The Reality of Fear

Entreri [3]

David Pontier

Unknown publisher (2010)

Tags:
General Interest

David Pontier

Entreri 3 - The Reality of

Fear

Chapter 1

The Switch

"So, what do you think?"

John Irenum and Artemis Entreri stood on the street looking at a new shop that had just opened. That John, the Captain of the City Guards, was associating himself with Entreri, the most lethal assassin to have ever set foot in Garrilport, would look odd unless you knew their history. It was a complicated history and will not be expounded upon here. Instead, the focus will be directed upon the shop.

A man named Kraygan owned the shop, and it was called Kraygan's Magic Store. Over a dozen people were walking in and out of the store every minute. It was a good first day. There were not many magic stores in Garrilport. In fact, this was the first. Magic was not something the people of this city knew anything about, hence the curiosity.

"I mean about the store," John clarified. "What do you think about the store?"

Entreri knew exactly what he had meant. He just did not want to answer the question. "Magic is for weaklings and fools."

"Do I need to remind you what happened with the last magician in this city?" John asked.

No he did not. Reillon was a mage who had worked for Quinton Palluge. In only a matter of days, and with very little effort, the two of them were able to gain complete control of the city. "I believe that magician is no longer with us," Entreri said plainly.

John looked at Entreri with a smirk on his face. Was this man bragging? No, there was no smile on Entreri's face. He had been the one to kill the mage. "I think you are not allowing your enemies enough credit. They could not stand up to you, perhaps, but that does not mean they were not formidable."

Entreri nodded slightly. "But that does not mean he was not weak and foolish." The assassin finally pulled his eyes off the store and looked at John. "The ability to use magic is not a skill you can teach. That ability comes from your intellect. And that is something you are born with. It does not matter how long a goblin goes to magic school, he will never be able to cast a fireball. Once you have the ability, you can learn to be more or less proficient with it, but that comes from reading, and studying."

"You prefer the physical talents to the mental ones?" John chided, perhaps indicating that Entreri's mind was not that sharp.

Entreri was too lost in his train of thought to recognize the insult if it was intended. "You are stronger than me," Entreri said. "Your weapon his much longer and your size dwarfs mine, yet you could not last ten seconds against me in battle."

Again John thought Entreri might be bragging, but the assassin was just stating a fact. "Any uninformed onlooker would bet on you to win every time. But I have trained myself to a level that they can not understand. I have not been blessed with great strength or size, so I made do with what I have. I have made myself who I am. Magic users try to make themselves powerful through shortcuts and spells they can not begin to understand. If rumors are to be believed, Reillon only discovered his magic a few weeks before he took over your city. He did not earn his power, he only stumbled upon it, and therefore did not understand it."

"So you say all those who use magic are weak and foolish?"

Entreri was far too clever to walk into that trap. Cicle, his frost blade was strapped to his side, and he looked down to it as he explained. "I spent years – no – decades perfecting my fighting skills, and have earned them. When I pick up a weapon like the one I wear, I understand its power, and am able to use it effectively."

Entreri gained a very vacant look as his mind strolled back in time. "In Calimport, my old home, there was a man by the name of Kohrin Soulez. He owned a powerful weapon called Charon's Claw. It would make my frost blade look like a toothpick. The weapon had a history with it. All of its owners had died horrible deaths. Soulez did not understand why, and so he kept himself locked inside his fortress on the edge of town. He did not understand the history. I did.

"Anyone who ever picked up that sword was suddenly a force to be reckoned with. They could kill anything that moved when before they might have been the most inept fighter in the realms. They suddenly had all this power, but they had done nothing to earn it and did not understand it. They walked into fights they had no business entering, yet usually ended up winning. But since they did not know what they were doing, it was only a matter of time before the faced off someone who would destroy them."

"So," John said, slowly absorbing what he could from the assassin's speech, "do you want to go inside?"

Entreri shrugged indifferently and motioned for John to lead the way. He tossed the captain a coin. "Here, buy yourself something nice."

The two men entered the shop and looked at the potential customers milling about. John and Entreri were separated quickly, and John wandered aimlessly through the shop. He looked at marble orbs, spiked wands, jars of creepy animal parts, and a whole assortment of herbs and spices.

John saw a strange looking box on one shelf and moved over to investigate. It was only a few inches along each side, and the silver pattern that was drawn over it was quite remarkable. John picked it up and found it to be much heavier than he had guessed.

"Please," said a voice behind him, "be careful with that. It is very powerful." John put the box down and turned around. This had to be Kaygan. The man before him was much younger than the captain had guessed he would be. He wore a long robe covered with moons and stars. His pointy hat made him over a foot taller than he was, and the starch in it was wearing out as it drooped to the side slightly. He looked quite comical.

"Kraygan?" John asked.

The shop owner nodded. The sorcerer could see the crest of the city guards on this man's chest plainly, and the way he held himself told of his importance. "And you are?"

"John Irenum," John replied.

"Captain Irenum?" The store clerk had done his research when he had entered this city. John nodded humbly. "Well, what can I do for you today Captain?"

John was about to say he was just looking, but an idea popped into his head. He craned his neck to look around the shop and spotted Entreri. The assassin was not examining the merchandise, but was instead examining the customers examining the merchandise. Each time someone picked up a magical item, Entreri braced himself, ready to dodge a lightening bolt or slay some vicious creature that might be summoned.

"Do you see that man over there?" John nodded, knowing Entreri's keen senses would probably pick him up if he pointed. Kraygan could just see him on the other side of his store and nodded. "His name is Artemis Entreri. He is not too impressed with magic."

"A disbeliever?" Kraygan said, his hands rubbing together eagerly. "Perhaps you would like a demonst-"

"No!" John said a little too quickly. "I mean, no, he is not a disbeliever, and neither am I." The last demonstration John had seen was when Reillon had struck dead two councilmen as casually as one might swat a fly. "He believes it exists, and even uses it himself, but he thinks it is mainly for weaklings and fools."

Kraygan smiled. "I am not a strong man," he said jovially, "but I am no fool, I assure you."

Jon nodded. "I'm not saying you are, and I'm not saying he said you were. He made a general statement, but I don't think he's seen everything there is to see. He is very self assured in his thinking, so I was wondering if you had anything that might scare him or catch him off guard."

Kraygan looked a bit put off. He was about to say something about how magic was not a toy for entertainment, but John saw the look and jumped in. "Nothing too dangerous," he said. "Maybe just a vision or image of something that he hasn't seen. I don't want you to bring forth some hellish beast from another dimension, but maybe if you could give him a dream or something. I don't really know that much about magic, I was just hoping you could knock him off his pedestal a bit."

"Well," Kraygan said slowly, "what kind of man is he?"

"Can't you tell for yourself?" the captain asked.

"A test?" the clerk smiled. "Very well." His left hand disappeared into a pocket in his flowing robe and his eyes locked onto Entreri before he close them. He stood for a few moments, swaying slightly before his eyes popped back open. He stumbled backwards slightly, as his knees became suddenly weak. John caught him before he crashed into anything.

"Um, uh, well, I, ah, you see, well, wow," was all the sorcerer could get out. "I don't think there is anything in this reality that would frighten him."

John looked disappointed. He was hoping Entreri was just full of himself. That might still be the case, but the assassin might also be right. "Isn't there anything?"

Kraygan was about to shake his head, but this was the captain of the city guards. If he were to help this man out, it might come back in his favor when he needed the guards' help. "Do you have anything of his on you?" the clerk asked.

John did not think so. He made a brief search of his person and fished out the coin Entreri had tossed him. Kraygan at first thought the captain was offering payment. If that were the case, it was way too small. John saw the look and shook his head. "No, this is his. He gave it to me right before we entered the shop. Is it good enough?"

Kraygan took the coin and concentrated as he did before. He nodded his head when he felt again the powerful presence of the assassin. "It will do. I can not promise you anything, but I will see what I can find. Is he a close friend of yours?"

John pondered the question a little too long before answering. "Let's say he is an acquaintance."

Kraygan nodded, not sure if he understood but realizing that was all he was going to get. He put the coin in a special pouch so it retained whatever magical identity it had on it. If he was going to summon a nightmare targeted at the coin's owner, he did not want his own aura to rub off on it. "Come back tomorrow and I might have something for you."

John thanked him and walked around the inside of the store until he came up behind Entreri. "Find anything you like?"

"This store is going to make your job a living hell," Entreri said bluntly, not turning to face John as he spoke.

"In what way?"

Entreri motioned with his arm to the entire store. "These people are treating complex magical items as if they were ornate paperweights or decorative mantle pieces. They have no idea what they are dealing with. Of course, the chances of them stumbling upon the proper incantations or ritual procedures, are slim, but there is that danger."

"You think I should run this Kraygan out of town?" John asked, half-joking, which meant he was also half-serious.

Entreri shook his head. "No. The best way to teach a child not to play with a knife is to let him kill himself a few times."

Entreri turned around to see John reeling at the odd phrase. "Assassin's Credo," Entreri clarified, "rule number six. Let's go, I need to prepare for tonight."

John followed his companion out of the store. "That's right. I have something tonight as well. I'm invited to dine with the mayor again. It seems Ellen can't get enough of my company. What plans do you have?"

Entreri stopped walking and turned to look the captain in the face. "I'm invited to dine with the mayor again. It seems Ellen can't get enough of my company either." Entreri's face was plain and unreadable. John's was plenty readable. "Don't worry, Captain. I have no desire to woo the mayor's daughter. She is all yours."

John tired to say something in return, but his voice was caught in his throat. By the time the color in his cheeks had gone down and his voice had returned, Entreri had already walked down the street and out of earshot. John just sighed in frustration and looked forward to returning to this magic shop in the morning.

* * * * *

"Aren't the stars beautiful," the young woman said.

Her companion said nothing. She continued to gaze up into the night sky almost as if hypnotized by the thousands of twinkling lights. It was normally cold this time of year, but there was only a cool breeze blowing and the sky was remarkably clear.

"I said, 'Aren't the stars beautiful?'"

He still did not respond. His eyes were not fixed above but were staring straight ahead. His gaze had long ago glossed over, and he did not really see anything in his field of vision. Closing his eyes would bring frightful images to his head. At least with them open, he could allow himself to see nothing.

"Drizzt Do'Urden," the woman scolded, "answer me when I talk to you."

Drizzt was shaken out his trance and he turned to see Catti-brie scowling at him. "I'm sorry," he confessed, his warm smile evaporating whatever temper might have suddenly flared in the young woman. "You were talking about the stars. Yes they are beautiful. My home did not have stars."

"You were thinking about your home?" Catti-brie asked, his despondency suddenly understood and forgiven. "I'm sorry to hear you still call it that."

Drizzt laughed to himself. When did this woman attain such wisdom? He was three times her age, but he did not consider himself half as wise. "It was my home," he said, more in a defense of his earlier statement then out of any conviction.

"Was it?" Catti-brie did not give up. "I've heard it said that home is where the heart is. Was your heart ever in Menzoberranzan? Did you ever truly belong there?"

Drizzt did not have a response and understood the questions to be more rhetorical and thought provoking anyway. Catti-brie continued. "This wind swept tundra might not seem like much of a home to anyone, least of all a dark elf, but I hope in time, you may feel comfortable calling it such."

Drizzt laughed and looked away, a tear rolling down his cheek. He coughed for an excuse to bring his hand up to his face, and his dexterous fingers wiped the salty drop away. Catti-brie was not fooled.

Yes, this northland was not much of a home for a dark elf, but Drizzt had been in this area for many years now. First in Icewind Dale and then in Mithril Hall. They had returned to the Dale when Errtu had led them north with Wulfgar's life in the balance. Now they were back near Mithril Hall as Bruenor was king again. They were not staying within the hall, preferring the outdoors to the stuffy caves. They lived in a small settlement just north of Settlestone. They were only a few hours from Bruenor and only a few from Wulfgar and Delly who lived in the barbarian town. Wherever they ended up, Drizzt did have to admit that it was closer to home than anything he had in Menzoberranzan.

Drizzt did not say anything for a while. Instead he gazed off into space, actually seeing what his eyes were pointed at this time. "Yes, the stars are beautiful."

Catti-brie was not going to let him off the hook that easily. "So why the sudden 'home' sickness? It has been years since we have even seen another dark elf other than Jarlaxle, and I hope you are not thinking of chasing him down."

Drizzt shook his head. "It has just been so quiet lately. With Wulfgar back and Bruenor in Mithril Hall again, it seems so peaceful – too peaceful. Always before there was something hanging over our heads. Whether it was that we were separated from a friend or preparing for war, there was always something we needed to do. Now it seems like we've done it all. It's like it's all over. This is the point in the story when the bard says, 'And everyone lived happily ever after.'"

"I have adventured with you for over half my life," Catti-brie said. "From the first day we met, when I was just a girl, to now I have enjoyed every minute. But I know that in fifteen years I will not be able to ride a horse without being too sore to walk the next morning. My bow will seem to get stiffer and stiffer as the years go by. I won't be able to run with Guen anymore. This is not a bad time in my life to start living happily ever after."

Catti-brie paused for a while, wanting Drizzt to look at her again before she continued. He did after the pause went on half a minute. "But for you I imagine it is different," she said knowingly. "By comparison, you are younger in your life than I was when we first met. You are not ready to kick up your boots by the fire and start telling the children of Settlestone your stories. You are not ready to live happily ever after."

Catti-brie was finished for now and would not speak again until Drizzt said something. The drow turned his eyes back to the stars for a few moments before answering. "It was like this before. We once lived in a time that seemed perfect and serene. We were all safe and happy. Then my family came looking for me. The next year brought us tremendous turmoil and strife. We lost friends and experienced things we will never forget.

"Now as I see us in relative peace and quiet, I can't help but think that something is right around the corner. Something is going to happen. And I can't help but think my people will have something to do with it."

"But your family is dead," Catti-brie responded. "Matron Baenre is dead. Surely their vendetta against you has brought them nothing but destruction and misfortune. They would not continue to come for you."

Drizzt just laughed at her. It was not meant to ridicule, but to revel in her glorious ignorance. She might be wise about most things, but there were other things it was good that she did not know. "You spent only a few days in my home, uh, in Menzoberranzan, and you saw things that I will never forgive myself for giving you the opportunity to see. But you do not understand my people. I hate Lloth, but I truly believe that she loves me. I am willing to bet that there is no other drow in the history of my people that has inspired more death, destruction, and chaos than I have. I do not boast when I say this, I am merely stating a fact. As long as I am alive, Lloth will dangle my life in front of her servants like a carrot before a donkey. And like a stupid ass, the drow will continue to come. Maybe not tomorrow and maybe not next century, but as long as I reject the drow lifestyle and embrace the good things of life," Drizzt's hand began to unconsciously fiddle with the unicorn necklace he wore, "my people will not forget me."

Catti-brie listened in silence. She had chased him into the underdark several years ago when he had tried to end his life and bring a close to the never ending hunt he had just described. At the time she had thought him stupid and untrusting, but she realized she might not understand these things well enough to form an educated opinion. Instead she changed the topic.

"Well, if you are looking for some excitement, I've heard reports that some of Berkthgar's people have found some unusual prints in the snow a few miles from here. They wanted to know if we could check it out."

Drizzt smiled. "Peace and quiet is a relative term when you live in the Spine of the World," Drizzt agreed.

"We can get an early start," she said. "I'll bring Wulfgar. You won't even have to fight, if you really want some peace. You track them and we'll kill them. It will be fun. Like old times."

Drizzt nodded. "If we are going to start early, we better turn in now." Catti-brie nodded. It was not that late, for darkness came early this far north, but both of them were tired.

Drizzt's room was not large. He used it only for sleep and to store a few changes of clothes. As a ranger he enjoyed to be outside anyway. Being cooped up reminded him too much of his home. No, reminded him of Menzoberranzan. Catti-brie was right, he would have to change his thinking. He smiled as he thought of the differences between his two homes. As a noble of a high-ranking house he was offered many luxuries. Even though he was a male, there were very few things he could not have or do. If there were drow right now, plotting some Lloth blessed scheme to hunt him down, they probably imagined him living in luxury in a well-guarded strong hold in the center of a huge city. They probably did not expect to find him in the barren wilderness living in a room that was barely big enough to hold a bed and an end table.

The night was a restless one. Even when he thought seriously about the potential for his people to continue to come for him, the idea that it might really happen was only vague at best. There was always that potential and it could eventually happen again, but Drizzt did not live in constant fear. While he slept, however, no notion or idea no matter how fantastic was ignored in his dreams. Each fantasy was played out in vivid detail, never ending well.

When morning came, Drizzt was more than ready for it. He would have to remind himself to cut back on the serious conversations before bed. They really ruined his sleep. Today would be different. Toady he would be out in his element with his friends, and they would be ridding the land of evil and potentially dangerous creatures. Today he promised himself he would not think about his people or what they might be doing. He was going to put that as far out of his mind as possible.

Drizzt got out of bed and dressed. It was something he did every morning, and living as he did in a cold and dangerous place like the dale, he had a lot to put on. The last item he always secured was Guenhwyvar. He did not like to include the panther in his normal routine because he did not want to ever start thinking of the magical figurine as just another piece of equipment like his swords or bracers.

As he picked up the pouch that normally held the figurine and reached for it as it stood on his nightstand, he felt a strange quiver work its way down his spine. He put the pouch down on the bed momentarily and sat up straight, trying to work out whatever crick he might have developed during his fitful sleep.

It did not go away. In fact, the quiver turned into a more intense tingling sensation. It worked its way up and down his spine, spreading slowly throughout out his body. It felt like a static tug, as if something intangible was pulling at him. What it was pulling him into or out of was not readily discernable, but Drizzt was beginning to become concerned.

The tingling began to numb his limbs, and Drizzt tried to stand, but his legs crumbled and he was suddenly kneeling on the floor. He could not move. His body seemed to be pulsing with energy and capable of enormous power, but he was confined within himself like paraplegic. Intense blue swirls of magical energy began to orbit around him ever faster, forming a shimmering, translucent sphere. The tugging was very insistent now.

It was also beginning to separate. The tingling sensation that had moved throughout his body was still there, trying to pull him to another location, but he also felt something else tugging at his mind and soul. Drizzt had been transported magically before, and understood the two feelings well. The first was a simple directional pull, trying to transport him to another physical location, and the second was transdimensional. He could feel his mind and soul being called to a different plane of existence.

As he struggled with this new revelation, he thought he could hear Catti-brie at his door calling out to him, but he could not move his mouth to answer. Her calls became knocks and then changed into pounding. Drizzt desperately wanted to respond. He wanted her to break the door down and rescue him from whatever force or magical power was calling him away, but he was helpless on the floor.

Suddenly a bright shock of energy went through the sphere and it shrunk to a pinprick and winked out of existence. The room was empty.

"Come on!" Catti-Brie called, pounding on the unyielding door. "Stupid lazy drow, open up!"

"I don't think he's there," Wulfgar responded, standing respectfully behind. "We would have surely woke him."

She turned to him. "Where would he go?" Wulfgar did not have an answer. Catti-brie knocked once more, but there was still no response. She motioned for Wulfgar to open it. The door was locked, but it was a cheap door. The mighty barbarian grabbed the knob and turned hard. The crack from inside the lock was as loud as Catti-brie's knocking had been. "He's gonna kill us," Catti-brie said, "but it's his own stupid fault."

The door swung open and they looked dumbfounded into the empty room. The only way to lock the door was from the inside, and the only window could not be opened. Catti-brie walked up to his bed, which had obviously been slept in, and picked up Guenhwyvar's pouch off the sheets. She saw the figurine still sitting on his nightstand. "Where would he go?"

* * * * *

Kraygan took off his robe and placed his hat on a hook in the back room of the store. He had just finished locking up and was exhausted. If business stayed up like this, he was going to have to hire a few assistants. Of course, they would need to know a bit about magic, and that might be hard to come by.

He could have made a lot more sales today than he did, but he had refused sale on a lot of items. People had made their selections based on appearance only, and cared nothing for the intrinsic value of the items. If they did not know what they were used for, he had often refused to sell it, instead offering a book that explained certain types of spells in which they might be interested.

Kraygan had found a very useful spell that was able to copy text from one page to another blank sheet. With a few modifications, he was able to print several dozen books, ensuring he would not run out. The books detailed simple spells for luck, love, and other such desires. Once the people of Garrilport knew what they were buying and how to use what he had to offer, he would be more willing to sell it to them.

Kraygan laughed to himself. Like he had said to John, he might be weak, but he was no fool. He had only stumbled upon his collection a year ago while he was lost in a cave within the Great Range, but he had worked hard to understand his magic and could tell that he had a natural inclination toward it.

It was dark outside already. The early spring days were getting longer, but he had stayed open a few extra hours today to accommodate the rush. He would not keep these hours all the time, but for the first few weeks he felt he needed to satisfy the public's curiosity. Right now he wanted a meal and a bed, but he remembered his promise to the captain to see what he could find.

He spent half an hour looking through his books until he found what he wanted. It was a simple spell and he had everything he needed in the shop. After collecting the items, he prepared a circle on the floor and lit a few candles in the room for light. In the middle of the circle he place a small mirror. It was only a foot across, and if the spell worked properly, the image of Entreri's worst fear would appear as the reflection.

Kraygan had never performed this spell before, and the complexity of it combined with his tired state made it difficult to concentrate. He placed the coin in a clear glass urn filled halfway with water and began to add the ingredients, chanting as he did. He needed four leaves from a cypress tree, two pinches of pulverized shale, three frog eyes, two…

Oops! He accidentally dropped a fourth frog eye into the mixture. He thought about fishing it out, but the contents were getting pretty hot and he decided against it. The instructions for the spell said he should not hesitate while adding the ingredients. He quickly added two ounces of animal fat and five ounces of oil. It might have been three ounces and six ounces, but he let it go.

He also was not too confident about the incantation he was muttering. It was in a language he did not know, and he was not so sure his pronunciation was correct. As he continued to add the last two items to the mixture, he hoped all these inconstancies did not matter.

Kraygan was gravely mistaken about two things. The first was that all of the inconsistencies did mater. They mattered a great deal. And the second thing was that he was a fool.

The sorcerer said the last few syllables of his incantation and turned to look at the mirror within the circle. Swirls of blue energy were wafting about over the glass, and Kraygan smiled, happy it was working. He dipped a feather into his now boiling concoction and sprinkled the potion over the mirror liberally. The swirling magical energy filled the entire circle now, and Kraygan wondered if he had made it big enough. The spell seemed a lot more powerful that it should be. He remembered how he might have gone heavy on some of the ingredients. The spell was sure to work now.

As he pinched some gold powder from a pouch, the final and most important component to the spell, he wondered if he should not adjust this amount as well. The book called for just a pinch, but knowing how powerful the spell was already and knowing how powerful this image would be if it were to scare Entreri, he grabbed a little extra gold powder and tossed it into the circle. He could always sweep the extra powder up later.

The shock of energy was tremendous, and Kraygan backed up quickly. The sphere of energy seemed to push the circumference of the magical circle out, allowing what ever presence he had summoned more room. The sound of glass cracking filled the room, and Kraygan cringed. If the mirror was broken, how was he supposed to see the image?

The spell ended suddenly, and the blue sphere winked out of existence. The reason for the cracked mirror was obvious. Instead of just summoning an image, Kraygan had summoned an actual creature – a human, at least it looked human. It was sitting on his mirror.

The creature was hunkered into a tight crouched position and slowly came to its senses. It had long white hair and dark skin. It was dressed for cold weather and quite ornately dressed at that. As the creature slowly looked around, Kraygan recognized it as an elf. Kraygan did not know what a drow was. Even if he did, he would be too proud of himself right now to be frightened.

Drizzt woke up slowly, very confused. His legs were cramped and stiff and he slowly stretched them out. What had happened? Where was he? Where had he just been? The last few minutes seemed very blurry to him, as if he were waking from a very realistic dream. Waking up? That was it. He had been sleeping. He remembered now. He had been in bed, and now he was here. There was something else. Dianka! Where was Dianka?

Drizzt lifted his head and cringed. The light! The room was flooded with light, and it startled him. He quickly shifted his perception out of the infrared, but the glare was still more than he was used to. He was in a room. He could tell that. He was also sitting on a pile of glass. There was a sound too. His ears were just recovering from the magical hum of whatever had brought him here, but he was pretty sure he could hear something.

It was a voice. It was a male's voice. Drizzt looked up and saw a man standing over him saying something he did not understand. A man? A human? Where was he?

"Who are you?" Kraygan asked again. The drow did not respond, but gave him a very quizzical expression as he stood up, stretching out his limbs. The drow seemed to ignore the sorcerer as he looked around the room, squinting each time he saw a candle.

An idea crossed Kraygan's mind and he pulled a small blue orb from a nearby shelf. He spoke an activation word and asked his question again. "Who are you?"

Drizzt understood the words clearly this time, as they were finally spoken in his language. Maybe this human was something he should worry about. He was obviously powerful if he could summon him from his heavily protected room – but he had not been in his room, had he? He kept looking around. Where was Dianka?

"Who are you!" Kraygan shouted. A minor electrical charge jumped from his fingers when he asked this time, shocking the drow.

Drizzt jumped away from the sorcerer, his hands instantly dropping to his weapon hilts. He recognized this human was just trying to get his attention, and it had not been an attack, but the electrical charge should have never even touched him. He looked down at his attire and was even more confused. These were not his clothes. One thing at a time. He looked up at the human. "Who are you?"

Kraygan bowed deeply. "I am Kraygan. I brought yo-"

"Send me back," Drizzt said sharply.

"In good time," Kraygan said, a bit of a quiver in his voice. If he knew anything about summonings, he thought he should have some control over this creature. But this elf seemed to be in total control of himself. "Can you please tell me your name?"

Drizzt sighed. "I am Drizzt Do'Urden of Daermon N'a'shezbaernon, House Do'Urden, Sixth House of Menzoberranzan." It was a title he had said more than once. "Now send me back."

"Do you know Artemis Entreri?" Kraygan asked.

"No." Drizzt was growing very tired of these games. "Send me back. I will not ask again."

"Are you sure you do not know him?" Kraygan asked more to himself than to Drizzt. "You have to know him," he said as he turned to look at his book. "He knows you or I would not have been able to find you." His fingers followed out the description of the spell he had just cast. "I don't see how this is poss-" he was violently interrupted when a scimitar came slicing through the air at his book. The blade cut the book in half right at its binding, taking three of Kraygan's fingers in the process.

The sorcerer cried out in pain and terror as he backed quickly against the wall. Drizzt was walking slowly toward him, a weapon out and dripping with Kraygan's blood. "Can you send me back?"

"I… uh… I don't… you are not supposed to… just an image… I… I… don't know."

"You don't know if you can send me back?" Drizzt said calmly, though his voice had an edge to it that was sharper than the blade he held.

Kraygan shook his head. "I mean I might."

"How did I get here?"

Kraygan paused, wishing desperately that he had the answer for this angry drow. His pause alone told Drizzt that the sorcerer had no clue why he was there. "You don't know why I am here, and you don't know how to send me back?" Drizzt asked for clarification.

"I can try," Kraygan said, trying to point toward his books on the other side of the room. He tried to point, but that finger was missing. Blood poured from the wound, but he was too scared to feel the pain.

Drizzt laughed. He was not about to let this inept sorcerer try to send him anywhere. He was not stupid. "Who is this Artemis Entreri?"

"He… I… uh… I summoned you for him," Kraygan said, not exactly sure how to present the information. "You are supposed to be his worst nightmare."

Drizzt laughed deeply. "Well, now, finally you are making some sense. Where can I find this… man?" Drizzt guessed at the race.

"He lives in the city. I don't know where."

Drizzt nodded and began to turn away.

"I'm terribly sorry about this," Kraygan tried to apologize. "It was all just a big mistake."

"Yes," Drizzt agreed as he spun around suddenly, his left-hand scimitar slicing cleanly across Kraygan's neck, scraping against his spine, but not severing the head completely. "It has been a big mistake." His right hand weapon suddenly appeared as well and stabbed straight into the dying man's chest. Drizzt heaved him into the air, letting the thin body slide painfully down his second weapon until his chest bumped against the hilt. The life was fast leaving Kraygan's eyes, and the last image he saw was Drizzt's grinning visage an inch away from his own face. "I just want to make sure you never make this mistake again."

