Drow! the thoughts of several of the others agreed immediately.
“The cuts were swift and precise,” said one. “And I see nothing to indicate any wounds beyond those suffered by the goblins. Who else but dark elves are so efficient in their killing?”
Burrow-Warden Krieger walked off alone a bit farther down the passage, searching the stone for some clue to this mystery. Deep gnomes possessed an affinity to the rock beyond that of most creatures, but this passage’s stone walls told the burrow-warden nothing. The goblins had been killed by weapons, not the clawed hands of monsters, yet they hadn’t been looted. All of the kills were confined to a small area, showing that the unfortunate goblins hadn’t even found the time to flee. That twenty goblins were cut down so quickly implicated a drow patrol of some size, and even if there had been only a handful of the dark elves, one of them, at least, would have pillaged the bodies.
“Where shall we go, Burrow-Warden?” one of the deep gnomes asked at Krieger’s back. “Onward to scout out the reported mineral cache or back to Blingdenstone to report this?”
Krieger was a wily old svirfneblin who thought that he knew every trick of the Underdark. He wasn’t fond of mysteries, but this scene had him scratching his bald head with out a clue. Back, he relayed to the others, reverting to the silent empathic method. He found no arguments among his kin; deep gnomes always took great care to avoid drow elves whenever possible.
The patrol promptly shifted into a tight defensive formation and began its trek back home.
Levitating off to the side, in the shadows of the high ceiling’s stalactites, the spirit-wraith of Zaknafein Do’Urden watched their progress and marked well their path.
King Schnicktick leaned forward in his stone throne and considered the burrow-warden’s words carefully. Schnicktick’s councilors, seated around him, were equally curious and nervous, for this report only confirmed the two previous tales of potential drow activity in the eastern tunnels.
“Why would Menzoberranzan be edging in on our borders?” one of the councilors asked when Krieger had finished. “Our agents have made no mention of any intent of war. Surely we would have had some indications if Menzoberranzan’s ruling council planned something dramatic.”
“We would,” King Schnicktick agreed, to silence the nervous chatter that sprang up in the wake of the councilor’s grim words. “To all of you I offer the reminder that we do not know if the perpetrators of these reported kills were drow elves at all.”
“Your pardon, my King.” Krieger began tentatively.
“Yes, Burrow-Warden,” Schnicktick replied immediately, slowly waving one stubby hand before his craggy face to prevent any protests. “You are quite certain of your observations. And well enough do I know you to trust in your judgments. Until this drow patrol has been seen, however, no assumptions will I make.”
“Then we may agree only that something dangerous has invaded our eastern region.” another of the councilors put in.
“Yes.” answered the svirfneblin king. “We must set about discovering the truth of the matter. The eastern tunnels are therefore sealed from further mining expeditions.” Schnicktick again waved his hands to calm the ensuing groans. “I know that several promising veins of ore have been reported―we will get to them as soon as we may. But for the present, the east, northeast, and southeast regions are hereby declared war patrol exclusive. The patrols will be doubled, both in the number of groups and in the size of each, and their range will be extended to encompass all the region within a three-day march of Blingdenstone. Quickly must this mystery be resolved.”
“What of our agents in the drow city?” asked a councilor. “Should we make contact?”
Schnicktick held his palms out. “Be at ease.” he explained. “We will keep our ears open wide, but let us not inform our enemies that we suspect their movements.” The svirfneblin king did not have to express his concerns that their agents within Menzoberranzan could not be entirely relied upon. The informants might readily accept svirfneblin gemstones in exchange for minor information, but if the powers of Menzoberranzan were planning something drastic in Blingdenstone’s direction, agents would quite likely work double-deals against the deep gnomes.
“If we hear any unusual reports from Menzoberranzan,” the king continued, “or if we discover that the intruders are indeed drow elves, then we will increase our network’s actions. Until then, let the patrols learn what they may.”
The king dismissed his council then, preferring to remain alone in his throne room to consider the grim news. Earlier that same week, Schnicktick had heard of Drizzt’s savage attack on the basilisk effigy.
Lately, it seemed, King Schnicktick of Blingdenstone had heard too much of dark elves’ exploits.
The svirfneblin scouting patrols moved farther out into the eastern tunnels. Even those groups that found nothing came back to Blingdenstone full of suspicions, for they had sensed a stillness in the Underdark beyond the quiet norm. Not a single svirfneblin had been injured so far, but none seemed anxious to travel out on the patrols. There was something evil in the tunnels, they knew instinctively, something that killed without question and without mercy.
One patrol found the moss-covered cavern that once had served as Drizzt’s sanctuary. King Schnicktick was saddened when he heard that the peaceable myconids and their treasured mushroom grove were destroyed.
Yet, for all of the endless hours the svirfnebli spent wandering the tunnels, not an enemy did they spot. They continued with their assumption that dark elves, so secretive and brutal, were involved.
“And we now have a drow living in our city,” a deep gnome councilor reminded the king during one of their daily sessions.
“Has he caused any trouble?” Schnicktick asked
“Minor.” replied the councilor. “And Belwar Dissengulp, the Most Honored Burrow-Warden, speaks for him still and keeps him in his house as guest, not prisoner. Burrow-Warden Dissengulp will accept no guards around the drow.”
“Have the drow watched.” the king said after a moment of consideration. “But from a distance. If he is a friend, as Master Dissengulp most obviously believes, then he should not suffer our intrusions.”
“And what of the patrols?” asked another councilor, this one a representative from the entrance cavern that housed the city guard. “My soldiers grow weary. They have seen nothing beyond a few signs of battle, have heard nothing but the scrape of their own tired feet.”
“We must be alert,” King Schnicktick reminded him. “If the dark elves are massing…”
“They are not.” the councilor replied firmly. “We have found no camp, nor any trace of a camp. This patrol from Menzoberranzan, if it is a patrol, attacks and then retreats to some sanctuary we cannot locate, possibly magically inspired.”
“And if the dark elves truly meant to attack Blingdenstone,” offered another, “would they leave so many signs of their activity? The first slaughter, the goblins found by Burrow-Warden Krieger’s expedition, occurred nearly a week ago, and the tragedy of the myconids was some time before that. I have never heard of dark elves wandering about an enemy city, and leaving signs such as slaughtered goblins, for days before they execute their full attack.”
The king had been thinking along the same lines for some time. When he awoke each day and found Blingdenstone intact, the threat of a war with Menzoberranzan seemed more distant. But, though Schnicktick took comfort in the similar reasoning of his councilor, he could not ignore the gruesome scenes his soldiers had been finding in the eastern tunnels. Something, probably drow, was down there, too close for his liking.
“Let us assume that Menzoberranzan does not plan war against us at this time,” Schnicktick offered. “Then why are drow elves so close to our doorway? Why would drow elves haunt the eastern tunnels of Blingdenstone, so far from home?”