Homeland (32 page)

“So the hero has returned,” Zak remarked, eyeing Drizzt directly. Drizzt did not miss the sarcasm in his voice.

“We’ve completed our job—successfully,” Dinin shot back, more than a little perturbed at being excluded from Zak’s greeting. “I led—”

“I know of the battle,” Zak assured him. “It has been endlessly recounted throughout the city. Now leave us, Elderboy. I have unfinished business with your brother.”

“I leave when I choose to leave!” Dinin growled.

Zak snapped a glare upon him. “I wish to speak to Drizzt, only to Drizzt, so leave.”

Dinin’s hand went to his sword hilt, not a smart move. Before he even moved the weapon hilt an inch from the scabbard, Zak had slapped him twice in the face with one hand. The other had somehow produced a dagger and put its tip at Dinin’s throat.

Drizzt watched in amazement, certain that Zak would kill Dinin if this continued.

“Leave,” Zak said again, “on your life.”

Dinin threw his hands up and slowly backed away. “Matron Malice will hear of this!” he warned.

“I will tell her myself,” Zak laughed at him. “Do you think she will trouble herself on your behalf, fool? As far as Matron Malice cares, the family males determine their own hierarchy. Go away, Elderboy. Come back when you have found the courage to challenge me.”

“Come with me, brother,” Dinin said to Drizzt.

“We have business,” Zak reminded Drizzt.

Drizzt looked to both of them, once and back again, stunned by their open willingness to kill each other. “I will stay,” he decided. “I do indeed have unfinished business with the weapons master.”

“As you choose, hero,” Dinin spat, and he turned on his heel and stormed away.

“You have made an enemy,” Drizzt remarked to Zak.

“I have made many,” Zak laughed, “and I will make many more before my day ends! But no mind. Your actions have inspired jealousy in your brother—your older brother. You are the one who should be wary.”

“He hates you openly,” reasoned Drizzt.

“But would gain nothing from my death,” Zak replied. “I am no threat to Dinin, but you …” He let the word hang in the air.

“Why would I threaten him?” Drizzt protested. “Dinin has nothing I desire.”

“He has power,” Zak explained. “He is the elderboy now but was not always.”

“He killed Nalfein, the brother I never met.”

“You know of this?” said Zak. “Perhaps Dinin suspects that another secondboy will follow the same course he took to become the elderboy of House Do’Urden.”

“Enough,” Drizzt growled, tired of the whole stupid system of ascension. How well you know it, Zaknafein, he thought. How many did you murder to attain your position?

“An earth elemental,” Zak said, blowing a low whistle with the words. “It is a powerful foe that you defeated this day.” He bowed low, showing Drizzt mockery beyond any doubt. “What is next for the young hero? A daemon, perhaps? A demigod? Surely there is nothing that can—”

“Never have I heard such senseless words stream from your mouth,” Drizzt retorted. Now it was time for some sarcasm of his own. “Is it that I have inspired jealousy in another besides my brother?”

“Jealousy?” Zak cried. “Wipe your nose, sniveling little boy! A dozen earth elementals have fallen to my blade! Daemons, too! Do not overestimate your deeds or your abilities. You are one warrior among a race of warriors. To forget that surely will prove fatal.” He ended the line with pointed emphasis, almost in a sneer, and Drizzt began to consider again just how real their appointed “practice” in the gym would become.

“I know my abilities,” Drizzt replied, “and my limitations. I have learned to survive.”

“As have I,” Zak shot back, “for so many centuries!”

“The gym awaits,” Drizzt said calmly.

“Your mother awaits,” Zak corrected. “She bids us all to the chapel. Fear not, though. There will be time for our meeting.”

Drizzt walked past Zak without another word, suspecting that his and Zak’s blades would finish the conversation for them. What had become of Zaknafein? Drizzt wondered. Was this the same teacher who had trained him those years before the Academy? Drizzt could not sort through his feelings. Was he seeing Zak differently because of the things he had learned of Zak’s exploits, or was there truly something different, something harder, about the weapons master’s demeanor since Drizzt had returned from the Academy?

The sound of a whip brought Drizzt from his contemplations.

“I am your patron!” he heard Rizzen say.

“That’s of no consequence!” retorted a female voice, the voice of Briza. Drizzt slipped to the corner of the next intersection and peeked around. Briza and Rizzen faced off, Rizzen unarmed, but Briza holding her snake-headed whip.

“Patron,” Briza laughed, “a meaningless title. You are a male lending your seed to the matron and of no more importance.”

“Four I have sired,” Rizzen said indignantly.

“Three!” Briza corrected, snapping the whip to accentuate the point. “Vierna is Zaknafein’s, not yours! Nalfein is dead, leaving only two. One of those is female and above you. Only Dinin is truly under your rank!”

Drizzt sank back against the wall and looked behind him to the empty corridor he had just walked. He had always suspected that Rizzen was not his true father. The male had never paid him any mind, had never scolded him or praised him or offered to him any advice or training. To hear Briza say it, though, … and Rizzen not deny it!

Rizzen fumbled about for some retort to Briza’s stinging words. “Does Matron Malice know of your desires?” he snarled. “Does she know that her eldest daughter seeks her title?”