Drizzt pushed the man away before the sorcerer got blood on him, and wiped his blades on a nearby towel. As he had noticed before, these were not his weapons. They were both finely crafted scimitars, but they were not twins. One of them was glowing angrily at him, its bluish light almost out shining the half dozen candles in the room. He sheathed both weapons and looked at the rest of his attire.

Kraygan had seemed surprisingly heavy when Drizzt had lifted him into the air, and looking at his wrists, he saw that his bracers were missing. Not missing, he soon realized, but on his ankles instead. Plus his clothing was all wrong. He was very hot inside the heavy cloak and tunic he wore. And there was something scratching on his chest. He reached into his collar and pulled out a unicorn figurine.

"What in the nine hells is this?" He felt no magical energy coming from it and snapped it off his neck. He regarded it for a few seconds and then threw it into a corner, shattering some glass container he did not care to investigate. He was about to leave this small back room, when a glowing orb caught his attention. It was the orb Kraygan had produced to allow the two of them to communicate. Drizzt picked it up, fell into its enchantment to discern its activation words, and pocketed the useful item.

He moved quickly through the main part of the store seeing right away that this foolish man had not taken the time to secure his store with any type of magical protection. We walked through the front door of the shop and cursed a dozen curses. The surface! He was on the surface.

It was night now, but there was a faint glow to the west. Drizzt did not know if this meant the sun had just gone down, or if it was just about to come up. Either way, he needed to find some type of shelter. He felt almost naked without his usual equipment. He did not want to underestimate these humans. If Kraygan was an example of their power, he had nothing to worry about, but he already knew the man was working for someone else, so he felt it safe to assume he was below average.

Drizzt needed to find shelter, and he needed to find this Artemis fellow. Artemis better have the power to send him back, or Drizzt was going to be in a very foul mood. He tucked his hair and head into the hood on his cloak, suddenly glad for the extra clothes. There was a bit of a chill in the air. Looking about briefly, Drizzt Do'Urden moved into the heart of the city as silent as death.

* * * * *

Drizzt woke up with a start. His breathing was quick for a moment, but then it relaxed as he realized where he was. He was still in bed. It had all been a dream. It had been a very realistic dream though. He thought he could still feel the magical hum of energy from when the blue swirls had spun around him. But it had been a dream. He could not feel any stiffness in his limbs from the paralysis he had experienced. The small disorientation he felt could easily be attributed to the dream. He was safe in his be-

There was something on his leg. It was moving. Drizzt lay perfectly still. His door was locked, but he knew his room was not impenetrable. With all the giants and ogres and yetis in the dale, one often overlooked the smaller creatures. But some of them were just as deadly.

The creature moved slowly up his thigh. It did not feel furry or scaly. In fact, it felt soft. As it moved further up his leg, Drizzt did not think the touch was menacing at all. It felt more like a friendly caress. Drizzt winced suddenly – very friendly.

"One more time before you go?"

Drizzt was wide-awake now. The voice came from just behind him as he lay on his side. It was soft, sultry, female, and most disturbing, drow. Drizzt leaped suddenly out of his bed, pulling a sheet with him to cover his naked body. When had he gotten frictionless satin sheets?

It had indeed been a female drow in bed next to him, and she looked quite startled by Drizzt's retreat. She sat up casually in bed, showing none of the modesty Drizzt was exhibiting. "Is something wrong?"

Is anything right? Drizzt asked himself. This was not his bed; this was not his room. Where was he? What was he doing? What was he doing with her? That last question was a bit obvious, but Drizzt had no memory of any of this. And looking at the beautiful drow who was reclined before him, he knew if something had happened, he would remember. He was sure of it.

The female drow moved to his side of the bed and swung her legs over the edge. Her eyes stared into him like icicles. She stood, revealing what little of her body had still been covered by the sheets. Drizzt's whole body quivered.

"You don't want to use the bed," she said, her voice dripping with sexual seduction. "I can adapt." She closed on him quickly, pressing her body against his and covering his neck and shoulders with kisses.

Drizzt fought desperately against his own desires. Half of him wanted her to continue, but the other half needed to push her way. Instead his hands stayed clamped to the sheet that covered his body, hardly a necessity with her curves pressed so tightly up against him that Wulfgar could not pull the sheet free if he tried.

Her kisses traveled slowly down his bare chest, sending chills up his spine. As she got to the edge of the sheet, half way down his chest, she backed away and playfully tugged at the hem. "Drizzt, I don't know if I can do it with this in the way," she said.

That was enough. As the female pulled down on the sheet, Drizzt released it and pushed her away. She seemed surprisingly light, and Drizzt was able to throw her several feet back onto the bed. "Oooohhhh," she cried. "You want to play rough. I ca-"

"No!" Drizzt cried, not even bothering to pick the sheet back up. "Get out!"

She just laughed at him. "What are you play at?"

Drizzt took a step toward her, all his frustration at this new situation boiling over into rage. The female saw that change, and her demeanor changed as well. She suddenly looked like a frightened puppy. "Master, what's wrong? Is it me? Was I not good? Did I do something wrong?"

"Get out," Drizzt repeated, speaking with a calm fury that even scared himself.

"But this is my room," she replied, but she was already moving. She picked up a discarded robe from the other side of the bed, and wrapped herself in it. She looked back at him. "Maybe tonight, I can bring a friend. Thelani or Quis'kiny, or I can bring both. We can use your room. We can do things you never-"

"Out!" Drizzt cried for the last time.

The woman moved like an arrow for the door in the corner of the room. She opened it and prepared to leave, but turned one last time. "Please don't tell Matron Malice about this."

The shock of this last phrase must have been clearly evident on Drizzt's face because the female disappeared long before he could even begin a response.

As the door closed, he collapsed into a sitting position on the bed. Matron Malice! Where was he? Who was he? The female had called him Drizzt, but this was not him. This was not his life. He looked down at himself. This was not his body. Drizzt was fit, but this body more closely resembled Wulfgar's. The raw power in his muscles was incredible. He had tossed that female onto the bed as if she had weighed nothing.

Drizzt was lost in thought, but as he sat there, something caught his attention. There was a scar on his knee. He knew that scar. He had gotten that scar when he was a child first learning to levitate. Vierna had made him levitate when he was too young to realistically do it. He had fallen many times, the last fall before he succeeded had opened a gash on his knee, but Vierna had refused to heal it with her priestly powers, letting the pain remind him of his failure.

Drizzt looked at his chest. There he should find his most recent scar. When Entreri had "killed" him in Jarlaxle's crystal tower, Rai-guy had healed him, mostly. Drizzt knew that drow priests were very powerful, and Rai-guy had been able to heal Regis completely a day or so earlier. He figured the drow priest had left the scar there on purpose. Whatever the case, he did not have the scar now. His chest was clean.

There were no mirrors in the room, but Drizzt spotted a small water basin in the corner where this female kept the rest of her toiletries. He lit a candle and walked over to the basin. The reflection was one he knew. It was him. His face was a little fuller, and there appeared to be holes in his ears for earrings, but it was him.

Drizzt saw the earrings on the small table next to the basin. There were two diamonds studs and four gold hoops. He shrugged his shoulders and started to put them in. He could feel the magical energy in them and smiled to himself. But why had he taken them off? He looked closely at his reflection and saw tiny bit marks on his ears. He shuddered as he realized his sleeping partner had probably found them to be in the way.

Drizzt searched through the female's personal belongings next. Her name was Dianka, and she was a member of House Do'Urden – as if Matron Malice's name had not been enough to confirm where he was. But how? His old house had been destroyed and Matron Malice was dead. She had brought the house to ruin trying to capture him. Instead he had escaped and fled to the surface.

But he was not on the surface now. He could feel the weight of the world on top of him as clearly as if it had always been there, as if he had never left. That thought scared him. He did not have the scar on his chest. That meant he had not fought Entreri in the crystal tower. Had it all been a dream? Had he dreamt all those things? If he had not run away, Malice would still probably be alive. It had only been about thirty years ago. It was like he had never left.

Drizzt needed answers. But first he needed clothes. His undershorts were lying next to the bed. At least he assumed they were his. It took a little extra hunting to find his pants, and then even more to find his tunic. Why were his clothes spread across the room? Drizzt blushed deeply as he realized the answer to his question. He also felt a little stiff as he moved about. He was not used to the extra bulk this body had, and he understood how it would take away from his flexibility.

He came upon his piwafwi and a wave of memories washed over him. The last he had seen of this was when he had discarded it in the mountains near Maldobar. It had been torn and tattered then, destroyed by the light of the sun. Now it looked as new as when he had first been given it. There were a few extra gems sewn into the fabric, but it was the same piwafwi. As he put it on, he could feel the stiffness he had felt earlier evaporate. Despite his size, he felt as spry as ever.

His weapons and equipment were the only things that lay in a neat pile. Drizzt had always taken good care of his weapons, and was glad to see that in this reality, he did so as well. As he strapped them on, he understood why. The scimitars were his old scimitars. They had a few more gems in the pommel, and he though he saw a few extra inscriptions on the blades, but they were his.

Drizzt was surprised to find his bracers in the pile. These had been Dantrag's and should still be his. He began to put them on his wrists and paused. He did not wear them on his wrists, he wore them on his ankles. Something inside him, some muscle memory, had instinctively started to put them on his wrists. Drizzt decided not to fight the instinct, realizing this body had probably gone through the motions of putting on this equipment thousands of times and knew what it was doing.

He had worn his bracers on his ankles because he found that his feet could not keep up with his hands while fighting. When he put on his boots, Drizzt understood why that was no longer a problem. It felt like he weighed no more than a child.

The last item in the pile surprised him. It was Khazid'hea, or Cutter as the sentient weapon called itself. Catti-brie owned it in his other life. Dantrag was supposed to own it in this one. The idea that he had already killed Dantrag in this life was not something Drizzt had difficulty believing. But why would he wear this sword? He could not wield three weapons, and it matched poorly with either of his scimitars. Still, Drizzt's instinctive movements found a clasp on his belt that secured the weapon behind his right scimitar and out of the way.

Finished with the process of getting dressed, Drizzt took stock of himself. It was awe-inspiring. He felt as stronger than Wulfgar, quicker than Entreri, faster than Guenhwyvar, more resilient than Bruenor, and his precision… He took his weapons out and swung them through a series of maneuvers. He shuddered. "I am a killing machine."

Drizzt left the room, making a conscious effort not to run. His body felt so light and alive with energy, pulsing with more magic than he had thought possible, that he felt he could fly if he wanted to. On a hunch, Drizzt checked his levitating ability. It was something he had not tried in over a dozen years, but it came back to him like it had never left.

The halls of the Do'Urden compound were empty. He did not recognize this area of the house, which was odd. He had lived in Menzoberranzan for almost half his life, he should remember his own house. Then it struck him. He was not in the main section of the house. Dianka was not a noble. They had probably used her room so as not to draw attention to his secret liaisons. He had never been in the common section of the house.

The halls were all empty this early in the morning, and Drizzt moved through them quietly, not wanting to wake anyone. He moved as if he were a thief, not able to bring himself to understand that he belonged here, or at least that this version of him belonged here. If anyone saw him they would not sound an alarm. In fact, since he was a noble, they would probably bend low in honor at his passing.

Drizzt shuddered again as he stepped out of the common dormitory and onto the floor of the Do'Urden compound. He could see the great ceiling of Menzoberranzan stretching out above and beyond him. He was truly back home.

As he walked toward the main stalagmite structure of the compound, Drizzt tried to remember where his room was. All he could remember was that he had not spent much time in it. It was given to him after he had returned from the Academy, and he had only stayed for a few weeks after that. Most of his time had been spent as a page prince in the chapel or in the gymnasium training with…

Zaknafein! Drizzt did run now. If he had not run away, then Malice would have had no reason to sacrifice his father. Zaknafein would still be alive. The way to the gym was very familiar to him, and Drizzt covered the distance in seconds. He paused briefly outside the door. Inside the gym he could hear the sounds of sparring. Zak was training someone.

Whatever delusional nightmare Drizzt was experiencing, it could all be worth it if he had just one minute with his father. He burst through the doors and stopped. It was not Zaknafein. Two young drow were sparring or fighting with each other. They were using real weapons, so it was unclear. Whatever they were doing, they stopped the instant Drizzt entered the room.

They bowed low. "Are we to start early this morning, Master," one of them said. The one that spoke looked familiar somehow. Drizzt wondered if he had seen him in his other life before he had run away. He did not look old enough for that. Drizzt shook it off. The other student looked at Drizzt with a clear level of hatred in his eyes. He did not say anything.

Drizzt continued to talk to the first drow, who looked a few years older. "Start?" as soon as the question was out of his mouth, he wished he had not asked it. Of course he did not know what was going on, but the more he acted like it, the less likely he was going to figure anything out.

"Today's session," the first drow replied.

"I know," Drizzt scolded back, "but it looks like you and your friend have already started without me."

The student trembled a bit. "Kelron and I were just practicing what you showed us yesterday. Since you were not in your room we thought you might be, uh, um, busy elsewhere."

Drizzt knew what the young student was thinking, but could not bring himself to say. Thinking back to Dianka, Drizzt knew the student was right. That was not what bothered him though. This young drow was talking as if Drizzt was their weapon master. Both he and Dianka had called him master.

"Where is Zaknafein?" Drizzt asked, knowing he should already know the answer, but not caring how foolish it made him look.

"Zaknafein?" the young drow looked confused.

Didn't Zaknafein exist in this reality? He had to, or at least some version of him. "Yes," Drizzt said, "Zaknafein. Do you know who he is?"

"He was the weapon master of this house before you," the drow responded. "It was before I was born, but I know of it."

So Malice had made Drizzt weapon master instead. It made sense to have a noble son as the weapon master. "Do you know where he is?" Drizzt asked.

The student again had a puzzled look on his face.

"Answer the question!"

"He's dead," the young drow replied meekly.

Drizzt exploded into motion, moving almost faster than he could think. In a second he had the drow pinned against the wall with a scimitar at his neck. "Who killed Zaknafein?" Drizzt asked as slowly and as seriously as he could muster.

The young drow was terrified. Drizzt could see many bruises covering his face and they all throbbed red as he quivered in fear. "Is this a test?" he asked.

Drizzt said nothing, but grunted loudly as he pressed his blade against the drow's neck, drawing a think line of blood.

"You did," the drow squeaked, almost inaudible.

I did.

The shock was almost too much. His grip on his scimitar slackened. His posture was no longer erect. His mind was reeling with the idea that he had killed his own father. He did not care how perverted this other self of him was, he could never, under any circumstances, kill his own father.

At this moment, Drizzt the ranger would have died. Living in Icewind Dale had kept him on edge, and he was more alert in that environment than anyone else. He could track anything and would never walk into an ambush. But Drizzt the ranger, in this current emotional state, after hearing he had killed his own father, would not have heard Kelron sneaking up behind him.

To Drizzt the weapon master, it sounded like the other drow was walking on broken glass. It might have been the magical diamond earrings that improved his hearing. It might have been the magical boots that allowed him to feel the slight tremor in the floor. Or it might just be the warrior instincts that had developed over 60 years in the underdark. Whatever it was, Kelron did not have a chance.

With his left scimitar still held loosely at the familiar drow's neck, Drizzt pulled his other one and swept it behind him without turning. The blind scimitar impossibly blew Kelron's attempted backstab out of the way, and then swept back and down toward the drow's knees. The move was made too quickly for Kelron to retreat with his momentum already going forward. He desperately tried to get his weapon back in time to block the attack, but saw he would not have time.

Kelron braced himself to lose a leg, but the scimitar did not continue the attack, instead it came back up to meet the returning sword. Kelron was startled back to reality from the unexpected block, but then had to drop his weapon as Drizzt cut at his hand. Kelron was off balance and threw both arms wide to keep them out of range.

Instead, the scimitar jabbed straight back, the enchanted tip piercing the thin chainmail and snagging Kelron where he stood. With a tremendous heave, Drizzt pulled the rebellious student around his right side dragging him by his own armor. Kelron's back slammed into the wall, and Drizzt kept his weapon at the drow's chest, the tip still through the chainmail and drawing a prick of blood from his chest. Kelron did not even dare breath.

Drizzt carried out the attack almost nonchalantly, not even sure how he was doing it. He just let his body act instinctively, knowing that he should not be able to do what he was doing. Instead of worrying about it, he kept his main focus on the young student in front of him. "I killed my father?" he asked, not wanting to hear the answer, but needing to at the same time.

The drow nodded. "Like I said, it happened before I was born."

Drizzt was not in good shape right now. The one chance for this nightmarish existence back in Menzoberranzan to be bearable had just been shattered on the floor. He had killed Zaknafein and taken his place as weapon master. Looking at both his students' faces, he could see clearly enough that he was not a kind master. They each had cuts and bruises that numbered far more than what he had experienced under Vierna. He was so cruel that given the chance, Kelron had just tried to kill him

"Is something wrong, Father?"

Drizzt's jaw dropped. The reason the drow had seemed so familiar was because he was Drizzt's own son.

"I mean Master," the drow quickly corrected himself, seeing his father's shocked expression.

This was too much. Drizzt needed to sort it out, and he needed to do it alone. "I killed my own father," he said, working hard to keep his voice from cracking. "I have no problem killing my own son. If you two ever start a session before I arrive again, I will kill you both. Is that understood?"

The two drow nodded, terribly frightful that they would be killed anyway. "Now go back to your rooms. There will be no further lessons today." They did not need to be told twice and scampered off to their small quarters on the other side of the gym.

Drizzt moved as if in a daze to what must be his own chamber, the weapon master's chamber. Drizzt walked in, fell on his bed, and wept.

Chapter 2

A Warm Welcome

Entreri felt good as he walked down the street in the early morning. He had spent the winter cooped up in his small house, working to make the place seem as presentable as possible. Now that spring was returning to Garrilport, Entreri appreciated the chance to get out. It was not that warm, but the cool wind that blew off the mountains was very refreshing.

Whether on purpose or because his subconscious had some ulterior motives Entreri did not know about, he found himself walking toward the magic shop. He could tell from a distance that something was dreadfully wrong. A small group of civilians was gathered around the store's entrance, which was guarded by two of John's men. Entreri worked his way through the small crowd and up to the guards. They were about to refuse him entrance as well, but the assassin gave each one of them a look, and they decided to let him in.

"Just like home," Entreri said to himself. Given enough time, this city would learn to respect him just like Calimport. The main section of the store was empty, and Entreri continued to the back where he heard John's voce.

"Just when you think you have everything under control, it starts all over again."

Entreri walked into the back room and paused. They had not moved Kraygan's body. Cause of death was fairly obvious. There was no need for a closer inspection. "Captain," one of the guards said, when he saw Entreri enter.

John turned around and smiled at him. "Good morning Artemis. Is this your work?"

"No, I'm afraid it's not, Captain," Entreri replied. "But I'm sure that won't keep you from arresting me for it."

"If I can't find anyone else," he said. John turned back to the body and crouched down next to it. "Have you ever seen anything like this before?"

"I have seen many things like that before," Entreri answered. "And some things much worse."

John shook his head. "I don't get it. This guy just got into town. It's not like he could have made any enemies. Plus there is no sign of struggle and no sign of a forced entry."

Entreri looked around the room. There was quite a bit of destruction around the body, but John was right nothing else seemed to be disturbed. Then Entreri saw a broken vase in the corner. He moved over to examine it while John continued to look at the wounds.

"These cuts were not made by a normal blade. Either the attacker had a double-jointed wrist, or he was using a curved weapon. Plus the neck wound was made with left hand swipe while the chest wound has a right hand twist to it, again, unless the attacker was double-jointed."

One of the other guards spoke up. "Are you saying he used two blades at the same time?"

"It looks that way," John said.

"And one of them was curved," the guard continued, now looking at Cicle hanging from Entreri's side. The rapier had a slight curve to it.

"They both were," John said, looking up at his man. He saw that Entreri was being examined, but John shook his head. He knew what kind of wound the assassin's frost blade would leave. This was not it. Still he looked over at Entreri. "Do you know of any type of fighter or creature that wields two good-sized, curved blades?"

Entreri was standing up slowly, holding a chain from which a small unicorn figurine dangled. "Yes," he said very carefully, "I do." He pocketed the necklace and walked back to the body. He took a closer look at the wounds and knew what type of weapon had made them.

"You know who did-"

"What was he doing?" Entreri asked firmly, interrupting the captain.

"Who?"

"What was this clerk doing? It looks like he was in the middle of a spell. What was he doing?"

"I don't know."

"Think!" Entreri shouted, growing quickly frustrated with the situation.

"What's wrong?" John asked.

"Everything is wrong," Entreri replied. "This killer does not exist. He can't exist." Entreri's hands were opening and closing by his side, and he kept shaking his head. "This is not possible."

"What's wrong?" John asked. "I've never seen you this… scared," John finished quietly to himself, a light going on in his head. One of his men was going through a curious glass container filled with an awful smelling concoction. He beckoned for it, and his man handed it over. He lifted it up and could see a gold coin lying at the bottom.

"Oh, no," John said when he realized what was going on.

Entreri turned to him. "What?"

"I think I know what he was doing. I think he was trying to find something to scare you."

"To scare me?" Entreri did not understand what he was hearing. He went over to the spell book, which lay on a table that had been cut in half. Half of the book had gone with the rest of the table, but the spell in question was still intact.

Entreri pulled the page out easily with the binding gone and skimmed over it. "This spell is supposed to summon the image of someone's worst fear."

"The image did this?" John motioned at the body.

"What did I tell you about magic?" Entreri asked rhetorically, tossing the page aside. "No, I assume the image was supposed to appear on that broken mirror on the floor. Undoubtedly broken by the weight of whatever was summoned."

"So the spell went bad?" John asked.

"They always do. That still does not explain what's going on here."

"You said you know what did this," John pushed.

"I know what it looks like," Entreri answered. "But he is dead."

"Are you sure?"

Entreri looked at him. "Yes I'm sure. I killed him. I punched my fist through his chest and crushed his heart with my hand. It's not exactly the type of wound you walk away from."

"Maybe Kraygan called him back from the dead," John said.

"It still does not make sense," Entreri said, turning around and pacing in the small room. "Drizzt is not a killer."

"But you were scared of him?" John asked, taking note of the name Entreri had used.

The assassin laughed. "No I was not. Drizzt fought for the good and the just. You know, someone who protects women and children and little puppies. That's why I hated him so much. He was just too self-righteous. He was as skilled as anyone I had ever met, yet would give his life without question to save any worthless wretch that might be in danger. If he really believed in what he was doing, he would guard his life with more respect. That's why I hated him so much. That's why I killed him."

"So you weren't sacred of him," John said, agreeing that this did not make sense.

"No." Entreri stopped pacing and looked at the body. When he had said he had seen an awful lot of things like that, it was because he had done most of them. "Now if Drizzt was more like he was supposed to be, a heartless drow, killing everything in sight for the sake of his beloved spider queen, then you and I would have something to be scared of."

"You mean if he was more like you," John said, very little humor in his voice.

"Something like that," Entreri agreed. "I still don't understand why this Kraygan fellow would summon something to scare me, though. I don't even know him."

"Uh," John started, "I might have asked him to do it."

"You might have asked him?" Entreri echoed. "What, is this some kind of sick birthday present?"

"It's your birthday?"

Entreri ignored the question. "You know, everyday I get to know you a little better, and each piece of knowledge reminds me that I should have killed you the first day we met."

The two city guards in the room looked concerned. Had their captain just been threatened? John ignored the comment and turned to give his guards orders. Working off a description Entreri gave him, he organized a few search teams that were to sweep the city. According to Entreri, Drizzt should stick out like a sore thumb. He also made sure that his men knew not to try to apprehend the drow by themselves. If he had turned into a killer when he had been brought back from the dead, the guards would not be able to handle him.

Entreri decided not to join the search party. If Drizzt and Kraygan had had a chance to talk much before Drizzt killed him, he would know Entreri was here. Entreri would not have to hunt down the drow. The ranger would find him.

* * * * *

Catti-brie and Wulfgar waited in Drizzt's room for an hour.

"Maybe he went on ahead without us," Wulfgar said.

Catti-brie shook her head. "He would have told us or left a note or something. It's not like him to run off."

"Something must have come up," Wulfgar tried again. "His life is more complicated than we realize. Maybe he had to go somewhere and did not have time to leave a note. He can take care of himself."

Catti-brie slowly shook her head. She understood what Wulfgar was saying, but it did not make sense to her. "If he had to go, why did he leave Guenhwyvar behind? And how did he lock his door from the inside?"

"Is he playing with us?"

"What?" Catti-brie asked.

"Is this his idea of a joke? Locking his door and then disappearing."

Catti-brie thought for a moment. "If it is, it's not very funny. Those tracks we are supposed to investigate are pretty real." An idea came to her. "If he is hiding, I know who can find him." Catti-brie reached over and picked up the panther figurine. A minute later Guenhwyvar was nuzzling her head into Catti-brie's hand.

"Guen," she said playfully, crouching down so she was at eye level with the great cat, "we think Drizzt might be hiding, see if you can find him." The panther smiled at the potential game and went to work. She knew her master better than anyone, but still refreshed her memory by sniffing around in his recently used bed. She found the trail easily enough and left the room.

Wulfgar and Catti-brie prepared to follow, but Guen came back into the room after only a few seconds. The playful bounce in the cat's step that was there at the beginning was gone. Catti-brie noticed. "What is it? Where did he go?"

Wulfgar had been away too long and his relationship with Guenhwyvar had never been anywhere near what Catti-brie had with the panther. He stood by and watched as the other two tried to figure out what was wrong.

"Can you smell him? Where did he go?"

Guen went back to the bed, followed the sent to the floor, and then started for the door. She paused again and returned. There was a point on the floor where it just disappeared. A small rug covered that area to protect against the cold stone floor. Guen began to scratch at it. Drizzt's scent was all over the room, but the other smells were much older. The more recent trail ended right here.

"What is the cat doing?" Wulfgar asked.

Catti-brie did not know either. She pulled the rug away from Guen before she scratched a hole in it. The panther wanted the rug back, but then took notice of the stone floor beneath. Her intelligent eyes went from the rug in Catti-brie's hand to the unyielding stone floor. She began to scratch at the floor.

"Is this how he got out?" Catti-brie asked. "But there is no door here. There is no way for him to get out through the floor."

"Not all doors are physical," Wulfgar said. It was not common for someone of his heritage to turn to a magical solution so quickly, but Wulfgar had experienced more magic in his short life than most mages would in 50 years.

"Are you saying he was transported out?" Catti-brie asked, though she too saw it as the only real explanation they had to work with. "By whom to where?" Wulfgar did not have the answers, and he did not waste words to say as much. Catti-brie thought best when she was talking things through.

"Maybe someone needed his help," Catti-brie said. "Someone like Cadderly or Alustriel or Deudermont or maybe the Harpells. Still, you'd think they would have let him leave a note or something to let us know where he went."

"You are assuming someone needed his help," Wulfgar said, starting a line of thought that Catti-brie had intentionally avoided. "Their reasons for calling might not have been honorable."

"We can't answer these questions," Catti-brie said. She noticed Guen was still trying to dig a hole through the floor to find her owner. Catti-brie gently told Guen to stop.

"How long do we wait until we take action?" Wulfgar asked. He already knew the answer the fiery woman would give. Wulfgar often liked to give the drow the benefit of the doubt, knowing there was no one else he knew that was more capable of handling himself no matter the situation. He would wait a day or two before becoming concerned. If Drizzt's disappearance was innocent or private, he did not want to intrude.

Catti-brie, on the other hand, could not stand by when one of her friends might be in trouble, even if she knew nothing or had nothing she could do. "I've waited too long already," she said. Drizzt can walk the distance to Silverymoon in three days. I say we can ride it in one. If he did not go to Lady Alustriel, she might at least be able to help us find out where he did go."

Wulfgar sighed. "In an hour, Drizzt might be back here wondering where we went. In a day, he might become concerned."

