzt's politeness and from the mention of his mighty
leader's name. He folded his gnarly arms across his chest, the mithril
sword resting most visibly on the shining shield.
Drizzt resumed his scowl and poked a finger into the fabric under his
cloak, pointing in the Duergar's direction. Mucknuggle noted the move, as
did Entreri, and the assassin nearly fell back in confusion at the reaction
of the Duergar. A noticeable ashen pall came over Mucknuggle's already gray
features and he stood perfectly still, not even daring to draw breath.
"My trail leads hom," Drizzt said again.
"Home, it do!" cried Mucknuggle. "Mighten I be of some help in findin'
the way? The tunnels get rightly mixed up back that way."
Why not? Drizzt thought, figuring their chances would be better if they
at least knew the quickest route. "A chasm," he told Mucknuggle. "In the
time before Clan Bukbukken, we heard it named as Garumn's Gorge."
"Shimmergloom's Run it is now," Mucknuggle corrected. "The left tunnel
at the next fork," he offered, pointing down the hallway. "And a straight
run from there."
Drizzt didn't like the sound of the gorge's new name. He wondered what
monster his friends might find waiting for them if they reached the gorge.
Not wanting to waste any more time, he nodded to Mucknuggle and walked
past. The Duergar was all too willing to let him by without further
conversation, stepping, as far aside as he could.
Entreri looked back at Mucknuggle as they passed and saw him wiping
nervous sweat from his brow. "We should have killed him," he told Drizzt
when they were safely away. "He will bring his kin after us."
"No faster than a dead body, or a missing sentry would have set off a
general alarm," replied Drizzt. "Perhaps a few will come to confirm his
tale, but at least we now know the way out. He would not have dared to lie
to me, in fear that my inquiry was just a test of the truth of his words.
My people have been known to kill for such lies."
"What did you do to him?" Entreri asked.
Drizzt couldn't help but chuckle at the ironic benefits of his people's
sinister reputation. He poked the finger under the fabric of his cloak
again. "Envision a crossbow small enough to fit into your pocket," he
explained. "Would it not make such an impression when pointed at a target?
The drow are well known for such crossbows."
"But how deadly could so small a bolt prove against a suit of mithril?"
Entreri asked, still not understanding why the threat had been so