“Every eldest daughter seeks the title of matron mother,” Briza laughed at him. “Matron Malice would be a fool to suspect otherwise. I assure you that she is not, nor am I. I will get the title from her when she is weak with age. She knows and accepts this as fact.”

“You admit that you will kill her?”

“If not I, then Vierna. If not Vierna, then Maya. It is our way, stupid male. It is the word of Lolth.”

Rage burned in Drizzt as he heard the evil proclamations, but he remained silent at the corner.

“Briza will not wait for age to steal her mother’s power,” Rizzen snarled, “not when a dagger will expedite the transfer. Briza hungers for the throne of the house!”

Rizzen’s next words came out as an indecipherable scream as the six-headed whip went to work again and again.

Drizzt wanted to intervene, to rush out and cut them both down, but, of course, he could not. Briza acted now as she had been taught, followed the words of the Spider Queen in asserting her dominance over Rizzen. She wouldn’t kill him, Drizzt knew.

But what if Briza got carried away in the frenzy? What if she did kill Rizzen? In the empty void that was beginning to grow in his heart, Drizzt wondered if he even cared.

“You let him escape!” Matron SiNafay roared at her son. “You will learn not to disappoint me!”

“No, my matron!” Masoj protested. “I hit him squarely with a lightning bolt. He never even suspected the blow to be aimed at him! I could not finish the deed; the monster had me caught in the gate to its own plane!”

SiNafay bit her lip, forced to accept her son’s reasoning. She knew that she had given Masoj a difficult mission. Drizzt was a powerful foe, and to kill him without leaving an obvious trail would not be easy.

“I will get him,” Masoj promised, determination showing on his face. “I have the weapon readied; Drizzt will be dead before the tenth cycle, as you commanded.”

“Why should I grant you another chance?” SiNafay asked him. “Why should I believe that you will fare better the next time you try?”

“Because I want him dead!” Masoj cried. “More than even you, my matron. I want to tear the life from Drizzt Do’Urden! When he is dead, I want to rip out his heart and display it as a trophy!”

SiNafay could not deny her son’s obsession. “Granted,” she said. “Get him, Masoj Hun’ett. On your life, strike the first blow against House Do’Urden and kill its secondboy.”

Masoj bowed, the grimace never leaving his face, and swept out of the room.

“You heard everything,” SiNafay signaled when the door had closed behind her son. She knew that Masoj might well have his ear to the door, and she did not want him to know of this conversation.

“I did,” Alton replied in the silent code, stepping out from behind a curtain.

“Do you concur with my decision?” SiNafay’s hands asked.

Alton was at a loss. He had no choice but to abide by his matron mother’s decisions, but he did not think that SiNafay had been wise in sending Masoj back out after Drizzt. His silence grew long.

“You do not approve,” Matron SiNafay bluntly motioned.

“Please, Matron Mother,” Alton replied quickly. “I would not …”

“You are forgiven,” SiNafay assured him. “I am not so certain that I should have allowed Masoj a second opportunity. Too much could go wrong.”

“Then why?” Alton dared to ask. “You did not grant me a second chance, though I desire Drizzt Do’Urden’s death as fiercely as any.”

SiNafay cast him a scornful glare, sending him back on his courageous heels. “You doubt my judgment?”

“No!” Alton cried aloud. He slipped a hand over his mouth and dropped to his knees in terror. “Never, my matron,” he signaled silently. “I just do not understand the problem as clearly as you. Forgive me my ignorance.”

SiNafay’s laughter sounded like the hiss of a hundred angry snakes. “We see together in this matter,” she assured Alton. “I would no more give Masoj a second chance than I gave you.”

“But—” Alton started to protest.

“Masoj will go back after Drizzt, but this time he will not be alone,” SiNafay explained. “You will follow him, Alton DeVir. Keep him safe and finish the deed, on your life.”

Alton beamed at the news that he would finally find some taste of vengeance. SiNafay’s final threat didn’t even concern him. “Could it ever be any other way?” his hands asked casually.

“Think!” Malice growled, her face close, her breath hot on Drizzt’s face. “You know something!”

Drizzt slumped back from the overpowering figure and glanced nervously around at his gathered family. Dinin, similarly grilled just a moment ago, kneeled with his chin in hand. He tried vainly to come up with an answer before Matron Malice upped the level of the interrogation techniques. Dinin did not miss Briza’s motions toward her snake whip, and the unnerving sight did little to aid his memory.

Malice slapped Drizzt hard across the face and stepped away. “One of you has learned the identity of our enemies,” she snapped at her sons. “Out there, on patrol, one of you has seen some hint, some sign.”

“Perhaps we saw it but did not know it for what it was,” Dinin offered.

“Silence!” Malice screamed, her face bright with rage. “When you know the answer to my question, you may speak! Only then!” She turned to Briza. “Help Dinin find his memory!”

Dinin dropped his head to his arms, folded on the floor in front of him, and arched his back to accept the torture. To do otherwise would only enrage Malice more.

Drizzt closed his eyes and recounted the events of his many patrols. He jerked involuntarily when he heard the snake whip’s crack and his brother’s soft groan.