Catti-brie shook her head, already moving outside to where they kept the horses. "If he is not in trouble, then we will have over-reacted. If he is in trouble, in a day he might be beyond rescue, and we might be the only chance to help him. Given those choices, I see only one path open to us." Wulfgar had no way to argue with that logic.

Guenhwyvar reluctantly went back to her plane of existence. With Drizzt in potential danger, the panther did not want to leave, but Catti-brie convinced her that they might need her soon, and she needed to conserve her energy. Knowing that Silverymoon would be able to provide them with anything they might need in the way of provisions, they packed light and set off within the half-hour.

* * * * *

Drizzt walked down the corridor, following his sister. Vierna and he not only shared the same mother, but Zaknafein was their father as well. She was the closest relative he had. Instead of embracing her after their long time apart, Drizzt was going through how many different ways he could pull one of his scimitars and cut her head off.

Catti-brie was an orphan, her parents killed in a goblin raid when she was very young. Wulfgar's immediate family had been killed in the raid against Ten Towns. All of Bruenor's many forefathers were dead. Drizzt did not know about Regis' family, but assumed he had some, at least at one time. If any of his friends had the chance to be reunited with their family, the occasion would be most joyous. When Gandalug Battlehammer had returned to Mithril Hall after being freed from Matron Baenre's imprisonment, Bruenor had thrown a tremendous celebration, and that was for a relative he had never even known.

Drizzt had now been given the chance that all is other friends dreamed of, and he hated every second of it. The fact that he had no family had never bothered him before because none of his friends did either and they had each other. But now he realized that even with all of his relatives alive, he still had no family, at least not as he had come to understand the word.

His understanding of what a family should be was so warped after 30 years in the underdark that during the first few weeks of watching the Thistledown children outside of Maldabar, he swore they would end up killing each other. Their playful antics had not made sense. The youngest got dunked into the water trough so often, Drizzt swore the child would take a knife late at night and put an end to his tormentors. That was what Drizzt understood family to be.

Zaknafein had been a friend. Only after many years on the surface was Drizzt able to look back on his time with his father and see why he had been a friend. That was the only family Drizzt had. There was the only joy he might be able to hope for in a situation like this. But it was not to be so. He had killed his father.

When Vierna had summoned him from his room, Drizzt had seen the hatred in her eyes. None of his sisters had ever liked him, but Drizzt had assumed it was because of his blasphemous statements and sacrilegious beliefs. By what he had seen thus far, this version of him was as close a follower of Lloth as any in the city. Yet still Vierna despised him. Ah, there's no place like home.

In the hours he had just spent in his room, Drizzt had thought through his situation as well as he could. He had not been able to imagine how any version of him could kill Zaknafein, but then he remembered the last time he had seen his father alive. They had been fighting to the death then. They had been fighting over the life of an elf child that Drizzt had supposedly butchered. One of them would have surely died in that fight if Drizzt had not cried out that the child still lived. Drizzt had not needed to think too long to know why the fight in this reality had not ended that way.

He also did not have Guenhwyvar. And why should he? This Drizzt would not see the panther as any more special than Masoj had, the mage who had owned it. Guen had fought by his side, but he had probably asked her to hunt down and kill gnomes just like a good drow would. There would have never come a time for the panther to chose a master beside the one who held her statue. Drizzt had not fought for it because this Drizzt did not desire friends.

Drizzt also figured out what his standing in the city must be. Drizzt had fought against the best this city had to offer both in his own reality and apparently in this one. As he walked down the hall now, his muscles rippling and his step quick and light, he knew that there was not one drow in the city that could last ten seconds against him. He must be invaluable to this house. That was probably why he was being called with his sisters to meet in Matron Malice's audience chamber.

The rest of his family was there waiting for him – at least, the rest of the females in his family. Malice was there with Briza and Maya. Each looked at him with contempt except his mother. She actually smiled at him. "Glad you could join us," she said, a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

Apparently this was a scheduled meeting that Drizzt had not remembered. "My sincerest apologies," Drizzt responded, bowing low. "My mind was on other things."

"And what could be more important than the matters of this house?" she asked, intrigued at what the response would be.

"The matters of those houses that rank above us," Drizzt responded, thinking quickly.

Matron Malice laughed. She had not thought there would be a correct answer to that question. She had been wrong. "Then you are in the right frame of mind for this meeting." She turned to the rest of her children in attendance. "House Baenre is growing restless. They know they are not the only power in this city anymore. We are sixth, but they know we are stronger than all between us."

Drizzt's head picked up at this. They were sixth. To move up two places in only 30 years was very impressive. Drizzt had a good idea he had a lot to do with it.

"There will come a time in the next year when we will challenge them directly for rule over this city. No one will stand in our way. House Baenre has sat atop this city for too long. Our numbers and strength grow with each month and theirs diminishes. They will need to settle this quickly before the scales tip decidedly in our favor."

"Then we should seek Lloth and find her will in this," Briza said. "Our success has shown that we are in her favor and House Baenre's decent shows that they are not, but Lloth might have other designs for their collapse."

"No," Drizzt said. "Lloth demands destruction and chaos. We must attack first."

"You are mad," Maya responded. She and the rest of his sisters glared at him, but Drizzt noticed that they did not reach for their whips.

If he had made that bold a statement in the past, he would have been beaten severely. Drizzt wanted to know where he stood in the house, now he knew. In front of their mother, Drizzt was an equal. He wondered how far it went.

"We must attack first and cripple them. Then, before they have even finished counting their wounds, we will strike them down."

Briza laughed. "You have gone mad. To eliminate a house you must do it swiftly and silently. There can be no phases of the attack. The war must consist of only one battle. There is no other way."

Drizzt stood and glared at his sister. "This is not a normal war. I am not talking about eliminating a house, I am talking about taking over a city. If we attack in silence and secrecy, keeping our identity unknown, then we will move into the fifth place in the city, and we will have made the second house stronger by our actions. This attack must be made public to the rest of the city. Everyone must know that we have arrived."

Briza did start to reach for her whip now, and Drizzt thought he might have over done it. Malice stepped in before it got ugly. "How?" she asked, motioning to her eldest daughter to stand down for the moment. "How do we defeat House Baenre?" she asked her son.

"I have a plan," he lied.

"What?" Malice persisted, indicating from her tone that she did not like having to ask.

"I can not tell you," Drizzt spoke the truth. "If you know then Lloth will know. If Lloth knows, House Baenre can find out. I must keep it to myself. You must trust me."

"Mother!" Briza screamed. "You can not allow this to go on."

"If I told you now," Drizzt continued, staring down his oldest sister, "you would go to Lloth as you said before and consult our glorious spider queen as to the outcome of my plan. Regardless of the response you would not be happy."

"Lloth would not betray us to House Baenre," Briza argued.

"Wouldn't she?" Drizzt replied. "Is she not the goddess of chaos? She does not choose favorites. She wants the strongest to survive, what better way to see if we are worthy than to stack the deck against us."

"You would remove her presence from this fight?" Vierna asked. "You would fight without Lloth's blessing."

Drizzt shook his head. "I will create chaos. I will show this city something they have never seen before. I will create death and destruction and Lloth will smile upon us."

"This is suici-" Briza started.

"Shut up!" Malice cried. Drizzt grinned. He had been wrong. He was not equal with his sisters. He was above them. "Can you do this?" she asked sincerely.

"Have I ever failed you before, Matron Mother?" he replied, bowing deeply.

"When is this attack to take place?"

"Soon," Drizzt replied. "Very soon."

Back in his room, Drizzt's mind was spinning. He wanted so desperately to destroy this city. In the life he had already lived, his presence had ripped apart Menzoberranzan. The city had lost many valuable resources chasing after the renegade drow and was much weaker than it had been. Drizzt was not content to weaken this city. He wanted to destroy it. He wanted to turn it upside-down. Then he wanted to leave.

He had already contemplated returning to the surface, but he was not sure who would be waiting for him. If he had never been to Icewind Dale, who had fought against Akar Kessel and Crenshinibon? Even before that, who had warned Ten Towns of the barbarian attack? Bruenor's threat to lock the dwarves in their caves and let the humans fight it out had probably taken place. This meant that Wulfgar was not the same person he knew. Catti-brie and Bruenor may or may not be alive depending on the human's success against the crystal shard. And what of Regis? Entreri would have easily found him, and the halfing would have been tortured to death many years ago.

There was no surface for him to return to. The only surface he had left to return to was his own. He needed to go back the same way he had come. He needed the help of a wizard. House Do'Urden had several that were probably powerful enough to set things right, but could he trust them? He doubted it. Besides, they would not understand his dilemma. Who would want to abandon this life to go back to the surface?

Was there anyone he could go to? Drizzt sighed in frustration and just lay on his bed. It was the only thing he dared do.

* * * * *

Drizzt sat in the corner of a seedy tavern in the northern section of Garrilport sipping at the establishment's finest wine. At least they said it was their finest wine. Drizzt had liked to visit taverns back in Menzoberranzan. It was not a common thing for a noble male of a ranked house to visit the unprotected slums of the drow city, but Drizzt did not care. No one would ever attack him. It was suicide. It was safer to take on the entire Do'Urden house than to engage Drizzt by himself.

Drizzt had figured that he would have to get into a few fights before the ambitious drow of the city learned to leave him alone, but it had not even taken that. Drizzt was a walking legend, or at least he had been back in Menzoberranzan, and no one dared confront him. He had three or four taverns he liked to visit regularly, and they gave him preferential treatment. Each of these taverns had wine for Drizzt – and perhaps Lloth herself if she ever cared to visit – and then they had wine for everyone else. Drizzt had never had to pay for his drinks.

If anyone had ever set before him what he now drank, heads would literally roll. Drizzt restrained himself here, though, and casually sipped at the drink. He could not expect these humans to know who he was… yet. The poor quality of the drink prevented the need for caution on Drizzt's part. He no longer had his golden earrings that not only protect his mind from unwanted psionic and magical invasion, but also kept his head clear from inebriation no matter how much he drank. Getting drunk on this wine, however, would take willpower he did not posses.

His missing earrings were only a minor inconvenience. Without his other magical items, he felt naked and exposed. If this Artemis Entreri wanted him for something, why not summon him with all his equipment? Of course, no matter how naked Drizzt felt, he realized that at the time he was transported out of Dianka's room, he really had been naked. He should be thankful for the clothes and equipment he had.

He had also realized last night that this was not his body. Not exactly anyway. He had wandered until he had come to this section of the city. This was the section that never slept. He had never been in a human settlement before, but with the help of the orb he had taken from the dead sorcerer, he was able to read the signs above each building and found a hotel. He had some money on him, but the innkeeper had refused to give him a room. So Drizzt had killed him and stayed the night for free.

His room had a mirror, and he was able to see that it was him, but some perverted version of him. He was smaller, but quicker and more flexible. That was important because besides the bracers, he had nothing to improve his agility. He had no idea why he still had the bracers, but he was glad he did. Everything about this new identity he had inherited spoke of being acclimated to the surface.

Neither of his weapons was of drow make. They were both fine scimitars, and the blue one was better than either of his old weapons, but they were definitely designed for the surface. He did not have a piwafwi, and even the lowest males of the lowest houses in Menzoberranzan had that. They might not be magical, but they at least had them. Drizzt had also found out that he no longer had the ability to levitate. He did not know if that was because of prolonged exposure to the surface lights, or because he no longer had his Do'Urden emblem.

There was also the light. The candles in the magic shop had startled Drizzt because it had been a long time since he had used natural light. Once he had changed his vision back into the normal spectrum, he was amazed by how soft the light was. Even the sunlight outside this morning, though brighter than anything he could remember, did not sting his eyes like it should. This version of him had been on the surface for a long time.

If there was a version of him that lived in this reality, Drizzt wondered why he was not good enough for this Artemis Entreri. Surely, the Drizzt of Menzoberranzan was better equipped to handle any task imaginable than this inadequately equipped version of him, but that was only because of his physical condition. It appeared that the only thing about him that had remained from his other self was his memory and mindset. Was this version of him mentally inept? He had obviously left the underdark, so there had to be something wrong with him.

Zaknafein had often spoken fondly of the surface, but his father had been a fool. His only ambition lay in killing priestesses. He was good at it, but he never sought to reap the potential benefits. His constant bickering with Matron Malice and his unwillingness to embrace the ways of his people had weakened House Do'Urden considerably. Drizzt had enjoyed killing him. After that, his rise to power was quick and unhindered.

Drizzt laughed to himself. If only this Drizzt knew what he had left behind by going to the surface. He paused. If he had been sent here, did that mean this version was taking his place back in Menzoberranzan? Would he ruin his standing within that city? He needed to find Artemis quickly. But where was he to look?

Artemis had to be someone important in the city to have need of him. Drizzt would start looking at the bigger houses he had seen near the center of the city. After his encounter with the innkeeper, he had kept his identity hidden within his cowl. There were thin gloves in the pockets of his cloak and he was able to keep all of his skin covered. He had a feeling if he uncovered himself he might find Artemis a little quicker.

The streets of the northern section of Garrilport were crowded and noisy. The smell in this part of the city was very unpleasant. As crowded as it normally was, Drizzt was given a very wide berth as he walked down the street with his hood down. There was a large, well-protected building in the center of the city. Guards surrounded it. Drizzt decided to start his search there.

A collection of guards noticed him right away, and they moved over to intercept, weapons drawn. Drizzt decided to keep his weapons in their sheaths, but he reached into his pocket to make sure his orb was activated. "Are you Drizzt?" one of them asked.

Drizzt smiled. This was going to be easy. "Good, you are expecting me. Please, take me to see Artemis."

The men looked curiously amongst themselves. Some of them did not like the assassin and already harbored ideas that he might not be as harmless as their captain professed. If this killer had a relationship with Entreri, it would be interesting to hear him explain himself. "We have instructions to take you to our captain," the spokesman for the group said.

"Very well," he agreed with a grin, "take me to your leader."

Two of the men put their swords away and walked up to Drizzt. "Your weapons?" they asked.

Drizzt burst out laughing. "You want me to give you my weapons?" he asked for clarification. "I don't think so."

"We are not moving from this spot until you give us your weapons," the spokesman said firmly.

Drizzt shrugged. "Have it your way." His weapons leaped into his hands, and he killed the two guards standing next to him. His blue scimitar was powerful enough to penetrate directly through the cheap plate of the guard on Drizzt's right, but he sent the second weapon in search of the other man's neck.

The remaining guards charged. Drizzt batted the first two attacks away easily and dropped low to duck under the other two. He swiped out two pairs of legs, and then moved with a speed the guards could not follow. Two of the four fell to the ground screaming in pain, clutching at their torn legs, while the other two spun around looking for this lightening fast elf.

They found him as pain seared up their backs. They dropped their weapons, and Drizzt drew bloody patterns in their necks. He then stepped lightly to the second two men he had dropped and quieted their annoying cries. He pushed his scimitars back into the sheaths and looked at his work. "Now," he said to the six dead men, "don't go back on your promise. I don't want to see you moving from this spot after I've gone."

With a skip in his step, he continued to the guardhouse. The few witnesses to the deed did not hang around long enough to see what Drizzt was going to do next. The door to the four-story building was no longer guarded and Drizzt walked in. The foyer was empty, but the next room held several guards maintaining the weapon room. Drizzt did not call attention to himself, and continued up, pretty sure where he would find the captain.

Drizzt met no resistance on his way to the top floor. A few men saw him and called out, but Drizzt ignored them and continued up. John was on the top floor waiting for news of the search for this murdering drow. He did not expect that news to come in the form of the drow himself.

Drizzt walked into the room, and John stood suddenly from his chair beside the main table. Behind Drizzt, several guards came huffing and puffing from having to chase the unnaturally quick elf up the steps. John misinterpreted the men behind Drizzt as escorts. "Why is this man, uh, drow still armed?"

Before the men behind him could answer, Drizzt spoke up. "Please, Captain," he started, guessing at John's identity, "don't punish your men. They did as they were told, but I took their second option in which I got to keep my weapons and they stayed outside."

One of the guards who was with John in the room moved over to a window. "Captain we have six guards on the street down."

"Down?" John asked for clarification.

"Permanently," the guard answered. The blood was very clear even from this distance.

This was the first the guards had heard that this drow had killed some of them, and they drew their weapons. "Hold!" John called. He could easily see that though they outnumbered this drow ten to one, if they attacked, he would just have more dead guards on his hand.

Drizzt had been thinking the same thing. "Smart choice, Captain," he congratulated.

"Who are you?" John demanded, trying to sound in control of the situation.

Drizzt drew himself up to full height, which still made him the shortest one in the room by at least five inches and answered the question. "I am Drizzt Do'Urden of Daermon N'a'shezbaernon, House Do'Urden, Sixth House of Menzoberranzan, a city I would very much like to get back to. So, unless we have other business to attend to, I would like you to take me to Artemis."

"You know Artemis Entreri?" John did not like how this sounded for his "friend."

"I've never met him actually, but I am dying to, figuratively speaking of course. You do know where he is?"

John nodded. "Why do you want to see him?"

"I am told he is the reason I am here. I hope he has the means to send me home."

"Who told you this?" John asked.

"I think he said his name was Kraygan. He said that he had summoned me for Artemis Entreri. I suppose he has some task he wants me to perform or something. Whatever the case, Artemis better not have called me without a way to send me back."

John shook his head. He did not bother asking if Drizzt had killed the sorcerer. With the dead guards outside, it was not like John needed another murder charge to tack on to the drow. "Artemis did not ask for you to be summoned. I did."

"You did?" Drizzt said, startled at this revelation. He walked quickly toward the captain. It was not a wise move with all of John's men on edge. Of course, attacking Drizzt was even less wise.

Four men came from behind, making far too much noise for Drizzt to miss them. The drow stopped his approach to the captain, dropped into a crouch, and spun about. His blades went in search of the guards' groins. The two in front stopped short and hopped back, crashing into the two guards behind them. Drizzt leaped up and expertly disarmed the crowd of four, leaving the guards grabbing at bloody arms and wrists.

The drow spun around and dropped into a forward roll just as two crossbow bolts flew over his head. The bolts instead sank into the side of one of the already injured guards. Somehow Drizzt managed to sheath his swords during his roll and came out of it on one knee with a dagger in each hand. The two crossbowmen stood on opposite sides of John, and Drizzt let fly with both daggers at once. They each sank into the gut of one of the marksmen, effectively preventing them from firing another shot.

More men came at the drow, but John cried out again. "Stop, everyone stop! Please!" This last word was aimed more directly at Drizzt. "Please stop," he continued. It looked like all of his men should survive their injuries, but the fact they could had obviously been the intent of this murderer. "Please, this has all been a big mistake."

That was the wrong thing to say. Drizzt popped up from his knee, his angrily glowing blue scimitar in hand. "A mistake?" he repeated. "That is what Kraygan said right before I cut his throat open. I do not like mistakes, especially when they strand me on the Lloth forsaken surface far from my home. I don't like mistakes, and I don't like the people who make them. I would ask you to undue the mistake and send me home, but I have a feeling you will not have the answer I want, and I will be forced to kill you. To give you a better chance at survival, I will return at nightfall. By then you will have secured means for my return, or I will kill everyone in this city. Is that understood?"

John could do nothing but nod. "Good," Drizzt said. He turned about, and no one tried to stop him from leaving. John and his men quickly attended to the wounded. They kept a good supply of medical equipment in the guardhouse and soon had all the wounds treated and wrapped.

"What are we going to do?" one of the men asked John.

"I'm going to talk to Artemis," he replied. "If anyone knows how to deal with this Drizzt Do'Urden it will be him." John only wished he could speak with more confidence.

Chapter 3

Confrontations

Matron Triel Baenre looked at her brother with contempt.

Triel had been the matron mother of house Baenre for a little over three decades, and her rule was not a prosperous one. When she had been elevated to the top of her house, all of her siblings ceased being nobles. If Triel had truly cared about the strength of her house, she would have allowed her sisters to keep their title and continue in their responsibilities within the house. Instead, her pride had insisted that her own daughters take their places. She only had three daughters, and two sons, but she was determined to prove that they were just as powerful as the nobles they replaced. They were not.

Once a high priestess, always a high priestess, so Triel's many sisters still retained their individual powers, but those powers were no longer directed toward maintaining the house's status and strength. Instead, all the sisters did was plot on how to remove their oldest sibling from power.

Triel understood the ways of Lloth and how to handle her sisters and daughters, but she did not understand males at all. She wished for one of her two sons, who had each done well in the Academy, to be weapon master, but she knew that Berg'inyon was better. Still, he was only the second best weapon master in the city. Either of her sons could do that. If Berg'inyon was not first, he might as well be fiftieth for all Triel cared.

"Rise," she said.

Berg'inyon did as he was told, respectfully looking away from his sister's face. He knew his position was in jeopardy. The rest of his sisters had been demoted, and he had expected the same, but the position of weapon master, which he had usurped after Dantrag's demise, was still his.

"Do you know why I have called you here?" she asked.

"No, Matron," he replied.

"I am not happy with your performance," she said bluntly. "I wish for more."

"My students dominate the Academy as much as Dantrag's did," Berg'inyon replied. It was not exactly true. Do'Urdens dominated the Academy now, but he doubted his sister kept track of such things.

"And I was not happy with our late brother's performance either," Triel said. "I am the most powerful matron in the city," she boasted. Berg'inyon could think of three matrons he considered more powerful. He even thought a few of his sisters were her superior. "Gromph is still the most powerful mage in the city," she continued. Berg'inyon agreed with that. "But you are not the most powerful weapon master in the city, are you?"

"No, I am not." Ever since his second year in the Academy, he had been honest with himself. He would not let foolish pride consume him like it had Dantrag.

"Do you think that is acceptable in Lloth's eyes?" Triel asked, venom in her voice. "She demands the best from the first house. Your performance has fallen short."

"A male's life is not meant to please Lloth," he said, having put a lot of thought into what he might say when this conversation took place. "A male serves his house so that it might bring glory to Lloth. While I might not be the best weapon master in the city, I have kept our fighting forces able enough to repel all who attack and our position as first in the city is secure."

"Is it?" Triel asked. Despite all the evidence, she really did think it was. Berg'inyon really did not. He remained silent. "I want you to kill House Do'Urden's weapon master," she said.

"No," Berg'inyon replied. He did not care what happened to him.

"No?! How dare you disobey me!" Her whip was out in a flash.

Berg'inyon lifted his face to look directly at her. "No, I can not kill him. To try would be foolish. If you wish to demote me, then do so. Do not kill this house's strongest warrior and make us weaker at a time we need to maintain our strength."

Triel was fuming. Her whip was animated with her anger, its multiple heads snapping in Berg'inyon's direction with eager anticipation, but she held them in check. Too much of what Berg'inyon had said was true. "Out!" she scolded vehemently. "I want you out of my house. I do not ever want to see your face in this house again unless you return bearing the head of Drizzt Do'Urden."

Berg'inyon bowed his head and left. He had figured the result of his summons to his sister's chamber would be a death sentence in one way or another. Being cast out onto the streets of Menzoberranzan without the protection of a house was as lenient of a death sentence as he could have hoped for. As he walked through the front gate to the Baenre compound, he did not look back.

* * * * *

Entreri sat in his humble abode waiting. He knew that John's men would have very little trouble finding Drizzt if he still remained in the city. And if Drizzt had turned into a killer when he had been resurrected, then Entreri would hear about it one way or another. In the few hours he had before all hell broke loose, Entreri tried to work through this issue.

He did not like magic. He thought the magical energies on this world were too powerful for humans to understand. Their short lives and ambitious goals made them cut so many corners that Entreri was surprised things like this situation did not happen more often. Still, he knew that magic did have its uses, and while most inept mages did not get what they want, the magic always did what it was supposed to. This meant that while Kraygan had not gotten what he was expecting, if the spell was designed to bring forth Entreri's worst fear, then Drizzt was it.

What did this mean? It made no sense if this resurrected Drizzt was of the same mentality of the one he had killed. He had respected Drizzt, but he had not feared him. Entreri had been forced to admit many things to himself about the errors he had made in his life, but as deep as he searched and as truthful as he was with himself, he could not find any fear of Drizzt Do'Urden.

Entreri could only remember one time when he had been afraid. He had stayed with Jarlaxle in Menzoberranzan for several months after the drow mercenary had saved his life. During that time he had seen what a city full of assassins would be like. It was not that they were all more skilled than he was. He had fought several drow, including a matron mother, and they had all fallen to his blades. Neither were they as clever or resourceful. They were, however, just as ruthless, if not more so. Each drow had ambitions for greatness and the only way open to them was to kill everything in their way. In the city where they served the goddess of chaos, there was no order and there was no law.

Entreri had never paid attention to the laws of the land he lived in, but it was not because he disliked them, but because he thought they were insufficient for his way of life. Entreri took care of the problems the law could not handle. If he was sent to kill someone, that person had done something to deserve it. Instead of going to war with another guild, Entreri took care of the problem with more precision. Among the thieving guilds of Calimport, he had been the law. He had been the one to instill structure and order in the city.

On the surface people were no less ambitious, than in the underdark, but above, there were laws and rules one must follow. This meant you had to achieve your wealth and prominence through honorable means. And once you had achieved success, those same laws protected you from others who wished to take it from you. Because of that order people could live in relative comfort. As long as you did nothing wrong, you had no reason to live in fear. Entreri rarely killed the innocent.

One could say that in Menzoberranzan there were no innocents. Perhaps, but that was the result of the system, not the cause of it. Entreri lived by a code. He lived by the law. It might be his own personal law, but it was better than nothing. What scared him was chaos. A killer with no code or no honor. Someone who would kill for no reason and was impossible to predict. These were the ingredients to instill fear within Entreri. There was one more thing that was necessary though: skill.

There had been plenty of ambitious assassins in Calimport that had tried to steal Entreri's position. They had no honor or code. They killed for pleasure and fun. Entreri was not scared of these killers any more than he was scared of Regis. They were more skilled than an average peasant was perhaps, but they had no true proficiency, and Entreri had killed them easily.

If this resurrected Drizzt was like his people, Entreri did have something to fear. Not only Entreri, but this entire city would be at the drow's mercy. The guards would find him. They would die. John would come calling. Entreri only had to wait.

The pounding on his new door could only be one person. Entreri rose from his chair and answered it. John walked in without a hello. "Tell me you can handle this situation. Tell me can kill this vile creature."

Entreri watched the caption walked in and paced violently in his small home as he fired off his questions. "I take it you found him," Entreri said as he closed the door. "Or did he find you?"

"He killed six of my men as quickly and as efficiently as you can slaughter goblins," John said. He stopped and looked seriously at Entreri. "But these were not goblins. These were trained fighters, all of them. They could slaughter a dozen goblins themselves with little effort. They were human beings and he killed them."

"Did you get his name?" Entreri asked, wanting to make sure before they continued.

"You were right, it is this Drizzt you spoke of. Dark skin, pointy ears, not too tall, member of the sixth house of Menzo-something-or-other."

Entreri froze. "What was that? What house did you say?"

John searched his memory for the exact words. "He called himself Drizzt Do'Urden of Darm-something N'a'shez-something, House Do'Urden, sixth house of Menzo-something."

"Menzoberranzan," Entreri completed for him, his knees suddenly weak. He sat down.

"Yea," John agreed, "that was it. You do know him, right? You said you killed him once, right?"

"Yes and no," Entreri said, working things through as quickly as he could. "I killed a dark elf who had rejected his people. An elf who could no longer stand the ways of his people and left to live a life on the surface. A dark elf who became a ranger and served Milieki. A dark elf who would no sooner associate himself with his old house or city than I would enroll to be a paladin.

"The elf who killed your men is not that Drizzt. He is a Drizzt who never left the underdark. He is a ruthless killer who has embraced the ways of his people. I don't know where he came from, or why he has been embodied in the Drizzt that I knew," as Entreri spoke he fingered the unicorn figurine he had taken from the crime scene. It was not exactly standard issue in Menzoberranzan. "All that matters is that he is here."

"And he wants to go home," John said. "He stressed that quite clearly. He threatened the lives of my men and everyone in the city if I did not arrange a means for him to go home by tonight. Please tell me you can accomplish this."

Entreri thought for a while. He could open his magic portal and transport Drizzt far away to his treasure cave north of Karenstoch. Entreri remembered that Elliorn was there now. Maybe he could let Drizzt and his new ranger friend fight it out. Entreri shook his head. He knew who would win. And Drizzt would then just find a way to get back here to kill him. Then Entreri would live in fear because he would never know when the attack would come. If he was going to handle this he needed to do it here and now while the problem was in front of him.

"The only home I can send him to is hell," Entreri said. "Which is actually nicer than Menzoberranzan, or so I've heard."

"Is that your answer?" John asked. "Are you going to kill him?"

Entreri heard the hidden words in that last question. The captain meant to ask, "Are you going to be able to kill him?" The captain had still not ever seen the assassin fight. He had seen the results many times, but he had never seen him in action. He had seen Drizzt in action ever-so-briefly in his guardhouse, and he doubted this aging human in front of him could match it.

"It will take more cunning and planning than slaughtering a few goblins, but I will do it," Entreri said. "He said you have until nightfall?" Entreri clarified. It was noon now. John nodded. "Then I will meet you in front of the guard house at night. Right now, I need to prepare."

Entreri looked at the captain curiously, thinking he had made it pretty clear that he wished John to leave. The captain finally got the message and left. He paused at the door, wondering if he should stress how deadly this drow was or how many lives were at stake, but he passed. Entreri knew what he was doing – he hoped.

Entreri closed the door behind the captain and then quickly opened his ivory portal into his treasure cave. He had taken many books from the thieving guild he had worked for briefly in Karenstoch, and while most of them were labeled as myths and fairy tales, Entreri knew they held truth. Now he needed to do a little research to see if there was some way he could gain Drizzt's trust long enough to kill him. He did not want to fight him straight up.

* * * * *

Drizzt was still lying on his bed when a knock came at the door. He composed himself and spoke a word that released the magical lock on the door. A priestess entered. She was gorgeous. Her face looked like silk, her features regally framed within the gold jewelry of a priestess. Drizzt was never a fan of the holy robes worn by Lloth's servants, but hers hugged her curves, hinting at the incredible body that lay beneath. Drizzt's mind raced with possibilities until he realized that he was probably looking at his niece, even though she was easily several decades older than he was.

"I am not feeling well tonight," Drizzt said, knowing full well what this female wanted. Or at least he thought he did.

"But you promised me a night out," she said, great disappointment in her voice.

Out? he thought. Out where?

The priestess mistook the confusion for forgetfulness. "You were going to take me out tonight. The last night we were together, I said how I had not been out of the compound in years. You promised to remedy that situation. I was looking forward to it. If you are feeling ill, perhaps I can help."

Drizzt had promised to take this female out for a night on the town? Nobles did not walk the streets of Menzoberranzan. This city was like any on the surface. It had its rundown sections and seedy restaurants. The weak houses populated these, and not even they wanted to be there. The few quality entertainment establishments were still only visited by the houses that were centuries from attaining power within the city. Smart matrons would not risk their house members to the predators that roamed the streets. If Drizzt had made arrangements to leave the house for recreation, he had probably done it before. This might be educational.

"It's only a slight headache," he replied, rising from his bed and throwing her a sly grin. "It's nothing a few hours with you can't cure."

Her face brightened considerably. Drizzt walked up to her, put his hand on her waist, and quickly stepped around her, hugging her slim frame with his strong arms. His face bent around her shoulder as he blew her thick hair away from her neck. "And what should I call you tonight?" he whispered tantalizingly in her ear.

The priestess's whole body shivered under his touch. "Ooohh," she giggled. "I don't think we need to role-play tonight," she responded. "Catrina, will be fine."

Drizzt stepped away from her quickly. She spun around to look at him. He bowed slightly and motioned to his open door. "Then Catrina it shall be," he said. "Shall we leave?"

She smiled and stepped quickly past him and out the door. Drizzt sucked in sharply as she walked by, repressing his hormones as best he could. He was going to have to play this awful close if it was going to work. He wanted to get information tonight, but that would only be possible if he acted as this reality's Drizzt was supposed to. He closed his bedroom door and followed.

Drizzt let Catrina lead the way. She did not know where she was going, but each time she asked Drizzt for a suggestion, he feigned ignorance. She laughed at him and played along, but Drizzt really was ignorant. The only tour of the city he had ever gotten was when he had been in the Academy's patrol. They had left the main cavern through many different side paths and it was then necessary to cross the city at various angles.

As they walked the street, Drizzt could feel hundreds of eyes upon them. Catrina was provocatively dressed, but Drizzt knew it went beyond that. You could not see that in the infrared anyway. They were being watched because all drow were watched. The streets were not safe. While Drizzt stayed on a very alert guard, he noticed that his companion seemed very free and open. She enjoyed her time away from home like a child being allowed to go with her father into the city for the first time.

Drizzt knew this was not normal for a priestess of Lloth. They were not only always serious, but they were always on guard and would never walk down the dangerous streets of Menzoberranzan without an entourage and several magical protections in place. Drizzt thought about that. She did have protection: him.

The more Drizzt saw of his "new" house, the more he was confused. His sisters hated him because his mother treated him as the most important among them. The other females seemed to worship him. The eyes of each female he had walked passed between his room and his mother's audience chamber had been very revealing. Even the way Dianka had called him master showed more respect than Drizzt ever remembered Zaknafein getting.

The way all the females giggled and frolicked around him, he felt like a pasha within his own harem. He could imagine the stories they traded between themselves and what Catrina must have been told about how Drizzt would make sure nothing happened to her. But he could not protect her against everything, could he? The only way they would be assured of safety was if every other drow consciously withheld attack. But why would they?

Drizzt would be a prize if killed. He watched each guard post that they passed carefully eyeing up this odd pair. Catrina was open to the world, taking no caution to keep her voice down and no effort to hide her status as a priestess of the sixth house. And then there was Drizzt. The weapon master watched the house guards take one quick look at him and then relax. They lowered their crossbows and let the pair pass.

If Dantrag or Uthengental or any other prominent drow had foolishly walked passed the Do'Urden compound or any other, the guards would have opened fire, happily. Why was Drizzt allowed to pass so freely? Drizzt could tell that he had magical protection on him against simple crossbows, but these guards could not know that. There was only one thing they could be thinking: What if they missed? What if the first shot did not kill him? What would happen then? How do you shoot the devil in the back? What if you miss?

The establishment Catrina chose seemed clean enough. Drizzt recognized none of the house emblems he saw on the many drow in the gambling house, but they all recognized his. The crowd parted for them and whispered murmurs followed after they passed. Drizzt's hearing was sharp enough to pick it up, and the awe and respect he was hearing was amazing. He expected to hear people speaking ill of him and how they wished him dead, but instead it was as if he were royalty and the drow around him felt honored to be in his presence.

Catrina noticed none of what went on around them. Instead she made her way toward the center of the main gambling room where the big games were taking place. She had brought a modest coin pouch with her and jumped into the first game before Drizzt could even walk up beside her. She gathered the dice and gave them a toss. Unsurprisingly, she did not win.

"Five is a loser," the game operator said as he quickly raked in her coins. "Care to try…" his voice trailed off as he looked up to see Drizzt standing behind his newest player. Drizzt watched as the operator's eyes went to Catrina, down to her coins, and then up to Drizzt. It looked as if he was waiting for permission from the weapon master to pull in her coins. Drizzt nodded. "Care to try again?" the operator asked after swallowing down a lump.

"I don't know," Catrina said looking down into her pouch.

"Go for it," Drizzt said, already knowing what the outcome would be. "Put fifty on three."

"But," she turned to look at her escort, "the further you go from seven, the less likely you are to win."

Drizzt understood the game, but he also understood that the laws of probability had very little to say about what happened in this game. "Yes, but the closer you go to seven, the less the payout is," he replied. She did not look convinced. "Trust me," he said, tossing her a crooked grin.

Catrina shrugged indifferently and put her money on three. Drizzt could feel the game operator's nerves on edge as Catrina picked up the dice and rolled. She rolled a two and a one. "Three's a winner," the operator said almost before the dice had finished bouncing around.

Drizzt could feel the magic at work through the many gems he wore and smiled to himself. Catrina did not notice, but after she one twice more on bets of two and ten, she figured out luck had little to do with it. A few other drow at the table realized this as well and began to bet alongside Catrina. Before each roll, the operator looked at Drizzt and each time Drizzt's face let him know that his companion better win.

He understood quickly that this facility would willingly go bankrupt, cheating themselves out of a fortune if Drizzt so desired. After Catrina had quadrupled her money, he escorted her over to a table at the side of the room. A waiter was with them before they were even settled. "Good evening, Master Do'Urden," he said quickly, nodding to Catrina as well. To address a male before a priestess of Lloth was unheard of, but Catrina did not respond. "We have our best wine on ice for you. Two glasses?"

Drizzt nodded. "That will be fine." He turned to Catrina. "Would you like something to eat?" She shook her head. "Two glasses and the bottle," Drizzt said. He watched the waiter flinch, but he bowed and left. He was gone for less than a minute and returned with what Drizzt had requested. One sip of the wine and Drizzt knew that it was worth ten times what Catrina had already won tonight. There was no mention of a bill.

Catrina drank deeply from her wine and Drizzt filled her glass twice. She talked endlessly about her chores within the house and how her mother (Maya) had her and her other sisters always scrambling about to maintain the chapel and prepare her personal offerings and meditation rituals. Rumor was that there would be a clash soon that would move House Do'Urden up in rank. Some even said it might come with House Baenre.

"Do you know anything about that?" she asked as Drizzt filled her glass for the third time. He had only drunk half of his.

"I am the weapon master of our house," he said slowly. "If there is to be a battle, I will be the first to know about it."

"Well, is there going to be?" she asked. "I mean with House Baenre?"

Drizzt grew suddenly stiff as he looked toward the entrance to the gaming house. "Yes, I believe there will be."

"Really," she was shocked he was this open with information. "When?"

"Much sooner than you think," Drizzt replied. He suddenly wished there was somewhere he could hide. Berg'inyon Baenre had just walked into the tavern. Drizzt watched carefully as he moved slowly into the main room and toward the front bar. There was a slight hitch in his step, and unless Drizzt was misreading his magical warning devices, Berg'inyon was a bit drunk. Drizzt could sense a cloud of inebriation surrounding his former classmate.

Berg'inyon did not look in Drizzt's direction right away, but the other patrons in the tavern who knew who he was were shocked he would visit this section of the city, and their eyes constantly went from him to where Drizzt sat in the corner. Berg'inyon picked up on this soon enough and his head slowly rotated over to where Drizzt was sitting. The inebriation left him in a second.

Drizzt had originally thought it odd that this version of himself would so casually wander outside the protection of his home. After seeing the reception he got, he understood how it was possible. Berg'inyon was not getting the same response. The only thing preventing ambitious assassins from jumping the vulnerable weapon master of the first house was that they all knew Drizzt was present and would defer to him.

Drizzt wanted to avoid contact at first, but quickly realized this drow would be a very good source of information. As he walked up to the table, Drizzt relaxed and played the situation as he thought he should. "Welcome Berg'inyon. It has been too long. Please join us." Drizzt raised his glass and tossed back what remained inside.

Catrina had been facing Drizzt with her back to the entrance, but now she spun about to see Berg'inyon standing over them. She began to mumble the beginnings of a spell, but Drizzt caught her eye and faintly shook his head. Catrina looked confused at first, but then remembered whom she was with. She would be safe, and in addition to a night out, she might get to see action between the two best weapon masters in the city.

"I should have figured you would be whoring it up in a dive like this," Berg'inyon growled, his hands quivering over his blades.

A wave of anger flashed over Catrina's face at the insult, but she let Drizzt defend her. "Nonsense," Drizzt said, reclining in his chair and actually putting his feet up on the table, "this is a fine establishment, and I won't tolerate any veiled insults toward my beautiful niece. Now please, pull up a chair and tell us how things are."

Berg'inyon attacked. He just could not pass up the opportunity. With Drizzt leaning away from him, one hand holding a glass of wine and the other reaching for a bottle and his feet propped up within arm's reach, he did not see how he could be foiled. Drizzt saw the move coming before Berg'inyon had even walked over. He was amazed by how clearly he could think things through and how slowly it all seemed to happen. It was as if he could pause time, pull out a pen and parchment and actually diagram the move.

Berg'inyon drew his right hand weapon and slashed down at Drizzt's feet. The left boot slapped out sharply at the weapon, striking with the outside of the foot against the weapon hilt. The strength of the kick straightened the attack so the tip of the sword was pointing straight up. Drizzt's right foot then rotated 90 degrees and jammed its steel tip into Berg'inyon's exposed wrist. The entire arm went numb, and Drizzt quickly dropped his left foot and kicked back up into the pommel of the now loosely held weapon. The sword popped out easily and flipped toward Drizzt who reached forward to snag it.

Berg'inyon drew his second weapon, and Drizzt actually grew slightly impatient as he waited for the drow to bring it to bear. Drizzt blocked the attack into the wooden table, flexing his powerful right arm to imbed Berg'inyon's weapon deep into the wood. The overmatched drow could not pull his weapon free without extra effort and had to let go as Drizzt jabbed forward, forcing him back.

Drizzt swung his feet to the floor and stood, pulling the stuck sword free as easily as if it were a toothpick in a block of cheese. Drizzt now held both of Berg'inyon's weapons. He looked at them for a moment and then tossed them back to his unarmed opponent. "Please," Drizzt said, "I promised the owner I would not fight in here." He motioned toward the door.

Berg'inyon's first instinct after receiving his weapons back was to run, but instead he walked slowly toward the exit, making sure to move sideways and keep Drizzt in sight. Drizzt half turned to Catrina to ask her to grab the bottle, but the priestess had already tucked the valuable wine into her cloak.

A crowd had already gathered outside. The owner of the establishment had lost a lot of money because of Drizzt's visit, but in the next few days, after word of this encounter spread, he would do ten times his normal business. Servicing Drizzt was a curse and a blessing.

"Now what could you possibly be doing out here?" Drizzt asked once the two of them were outside and locked within a circle of spectators. "A noble of the first house has no business in this area of the city."

"What?" Berg'inyon asked, fury suddenly leaping back into his eyes. His swords swayed back and forth in front of him. Drizzt figured his anger stemmed from the obvious reference to how at home Drizzt was out here. His confusion only grew as Berg'inyon continued. "You know full well I am no longer a noble. How far will you go to insult me and my house?"

Drizzt's confusion was clearly evident on his face. Berg'inyon misinterpreted it. "Don't tell me you've worn the sword for so long that you forgot it is there. I can't allow you to continue in this mockery of my house."

Drizzt took his eyes off Berg'inyon for a moment to look down at Kazid'hea. He wore it strapped behind his right scimitar with the Baenre emblem prominently displayed. Drizzt smiled as he looked up, finding it funny that he would be so bold to wear it with the emblem out. "Dantrag's last words were that he never wanted you to wield the sword," Drizzt said.

Berg'inyon rushed. Drizzt easily caught the attack with his weapons, only drawing his scimitars at the last second. He pushed both of Berg'inyon's weapons out wide and kicked between them, catching the weaker drow in the face and actually flipping him backwards. Drizzt was just getting used to this new type of dominant fighting style. It was so easy, he hardly had to put any effort into it.

Berg'inyon got up slowly, knowing that at any moment Drizzt could kill him if he wanted. Houseless like he was, death was inevitable. If it was Drizzt who killed him, he could at least maintain his title as second best weapon master in the city. "But at least Dantrag knew how to fight," Drizzt said, earning another attack.

At the last second, Drizzt sheathed one of his weapons, easily slapping away the attacks with one scimitar. Berg'inyon did not like being toyed with, but felt that he was also being underestimated, and pressed the attack. Drizzt blocked the attacks easily, snapping his empty hand between the flurry of blades to punch Berg'inyon repeatedly in the face. His right eye closed up after one sharp blow, and Drizzt swept both Berg'inyon's weapons to his left and brought in a roundhouse punch from the blindside.

Berg'inyon was spun to the ground. He popped back up and Drizzt punched him twice before he could compose an attack of his own. The second blow was made with Drizzt's weapon hilt and sent Berg'inyon flying back fifteen feet. "Enough already," Drizzt said. He almost said, "you fight like a girl," but quickly remembered that down here it was a compliment. "You are pathetic. Go run home to your mother and stay where you belong."

Berg'inyon slowly dragged himself to his feet, leaving his weapons lying on the ground. They did no good anyway. Blood poured from his broken nose as well as several other gashes on his face. He smiled at Drizzt as he slowly spread his arms out wide and walked back toward him. "Yes, please," he said, half-sarcastic, half-pleading, "send me to meet my mother. Give me peace at last."

Drizzt was stunned. Was he asking to be killed? Was he to meet his mother in hell? Was Matron Baenre dead? Drizzt remembered that Berg'inyon had said he was no longer a noble. He glanced down at Khazid'hea again. To kill Dantrag was impressive, but no more so than to kill Zaknafein. It was not something to so foolishly brag about. Was he displaying the Baenre emblem for a different reason? Had he killed Matron Baenre?

Drizzt prodded Berg'inyon's chest with an extended scimitar, stopping the drow's advance. Berg'inyon leaned against the weapon, but it would take more pressure than that to push through his magical chain mail. Instead of providing that extra pressure, Drizzt suddenly released his weapon, allowing Berg'inyon to stumble forward. Drizzt swiped deftly at his piwafwi as he fell past, and picked up the Baenre emblem he had cut free.

Berg'inyon could feel the loss of the magical emblem and spun around on the ground, clutching at the bare spot on his cloak. Drizzt could feel his magical items repelling the emblem. He tossed it at Berg'inyon's feet. "You no longer deserve to wear this." Drizzt was finished for now, having collected too many unanswered questions. He motioned to Catrina standing on the edge of the crowd, and she happily trotted past the humiliated Baenre to follow her escort.

Catrina was aglow with how Drizzt had handled himself and went on about how the other females in their house would be jealous they missed it. Drizzt did not listen. He needed answers and he needed them quickly. This city had changed too much since he had left, and he had a bad feeling he was responsible for most of it. He needed information, but he was at a loss for whom he could go to. He tried to think of someone who could help him. It did not take too long.

* * * * *

Entreri stood outside of the guardhouse as he watched Drizzt approach. There could be no doubt about it now. This was Drizzt Do'Urden. Entreri could also see from the drow's swagger that this was not the Drizzt he knew. The assassin had already figured both of these things out, but there was something to be said for seeing it for himself.

Entreri stood alone in the darkened street except for two fine horses. Drizzt seemed to know something was amiss and stopped, still 50 feet from Entreri. "Who are you?"

"I am Artemis Entreri. I am a Darkcloak."

Drizzt eyed him up suspiciously. "You are Artemis Entreri? I expected someone bigger. No matter," Drizzt walked to within a dozen feet, "you have the power to send me back. I don't feel like standing here one second more than is necessary."

"I too wish to conduct our business as quickly as possible. I no more enjoy this land than you."

Drizzt's head cocked to the side slightly. "Business? What are you talking about? I am not here for your business. I am here by mistake. You are going to send me back."

"It is no mistake that you are here," Entreri said. "I called you."

A scimitar leaped out and Drizzt held the point quivering under Entreri's chin. "Why did you call me?" Everyone else had said he had come there by accident. Several had claimed responsibility for the summoning, but none had said they wanted it until this Artemis fellow.

"Our goddesses demanded it," Entreri replied.

"You serve Lloth?" Drizzt scoffed. "She cares nothing for humans and even less for males. You need to make sense soon or you will loose your head."

Entreri just smiled back. Under different circumstances he and this Drizzt might have been friends. The assassin shook his head. Drow did not have friends. All they had were associates they had not killed yet. "I serve Shar, the goddess of darkness and the night. Our deities are not so dissimilar."

"Lloth serves no one and associates with no one. You will not be able to talk yourself out of this one, you lying thie-"

Cycle flashed out of Entreri's sheath even faster than Drizzt had drawn his scimitar. It swiped the extended blade out of the way and Entreri then held it in a defensive posture. "I will not have to talk my way out of anything, stupid drow. If need be I'll fight my way out, but I'd rather do neither. My goddess has charged me with a mission, and I can not be blamed if yours did not feel the need to let you know what was happening."

Drizzt drew his other weapon and stood ready for an attack, but he paused as he looked at Entreri's frost blade. Drizzt knew a skilled opponent when he saw one, he relaxed his position a bit. "Very well, tell me of this task you have called me for."

"The time of troubles was a scary time for the gods," Entreri started. "When and how their powers would be returned to them was uncertain at best. Some saw the need to tuck the secrets of their power away in case things were returned differently than they had been. Shar and Lloth do not socialize, as you pointed out, but these were desperate times. They consolidated their power within a magical vessel and hid it within the mountain range a days travel from here. Shar is the goddess of forgetfulness as well, and she felt it was lost to everyone except her.

"When the time of troubles was over, they saw that they had been over cautious, but left the vessel in place should the need arise in the future. It has not stayed hidden. A sect of monks in the mountains has discovered it and should they unwrap the secrets of our goddesses' power, things could get uncomfortable."

Drizzt laughed. "Lloth has nothing to fear from a few humans. Your goddess might be weak, but mine is not."

"Lloth is powerful indeed," Entreri agreed, "but no more so than any other deity in the realms. What if these monks should impart the knowledge they have discovered to a priest of Selune, or Corellon Larethian."

Drizzt calmed his anger, seeing the human's point. "What assurances do I have that you are telling the truth?"

"How else would I know to call you?" Entreri replied. "Shar demanded that her greatest warrior and Lloth's greatest warrior retrieve this vessel and destroy it. After that, she has promised to grant me the power to send you back. When I inquired as to whom the greatest warrior was among Lloth's people, Drizzt Do'Urden weapon master of the sixth house in Menzoberranzan was the only name that came up." Entreri guessed at the weapon master part only because he had no knowledge of Zaknafein. It was a good guess.

"You are the greatest of Shar's followers?"

Entreri drew his dagger to join his frost blade. "Would you like to find out?"

Drizzt could kill him, but if this human was telling the truth, then the only way he could get home was if he went along with this mission. And if Lloth really had sanctioned this task, he would be foolish to go against it. That he did not know about it made sense. He never talked to Lloth, and his sisters hated him. Drizzt smiled and sheathed his weapons. He paused with his hands still on his hilts. "If what you say is true, why did you summon me to this body? My true self is much stronger and has better weapons?"

Entreri thought for a moment. "Your other items were of drow make. They would not retain their magical strength under the light of the sun. I hope the blades I procured for you are adequate. As far as the body, I needed something that would be able to operate within daylight. I'm sure you've noticed already that your eyes are not as sensitive as they should be."

Drizzt nodded at this explanation. "They are adequate. Let us get on with this mission before my presence back home his missed."

"I have been promised that I will be able to return you to the exact moment you left, so you will not be missed."

Drizzt smiled, remembering where he had been when he had been transported. "That would be nice." He motioned to the two horses. "Is that how we are to travel?"

Entreri nodded. "They are easier to control than your riding lizards back in Menzoberranzan," he explained, knowing that Drizzt had likely never ridden a horse before, "and much faster."

Entreri's expansive knowledge of Drizzt's life went a long way toward assuring the drow that this man was on the level. Drizzt walked up to the nearest horse and examined the saddle. He did not have the same ranger instincts as his alternate self, and the horse neighed uneasily under his cold touch. Drizzt grabbed the mount with two hands, and Entreri was ready.

His entire story was meant to put Drizzt off his guard, but the assassin still did not feel comfortable attacking him, knowing that a Drizzt who had lived in the underdark all his life was never really at ease or off guard. It was only when Drizzt's hands were securely attached to the saddle and bridle that Entreri felt comfortable attacking.

He stepped up quickly, and rammed his dagger hard into the drow's back. The mithril chain Drizzt wore was good, but it could not stand up to such a direct and powerful attack from the magical weapon. The energy flow back into Entreri's arm was fantastic as Drizzt reeled up in pain, shouting out a dozen curses. He spun away from the attack, forcing Entreri to remove the dagger or let go. He kept his weapon.

As Drizzt spun, he pulled Twinkle and meant to cut off Entreri's head, but the assassin dropped into a crouch and used Cycle to skewer the drow as he came about. Drizzt stumbled backward under the attack, and Entreri did let go this time. He listened to the familiar sound of the frost blade at work as Drizzt sucked hollowly for breath. With Twinkle still in his right hand, he carefully pulled Cycle out with his left, grunting as he pulled free chunks of flesh frozen to the blade.

Entreri leaped forward with his regular dirk in hand, quickly slapping the frost blade out of the drow's grasp before Drizzt could use it in an attack. His dagger tried to find an opening in Drizzt's right side, but the weapon master operated on instinct, working his blue scimitar up and down to keep the life-sucking dagger away. He had recognized that sting as magical too.

Entreri pressed his attack, but Drizzt impossibly got his feet under him, backpedaling faster than Entreri could run forward. Drizzt kept only the one scimitar out, using his left hand to clutch his gut. "What trickery is this?" he cried.

Entreri held off, unsure why Drizzt had seemed to recover so quickly from such a devastating wound. "Stupid drow. I called you here to see if you were really as powerful as everyone said. I guess they were wrong. You are just as pathetic as any other cretin."

Drizzt wanted to cry out in his defense but he felt too weak to form words. Entreri took this opportunity to launch forward again, as confident as ever. Again, his blades hit only air, as Drizzt was able to deftly sidestep the attack and back up quickly.

"This isn't over," Drizzt croaked.

"Oh, I think it is-" but Drizzt had turned and ran. Entreri started to give chase, but the drow was already lost in the shadows. "How?" Entreri asked. Then he remembered the bracers. He had watched Drizzt take them off Dantrag's body, but the only time they had fought since then had been in Jarlaxle's crystal tower when all the magics had been removed.

"I thought you said you were going to kill him." Entreri turned around quickly at the familiar voice. It was John. He walked up to the assassin from the darkened doorway where he had watched. "As far as I can tell, all you did was make him mad."

Entreri did not say anything. He walked back and picked up his frost blade. He stowed his weapons and tried to think of what he was going to do now.

"Also, I don't think it was very sporting of you to stab him in the back. If you are such a great fighter, you should have been able to stand up to him."

"This isn't a game," Entreri said. "The only rule is to stay alive."

"Assassin's credo number eight?" John asked.

"Seven," Entreri corrected. "Eight says that the winner is the last one standing."

"Is that going to be you?"

Entreri leveled a serious gaze on the captain. "It better be. For the safety of this city, it better be."

* * * * *

Drizzt ran through the streets of the unfamiliar town as quickly as he could. He could feel the wound in his chest thawing quickly, and he knew that as soon as it did, he would bleed to death within minutes. He could only think of one place where he could find what he needed.

The magic shop was now boarded up, but the city counsel had still not decided on what to do with the inventory. Drizzt easily broke in and scoured the shelves for something he could use. Trained as a warrior, he had not discounted his short time at Sorcere, the school for drow mages that all students at Melee-Magthere must attend for six months. He learned everything he could about a mage's weaknesses and how to defeat them with standard weapons. He also learned what he could about healing and strengthening salves and potions. He rarely got injured in battle, but now he was glad he had spent the time to learn.

Five minutes after entering the shop and just when his wound began to seep, he was chugging down a hastily mixed concoction. It tasted terrible, but Drizzt could feel it working right away. As the physical cold left his body, he could feel the magical cold come in and hold his wound in stasis while it healed. He searched for a few more balms and ointments for the stab wound in his back, and after a while, he felt strong again. He did not feel strong enough to go up against one as tricky as Entreri, but he would be ready within a day. He had never lost before, and he did not like it.

Chapter 4

Seeking Help

Catti-brie and Wulfgar were recognized at the gate to Silverymoon. Each of them were too famous for their liking, and the honor the guards bestowed upon them made each blush. Their matter was a serious one though, and they conveyed that immediately. The guards respected their urgency. Their horses were taken to stables and two guards escorted them through the city.

Catti-brie had been to Silverymoon only once before, and then too it had been to visit Lady Alustriel in search of Drizzt. Since then she had been to Menzoberranzan and had seen the wonders of the south aboard the Sea Sprite. Though the splendors of Silverymoon outshone many other great cities, she did not walk the streets with her mouth agape this time.

Wulfgar, on the other hand, had never seen such sites. The spiraling towers and domed buildings were so spotlessly clean and intricate that it appeared he was walking through a painting. This had to be some artist's imagination of how a perfect city would look and could not be real. His experience with cities was not limited, but he had spent most of his time in the seedier sections, in search of information or in search of anonymity.

Silverymoon did not appear to have any rundown sections. There were stores and restaurants like any other city, but instead of weapons and ale, these establishments sold silk and wine. Being as big as he was, Wulfgar was intimidated by little, but the concept of this city went a long way toward making the barbarian seem insignificant.

The escorts kept a steady pace, and the travelers moved across the large city quickly, making a straight line toward the western wall and the palace of Lady Alustriel. "Is she expecting you?" one of the guards asked as they stopped at the front entrance to the glorious building.

"I've known her to expect many things," Catti-brie said slyly, but then shook her head. "Our urgency did not allow us to make arrangements."

The guard nodded. "I shall send a page up to inform her of your presence." They walked through the front entry and into a lavish waiting room. "Wait here and our lady will be with you shortly."

One look at the luxurious couches in the waiting room, and the two road dirty travelers knew they would never dream of sitting on them. Instead they stood in silence, patiently waiting despite the nature of their visit. Catti-brie used to be impatient, and certainly she still held on to some of those qualities when her friends were in danger, but her time with Drizzt had done much to quell those anxious feelings. It had taken them over 24 hours to make the journey from Settlestone. Even if Drizzt was in danger, five more minutes would not make a difference.

Catti-brie remembered her first visit to this palace again and how she had been overwhelmed with the decor. She had thought it a waste when so many others lived in poverty. She preferred a rugged life in the dale. She needed very little in the way of luxury items, and she had thought Alustriel quite superficial to desire them for herself.

Since her first visit, though, she had thought many times about what it would be like to live in a palace, taking scented baths and wearing perfume. It was something that, had she been brought up differently, she would have liked very much. As it was, she was happy living a simple life among her friends. And she had also come to realize that while there certainly were incredibly poor people living in the realms, no one in Silverymoon fit that description and Alustriel had her luxury at the expense of no one.

"I don't care, if they had not made arrangements, you should have shown them directly up."

Wulfgar and Catti-brie heard the voice coming down the stairs at the edge of the room. "But Lady, you might have been at meal, I did not want-"

"I don't care if I was in the bath, I will not have friends of mine-" but she cut off her tirade as she rounded the corner at the bottom of the stairs and saw Catti-brie and Wulfgar standing and waiting.

"Catti-Brie, daughter of King Bruenor, it is good to see you again, and…" she paused as she looked at her other guest, "Wulfgar?" She turned back to Catti-brie. "I thought you said he had died."

"He had," she responded.

"We do not have time for stories now," Wulfgar said sternly. "We have come searching information about Drizzt. Can you help us?"

Catti-brie was shocked by his rudeness. Didn't he know who he was talking to? But she tempered that reaction with the memory of how she had first addressed Lady Alustriel. Raised by dwarves or raised by barbarians, take your pick. Both instilled the same principles, and Wulfgar was displaying that now.

Before Catti-brie could apologize for his response, Alustriel smiled at them both and spoke up. "The drow has disappeared again, has he? Have you thought of getting him a leash?"

Wulfgar huffed, thinking he was the butt of the joke, but Catti-brie spoke up. "This is different than before," she said. "We believe he was taken and not of his own accord."

Alustriel contemplated this possibility for a moment and then made up her mind. "Well, there is little we can do down here, please, come up stairs to my chambers and we shall see what we can find."

Like Catti-brie had though before, Drizzt had been missing for well over a day and now and a few moments of care and preparation would not make a big difference. They climbed the stairs, and as Alustriel moved slowly about her room, preparing a few magical items around a scrying bowl of crystal clear water, Wulfgar paced nervously. The older woman ignored her barbarian guest as best she could and instead exchanged pleasant conversation with Catti-brie about the welfare of Bruenor and the other peoples of the north.

"Are you going to help us or just quiz us on things that do not concern?" Wulfgar finally exploded after several minutes of silent pacing.

Alustriel stopped what she was doing and looked at the huge man. "What do you know about magic?" she asked calmly.

Wulfgar stopped his pacing with his fists balled beside him. He prepared a reply, but calmed himself. He looked as Catti-brie and Alustriel sat at a table on which many things had been prepared, and it looked as if they were ready to begin. They had come to Alustriel's home without warning requesting help without talk of payment. She must surely be a busy woman, but she had thrown all else aside to lend her aide. And here he was scolding her for it.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Alustriel cocked her head in amusement. She had expected a tirade instead of an apology. She had many things to say to this man who had obviously been through some very hard times if he had died and come back, but it appeared he already knew the lessons she wished to teach. "Come," she said.

Wulfgar walked over to her and Catti-brie and looked into the water as Alustriel began her spell. She gripped the locket with Drizzt's picture in one hand as she carefully sprinkled fine gold and diamond dust on the surface of the water. The sparkling powder did not sink but danced in dazzling patterns on the surface. Alustriel's eyes were half-closed, but her face reflected clearly in the simmering pool as her spirit fell into the spell.

It lasted only a few minutes, but Wulfgar and Catti-brie would look back on it and swear it had lasted an hour. "He is not dead?" Alustriel finally responded.

"That's it," Wulfgar blurted out before he could check himself. "That is all you have found?"

"Is that not what concerned you most?" she asked. Wulfgar looked properly rebuked. "Drizzt is still alive, but he is too distant for me to locate exactly where he is. If he has been taken against his will, then his captures either do not wish him dead, or he has escaped."

"What can we do now?" Catti-brie asked.

"You were right to bring this to me quickly, for if he had died, there would be little I could do far removed from the time of death, but now I'm afraid there is little we can do but wait."

"Wait?" neither Catti-brie nor Wulfgar was happy with that response.

"Yes, wait. Drizzt is far more aware of his situation that we are. If his absence is a conscious decision, then it would be unwise to invade his privacy, however, if he is in danger, then he will no doubt make every effort to get back home. I have confidence in his abilities and if he requires assistance, there are magical ways he might contact me."

"So that is your answer?" Catti-brie said, sounding a lot like Wulfgar. "We sit and wait."

"I will also monitor the pathway to the nether realms. While our world is vast, the tunnel between life and death is not. If Drizzt's spirit should start to make that journey, I will know of it immediately and will be able to locate him."

"You can do that?" Catti-brie asked. "You can keep him from dying?"

"It is not a simple task," she responded. "It will require all of my attention, and I can not do it for long, but I will keep a vigil watch for him."

Catti-brie and Wulfgar realized what this woman was saying and suddenly wished they could take back their request. Was she to sit in a trance all day long just waiting for Drizzt to die?

Alustriel could see the concern on their faces. "Do not worry," she laughed. "I would fear much more for the north if it lost their most valuable warrior than if the capitol city went without her leader for a few days. I will be fine. You, however, have been on the road a long time, and are no doubt tired and hungry. Your best course of action now is to rest and prepare yourselves should I need your assistance in the near future."

Wulfgar and Catti-brie said their thanks and left Alustriel alone as she prepared herself for her meditation. Alustriel only hoped that Drizzt would try to make contact with her soon, and not through dying. He had not the power on his own, but if he could meet a powerful ally, he would no doubt try to make a magical connection. For now all she could do was wait.

* * * * *

The city of Menzoberranzan was quiet.

Drizzt moved through the empty streets early in the morning as the heat of Narbondel was just beginning to climb. He had risen an hour ago and exited his compound undetected. Last night he had escorted Catrina all the way back to her room. She was too distracted by what she had seen to realize he was declining her "services" for the night. As he walked confidently through the dangerous city, he wondered how long he could refuse female companionship without raising concern within the house.

The Clawrift was over halfway across the city. Drizzt had never been to Jarlaxle's hideout before. He paused in thought. He had to amend his thinking. He did not remember ever going to the headquarters for Bregan D'aerthe, but that did not mean this version had never been there. He did not know if he would be welcomed or attacked. Either way, he needed to find it first. Catti-brie had been there, and she had told him some things about it such as the general location, but the description was sketchy. He had not exactly interrogated her planning a return visit. It had just been through casual reminiscing.

The edge of the Clawrift had seemed like a great place to build a compound in the early days of Menzoberranzan. With the nearly bottomless chasm running along one side, it gave the houses only three more that they needed to defend. But now Drizzt saw that it was littered with the burnt out and destroyed remains of those houses. The most recent had been House Oblodra, destroyed during the Time of Troubles, if the rumors Drizzt had heard were true and this reality was consistent.

There were no tracks visible leading into the Clawrift that would indicate a location for the Bregan D'aerthe cave, but Jarlaxle probably did not expect any of the drow who might come calling for him to have been trained as a ranger. In the infrared the ground was unremarkable, but as Drizzt produced a small glowing blue orb, he could see the swirling patterns of dust and dirt on the stone floor. The faint tracks that ended suddenly at the edge of the chasm were almost too obvious to the ranger. Drizzt stored the light orb back in his cloak, looked around for any observers, and then stepped into the Clawrift.

The cave opening was 100 feet down the side of the chasm. It was a convenient location. Depending on how fast a drow levitated down, most would not have enough time left in their spell to go back up. This meant if you guessed wrong at the location of the cave, or were denied entrance, there was nowhere to go but down. Personally, Drizzt felt like he could float back up and then down again. It had been a long time since he had used the levitation ability, but the strength he now had was definitely far in excess of anything he had possessed before.

The cave opening was not very ornate. Seen from any angle but straight on it would barely be noticeable. There was only a tiny ledge carved into the face of the cliff wall beneath the opening. It was more like a crack really, but it stretched out in either direction from the cave. If one Jarlaxle's band was being followed, they could levitate down 50 feet to the left or right of the entrance, and use the crack to work their way back over to the cave. Anyone who followed would never find the crease in the wall, and their spell would run out before they knew they had been tricked.

Perhaps the most distinguishing features of the cave were the two guards located twenty feet inside the tunnel. It took them a second to realize Drizzt was not a member, and then a second more to bring their crossbows up. Only one of them fired and even as the bolt was leaving his weapon, he swore and tried to pull it back.

To Drizzt the bolt appeared to approach in slow motion. His hands left their hold on the wall, and his right arm casually swiped in front of him, impossibly catching the bolt. Drizzt knew the bracers offered him exceptional speed, but he could feel several other gems sewn into his clothing pulsing with energy as he snagged the deadly projectile.

"Master Do'Urden," the guard who had fired said quickly, not even bothering with the hand code. "I had no idea it was you. Please, know that I would never have fired if I had recognized you sooner."

Drizzt watched him quake with fear. Of more interest was the other guard who had recognized him and had not fired. He was on one knee, his face to the floor. Drizzt had only ever seen that type of respect offered to a matron mother. He also was looking at his fellow guard out of the corner of his eye with a resigned pity. Drizzt understood the look. He assumed Drizzt would kill the attacking guard. To stay in character, Drizzt probably should have, but he was only willing to go so far.

The momentum of the heavy bolt had carried Drizzt away from the wall so he was floating in space, not near any handholds. "Please," the frightened guard was still jabbering, "I will get a rope. I will not let you fall."

Drizzt just smiled at him as he casually snapped the heavy bolt in half with one hand and willed himself back into the cave opening. Any drow could levitate up and down, some better than others, but none could move laterally. With that kind of control and with as strong as Drizzt's levitation spell already was, he could literally fly.

The already nervous drow had his jaw hit the floor as Drizzt stepped lightly into the tunnel and walked toward him. "I, uh, had, uh, we had, uh, no idea you would be coming. If you would have let us know, we, uh, could have been rea-"

"Do you expect me to post my itinerary at the base of Narbondel every morning so the whole city can be aware of my comings and goings?" Drizzt asked, more than a lot of sarcasm seeping through.

"Uh, no, uh," he tried to chuckle, "of course not. But maybe a private messenger to let us-"

"I am my own messenger," Drizzt replied. He leaned closer to the guard to stare deep into his eyes. "And you seem to have gotten the message clearly enough."

"Uh, right, you want to see Jarlaxle."

"Well I don't want to stand here all day talking with some stuttering fool."

This guard had killed many drow for far slighter insults. Now, if he kept his hands any further away from his sword hilts, he would be touching the ceiling. "Please follow me." The drow was nervous about placing Drizzt at his back, but it was another sign of respect, and Drizzt nodded for him to lead the way. Drizzt wondered if they would have allowed him to find his own way if he had been here before. He decided it was safest not to assume either way.

The walk took several minutes, and they traveled in silence. The end of the journey brought them to a shimmering portal suspended on the cave wall. "I will let Jarlaxle know yo-"

Drizzt grabbed the drow quickly by the collar and heaved him up into the air, pressed hard against the side wall of the cavern. "Perhaps you did not hear me earlier, what with your teeth chattering and all, but I said that I am my own messenger."

"It's just that Jarlaxle might be-"

Drizzt threw him hard back down the tunnel. "Go back to your post. If your leader is not ready for me, he will have to adjust."

The drow bowed and ran back to his post, just happy to be alive at this point. Drizzt turned back to the portal. As he neared it, his magical protections hummed quietly, letting him know they would not allow him to walk through a trap. The transition through the doorway was like moving through heavy cream. Even with his increased strength, Drizzt had to strain himself to move through it. On the other side, Jarlaxle was eating breakfast.

Drizzt stepped into Jarlaxle's private office and the mercenary froze. He nearly choked on the eggs in his mouth, but he swallowed them down under control, the rest of his body poised for immediate action. Drizzt recognized his reaction. It was different from the guards. They had been frightened and eager to please. Jarlaxle prepared for a fight, but Drizzt could still see the underlying motivation was fear. He did not know something existed that could bring the mercenary fear. What was he?

Besides Jarlaxle, Drizzt could sense many magical wards and protections in this room. Most he could not recognize, and he wished his equipment had come with instructions. Jarlaxle sat at a side table, in the corner of the room. Neither said anything for a while, just taking stock of each other. Jarlaxle was the first to speak. "And to what do I owe this pleasure, Master Do'Urden?"

There was some sarcasm in his voice, for it was impossible for Jarlaxle to speak otherwise, but Drizzt also detected a small twinge of respect. There were two ways he could play this. Drizzt could fall into the role of the vicious weapon master everyone assumed him to be. It was a role he was getting good at, but that would hardly produce the answers he was looking for. Instead, he decided to play it straight. "I need your help."

Nothing could have disturbed Jarlaxle more than those four words. He wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it, but he was not that foolish. "In what way?" he asked carefully.

"I need to know what has happened to me."

Jarlaxle, very slowly, stood from the table, careful to keep both his hands visible. His most valuable weapons were already in his sleeves anyway, he just hoped Drizzt did not know that. Though, if he thought any of his magical daggers could actually hit the deadly weapon master, he would have attacked the moment Drizzt had stepped in. "What has happened to you?" Jarlaxle echoed for clarification.

This situation was very uncomfortable. Jarlaxle liked to know what to expect. With Drizzt, it had always been easy. If you crossed him, you died. If you did not cross him, you still died, but not right away. The trick was not to engage him at all. Jarlaxle had been very good at that until now. He slowly moved to his desk, behind which, with its magical wards and protections, he would feel much safer.

"I am not who I seem," Drizzt began, watching his "host" sit down behind his desk and regain his usual comfortable composure. He was still not comfortable revealing himself to Jarlaxle, but he needed answers. He also did not know exactly how to go about this. "I am not from this world, or at least this reality."

"If you are trying to say that you are some powerful demon made flesh, I won't need that much convincing."

Drizzt snapped at him, and Jarlaxle braced visibly. "See that's just it," he said. "I'm not a killer. This world, this life, this personality, it's not me."

The puzzled expression on Jarlaxle's face let Drizzt know he was not making any sense. "A little over thirty years ago I left the underdark. I went to the surface and have lived a very prosperous life. My family chased me, but I escaped. Then this entire city chased me, and I escaped. Since then I have lived almost two decades in peace on the surface. Then, two nights ago, I woke up in this body, in this city, in this reality. I do not belong here."

Jarlaxle pondered this for a while. "Are you sure you did not just have a bad dream?" Drizzt growled, a sound he did not make often, but one that sounded perfectly natural to Jarlaxle. "Okay," Jarlaxle said, "it wasn't a dream. Still, it is quite a tale."

"I don't belong here," Drizzt said again. "I hate Lloth. I hate all drow and their diabolical ways. I live on the surface as a ranger with friends who I love and care about."

Jarlaxle brought a hand up to his mouth to hide the grin that was forming. "I'm sorry," he said, when Drizzt stopped to look at his reaction, "but if this is all true, it is very strange to hear the word 'love' come from you. If it is true, you obviously know what you are now, and should understand. And if it is not true…" Jarlaxle let the comment hang.

"Why would I make this up?" Drizzt asked. Jarlaxle did not respond, but he could think of several ways this could turn into a trap for him. But why would Drizzt want him dead? And if he did, why not just kill him? Why all the tricks?

"You have to admit it is a hard pill to swallow," Jarlaxle offered. "I am supposed to believe that you are not Drizzt Do'Urden, weapon master of the sixth house, but you are instead Drizzt Do'Urden, Elven Ranger, who lives on the surface. You look the same to me."

"You don't understand," Drizzt said getting frustrated. "This whole," he motioned with his arms at a loss as to how to describe it, "reality," he finally settled with, "is wrong. This is what life would have been like if I had stayed in Menzoberranzan. This is what life would have been like if my heart was evil like a proper drow's should be. Something has brought me here, and I need to know what."

"Interesting," Jarlaxle said, though he did not elaborate.

Drizzt grew angry. "What can I tell you that will convince you?" Jarlaxle just stared at him blankly. "You and my father were friends," Drizzt said suddenly. "In my reality you came to the surface and told me that you and my father had been friends."

Jarlaxle considered this. "Zaknafein could have told you that before you killed him."

"I did not kill my father!" Drizzt shouted at the mercenary. "I loved my father."

"Indeed," Jarlaxle agreed, again quite sarcastically.

"Is there anything I can say that will convince you?" Drizzt threw his arms up in frustration and turned to pace in the room. As he tried to come up with something, he heard an odd hissing sound and saw the portal out of the room shrink and snap shut. Drizzt spun back around to look at Jarlaxle. The eccentric drow was not going to attack, but instead had his feet up on his desk and was smiling.

"You mean to trap me here?" he asked. Maybe he was wrong to come to the mercenary for help.

Jarlaxle laughed freely. "No, I thought you might like a little more privacy for this conversation. We wouldn't want anyone walking in on us to discover your secret."

Drizzt looked at him puzzled. "You believe me?"

"Without any doubt what so ever," he replied. "Please," he motioned to a luxurious chair that had magically appeared in front of the desk, "have a seat."

Drizzt declined for now and continued to look at the strange drow. Jarlaxle explained for him. "I can not think of anything you might have said that would convince me," Jarlaxle said, "but the Drizzt Do'Urden that I have grown to know and hate would never – and I mean never – turn his back so casually on me." Jarlaxle was all smiles. "So, we were friends in your reality?"

Now it was Drizzt's turn to chuckle. "Not quite. You spared my life on more than one occasion, but I would not call us friends. Let's just say that we were of differing, but non-conflicting mindsets."

"Fair enough," Jarlaxle replied. "So what was I doing on the surface?"

"I did not come here to talk about you," Drizzt said. His eyes telling Jarlaxle plainly enough that while his heart might be pure, his body was still a killing machine.

"Of course, my mistake. You want to know what has happened to you."

"First," Drizzt said, steering the conversation, "I want to know who I am. When I walked into this room, I saw fear in your eyes. Do not try and deny it. It is the only look I have received since I got here two nights ago. I know it well. The Jarlaxle I know is not scared of much. Who am I?" Drizzt had put together several theories on what he was and what he had done, but he wanted to hear it from Jarlaxle first.

The mercenary did not try to refute the comment that he had been scared. He had been. Instead he paused deep in thought to think of how he should respond to the question at hand. Drizzt saw the lengthy, contemplative pause and understood the reply would be extensive. He took Jarlaxle up on his previous offer and sat down.

"This city is run by females," Jarlaxle began. "Matron mothers and high priestesses hold all of the real power in this city. Males are considered second-class citizens. All this you know, I'm sure, if, as you say, you rejected these ideals and left for the surface. But you have therefore not spent enough time living within the city to understand the true depth of that fact.

"There are many skilled males in this city, whether they be weapon masters or wizards. If pitted against a female in their chosen ethos of expertise, they would be victorious more often than not. There is a difference between the skilled and the powerful. In order to hold any real power, you need authority and prestige. This is only achieved through ambition and self-determination. That is something only the females in this city possess – present company excluded.

"When Zaknafein became the weapon master of your house, he joined an already over-crowded field of potentially powerful males. If there was but one, it would have been over-crowded. Dantrag, Uthengental, and your father were the three greatest weapon masters the city had ever seen, and they were all in their prime at the same time. If one of them had decided to take the initiative and remove the competition, they would have finally achieved what no male ever had: true power."

Jarlaxle shook his head. "Some might want to group me among them, but all I seek is a comfortable life away from the grind and responsibilities of living within a house and under a matron mother. I do not seek power. I know for a fact that Dantrag and Zaknafein wanted it. No one knows what Uthegental wanted. Dantrag wanted it for pride; Zaknafein wanted it for spite. But they did nothing. For 350 years they lived with the question of who was better, but they did nothing. There was never a hint that they were planning any type of confrontation."

Jarlaxle sighed. "It was too bad. I would have loved to watch it. Instead, despite their confidence in their skill and hatred of their position as second-class males, they were also too conditioned by their matron mothers to rebel against the reality of their stations. Their matrons said kill, and they killed. They said stay, and they did not move. If they had said, 'Crawl up on to this altar and let me sacrifice you to our glorious Spider Queen,' they would have complied and asked if she needed help starting the fire. It was not that they had no will of their own, but their subjection to their matron was greater."

Jarlaxle smiled at his attentive audience. "Then you came along. You breezed through the Academy like no one before you. You passed every test placed before you and killed anything that gave you trouble. It seemed too easy. I don't know why you attacked and killed your father. But you did. I'm guessing it was just to take his place."

Drizzt interrupted. "Zaknafein attacked me. I assume it was the same in this reality. In my world, he accused me of murdering an elf child during a surface raid. He attacked me, but before either of us killed the other, I declared that the elf child still lived. I'm guessing it did not go like that here."

Jarlaxle shook his head. "Not quite. The elf child is cold and long dead, I assure you. As is Zaknafein. The great weapon masters before you had remained dormant for over 350 years, allowing their matrons to call the shots. You waited less than thirty days. On perhaps the most important night in this city's history, four prominent drow died and the power balance shifted dramatically.

"Not many know that all four were killed on the same night. Even less know that they were all killed by the same person. And no one knows how. I almost wish you were not who you say you are, because I would love to know how you did it."

"Dantrag Baenre, Matron Baenre, Uthegental, and Matron Mez Barris," Drizzt said calmly, the pieces of the puzzle slowly falling into place.

"You have been doing your research," Jarlaxle appraised him.

"I don't suppose you now how I did it?" Drizzt asked as curious as anyone.

"Like I said," Jarlaxle responded, "I wish I knew. Rumors abounded as to what had happened. The most common is that the two matron mothers finally decided to let their prized males fight it out. Dantrag killed Uthegental, Mez Barris killed Dantrag, Baenre killed Mez Barris, and then Triel Baenre killed her mother."

"And you didn't believe this story?" Drizzt asked.

"No," he replied. "I have my reasons. The biggest of which is that both Matron Triel and Matron Kwinsta, Mez Barris' eldest daughter, came to me to find out who the killer was. That meant the killer was not from either house."

"And you figured out it was me because…" Drizzt led on.

"Where did you get that sword?" Jarlaxle asked.

Drizzt unsheathed Khazid'hea carefully and held the sentient blade aloft. He had been right. He did wear the sword for a better reason than to brag about killing Dantrag. He was bragging that he had killed Matron Baenre as well. Only those who knew they had died at the same time would understand his boast, but they were the only ones that mattered anyway. After last night, he wondered if more people would figure it out.

As he held the sword up, he noticed his magical earrings protected his mind from prying to such an extent that the sword's yearnings and pleadings were barely more than a whisper, easily ignored. He did not hear the sword, but as he looked at the Baenre emblem that was still very visible on the pommel, a familiar sensation went through him. He thought about it briefly and put the sword back.

"You never claimed responsibility," Jarlaxle said, "but the way you wear it with the Baenre emblem still in place alongside your two scimitars, it is obviously just for show. Plus those two sun gems on your piwafwi look very similar to a pair that Uthegental was known to wear."

Drizzt looked down at the gems in question, suddenly realizing why, despite his bulk, he was able to move so fluidly. Uthegental had been a monster of a drow, yet his style of fighting was as fluid as any other male in the city, if not more. Drizzt had pillaged their bodies and then displayed those items prominently on his person to let everyone know, or at least those who cared to find out, who had been responsible.

"Few know the truth. I imagine Matron Malice does, and both matron mothers of the first two houses. Beyond them, and anyone one they've told, everything else is just rumors."

"And they allowed my house to continue to exist?"

Jarlaxle laughed. "Actually, Matron Kwinsta was too scared of what you might do to her, if she leveled the charge against you, so she played along with the rumors and accused the first house of the act. Since the rumors claimed that Dantrag killed Uthengental and Baenre had killed Mez Barris, Matron Kwinsta claimed that it was an unlawful attack on her house. I'm sure you know that when two houses go against each other, one needs to totally wipe out the other. This did not happen, but with Matron Triel now at the head of the counsel, she claimed that House Del'Armgo had initiated the conflict and their house should be eliminated. They went to war, and there is no more House Del'Armgo."

"Moving my house into seventh," Drizzt said.

"Yes," Jarlaxle agreed. "And then during the time of troubles, House Oblodra, with their unaffected psionic powers, took momentary control of the city. They took advantage of the weakened first house, and would have taken over for good had Lloth herself not called down judgment upon them.

"The five houses that remain below yours are not worthy to hold the positions. Everyone knows which house is the strongest and which Lloth smiles down upon the most. House Baenre might have your house outnumbered, in fighters and priestesses, but no one believes that will matter. And everyone knows why your house is so powerful. If this were not a matriarchal society, you would be king."

What Jarlaxle now said, Drizzt already understood, but he allowed the mercenary to go on anyway. "You walk within the city as if you own it. Noble males prefer to stay within their houses for safety, but you are not so inclined. You go where you wish, and people avoid you. You have personally been responsible for the destruction of several lowly houses that offended you. Matron Malice no longer gives you orders and, from what I've heard, listens to you for advice. There is nothing you are not capable of doing. As a male, you have finally achieved power. You have no more rivals, and the only matron mother powerful enough to attack you, gave birth to you."

Drizzt stood from his chair and resumed pacing. He finally had a plan. "I am going to attack House Baenre," he said carefully. "I despise this city and wish to leave it in ruins before I return to my real life. I have told Matron Malice that I will eliminate the first house for her and she can claim the title of first Matron Mother of the city. I imagine the houses beneath us will object. We will go to war, and I will step aside. I'll let you sort out the mess."

Jarlaxle was speechless. Why was Drizzt telling him this? Drizzt seemed to read his mind. "This is valuable information I am giving you. In return, I want you to return me to my reality. I know you have many mages and magics at your disposal. Discovering what has happened to me, who has done it, and how to undo it should not be so difficult."

"But perhaps I like this new and improved Drizzt Do'Urden," Jarlaxle said.

"You won't like me very much if you do not do as I say," Drizzt said, slipping easily back into the role of the vengeful drow. "I will return tonight with the particulars of the attack, and you shall have obtained a means for my return. The following day the attack will take place and you shall return me to the reality in which I belong."

Jarlaxle did not respond right away, trying to think a few things out. Why was Drizzt going to tell him the particular's of the attack? What made him trust that Jarlaxle would not just arrange to have him sent to a hell dimension? "I will see what I can do," Jarlaxle replied.

Drizzt nodded and turned to leave. The portal was still not there, but Jarlaxle quickly reopened it. Drizzt left. Several moments after the Do'Urden had gone, Berg'inyon Baenre stepped out of an invisible pocket-plane, from which he had watched the entire meeting.

"What did you think of that?" Jarlaxle asked. The mercenary had heard Drizzt in the tunnel just outside the portal when he had threatened his guard. Jarlaxle had not recognized the voice, but knew it had to be someone important. He had opened the pocket-plane for Berg'inyon to hide.

"I think I will want to be back here tonight when the attack against my house is outlined," he said. He slowly played with his house's emblem as he formed a plan. He knew none of his sister liked him, but they might allow him to stay within the house as weapon master if he aided them in defeating Drizzt and Triel at the same time. "It appears there might be a way for me to regain favor in my house once again."

Jarlaxle nodded, but he could not help but think that something much bigger was going on.

Chapter 5

Getting Attention

Cal Grotciem watched the cloaked figure from across the sparsely populated tavern in the northern section of Garrilport. He drank very little and seemed to be peering out of his cowl at everyone in the room. Though Cal thought he could see what looked like two violet eyes, he could not clearly see the stranger's face, or any skin for that matter. The mysterious man wore gloves and long sleeves. It was a cool night outside, as the season was changing to spring, but not so bad as to warrant the extra attire.

Cal was a man in the information business. He made a lot of money at it. This mystery man reeked of information, and it was information that Cal did not have, but knew instantly would be very valuable. News of the dead city guards had reached him only moments after it had happened, and with that information came the tidbit that the murderer was a dark skinned man.

Dark Skins were common much further south, but none of them ventured very far north. Most entrepreneurs in this town who shipped down the river refused to do business with them, and from all reports, the feeling was mutual. Neither side had any real beef with the other, besides the fact that they were different. People seemed to be scared of change.

Cal was not scared of change. He loved change. He liked the jingling sound it made in his pocket and the clean golden reflection you got from a new coin. He smiled to himself at his cleverly turned phrase. This stranger might easily put a lot of change in his pocket.

Cal drained the last of his glass and proceeded to walk over to the stranger. The cloaked figure made no obvious recognition of the approaching man, but Cal did notice him casually shift his drinking glass to his left hand so the hand closest to Cal was free to draw a weapon if need be. This tiny display of battle awareness let Cal know all he needed. The informant sat down across from his new friend without asking.

Drizzt did not want company right now. His gut was still a little stiff, but it was nothing that should seriously hinder his fighting ability. At the same time, he wanted the conditions to be right before he met Artemis again. What he wanted now was to be left alone.

He peered at this man that now sat across from him and made a snap judgement. The man was a weasel, someone who sought a lifestyle through shady dealings and information distribution. He saw Drizzt as a chance to increase is flow of coin and nothing more. Drizzt readied his right hand to quickly drop below the table and stab the man in the gut.

He played through the action in his mind, confident he could do it in less than two seconds, but he held off for now. If this man dealt in information, he might know about Artemis.

"Greetings, friend," Cal started, "would you mind if I bought you a-"

"What do you know of Artemis Entreri?" Drizzt interrupted, not caring for traditional social graces.

Cal choked on the question. He knew Artemis Entreri, and also knew that he suddenly wanted nothing to do with this stranger. He knew that Artemis was Captain John Irenum's personal project, and if you dealt with one, you invariably wound up dealing with the other. Cal did not like dealing with the Captain of the City Guards. However, because he had reacted so unprofessionally to this stranger's question regarding the assassin, deniability was no longer plausible.

"Yes, I've heard of Artemis Entreri," Cal responded slowly.

"That was not my question," Drizzt replied sternly. Drizzt did not repeat his original question. If this man was not quick enough to catch on to what was happening and who was in charge, he did not want to waste time with him.

Cal desperately needed to get back the upper hand in this conversation. This stranger knew what he was doing, and the confidence that flowed off him was almost over-whelming. Also, his accent was nothing like he had ever heard before. "Artemis is a deadly assassin that came to this city almost a year ago," Cal replied. "He came from the north, but by all reports he was a stranger there as well. His origins are unknown."

"They are not unknown," Drizzt replied, "they are just unknown to you. I wish to pay him a visit. Where might I find him?"

Cal knew Artemis' exact address, and he also knew that if he gave it to this strange man, that would be the end of this meeting and the end of his chance for turning a profit. Half of him thought that was a good idea. This man was dangerous and smart. This man would never pay for any information he needed. However, the other half of him still thought he might be able to salvage this encounter and turn it in his favor.

"Artemis' living quarters are unknown to me," he said, admitting to a deficiency to appease his conversation partner. "But he has several business ventures within this city at which he frequently spends his time. I'm not even sure he has a home besides his offices."

Drizzt missed his earrings. With them he would be able to tell if this man was lying. Instead all he had to go on was Cal's facial expressions. It sounded like he was lying. Of course, everything Cal said sounded like a lie. It was a conscious effort to force people into taking what he said on face value. If Drizzt did have his earrings, they would let the drow know that this man was lying even if he stated that trees were made of wood.

On face value, what this man said made sense. Artemis was a man of power; Drizzt could see that easily. In Menzoberranzan, your power was directly related to your ability to dominate each encounter you faced. Drizzt had been able to do that quite successfully and was the most powerful drow in his home city. Here, power was directly related to physical wealth. It only made sense that Artemis would adapt and succeed.

"You know of these offices?" Drizzt asked.

"I do," Cal replied, thinking quickly of the most profitable businesses in the northern section of the city. "I will take you to them."

"You will take me now," Drizzt said, rising from the table.

"I can not guarantee we will find him," Cal said quickly. "He might be many places."

"All I wish is to get his attention," Drizzt said.

"Can I know your name?" Cal asked.

"No," Drizzt replied bluntly. "Let's get on with this."

Cal shrugged his shoulders and led the way out of the tavern into the night.

* * * * *

Brian and Edgar stood guard outside Borgian's Construction, the largest of three shipyards in the city. The main warehouse was cleverly built into the side of a large hill that rose up next to Garril Lake. This gave the building extremely good insulation allowing for no drop off in activity during the winter months. The other two shipyards struggled to find people willing to work during the cold and expended too many resources just trying to keep their warehouses warm enough so the water inside would not freeze.

Because of the profitability of the shipyard, it was able to hire the best mercenaries the city had to offer. Brain and Edgar guarded the facility from the outside, and four more guards operated inside. There were few theft attempts against the well-guarded warehouse, but that did not cause any of the guards to slacken their patrol. They knew that their vigilance was the only reason no one tried to rob the place. Their pay was directly proportional to how many potential thefts they were able to thwart, and they liked getting paid.

All six guards would be dead within the hour.

It was almost a good thing actually, because even if they did survive, after it was learned that they had been on duty during the Lakeside Massacre, none of them would be able to get work anyway.

Brian saw the shadowy figure approaching first. The lake had been manually widened around the warehouse so that the only way to approach the front of the building was over an extensive dock. The front of the warehouse stood on support pillars over the water, and a canal was dug to extend into the main section of the warehouse. Most thieves tried to swim through the canal or cut up into the dock under the front of the warehouse. Neither method was very successful. The direct approach had never been tried before.

Brian unslung his bow from his shoulder and bumped Edgar to get his attention. Edgar had been staring off at the lake, half-hypnotized by the gentle sway of the waves and the rhythmic pounding from the night crew hard at work within the warehouse. Edgar came to attention quick enough when he saw the figure walking toward them. There was at least 200 feet of pier one had to walk to reach the front of the building, and this figure was taking his time.

"Halt!" Edgar called as he too readied his bow and knocked an arrow. "Come no further or we will be forced to fire."

The figure obeyed, still 150 feet away. "Identify yourself!" Brian demanded.

"I am Drizzt Do'Urden of Daermon N'a'shezbaernon, House Do'Urden, Sixth House of Menzoberranzan."

This response cleared up little. "Well, Drizzit Duoa, uh, turn away and return during normal businesses hours. This is private property and all intruders will be met with lethal force."

"I come on urgent business," Drizzt replied, "and do not wish to be detained further."

"What type of business?"

"I have come to kill you," he replied quite frankly.

Before either guard could properly process this interesting and vitally important piece of information, Drizzt exploded into motion, running full speed toward them. With his magical bracers on his ankles, he crossed the remaining length of the pier in seconds. Brian and Edgar let fly with their bows, and even if Drizzt had not rolled under the shots, both arrows were so hastily released, neither would have found their target. The guards dropped their bows and pulled their swords.

They tried to swing at the dark blur that raced past them, but their blades cut through only air. They turned to track their prey, but felt suddenly weak. Drizzt had cut a deep line above each of their waists, just below their ineffective chainmail vests. They dropped their swords and clutched their gaping wounds. Looking down as they were, they saw the boots of their killer standing in front of them. As their knees began to weaken, they looked up into Drizzt's face.

The drow had pulled his hood back and the angry blue glow from Twinkle cast frightening shadows across his elven face. "I will not be detained," he repeated, and thrust both scimitars forward. The blades easily parted the links of the cheap vests, and plunged into the guards' chests. They fell to the wooden dock, not to get up any time soon.

The sound of approaching footfalls alerted Drizzt, and he looked up in alarm, but it was only Cal trying to run stealthily along the pier. In actuality, he was making very little noise, but Drizzt heard it plainly. Cal was still quite amazed by what he had seen, and tried not to think about what would happen to him if this hastily thrown together plan should backfire. He started to pull out some rope to lower the bodies quietly into the lake, but Drizzt heaved them both off the dock before Cal could tell him otherwise.

The splashes sounded especially loud on this peaceful night. "Are you crazy?" Cal asked, earning him a deadly look from Drizzt. Cal calmed his demeanor a bit in an effort to keep his life, but not much. "That noise will alert them to our presence."

"Then they shall rush out to their deaths," Drizzt said simply. "I do not slink in darkness like a coward or a weakling. I will meet my challenges head on or not at all."

Cal looked into his associate's eyes and noticed for the first time that Drizzt was not human. He had tried to reason with Drizzt that walking directly up to the front of the building was probably not the best way to initiate their attack, but his argument had not been given much consideration. After seeing the success of the drow's plan, he wondered what kind of killer he had hooked up with.

"As you say," Cal agreed. As long as he got money out of this deal, he could care less how often he had to be humbled in front of this dark skinned stranger. "Artemis' office should be on the main floor of the warehouse. Between it and us will be more guards and several workers. If you insist on walking through the front door, I will support you from above." Cal pulled out a small crossbow.

"Why are you doing this?" Drizzt asked him. He had been so eager to get at Artemis that he had not bothered to consider why Cal was so anxious to help him.

Cal smiled. "Artemis is a rich man, but after we leave here tonight, not as much." That was good enough for Drizzt. Cal walked along the docks and stopped beneath an elevated window. Using his rope and small grapple, he latched onto the window and lifted himself up. Drizzt watched him carefully pick at the lock and thought about jumping up there and breaking the window open for him. He shrugged, if Cal wished to slink into the building like a coward, let him. Drizzt stepped up to the front doors, pushed them open on their noisy hinges, and walked in.

The front entrance led directly into the main section of the warehouse with the offices in the back and along the balcony that surrounded the main floor on three walls. Running directly down the middle of the warehouse was a canal connected to a lock system that could lower the water level so the constructed hulls could be floated out underneath the docks, or it could drain the water completely in the winter. The masting and above deck cabins would be added to the ships outside on the lake. Right now there were half a dozen fully completed hulls that had been built during the winter and were now waiting for the weather forecast to predict continued warm weather before they were taken outside. A dozen workers were also busy pounding together two more partially constructed hulls. At least, that was what they were supposed to be doing. Instead they were all looking in wonder at their drow intruder.

Drizzt held both of his bloody scimitars in front of him, leaving nothing to the workers' imaginations. He was not here on a social call. There were two guards at work on the floor, and they both pulled their bows. Drizzt easily dodged the first two shots, and was soon swarmed with workers who effectively protected him from any further arrows.

The workers attacked with hammers, saws and, crowbars. They died with nothing but an expression of terror. One hefty man swung hard at Drizzt with a sledgehammer, forcing the drow to hop back. He blocked the attack just below the massive iron head, cutting cleanly through the wooden handle. The head of the sledge spun off out of control and hit an attacker's nose, smashing his face in a plume of blood. The initial attacker now held a severely misbalance handle, and as he awkwardly tried to bring it above his head for another blow, Drizzt opened his chest at three different angles.

Two more men came at him from either side, one with a smaller hammer and the other with a long metal pole. Drizzt baited the one with the pole, and then ducked under the high swipe just as the man with the hammer stepped in. He dropped the hammer as the metal pole struck him in the ear, and fell to the ground as Drizzt literally cut his legs out from under him.

The other man disliked the fact that this clever killer had used him, but he liked the feeling of cold steel shoved into his chest even less. Two more men came in, and they reeled back seconds later with blood gushing from beneath desperate fingers.

One of the floorboards Drizzt was standing on flexed slightly, and he wheeled about in a defensive stance. The sharp metallic sound of the block let Drizzt know he was now facing one of the guards. Drizzt swept his block and the guard's sword to the side and sprang forward to skewer the man. The guard was quick on his feet and managed to sidestep the thrust and then slam his bulk into the smaller elf.

Drizzt rolled away under control, but cried out as if he was taken by surprise. The second guard joined the attack and meant to cut the sprawling intruder in half. Drizzt came out of his roll suddenly and swiped at the guard's unprotected legs, his scimitar grating loudly against the man's shinbones. The guard cried out in pain, and Drizzt shut him up by thrusting his other blade up under the man's armor and into his lungs.

The man fell dead and Drizzt spun to meet the first guard. The man was too shocked by what he had just seen to put up much of a fight. He was dead in a few seconds. The rest of the workers scrambled in fear, trying to escape, but Drizzt had other ideas.

Up along one of the side balconies, Cal tried to ignore the violent screams coming from below and kept his attention focused in front of him. He had is eyes on the main office where Gary Borgian, the owner of Borgian's Construction, and two other guards were going over some details. They heard the noises from below, and sprang into action. The guards led the way out of the office and Gary followed, leaving the office empty. Cal smiled.

By the time the two guards and Gary made their way around the balcony and to the stairs down at the back of the warehouse, there was only one person still drawing breath on the main floor. The two guards stopped on an intermediate landing just above the wide steps that ran perpendicular from the back wall of the warehouse. They tried to draw a bead on Drizzt with their bows, but each only got off two shots as the elusive elf danced his way to the base of the stairs, leaped up onto the railing, and then again to stand next to them.

Neither guard had time to pull a weapon before Drizzt cut the bows from their hands, taking several fingers with them to the floor. The two guards screamed in pain, but shut up a second later by virtue of having cut open their only means for vocal noise. Drizzt stepped over the gargling men and recognized Gary as the man in charge.

The owner turned to run back the way he had come, but Drizzt gave chase, vaulting up the remaining steps and then racing along the balcony's railing to leap in front of the fleeing man. Drizzt leveled a bloody scimitar at the man's chest, effectively freezing him in place.

"W-wh-what do you w-want?" Gary stuttered.

"I want you to take a message for me to your boss. I want you to tell him that unless he comes out of hiding to face me, every one of his business ventures will end up like this one. Do you understand?"

It took a while for Gary to find his voice. "But I am the boss," he croaked, realizing that whatever gripe this black demon had was now with him.

"You do not know Artemis Entreri?" Drizzt asked, his scimitar coming down a few inches.

The overweight man shook his head, hoping he might be able to escape after all. Drizzt lowered his weapon completely. "Artemis Entreri does not own this facility?"

"No sir," Gary was slowly gaining his motor skills back. "I have never heard of him."

Drizzt turned in anger and looked toward the main office that Gary had come from. Through the window that looked out onto the floor, he saw an open and empty safe. There was no sign of Cal. "Ilhar kai'vith iblith!" Drizzt cursed violently, and swept his scimitar blindly behind him at shoulder height. Unfortunately for Gary, he was about an inch shorter than Drizzt. So vicious was the swipe and so sharp was Twinkle's edge, that Gary's head actually stayed on his shoulders after the blade passed through his neck, which only made things more confusing for him. Fortunately, he did not have much time to think about it.

Gary's body fell backwards slowly, his severed head bouncing hard on the well-built balcony floor. It rolled several feet before it hit the stairs and tumbled down, leaving a bloody trial on the steps. Drizzt took what pleasure he could from the slightly humorous display, and then sheathed his weapons. They were not really his, and he did not bother wiping them clean.

This night had been a waste. He had wanted to get Artemis' attention, but all he had done was play the part of the puppet while Cal robbed this shipyard. The list of people Drizzt had to kill before he left this town in search for a way to get back home kept getting bigger.

* * * * *

"Often more important than your actual skill is other's perception of your skill."

Drizzt had done a lot of thinking and had finally come up with a workable solution to his problem. It was not without risk, but it was the only solution he could find. He now stood in front of his two students. He had been neglecting his duties as weapon master for obvious reasons. And while he did not feel guilty about it, he realized he would begin to set off alarms about the house if his odd behavior continued.

"If you fear an opponent that has built a reputation for himself as an exceptional opponent, you have little chance of beating him regardless of how good you might be. Many great fighters have little skill, but have only gotten lucky against a few good opponents and are allowed to live off that reputation without ever having to do any real fighting again."

Kelron and Triack stood attentively before their weapon master. Triack was Drizzt's son. Drizzt had looked through the family records in secret earlier that day and had found he had sired almost a dozen drow within this house. None of them seemed to exhibit any moral qualities. And why should they? Drizzt thought. Whatever good qualities Zaknafein might have possessed had apparently gotten lost long before they made it to Drizzt, at least in this reality. He would have nothing to pass on to his offspring. Any ideas of getting to know his kids were discarded, knowing it would be too painful for him to realize what could have been, and still might be if he were to have children.

"I rarely have to fight anymore," Drizzt said, continuing his lesson. "People respect my skill and they allow me to do what I wish. They also know that the reputation I have built is an honest one. I have often noticed that fighters I had thought skilled, fight as if children when they draw their blades against me. I often do not need half of the skill I posses when fighting against these demoralized opponents because in their minds they have already lost."

Drizzt looked at each of his students to make sure they were listening closely. "I wish to test your knowledge with regard to judging someone's skill. I have trained or fought against every fighter in this house. I know exactly who the best fighters are. Now I want to see if you do. By noon today I want you to present me with a list of who you believe to be the twelve best warriors in our house, myself excluded."

The two students looked at each other curiously. Drizzt's training regimen was usually fairly straightforward. It was just one drill after another. This type of assignment seemed a little odd.

Drizzt noticed their confused looks. "Do you understand me?" The two youths nodded their heads quickly. "I want you to treat this assignment as seriously as you take any of my other orders. Now go." The two students ran back to their quarters.

* * * * *

Drizzt had wanted to get Entreri's attention, so he could end their feud. Instead he had gotten John's attention. The result would be the same. The captain had been called to Borgian's Construction early the morning after the massacre. As he surveyed the bloody mess, he could not help but think of the killings that had plagued the city almost a year ago. There was a clear difference between the two sets of killings, though.

Before, the murders had been brutal and bloody, but they had also been efficient. These new killings seemed almost playful. The men lying on the warehouse floor were cut up like raw meat, with no killing wound the same. While they were all different, each wound had clearly been made with the same type of weapon. They were the same weapons that had killed Kraygan, and they were the same weapons that had killed the four city guards. They were Drizzt's weapons.

There was another similarity between the two sets of killings that John could not get his subconscious to ignore: Artemis Entreri was involved. He had obviously not committed the first murders, and had eventually been the one to bring the killers to justice, but he had been involved. He was also not the perpetrator here, and John was far guiltier of bringing Drizzt to Garrilport than was Entreri, but that changed little in the captain's mind.

Any time there was trouble, Entreri seemed to be in some way involved. He also realized that the only way to get the trouble solved was to get Entreri even more involved. There was little investigative work he need to do at the shipyard other than make his presence known so everyone would see he was on the case. He had known who the killer was before he had seen the first body. He paid his silent respects to the dead men and then left.

Entreri was eating breakfast when John burst into his small shack without so much as knocking. "I'm sorry," Entreri said, not in the least bit startled, "I have not made enough for two, however if you would care to wai-"

"Shut up! Just shut the hell up!" John screamed, kicking the offered chair at the breakfast table across the room. "When are you going to get off your ass and end this mess you've started?"

Entreri swallowed his anger and turned to look at the captain. "What are you talking about?" he said slowly.

"What?!" John was flabbergasted. "What do you think I'm talking about? Your friend killed 20 men last night and put out of business the most productive shipyard in the city. The deaths aside for a moment, shipping season is right around the corner, and what happened last night might have a ripple effect that could bankrupt several other businesses."

Entreri took his time, keeping his temper from flaring. "When I heard you clanging about in my front yard I understood you were here about Drizzt. What concerns me is that you feel it is my responsibility to take care of the problem. Drizzt has a fight with me, and that fight will take place. I value my life too much to foolishly seek him out where he might be lying in wait for me. He is far more impulsive than I. He will come for me, and I will kill him. In the meantime, it is not my job to protect your city."

"You listen here," John started, but Entreri cut him off.

The assassin finally let his temper get the best of him as he stood. "No, you listen. I did not ask for him to come here, you did, so don't start blaming me for things that are your fault. And then don't expect me to bail you out when you find that you are in over your head. I will take care of all my problems on my own. I don't need your problems to get in my way. Drizzt is after my head. I understand that, and it is my problem. I will not ask you to protect me. By the same token, if Drizzt is after your city, that is your problem, and you should not come to me for help."

John opened his mouth several times, and then closed it again. He wanted to strike this man down, but he was not that foolish. Instead, what Entreri had said was slowly seeping through his shield of anger and having an impact on his thought process. "Fine," he said finally. "I'll take care of it. But if in a few days this city comes to ruin, I better not hear you complaining." He stormed out.

Entreri remained standing for several minutes after the captain had left, deep in thought. "No, John. When this city comes to ruin, you will not hear me complain. If you go against Drizzt and fail, the only sound you would be able to hear is your men nailing the lid shut on your coffin." Entreri sighed. There were times he wished he had never left Calimport. For now, he sat down and finished eating breakfast.

* * * * *

Jarlaxle was relaxing behind his desk when Drizzt walked in. He had plenty of warning this time, and Berg'inyon was hiding safely within a pocket plane. "Welcome my good friend," Jarlaxle said jubilantly. "Please, make yourself at home."

"This will never be my home," Drizzt replied indignantly. "Have you looked into what I asked of you?"

"You wish to be returned to your normal plane of existence," Jarlaxle said. "I must say that I don't know why you are in such a rush to go. I mean you live a very good life here. There is nothing that you can not have, and I've seen the females in your house. My oh my, if I only had one chance to-"

"You have the means to send me home." There was no question mark at then end of the question.

"Yes, yes," Jarlaxle replied. He had not even begun to look into it. "I have a wizard that says he can perform the task. He will need a sample of your blood and perhaps a lock of your hair. You know, the usual thing wizards like to have. I'm sure it is the same on the surface. By the way, how many times-"

"This is what is going to happen tonight," Drizzt cut off the rambling mercenary. "I will take two hundred of my best fighter to the north end of the Baenre compound. We will breach the fence and destroy the compound."

"Just like that?" Jarlaxle asked. If it was as easy as Drizzt made it sound, Jarlaxle wondered why he had not done it himself yet.

"Yes," Drizzt replied. "Just like that. All of the high priestesses and most of the common priestesses of my house will be gathered within our chapel. They will be deep in concentration to assure our victory and to nullify the unsuspecting Baenre females. We will hit them while they sleep and they will never wake up. When the rest of this city does wake up, there will be a new house in charge."

"You believe you can take the entire Baenre compound with only two hundred fighters?" Jarlaxle asked. "The last I remember the first house boasted an army of eight hundred strong. It is down in recent decades, but still a formidable force."

"They will be sleeping and unprepared," Drizzt replied. "Besides my house barely numbers four hundred fighters. I can not leave my own compound defenseless."

"Indeed," Jarlaxle said. "You said you wish to leave the city in chaos before you go? Is their some ulterior plot you have brewing?"

"Nothing more than what I have already told you," Drizzt replied. "The rest of the city will be in uproar at our bold move and there will be a war. I won't be a part of it. Before Narbondel's heat begins to rise a new, you will have transported me away from this hell. Your wizard is ready to perform this task tonight?"

Jarlaxle nodded.

"Good," then I will return here tonight after all is taken care of. Until then," Drizzt nodded and left.

Jarlaxle sat in quiet contemplation as a portal opened behind him. "Tonight will be a good night," Berg'inyon said as he stepped out of the pocket plane. "Tonight House Baenre will defeat their biggest foe and regain the prominence they should have never lost. One way or another I will be allowed back into our house and order will return to our city."

"Indeed," Jarlaxle said, barely listening to what the outcast noble had to say.

Berg'inyon was too wrapped up in what he had to do to notice his new friend's apathy. He could not bring this news to Triel. She would not believe it and would probably try to kill him on sight regardless. He needed to go to one of his other sisters. Sos'Umpto and Bladen'Kerst were the best candidates. They would be able to organize a resistance, and with his knowledge and the defeat of Drizzt and his foolish house, he would be welcomed back as the weapon master and the best fighter in the city.

Jarlaxle still sat unmoving as Berg'inyon left. "'My house barely numbers four hundred fighters,'" Jarlaxle said to himself, repeating what Drizzt had said. "House Do'Urden has six hundred fighters if they have one, probably more. What are you up to Drizzt?" Jarlaxle did not know, but he would find out soon enough.

Chapter 6

Final Confrontation: Garrilport

Catti-brie and Wulfgar sat across from each other at the table while Alustriel sat at the head. They ate in silence. Catti-brie kept throwing nervous glances toward their host as if she expected Alustriel to collapse at any moment. The leader of Silverymoon looked like she might.

Alustriel had been monitoring the channel between their plane of existence and the nether planes and demon dimensions to be alerted if Drizzt should make the journey. He had not so far, but several other million souls had. Alustriel was acutely aware of each one. She knew that it was a wide world and people died every day, but being made aware of each soul that passed away each second was an experience that was indescribable.

Each soul that passed through the narrow tunnel between life and death was very different from each other. Some had died after a long illness and were finally at peace. Other left families behind while still others were the victims of animal attacks. Every time an assassin made a strike, Alustriel knew about it. Each time a goblin hoard feasted on a caravan of women and children, Alustriel could feel their pain.

Each soul was made up of emotion. Alustriel had no names to go with the deaths and she wanted none. Her experience in their deaths was already too personal. If she had names to go with them, she would not be able to stand it. Even though she knew not who they were, she wore the pendant with Drizzt's picture and knew that if his soul began to make the journey she would be able to identify it.

As each soul became known to her and was not Drizzt's, she detached herself as much as possible. There were times when she felt so despondent that a dozen deaths would go by without her recognizing them and she would quickly reapply her attention to the spell, hoping Drizzt had not slipped by unnoticed.

She could not sleep. She could not hold lengthy conversations that required original thought. For the past day and a half, the only thing she could do was pay attention to the millions of deaths that consumed her.

"Would you like more fruit?" Catti-brie asked their host.

Alustriel smiled and shook her head. Catti-brie smiled back, thankful to see that Alustriel was still capable of a smile. Maybe she was learning to cope. Actually, in the few seconds Alustriel had been smiling, six more souls had made the journey. Two had died of old age, one from a terrible fall, one from a fever, one during childbirth, and the last suffered at the hands of a killer. Alustriel felt the vertigo from the fall, the heat from the fever, the joyful pain of the birth, and a sharp sense of betrayal from the last victim, making her think the assassin had been a close friend. Each of these emotions hit her in quick succession, but her smile was such that Catti-brie was left with a good feeling about her condition. Alustriel was suffering, but she had no intention of letting that discomfort translate to her guests.

Catti-brie put the fruit bowl down on the table, and tossed an apple down to Guenhwyvar. She had summoned the cat knowing that Alustriel had a relationship of sorts with Drizzt's long time companion. The two had curled up on the couch for several hours earlier and Guen's pleasant demeanor had cushioned Alustriel's excruciating condition somewhat, but she did not want to burden the cat with something she had chosen for herself.

Catti-brie hoped desperately for this whole escapade to end soon. Maybe Wulfgar was right. Maybe Drizzt could take care of himself and they were all just over-reacting. As a result of their actions, the city of Silverymoon had been without her leader for almost two days. Alustriel had suffered indescribable anguish. Also, when Drizzt had disappeared originally, they had been preparing to investigate some mysterious tracks back near Settlestone. They had responsibilities just like Alustriel. While the realm she ruled and protected was a bit larger than theirs, and they did not exactly rule, people's lives depended on them just as much as Alustriel. Instead the three of them had been cooped up in Alustriel's personal quarters. All this time, Drizzt might be fine.

And what if he was not fine? What if his life was in grave danger? How did the life of one elf compare to what they were doing? What if goblins or yeti raided the town of Settlestone while they were gone? Even if only one life was lost, who were they to choose that Drizzt's life was the more valuable?

Catti-brie sighed. One way or another, she just hoped it would be over soon.

* * * * *

Entreri crouched on the edge of a roof, looking into the broken window of a tavern across the street. The night was pitch black as storm clouds had been blown over the city. Thunder rumbled, still a few miles away, but Entreri knew a spring thunderstorm when he saw one. Things would get rather dicey tonight.

He was in the northern district of Garrilport following the trail of John Irenum. It was not a hard trail to follow. The captain was determined to flush out Drizzt by visiting each tavern he could find. He had no entourage with him. Instead he entered each seedy bar and gambling house by himself, demanded to know where the dark skinned man was, got a negative response, and beat a few people up and broke a few things to make sure they were telling the truth. Then it was on to the next tavern.

Entreri moved, quite appropriately, like an assassin in the night. He stayed on the rooftops, not wanting to attract attention to himself. He knew that John would find Drizzt. Or, and probably more likely, Drizzt would find John. Entreri was also pretty sure what the outcome would be.

Entreri happened upon the sixth torn up tavern and noticed with interest that the next one in line seemed to still be mostly intact. Was this the end of the line, or had he just caught up to the captain? Entreri climbed quickly down the side of the building and crossed the street. The inside of the tavern was a mess. Tables were torn apart, broken glass lay every where, and pools of ale covered the floor like a lake.

What really peaked Entreri's interest were the occupants of the tavern. None of them were moving. They were not dead, but they seemed to be in a state of catatonia that even Entreri with the type of presence he commanded was unable to shake easily. He walked over to the nearest patron and hoisted him out of his chair. "What happened here? Was the captain here?"

The man nodded. "He and another… through the back…fighting incredible."

"Did the other have dark skin and white hair?"

The man nodded. Entreri dropped him back in his chair and looked toward the back of the tavern. The swath of wreckage clearly showed the path they took out the back exit. Entreri chose the long way around. He left the way he had come, quickly climbing up to the roof and working his way toward the back. The sound of steel on steal rang out to him loud and clear before he ever saw the battle taking place.

Entreri paused a moment before rounding the small second story that protruded from the back of the tavern's roof. The sound he heard brought back a flood of memories. The speed at which the blocks and parries echoed off the surrounding buildings was something Entreri had not heard in a long time. There was only one fighter Entreri had ever encountered that could attack with such speed. The assassin took a deep breath, and rounded the corner to the back of the building.

Entreri looked down into the back alley between buildings and could not see anything for a moment. Then a vicious lightening bolt traced itself across the sky announcing the location of the two fighters, and with a tremendous boom, brought forth a torrential rainfall. Entreri was soaked within seconds, but he hardly cared. He was far more interested in the fight going on below.

Just the fact that there was a fight is what amazed Entreri. John should have been dead within the opening seconds of the encounter. After a few second of watching, Entreri saw that Drizzt was purposefully withholding his killing blows. John arced his sword back and forth in an impressive display of strength and skill, but Drizzt nimbly danced around it, striking out at the captain with his weapon hilts and feet.

Entreri was confused at first as to why Drizzt would toy with the man. A fighter of Drizzt's skill could hardly take pleasure in his domination of a foe like John. There had to be another reason. After putting himself in Drizzt's shoes, he knew what it was. Drizzt needed a messenger. If the drow was going to find Entreri, he either needed someone to bring him to the assassin, or vice versa.

John stumbled as Drizzt punched him twice in quick succession with both scimitar hilts, but the captain was a big man. He growled in rage and shoved his own hilt forward toward Drizzt's face. The drow hopped out of the way, and then spun around as John charged. The captain kicked out his left leg to trip up the drow, and Drizzt had to spin on one hand to stay upright. He tried to regain his footing, but his enchanted feet scraped at the muddy ground too quickly, and he lost his balance momentarily, taking a knee on the ground.

John spun quickly, keeping his footing and bring his huge sword down on the vulnerable drow, water flying of the weapon in a tremendous arc. Drizzt was ready with a block, but did not even need it, as he was quick enough to scamper away. John's blade sunk into the soft ground and before he could pull it out, Drizzt, still low to the ground, spun back around with a vicious kick to the head.

John released his hold on his weapon and staggered backwards. Now Drizzt pummeled him furiously, keeping the edges of his blades away, but smacking him repeatedly with the hilts and slapping him with the flats.

Entreri saw John's knees go weak and could tell it was over. Drizzt was shouting something to the captain as he began to pass out, but Entreri was too far away in the wind and rain to hear it. It was most likely instruction to bring Entreri to see him or else. John finally went down and did not come back up.

Drizzt stowed his blades and began to exit the back alley. He suddenly stopped and turned to look directly at Entreri crouched on the roof some 30 feet away. Entreri began to slink even further into the shadows, thinking there was no way the drow should be able to see him, but then he remembered that on a cold night like tonight, his body heat must be standing out like blazing fire.

Entreri moved forward and dropped gracefully to the ground. "Artemis Entreri," Drizzt said above the rain. "It is so good of you to join us. I'm afraid the captain is not feeling quite well."

Entreri said nothing but removed his heavy, wet cloak and pulled out his weapons preparing for the fight he knew he could not avoid. "A man of action," Drizzt said. "I like that." As if Drizzt was not already going to be wary of Entreri's frost blade, Cicle was making a never-ending hissing noise as the rain poured down onto it, freezing instantly.

"Let's get this over with," Entreri said. He charged quickly, and Drizzt stood his ground. With the playful antics the drow had just used, and the contempt he surely held for Entreri, the assassin figured him to side step the charge instead of meeting it. Entreri just had to guess in what direction. He guessed right.

Drizzt quickly moved to his left just as Entreri's blades slashed through the vacated space. Drizzt had the human's back to aim for, and sighed to himself at how easy it was as he plunged Twinkle in for the kill. The glowing blue scimitar hit only air as Entreri had already spun to his right, arcing Cicle in for Drizzt's calf as his dagger fended off any attack from above.

Drizzt was barely able to adjust to the attack, surprised at how quickly the assassin had reacted to his side step, not knowing Entreri had expected it the whole time. Drizzt foolishly leaped into the air over the attack, and landed quite unstably in the mud, slipping and barely getting his defenses in place as Entreri stood and bore down on him. The two scimitars worked back and forth repeatedly, holding the deadly human at bay before he could get his feet under him and back off a ways, taking a good long look at the man in front of him.

Entreri allowed the temporary retreat, smiling to himself. He had a huge advantage in this battle. He had fought against Drizzt half a dozen times, each fight very clear in his mind. But this Drizzt had never once squared off against Entreri. Entreri also noticed how Drizzt had leaped over his attack. The assassin was a veteran at fighting in almost every terrain, and the most important thing about fighting in the mud was to keep your footing. Drizzt had spent his whole life in the underdark where the ground was always made of hard rock.

Drizzt was quickly learning from his mistakes, both the confusion about the mud and about Entreri's skill. This was not an opponent to be taken lightly. Entreri's earlier victory had been the result of trickery, but now Drizzt saw that the man was highly skilled as well. Drizzt had been trained by and then surpassed Menzoberranzan's greatest weapon master. He was no novice. Drizzt also removed his heavy cloak and pulled his wet hair back.

The drow launched into an incredible array of attack combinations, confident that this man had never seen them before. He could not have been more wrong. Years ago, when Entreri's only conscious thought was the death of Drizzt, the dark elf's moves played through his mind constantly, and the assassin invented dozens of parries to them trying to find the upper hand so when they met again, he would prove the victor. He used those parries now, just worrying about defeating each and every one of Drizzt's attack maneuvers.

"How?" Drizzt screamed, increasing the rate of his attacks. His scimitars rained down on the assassin in quick succession, seeming to strike as often as the rain drops all around them. The attacks slowly began to rise as well and Entreri knew what was coming. He had fought against Drizzt and against too many other drow not to know about the double thrust low. He also knew the appropriate parry.

Drizzt sent two quick swipes at Entreri's head which the assassin easily blocked and then stepped back in an apparent withdrawal only to come back in hard with both weapon tips aimed and Entreri's groin. Entreri was already bringing his weapons down to execute the correct parry: the cross down.

"Impossible!" Drizzt screamed as Entreri's blades caught his own in the appropriate fashion.

The cross down parry had to be taught. There was no way any fighter could improvise it on the spot. Drow who trained under a weapon master always tried to invent a new parry to defeat the double thrust low, but there was only one.

"Yes, quite," Entreri agreed. The cross down not only defeated the double thrust low, but it also reset the fighting stage giving neither opponent an advantage. Entreri decided it was time he tested this drow's defenses. Drizzt was up to the task.

The drow quickly voided himself of all his confusing emotions and prepared himself for his first real fight since he had killed Zaknafein almost thirty years ago. The two fighters took turns going on the offensive neither able to get the upper hand. Entreri saw a vacant look come into Drizzt's eyes and all emotion left his opponent. The drow was no longer surprised when Entreri seemed ready for his hastily invented attack routines and no longer shouted in anger when he was forced to go on the defensive or even take a momentary step back in retreat.

Entreri had seen that look before. When he had fought against Drizzt so many times in the past, he had seen that look. It was as if Drizzt was reliving some distant memory and his arms functioned on their own without needing his input. Drizzt had lived twice as long as Entreri, and while the assassin had undergone rigorous training as a youth, it was nothing compared to what Drizzt had gone through. Also, most of Entreri's fights had been very one-sided. He had spent enough time in Menzoberranzan to know that even though Drizzt was the best drow he had ever faced, the skill differential was not that great between him and the next drow in line.

If Entreri had been in a thousand such battles, then Drizzt had been in ten thousand. As this battle progressed and the seconds turned into minutes, Drizzt fell more and more into rhythm. Entreri could not help but see the similarity between this fight and the one that had taken place on the ledge outside the lower levels of Mithiril Hall. John was perhaps a little bigger than Regis, but the similarity was there.

Like Drizzt had not really wanted to fight the assassin back then, Entreri too did not really want to fight this evil version of his nemesis. He had left all that pride in Calimport. This fight, however, like the one for Drizzt all those years ago, was necessary. He would never have peace until this Drizzt was killed. While in the previous battle, Drizzt had fought for the lives of Regis and his friends and Entreri now fought only for himself, he could not deny the parallel qualities of the two fights.

Entreri soon fell into rhythm just like his opponent, each predicting what the other would do and acting accordingly. It was a like a chess game between two grand masters. Each of them was playing ten moves in advanced and they would know when the game was over long before the final blow fell.

That moment of advanced knowledge came to Entreri quite unexpectedly.

Drizzt had been paying very special attention to Entreri's frost blade, making sure it was blocked long before it came near him. This left Entreri's dagger as the only weapon that had a chance of hitting Drizzt, but it was at a sore length disadvantage against the scimitars.

To counter this problem, Entreri attacked with both weapons at the same side of his body, bringing Cicle, in his left hand, across in a backhand swipe from right to left, and following with his dagger jabbing under it with his right hand. Drizzt chopped down on the swipe with his right blade and barely caught the cloaked jab with his other weapon. With the drow's right scimitar down after defeating the swipe and his left occupied with the dagger, his right side was wide open.

Entreri caught his rapier at the end of its defeated backhand swipe, rotated his wrist and came in hard with a left forehand cut that would sheer Drizzt in two at the waist if the drow did not step back. Instead of retreating, Drizzt calmly rotated his right hand weapon without even uncrossing his arm from over his chest and brought the blade pointing up to block the attack.

Entreri was startled. Drizzt's right hand weapon was held too weakly and his right wrist was already doubled back on itself from just having completed the downward swipe. Entreri could easily sweep right through the block and inflict a vicious wound on the drow. There had to be a trick, but as Drizzt continued to hold the pathetic block out to catch Entreri's attack and pressed his own advantage on the dagger, Entreri could see none.

Still, he could not bring himself to go through with the attack thinking something had to be up. His left hand weapon did not attack with the force it was capable of and was rotated into a defensive position as soon as it bounced off the pathetic block, ready for whatever trick the drow had planned. There was no trick, but now that Entreri had been taken off guard momentarily, Drizzt shoved hard against the still blocked dagger, and Entreri stumbled back.

Drizzt's right weapon came out of its pathetic blocking position and was sent on a mission to disembowel his opponent. Entreri back-stepped some more, willingly giving up ground, as he slowly understood what had just happened. Drizzt had fully expected his weak block to be able to withstand Entreri's attack, and since Entreri had let up on the forehand fearing a trick, it had. Now Drizzt seemed to be overpowering the assassin with his strength when Entreri was actually giving up ground willingly.

Drizzt's vacant look let Entreri know that he was fighting as if he were back in Menzoberranzan. He had slipped in the mud earlier because he was so used to his quick feet that he did not think to change his style. This meant that if he were back in Menzoberranzan, that block would have been a good one. In order for that to be the case, Drizzt would have had to be as strong as Wulfgar to be able to fend off his powerful forehand with so weak a block.

Entreri remembered when he had met this evil Drizzt for the first time two nights ago. Drizzt had complained that the body he was now in was not adequate. He claimed to have been much stronger and have better weapons. Drizzt tried to imagine this Drizzt as strong as Wulfgar and covered in magic like Jarlaxle had been. He shuddered. That was a dominant foe to be sure. That was also what Drizzt thought he was now. Entreri decided to feed that misconception.

The assassin tried to stand his ground suddenly, blocking the attacks with his blades but sending them recoiling back as if Drizzt's strikes were made with much greater force than they actually were. A smile came to Drizzt's face, and Entreri knew the ploy was working.

Cicle came in from the left again, and Drizzt batted it away easily, spinning his right hand scimitar in a circle to hunt out Entreri's wrist. Entreri gave up his hold on Cicle too easily, and the frost blade when flying, sticking fast into the mud and freezing in place. Entreri snapped his dagger across aimed at Drizzt's exposed right wrist. The drow dropped his right hand weapon and tried to grab Entreri's attacking arm by the wrist.

Entreri played momentarily with the idea of stabbing the drow in the arm, for he thought he could, but he kept up with his charade and slowed his attack down just enough so Drizzt could grab him. The drow wrenched Entreri's arm, and the assassin cried out in pain and dropped his dagger as well.

Drizzt brought his left blade in for Entreri's head, but the human ducked, only to receive a knee to the chest. He went flying back, but only because he allowed himself to. He landed on his back in the mud and Drizzt was on top of him in a second with his remaining scimitar at his neck.

Entreri's memory went back to the cliff side battle he had paralleled this fight to earlier. He had lost that fight because he had been too eager for the kill. Drizzt had baited him into over extending himself and Entreri had fallen right in to the trap. Now he had done the same thing to Drizzt.

Entreri lay on his back beneath the drow who had not secured his position at all, but simply crouched casually over his downed opponent. Entreri had both his hands locked onto Drizzt's left wrist, pretending to strain against the drow's incredible strength, keeping the scimitar just above the exposed flesh of his neck.

Drizzt smiled at his doomed opponent, feeling barely a push as Entreri tried to wrestle the blade away. "You puny human thought you could stand up against me. You never had a chance." He laughed to himself. "This is how it ends."

"No," Entreri replied calmly, suddenly shoving hard with both arms against the loosely held scimitar. Drizzt's weapon came flying back at him, the hilt smashing into his face. Drizzt recoiled and Entreri rolled back onto his shoulders and kicked out with both feet, launching Drizzt into the air.

The assassin sprang up easily as Drizzt landed off balance in the mud, his feet wheeling under him to gain some footing. Again he forgot where he was, and his feet spun under him as if he were rolling a log in the water. He fell back even before Entreri reached him. The assassin was quick to step on his left wrist, securing his scimitar in the soft mud. Drizzt scrambled with his right arm for his previously dropped scimitar and Entreri secured that wrist as well just as it found what it was looking for.

"This is how it ends," Entreri corrected the drow as he pulled out his dirk. Drizzt was frantically struggling to free his wrists, wondering how this human had suddenly become so heavy. "I send you back home, just like you wanted. I send you back to hell." Entreri stabbed his dirk violently down into Drizzt's chest.

The drow's whole body convulsed as the blade sank all the way through his back and into the mud below him. Entreri stepped off him and watched as his hands clamped tightly around both his scimitars and at the same time tried to claw at the sword in his chest. Entreri reached into his pocket and pulled out the unicorn necklace he had taken from the magic shop when he had first realized who the killer was.

Entreri bent over and scooped up a hand full of mud and stuffed the figurine and mud into Drizzt's agape mouth. "Take this with you. I'm sure it will confuse the heck out of what ever demon is assigned to torture your for the next millennia." Entreri also grabbed hold of his dirk and pulled it violently back out.

* * * * *

"No!!!"

Wulfgar and Catti-brie were frightened near to death. Their eyes quickly went to Alustriel who stood suddenly from the table and cried out in pain. She gripped the locket around her neck and yanked it free. "No! It can not be!"

"What is it?" Catti-brie asked, but Alustriel was too consumed in the throws of something to even recognize that anyone else was in the room. Catti-brie, Wulfgar, and Guenhwyvar all raced over to her, but Alustriel flung her arms out wide suddenly, making the trio draw up short.

Her head went back and forth and her voice changed into several different guttural tones, as if there were battling demons inside her head. That was exactly what was going on. She was physically wrestling with the denizens of the lower planes for Drizzt's soul. The denizens had no idea who they were up against. With one final body convulsion, Alustriel cast the locket onto the center of the table and just before it hit the elegant tablecloth, Drizzt appeared in a flash of light.

* * * * *

Entreri watched as Drizzt struggled for breath and was unable to bring any in. He had not looked directly into the face of one of his kills in a long time. There was little pleasure in it now, but there was a reassuring sense of finality. He heard a moan off to the side and walked over to see about John.

He slowly helped the captain to a sitting position. "Drizzt?" was the first thing out of the barely conscious man's mouth.

"Don't worry he's…" but as Entreri turned to motion to the dying drow, a flash of light filled the alley, and he was gone.

* * * * *

Drizzt lay right in the middle of the dinner table surrounded by dishes half filled with food. He was muddy, wet, and most of all, bloody. He was also still gripping both his scimitars. Wulfgar was beside him in a second. "He will die," he said quite emotionlessly. "His wound is immense."

Catti-brie turned to Alustriel for help, but the woman was barely able to stand. Her body was weak and she looked on the verge of collapse. Somehow she still heard Wulfgar and understood the situation. Without even being able to look up, she motioned toward the corner of the room and collapsed to the floor.

Catti-brie followed her gesture and saw several vials of crystal blue liquid sitting on a counter with the rest of her magical supplies. She raced over and picked up two of the potions and hurried back to her dying friend.

"Wulfgar," she said as she tried to pour the first potion down his mouth, "his mouth his filled with mud."

Wulfgar fished two of his large fingers into Drizzt's mouth and scooped out most of the dirt, surprised to find the unicorn necklace inside as well. He made another pass with his fingers, cleaning out as much as he could, and Catti-brie literally dumped the first potion down Drizzt's throat. He was still gasping for air, and the combination of mud and liquid down his windpipe was not what he wanted.

Drizzt coughed and sputtered, reflexively trying to spit the blue liquid back out. Wulfgar wisely clamped a strong hand over the mouth, keeping it closed. Drizzt convulsed and choked, shooting some of the potion out his nose. His two friends did not care how much potion made it into his lungs. They just needed to get it inside him. Drowning on a healing potion seemed too much a reversal of fates to be possible.

Catti-brie wasted no more time with the second potion and quickly opened his cloak and vest of mithril and poured the second potion directly on his bare skin. She watched as it hissed and steamed on the wound, the vicious gash seeming to close before her eyes.

Drizzt's coughs slowly died down and Wulfgar released the clamp over his mouth, allowing the drow to breathe again. Drizzt did, slowly. His hands finally released the scimitars and they landed on the table beside him. "More," he gasped.

"Of course," Catti-brie replied. She ran back over to the potions, a skip in her step. Drizzt was going to be okay. All of their caution and worrying had paid off. They had saved him from certain death. She picked up two more potions and turned around. She froze.

Twinkle was lying on the table next to Drizzt's leg. She did not ever remember seeing the sword glow that brightly before. She understood how the enchantment on the sword worked. It glowed blue whenever enemies were near. What enemy was near now? Then she saw Guenhwyvar. The cat was tall enough to see onto the table where her supposed owner lay. The hair on the back of the cat's neck was all ruffled and a low growl was coming from deep inside her.

"Wulfgar," Catti-brie said sternly, almost in a whisper, "hold him."

"What?" he responded.

"I said hold him," she repeated as she quickly walked back to the table.

"But his convolutions have stop-"

A glare from Catti-brie shut the barbarian up, and he did as he was told. He gripped both of Drizzt's arms and held him to the table. Drizzt hardly noticed. His eyes were instead on the blue vials that Catti-brie was bringing back. He looked at them with eager anticipation, but Catti-brie could see something else in his eyes. Something she did not like.

"Who are you?" she asked, holding the vials to herself.

Both Drizzt and Wulfgar were confused by the question. "I am Drizzt," he said almost playfully. "Now may I please have-"

"Drizzt who?"

"Drizzt Do'Urden," the drow responded, trying to take on a hurt look. He did not know exactly what was going on, but he could see plainly enough that they had transported him from Garrilport and had just saved him from certain death. Before Entreri had lied to him about why he was in this reality, Drizzt had come up with a theory of his own, and according to that theory, this scene made sense if these people were looking for the other version of him.

"Where are you from Drizzt Do'Urden?" Catti-brie asked.

"What are you playing at?" he asked. "I'm Drizzt Do'Urden of Daermon N'a'shezbaernon, from Menzoberranzan, now stop fooling-"

Wulfgar's grip on Drizzt's arms increased tenfold and even Guen roared at the hated city. Drizzt's head turned to the side so he could see the panther. "Guenhwyvar," he said after a moment's confusion. He had not seen the cat since his days leading the patrol in the Academy. What was it doing here? "You remember me, right?"

Guenhwyvar roared again and tried to leap up on the table, meaning to rip this imposter's throat out, but Catti-brie put a restraining hand on the cat's neck. It was not as if the young woman could hold back the panther, but Guen was not without common sense once reminded.

"He knows the cat," Wulfgar said, some doubt creeping into his voice.

"But Guen doesn't know him," she responded. "What have you done with Drizzt?" she asked.

"I am Drizzt. And tell this ogre to let me go."

Catti-brie sighed. "What do we do?" Wulfgar asked, his grip on Drizzt increasing still.

Catti-brie turned toward the head of the table only now remembering Alustriel. She rushed over to the fallen woman and gently lifted her off the floor and helped her to the couch. Wulfgar wanted to help, but he dared not let go of his captive. Alustriel was still unconscious and Catti-brie tried to make her as comfortable as possible before returning to the table.

"We will wait until she awakes. Until then we need to tie this imposter up. You can handle him, right?"

"Not on a good day," Wulfgar willingly admitted, "but he is still weak from his wounds and as long as we don't give him any more potions, he should stay that way for a while. See if you can find some rope."

Catti-brie nodded, and left to see what she could scrounge up. She just hoped Alustriel would wake up soon. Despite their apparent break through, they were really no closer to knowing where Drizzt was than when they started.

Chapter 7

Final Confrontation: Menzoberranzan

Drizzt stopped his approach toward the south end of the Baenre compound and signaled the twelve fighters that followed him to do so as well. He had told Jarlaxle that he would be attacking the north end with two hundred drow. So he had been wrong.

Drizzt was even now still adjusting to the numerous magical items he wore. When he had walked into Jarlaxle's private office the first time he felt several magical wards warning of him of many things, but he did not know what. One of them felt familiar, and as he had pulled Khazid'hea during their discussion, he remembered when he had felt it before. The Baenre emblem on the sentient sword had given him a slight warning.

In the hands of Drizzt, the Baenre emblem was not that powerful and needed to come up close to him before he felt its presence. It was the same feeling he had felt when he had walked in. It was also the same feeling he had felt when he had battled Berg'inyon the previous night. Berg'inyon had been in Jarlaxle's room.

Drizzt had again felt the Baenre noble's presence when he had returned earlier this day to give the details of his attack. Details that he had purposefully gotten wrong. Details he knew Berg'inyon would believe and act upon. Now Drizzt led House Do'Urden's twelve best fighters, as chosen by his two students, toward the most powerful compound in the city.

There were not that many guards patrolling this end of the compound. Drizzt guessed most of them were over on the north end getting ready for his mammoth invasion. Even though there were only half a dozen guards on this end, one was enough to sound the alarm, and they were almost a hundred feet from the spider web fence that surrounded the Baenre compound. It was much too far for a crossbow shot, and even if they could shoot through the holes in the fence the darts would not be strong enough to kill the guards and the sleeping poison would allow them too much time to sound the alarm. Drizzt had a better idea.

He drew a weapon that most of the drow with him had never even seen before. He had remembered seeing it in the gym when he had trained with Zaknafein and hoped it would still be there in this reality, it had been. It was a longbow. It was not a common weapon for a drow for obvious reasons. Drow lived in tight quarters and needed to specialize in melee combat. Crossbows were nice because they could be preloaded and fired quickly. They also hung from a belt when not in use and were too small to get in the way.

This was a finely crafted composite longbow and Drizzt wondered if it had ever been used before. He had tested its aim before coming here and found it to be perfect. It would have to be. He knocked his first arrow and stretched the bow to its limit with ease, his muscles rippling comfortably beneath his supple armor and piwafwi. He picked a guard, aimed, let out a long sigh, and fired.

The arrow took off like a rocket, flying straight through a hole in the fence and exploding through the head of a guard, dropping him quietly. Drizzt moved quickly now. He picked the guards that were out of sight from each other or were behind their fellow Baenre soldiers. In fifteen seconds all the guards were dead and no alarm had been sounded. Drizzt had timed his arrival at the beginning of the guards' shift so these guards would not be checked on for quite some time.

Now came the fence. The Baenre fence was very imposing. The silver webbed barrier had been a gift from Lloth upon House Baenre's assent to the first house. The strands of the web fence were several inches thick and would hold fast any living thing that was so unfortunate as to touch it. If any other house were to use their magics near it, alarms would go off. If not for that, it would just be a simple task of levitating over it.

This fence alone had kept many an army from attacking. Drizzt laughed at the absurdity of it. He had found a way around it and marveled at how simple it was. Magic was the way of life in the underdark. If something was in your way, you cast lightening bolts or fireballs at it until it was destroyed. If it was invulnerable to magic, then it was to be avoided at all costs. Drizzt had lived a long time on the surface with dwarves and humans who preferred to engineer a solution to a problem.

Drizzt had brought a heavy pack with him and opened it now. From inside he pulled a vast collection of bed sheets he had sewn together. He had soaked them in oil, and the smell was rather pungent once released from the pack. With the help of a few of his soldiers, they slung the sheet up and over the fence so it covered a good ten-foot section. Then they started to climb.

The sheets stuck fast to the fence, never to be released, but the drow did not stick to the sheets. They climbed to the top and easily down the other side. Once everyone was across, Drizzt had a few of his fighters cast globes of darkness on the sheet. As soon as it was hidden from view, he struck a match and tossed it into the darkness. The oil soaked sheets would turn to ash, and in a minute's time, there would be nothing left. When the darkness disappeared another minutes later, there would be no evidence the perimeter had been breached.

The vast Baenre dormitories were in front of them now and Drizzt figured they would maybe be a third full. He had instructed his drow that this was meant to be a perfect elimination. The Baenre commoners should not be woken before they are killed. Make it swift, final, and above all, quiet. They would not have to contend with a full house because Drizzt had a good idea that Berg'inyon would have sent the majority of the house elsewhere. He was right.

* * * * *

Three hundred Baenre fighters escorted by two dozen wizards moved as silently as possible down the narrow streets of Menzoberranzan. Berg'inyon was not with them, but he had told them what to expect. House Do'Urden would be almost empty and those that remained would be stationed at easily ambushable locations around the chapel, protecting the house's females.

In order to keep their passage a secret, the wizards in the group had cast powerful silence spells over everyone in attendance. This spell would last well after their entrance into the Do'Urden compound, ensuring that they caught the doomed house off-guard.

Sure enough, the gate to the main compound was unguarded. The drow crept into the Do'Urden courtyard way too easily. The only reason they did not think anything was suspicious was because Berg'inyon had told them it would be this easy. The ambushers never once thought that they would become the ambushees.

The courtyard into the Do'Urden compound was surrounded by four tall dormitories. The chapel was nestled behind them in the base of the house's main stalagmite. As soon as the entire Baenre troupe was with in the compound, the trap was sprung. The gate slammed shut behind them, only to be opened again with magic. At the same time, fifty magical webbing spheres were cast from the vacant looking dormitory windows around the huddled Baenre army. These spheres exploded into the group and vast spider webs sprung up all over the compound floor.

These webs were enchanted with the same strength as that of a queen spider and spread to a diameter of 25 feet each. They filled the small alcove so completely that they often lay five thick. The Baenre group was held fast. None were strong enough to break free and only the lucky ones on the edge who still had an arm or two unstuck could hack at the strands with a weapon.

The wizards could dispel these webs if they were not within a shroud of silence. It had sounded like a good idea at the time, but they had figured by the time their services would be required, the spell would have expired. They were wrong. As they tried to think of a few spells they could cast without having to speak, the fireballs from above started. It was over before it ever really got started.

* * * * *

Drizzt's assassin squad move like silent death through the Baenre dormitories making sure the drow within never woke up again. The plan was going well so far, but Drizzt knew that the strength of the Baenre house lay within its females. That was where the second part of his plan came into play.

* * * * *

Sos'Umptu used to be the keeper of the Baenre chapel. Ever since Matron Baenre had died, Triel had placed one of her daughters in charge. The new caretaker had not done as good a job.

When Matron Baenre had been alive, Sos'Umptu had overseen everything that went on in the chapel. So when Berg'inyon had warned her about the coming attack she had been the one to organize the priestess' response. She had assembled all of her sisters and every priestess that could be spared. Everyone was packed tightly into chapel. Everyone, that is, except for Triel. The idea that a gathering of this size could escape her attention just showed how self-centered the matron was and how little she cared for the happenings within her house.

Sos'Umptu and Bladen'Kerst stood in the center of the great chapel waiting for their signal. It was assumed that the Do'Urden priestesses would unite together when the attack against the compound was to take place. Once the three hundred drow that were stationed at the north end of the compound relayed the message that the attack was underway, they would begin their counter attack. With five hundred priestesses in attendance, they would be able to direct a shock wave into the Do'Urden compound that would destroy everything completely. It would be a message to the rest of the houses that one did not just casually attack the first house in the city.

After a considerable wait with no warning given, the priestesses began to get nervous. Was this attack going to come? Had Berg'inyon lied to them? No, what would he have to gain from that?

Bladen'Kerst tugged at her robe. "They are growing restless."

"We can not attack until we receive the signal," Sos'Umptu replied.

"Why not?" It was an innocent question and one that the younger sister did not really have an answer to. Berg'inyon had told them how the battle would go, and she trusted him. But now that she thought about it, there was no reason they could not make a preemptive strike.

Sos'Umptu nodded. "Begin the ceremony."

* * * * *

Drizzt had spent a good while that day preparing for this battle. He needed to get with his twelve fighters and explain the invasion plan. He had arranged with the house's wizards to set a trap for the Baenre troupe that Drizzt knew Berg'inyon would send. But his most important preparation had taken place in the tunnels around Menzoberranzan.

Ten years ago, Entreri, Catti-brie, and Drizzt had escaped from this Baenre compound by punching a hole in a very thin section of the cavern ceiling and into a little used passageway. Drizzt had found the passageway easily and had then proceeded to cut a hole back into this cavern. With the use of Khazid'hea and a small sledge, the job had been easy.

When finished, he had been able to look down directly onto the Baenre chapel. The little alcove he had carved was in the base of a very large stalactite, just like he remembered it to be. Inside the hole, he had placed enough explosive oil to light up the entire cavern of Menzoberranzan. Now, confident that the Baenre priestesses would be gathered with in their chapel to repel the Do'Urden priestesses' attack that Drizzt had said was coming, he tried to pick out his target in the ceiling.

Drizzt had left behind a yellow glowing orb that produced no heat. In the infrared it would be invisible, and he felt safe that no one would be looking around the cavern in anything other than infrared. When he switched his vision into the normal spectrum, he saw the orb clearly. He lit an arrow with an oil soaked rag at the tip, strung it to his bow, and fired. The explosion above was incredible.

* * * * *

The chanting inside the Baenre chapel was growing louder by the second. Bladen'Kerst and Sos'Umptu reveled in the power around them. They would both be the focussing tools for aiming the shock wave across the city of Menzoberranzan and into the Do'Urden compound, for no one priestess would be able to channel such energy. As the power reached its peak, they searched out their target. It was not there.

Sos'Umptu frowned. Even a gathering of ten Do'Urden priestesses should stand out clearly in the magical aura of the city. Surely if the whole house was gathered together, invoking the powers of Lloth, they would be impossible to miss. But there was nothing. Drizzt had lied more than once when he had given Jarlaxle the battle information. Matron Malice and her daughters had been told to sit tight.

The spell had long since passed the point of no return. It had gained too much power to end without releasing the energy that had been built up, but it could only be released thought a magical connection. It was not a simple fireball. It could not be directed at a physical target. It needed a magical one.

The air around the two sisters began to hum with energy as the spell approached its climax. This energy was being funneled into them and needed to be released or they would be consumed by it.

"Where are they?" Bladen'Kerst cried, for she too was searching for the Do'Urden gathering that must be out there somewhere. "We must find them!"

Their hair was now standing on end, and the heat that radiated from them was enough to incinerate wood, but still they had nowhere to go with the energy. The power was growing exponentially now, doubling in intensity with each passing moment. "We must find something!"

The huge explosion from above as Drizzt's flaming arrow found its target was heard clearly within the chapel, though it was easily misinterpreted. "The attack has begun!" Bladen'Kerst cried. "They must be out there!"

Sos'Umptu was now barely holding onto consciousness as her mind searched the magical plane of the city. The Do'Urdens could not hide themselves from her. It was impossible. With the amount of power that coursed through her right now, she would be able to detect anything, but there was nothing to detect.

They had built a power balloon of immense size and strength. It needed to be released. That release came as a huge stalactite crashed through the center of the great chapel. The ensuing explosion awoke the entire city. Drizzt had been standing on the roof of one of the dormitories and was tossed like pebble into the air. He would have been crushed to a pulp if his levitation spell was not as strong as it was. Also several of his magical protections sensed his dilemma and cushioned his body against the magical shock wave and slowed his perilous flight. Still, it was only enough to keep him from breaking any bones as his back rammed into the side of the cavern, and he fell to the floor of the Baenre compound.

Somehow he had held on to consciousness and was amazed at what he saw. There was nothing left – nothing. All of the dormitories had been leveled, and his death squad with them. The three hundred soldiers that had been stationed at the north end of the compound had been shredded from the shrapnel. The hundred or so guards that had been stationed around the Baenre chapel to protect the ceremony inside from interruption were no where to be seen. Even with all his protections, Drizzt would have been vaporized as well if had been at the same level as the horizontal shock wave. The chapel was gone as if it had never been there. All that remained was a hole in the ground. House Baenre was totally destroyed.

As Drizzt slowly pulled himself to his feet, he heard one sound clearly amidst the eerie calm that permeated after the deafening explosion: applause.

"Very well done. I'm impressed. I really am. I did not think you could actually pull it off."

Drizzt did not need to turn around to see who it was. "Is your wizard with you?" Drizzt asked slowly, still eyeing the wreckage in front of him. "I wish to go home now."

"In a manner of speaking," Jarlaxle responded.

Drizzt felt the now familiar sensation of the Baenre house emblem and turned around. Gromph Baenre, the first born son of the deceased Matron Baenre stood several feet behind Jarlaxle. Behind him stood Berg'inyon. The Baenre fighter was looking a little haggard. He had been one of the ones waiting for Drizzt and his supposed army at the north end of the compound. His clothes were torn and his face bloody, but he seemed without major injury. As the weapon master of the first house, he was not without magical protection, and he had survived the explosion while his men around him had not.

Berg'inyon had planned on being able to return to his house after the defeat of House Do'Urden. Now that seemed rather impossible. Also, House Do'Urden was far from defeated. He held no illusions about how the fighters he had sent to invade the Do'Urden compound had faired. He knew when he had been played.

As Drizzt examined the hungry look in his adversary's eyes, he knew there would be more fighting tonight. "Has your wizard prepared the spell to send me back to my reality?" Drizzt asked, pretending to give Jarlaxle the benefit of the doubt.

Jarlaxle was not fooled. "I know you know who this is," Jarlaxle replied. "And yes, Gromph has prepared a spell for tonight. Where it sends you is yet to be determined."

Drizzt shifted his eyes to the powerful wizard. He knew that he was protected against just about any spell the wizard might cast. He had toyed with fire earlier and knew he could not be harmed by it. His advanced mobility surely protected him from any type of hold spell, and his earrings would keep his mind clear of any magic up to that of a mind flayer and perhaps beyond. What did Gromph have in mind?

The Baenre wizard smiled at Drizzt, said a few words under his breath, and cast a black porcelain sphere to the ground. A shimmering wave of energy quickly expanded around the four drow, encompassing them and then disappearing in the distance. Drizzt did not need to be told what the spell had done. He felt suddenly heavier and slower, all the magic on him nullified.

Drizzt made a brief check of his person and then looked up to see Jarlaxle smiling at him. Curiously, Jarlaxle and Gromph had now moved behind Berg'inyon. Though Jarlaxle was never defenseless, without magic, he would be handicapped more than he liked. Berg'inyon drew his weapons, stopping any thoughts Drizzt might be having about attacking either of the other two drow. "Now we will see who the better fighter really is." He charged.

* * * * *

Alustriel looked at the shirtless drow tied to one of her chairs. She had regained consciousness only an hour ago and finally felt composed enough to face the situation Catti-brie had told her about. "You are saying this is not Drizzt?"

"Not the right one," Catti-brie replied.

Though Catti-brie did not really know what she was talking about, Alustriel did. The locket she had told her that the elf in front of her was Drizzt, but everything else denied it. She understood about the potential for alternate realities, and that is what they seemed to have on their hands here.

Wulfgar had been the one to search Drizzt and remove his cloak. He had found a curious blue orb, and as soon as he removed it from the drow, Drizzt had spoken in nothing but gibberish. Wulfgar thought it was gibberish, but Catti-brie, having once been to Menzoberranzan recognized it as the Drow language. She did not know it well, and Drizzt spoke it too quickly and angrily for her to even begin to reason it out, but she had picked out two words clearly enough.

"We think Artemis Entreri might have played a role in this," Catti-brie said. "It is the only thing he said that we understand."

Though she knew that these other realities might exist, Alustriel knew little about them. They usually sprang into existence because of a spell gone wrong. When a wizard tried to change the past or shape the future, he usually only did so in a fantasy dimension that would spring into existence. Why Entreri would wish to create another dimension to bring forth a version of Drizzt with the common demeanor of his people was beyond her knowledge, but here he was sitting in her private chambers.

"What is keeping him on that chair?" Alustriel asked.

"I tied him," Wulfgar said, daring her to say it was not enough.

Alustriel held her hand up, paused as she worried about wounding the barbarian's pride, but cast her spell anyway. Drizzt had been moments from wriggling free, but now his limbs froze.

"Retie him," she said. "The spell will give out suddenly, and I do not want the first indication that it has to be him leaping out of that chair."

As Wulfgar examined his handiwork and how Drizzt had almost gotten free, Alustriel turned away from the scene to go back to her collection of books and spells. Catti-brie followed her.

"You can get the real Drizzt back, right?"

Alustriel shrugged. "I don't know. First I need to make sure this is not the real Drizzt. He might just be under a spell." Catti-brie did not need to voice her opinion about that. She and Guenhwyvar were not wrong. "And if he is not, then I need to find out where our Drizzt is and how to get him back. I will work on it."

Catti-brie could not ask her for more than that, especially after what she had already gone through for them in the last two days. Instead she went back to stare at the imposter and make sure that Guen did not kill him.

* * * * *

Drizzt met the charge with his blades out. He was slower, weaker, and could not clearly envision the battle in his mind as he could before. He was still ten times the fighter Berg'inyon was. The young Baenre came on fast, but Drizzt blasted the attacks away almost effortlessly. Though his body was not used to fighting like this, Drizzt's mind was. He was still a bit bulkier than normal, but Drizzt felt far more familiar with his body now than he had before.

Berg'inyon was clearly overmatched from the start, and as he lost his footing on a loose stone, Drizzt pressed in for the kill. Before he had a chance, a bolt of lightening came shooting in, hitting Drizzt square in the chest. He flew backwards, his breath leaving from a moment. Berg'inyon took the opening and came in, driving Drizzt to the ground. The Do'Urden weapon master quickly rolled to his side as Berg'inyon's swords scraped against the stone half a second later.

Drizzt continued to roll till he was a few yards away and came up cautiously, just now getting his breath back. How had Gromph cast that within the magicless sphere? Drizzt looked toward the wizard and got his answer. Gromph had not cast the lightening strike, at least not directly. The Baenre held a wand. The wand still should not work, but it did. Gromph had come prepared.

Drizzt had little time to think about it because Berg'inyon was on him again. Drizzt stayed low, fending off the attacks from above and rocking backwards as if off balance. Berg'inyon pushed his apparent advantage too far, placing his legs within striking distance. Drizzt suddenly hopped off his feet, landing on his backside and kicking out with his legs. He caught Berg'inyon in the knee, and the Baenre stumbled.

Drizzt used the momentary reprieve and somersaulted backwards to his feet, coming up with his blades wide to catch the continued attack. Drizzt swung his hands inward, keeping his blades out wide in a "V." He stepped inside the block with his hands together in front of him, punching out with his hilts. One strike caught Berg'inyon in the shoulder, while the other smashed his nose. Once again, the weaker fighter went stumbling backwards. Once again Drizzt pressed on to finish him. And once again a bolt of lightening came in to ward off the attack.

Drizzt was prepared this time and darted away at the last second. The lightening strike still caught him in the side and spun him to the ground. Drizzt felt something under him as he landed and quickly formed a plan. With his fingertips pressed against the stone as he lay face down, he felt Berg'inyon's approach. At the last second he rolled to the side, letting the over-anxious fighter trip past him.

Drizzt lashed out with a scimitar at the stumbling drow, but Berg'inyon was too nimble and jumped over it. Drizzt was also too nimble and rolled to his back, kicking out with his right leg as Berg'inyon landed, sending the fighter to the ground. Drizzt then rolled again into a crouch, dropping his two scimitars and picking up the thing he had landed on.

Jarlaxle recognized it immediately and hit the ground. Drizzt ignored him. It was not for the mercenary. Gromph had never seen a long bow before, but as Drizzt pulled one of his remaining arrows from the quiver he still wore, the wizard figured out the weapon's use quick enough. It was true that the wand was designed so it could operate within the magicless sphere, but none of Gromph's other spells could. The only thing he had left was waving his arms in front of him frantically. It did not work.

Even Drizzt could not have dodged the arrow in the split second it took to travel the thirty feet to the wizard. Gromph took the shot in the chest, launching him straight back. As he fell, a second arrow nearly split his skull open. He died without making a sound.

Berg'inyon rolled over on the ground slowly, knowing something was up. His weapons felt suddenly lighter, and he could feel his crushed nose tingling as it magically began to heal. His enchantments were working again. He came to his knees and looked up to see Drizzt standing over him, his scimitars back in his hands. "Play time is over."

Berg'inyon frantically waved his weapons above him, miraculously catching Drizzt's lightening quick attacks, but the standing drow pulled the blocking blades out wide and kicked between them. The enchanted boot caught Berg'inyon under the chin lifting him off his knees and into the air. As he flew backwards, he was able to compose himself, flipping over and landing on his feet.

He hoped his sudden acrobatics might catch Drizzt slightly off-guard. They did not. Drizzt was on him again almost before he landed. It seemed like Drizzt was using four weapons, and Berg'inyon had had a difficult enough time with just two. Strike, strike, punch. Strike, strike, kick. Berg'inyon was able to catch the attacking blades only because Drizzt let him. He could do nothing against the extracurricular attacks except stumble and bleed.

Drizzt was frustrated with his situation. He had not expected Jarlaxle to come through, and had counted on the mercenary backstabbing him, but that still did not make him happy. He would deal with this situation and head to the surface. He did not wish to return to his home, but to find a wizard who could send him to his real one. It would not be easy.

While it was not traditional of Drizzt to take out his frustration with senseless violence, he found it far too easy to let his hunter instincts take over in this situation. Bedsides, beating up Berg'inyon was something he never got tired of.

Even though Drizzt was purposefully letting Berg'inyon block his attacks, opening the Baenre for a more personal punishment, the over-matched drow misjudged one attack, and Drizzt's attack caught the side of his blade, sending the weapon flying out of Berg'inyon's hand. His follow up kick then sent his opponent to the ground.

Berg'inyon was panting hard, ready for the death that awaited him, but Drizzt was not finished with his statement. He unsheathed Khazid'hea and tossed it to Berg'inyon. The fallen fighter caught the weapon in his free right hand, but then tossed it aside, refusing to be played with.

"Pick it up!" Drizzt demanded, his left scimitar flashing out and sending Berg'inyon's other sword flying away. So quick was Drizzt's attack, that Berg'inyon only realized a few seconds later that Drizzt had not knocked his other blade out of his hand, but had in fact cut his entire hand off. Berg'inyon clutched at the wound, crying out in pain.

Drizzt shrugged his shoulders and sheathed his weapons. Now to deal with Jarlaxle. He turned slowly and then froze. Before he even searched out the mercenary, he felt something else. It was a very faint tug. Drizzt glanced quickly at Gromph, but the wizard would never draw breath again, to say nothing about casting a spell. This was something else. It was also slightly familiar. Then it hit him. This was the same thing he had felt the moment before he had been summoned to this horrible dimension. Someone was calling him back.

* * * * *

The hold spell had ended, but Wulfgar had retied Drizzt much tighter this time and in several more places.

"Stop your fussing," Catti-brie scolded the fidgeting drow. "If this works you'll be going back to your true home quick enough." She turned to look at Alustriel. "It will work, right?"

Alustriel did not hear her. She was too caught up in her spell. After much searching she had found the location of this alternate dimension, and she had been able to link up with Drizzt's spirit, but something was wrong. Something was blocking the spell. Alustriel summoned all her power, and pushed on.

* * * * *

Drizzt could feel the tug, but he could also tell it was far too weak to bring him home. Drizzt brought his hands up to his head to try and focus on the distant tether and latch onto it. He felt cold metal against his palm. His earrings! Not caring about the pain, he ripped the hoops and studs out of his ears and could immediately feel the results. His mind was able to make a clear connection with the distant spell, but it was still distant.

Drizzt could feel the pulsating gems in his piwafwi protecting him, but this was not a time he wished to be protected. He quickly pulled the cloak over his head and tossed it aside. The spell grabbed hold of him more completely, but still not enough. Next went his armor. His weapons fell to the ground followed by his boots. He wore a necklace and, he ripped that free too.

He could feel the spell working powerfully now, but he was not finished. He kicked off his pants and cast off his bracers and several rings. Soon he stood in just a loincloth and Alustriel grabbed hold of him. Drizzt knew it was her as soon as the spell had taken full affect. He closed his eyes as all feeling left his limbs. The journey was quick, just as it had been before, and the sensation was again likened to that of waking out of dream.

Unlike before, Drizzt did not find himself in a soft bed, but tied to a hard chair. His eyes took a while to adjust to the light in the room, and then to the people who stared at him, concerned looks on their faces. He smiled warmly at his friends. "It's me. You can untie me now."

* * * * *

Drizzt had been straining against his bonds, his mind fighting against the spell that consumed him. He did not know what this witch was doing to him, but he did not like it. His whole body had gone numb and his mind floated freely in the void between dimensions. He was dumped so suddenly back into his body that for a moment he thought he had broken free of the ropes.

Instead he found himself stumbling forward and tripping over a pile of equipment. As he shifted his eyes back to the more comfortable infrared, he saw that it was his equipment. He was nearly naked!

Drizzt stood quickly, and then looked up. Berg'inyon was walking toward him. The Baenre weapon master had only one hand, but in it he held Khazid'hea. The vicious edge of the sword seemed to gleam in the lightless underdark. "Play time is over," he said, but Drizzt did not catch the irony.

Instead, the naked drow dove for his scimitars. For the first time in his life, Berg'inyon proved the quicker. Khazid'hea flashed out and caught Drizzt's trailing left arm, cleaving it just below the elbow. Drizzt hit the ground, but instead of grabbing a weapon, his right hand latched onto his bloody stump. Berg'inyon stepped over him and took his head.

A sense of calm went through the Baenre. It mattered not how he had killed Drizzt, only that he had. In drow society, you only needed to be the last one standing. Skill counted for little if you were dead. He moved over to Drizzt's discarded equipment, not quite sure why the drow had taken it all off, but happy that he had. He stooped to pick up the bracers. He only had use for one now, but there were ways to replace his hand, and he stowed the other one in his cloak.

Berg'inyon stood up straight and turned to face Jarlaxle. Now that he was without a house, he figured to take up with the mercenary. Together the two would rule this city. Jarlaxle had other ideas. When Berg'inyon spotted him, he caught the end of a quick wrist motion. Without even really being able to see the dagger, Berg'inyon's remaining hand came up and caught it.

A smile spread across Berg'inyon's face as he tossed the dagger aside. Maybe he would not join up with the mercenary. "You will pay for that," he said. Or at least that is what he tried to say. What actually came out was a very strained gurgling noise. His hand went quickly to his throat where the first dagger Jarlaxle had thrown was sunk into his neck to the hilt, the handle still quivering slightly. Berg'inyon had caught the second one. The last thing Berg'inyon saw before his eyes closed forever was Jarlaxle surveying the three dead drow before him and sighing at what might have been.

Chapter 8

Wrap Up

John had a black eye and a nasty cut on his forehead, but he would live. He had been through worse before, and he would be through worse again. Right now he tried to ignore the pain in his leg and hide the limp as much as possible as he walked down the lengthy pier.

The four guards on duty in front of the warehouse were understandably jumpy, but they recognized John after he called out to them to stand down. No matter how many times these men were told that the man who had committed the previous killings was dead (they would not have understood if John had told them it had been a drow), they would still be cautious with unscheduled guests.

The guards let John enter without hindrance. The captain was happy to hear the sound of work going on inside and saw that the place was as active as ever. It had only been a day and a half since the killings here, but they were working as if nothing had even happened.

John worked his way to the back of the warehouse and accepted the cheerful greetings he got from the men who recognized him. It was widely believed that he was the one who had dealt with the murderer. They had all seen the bodies of their coworkers and understood how their mighty captain had sustained his wounds. John had still come out victorious. Let them think what they want, John thought. He was not going to argue with the praise.

He worked his way up the steps at the back of the main floor and followed the balcony to the main office of the shipyard. No one had wanted to step into the vacant position at the head of the most profitable business in the city, at least not at first. It might seem like a good deal, but the shipyard had been robbed of all its money, and there were wages and building materials to purchase. Yes, there was money to be made, but it required an incredible initial investment.

Entreri was going over the books when John entered. The captain was not quite sure why the assassin had taken this job so willingly, but he had. John had not even thought to propose it, but Entreri had seemed genuinely interested, and the captain had worked everything out with the council to allow it. Entreri had not only taken over, but he had increased the salaries of everyone involved, persuaded the general manager from a competing shipyard to oversee the business, and had already purchased an extreme amount of lumber to finish the projects in process. John did not want to know where the money came from.

"Borgian kept awful records," Entreri said without looking up.

"I'm sure he did," John said sarcastically. "That's probably why he was about the fifth wealthiest men in the city."

"I doubt he was even in the top ten," Entreri corrected. "All his assets were dedicated to expenses. He kept growing in size, but he kept reinvesting that money in the business, which easily absorbed it. It was a wise investment, but in case of emergency he had no means to liquidate his holdings, and unless he could barter with wood and half built ships, he never had any real buying power."

"You would have done it differently," John interpreted.

"Don't put all your eggs in one basket."

"Is that part of the credo?"

Entreri finally looked up. "Number nine says, 'You can't crush an egg in your fist, but you can break one open with a toothpick,' implying that precision is more important than brute force, but we didn't have any sayings about a basket."

John wanted to crack a smile, but Entreri's stern face stole any humor from the situation. "You need to diversify," Entreri said. "If Borgian had a fire or the lumber he purchased was bad or-"

"Half his crew was killed by a drow summoned from an alternate dimension by a foolish mage," John interrupted.

Yes," Entreri agreed, "or that, all his money would be gone. Borgian never furnished his ships. I plan to buy a share of a local carpenter's shop so I can outfit each of the ships before they are sold. There are many metal riggings and supports on a ship. I plan to invest in a blacksmith's shop as well. With a little diversification, this shipyard could be twice as profitable as it once was."

John did laugh now. "Is there anything you can't do?"

"I can't cook," Entreri admitted, "but I know of a few under-appreciated chefs who can. I want to open a restaurant just off the pier. By having my workers visit the seedy taverns populated by the other rowdy northerns, I risk losing them to a bar fight. The honest workers up here need somewhere respectable they can go at night."

John shook his head. There was no way a respectable eating establishment could be maintained in the northern section of town. Though, if it were possible, Entreri would be the person to do it. John turned to leave, confident that his city was in as good a shape as it had ever been.

* * * * *

Catti-brie opened the door to the small room and was happy to find Drizzt there this time. She was not happy to see what he was doing. "Drizzt Do'Urden, you aren't having second thoughts, are you?"

Drizzt had been so focused on his pushups that he had not heard the woman enter. He stopped what he was doing and caught his breath. "Now, what would make you think that?" he asked in between breaths.

Catti-brie had gotten the story of where he had been during the trip back from Silverymoon. He had explained what kind of shape his alter-self had been in, and it was easy enough to see what he was doing now. "You don't wish that we had left you there, do you? Or maybe you wished you could have taken that body with you?"

Drizzt chuckled but then grew suddenly serious. "He was a killer. I mean I was. Or I could have been." It was confusing talking about it. "I don't ever wish to be that one-dimensional. He was incapable of love or compassion. His life could not have been a happy one. Yet at the same time, he lived a comfortable life because he was prepared for everything. There was not one spell he could not defeat, and there was no enemy that could stand in his way. I do not wish for his life, but I would like a measure of his comfort."

"If you wish to dominate your enemies, there is still the matter of the mysterious tracks north of here," Catti-brie said. "A few of Berkthgar's people said they thought they might be goblins."

"I thought they just saw the tracks," Drizzt questioned, strapping his weapons on.

"While we were gone, they tried to hunt them down and say they caught glimpses of some short creatures scampering through the mountains. Though, when you tower above six feet, I imagine everything looks short to you. They might have been small trolls."

Drizzt stood and stretched his muscles. He could already feel the burn in his biceps and pectorals, reminding him of the bulk he had carried around for the past few days. "I'm ready."

The two friends walked out of the small room, ready to meet whatever the wilderness might throw at them.

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