“The mining expedition will depart without you.”
Belwar turned back and cast an incredulous stare at Drizzt. Did the drow really expect that Belwar would so easily refute years of guilt and just go bounding off with the miners?
“I had thought Belwar Dissengulp possessed more courage,” Drizzt said to him. The scowl that crossed the burrow-warden’s face was genuine, and Drizzt knew that he had found a weakness in Belwar’s armor of self-pity.
“Boldly do you speak,” Belwar growled through a grimace.
“Boldly to a coward,” Drizzt replied. The mithril handed svirfneblin stalked in, his breathing coming in great heaves of his densely muscled chest.
“If you do not like the title, then cast it away!” Drizzt growled in his face. “Go with the miners. Show them the truth of Belwar Dissengulp, and learn it for yourself!”
Belwar banged his mithril hands together. “Run out then and get your weapons!” he commanded. Drizzt hesitated. Had he just been challenged? Had he gone too far in his attempt to shake the burrow-warden loose of his guilty bonds?
“Get your weapons, Drizzt Do’Urden,” Belwar growled again, “for if I am to go with the miners, then so are you!”
Elated, Drizzt clasped the deep gnome’s head between his long, slender hands and banged his forehead softly into Belwar’s, the two exchanging stares of deep admiration and affection. In an instant, Drizzt rushed away, scrambling to the House Central to retrieve his suit of finely meshed chain mail, his piwafwi, and his scimitars.
Belwar just banged a hand against his head in disbelief, nearly knocking himself from his feet, and watched Drizzt’s wild dash out of the front door.
It would prove an interesting trip.
Burrow-Warden Brickers accepted Belwar and Drizzt readily, though he gave Belwar a curious look behind Drizzt’s back, inquiring as to the drow’s respectability. Even the doubting burrow-warden could not deny the value of a dark elf ally out in the wilds of the Underdark, particularly if the whispers of drow activity in the eastern tunnels proved to be true.
But the patrol saw no activity, or carnage, as they proceeded to the region named by the scouts. The rumors of a thick vein of ore were not exaggerated in the least, and the twenty-five miners of the expedition went to work with an eagerness unlike any the drow had ever witnessed. Drizzt was especially pleased for Belwar, for the burrow-warden’s hammer and pickaxe hands chopped away at the stone with a precision and power that outdid any of the others. It didn’t take long for Belwar to realize that he was not being pitied by his comrades in any way. He was a member of the expedition―an honored member and no detriment―who filled the wagons with more ore than any of his companions.
Through the days they spent in the twisting tunnels, Drizzt, and Guenhwyvar, when the cat was available, kept a watchful guard around the camp. After the first day of mining, Burrow-Warden Brickers assigned a third companion guard for the drow and panther, and Drizzt suspected correctly that his new svirfneblin companion had been appointed as much to watch him as to look for dangers from beyond. As the time passed, though, and the svirfneblin troupe became more accustomed to their ebony-skinned companion, Drizzt was left to roam about as he chose.
It was an uneventful and profitable trip, just the way the svirfnebli liked it, and soon, having encountered not a single monster, their wagons were filled with precious minerals. Clapping each other on the backs―Belwar being careful not to pat too hard―they gathered up their equipment, formed their pull-carts into a line, and set off for home, a journey that would take them two days bearing the heavy wagons.
After only a few hours of travel, one of the scouts ahead of the caravan returned, his face grim.
“What is it?” Burrow-Warden Brickers prompted, suspecting that their good fortune had ended.
“Goblin tribe.” the svirfneblin scout replied. “Two score at the least. They have put up in a small chamber ahead to the west and up a sloping passage.”
Burrow-Warden Brickers banged a fist into a wagon. He did not doubt that his miners could handle the goblin band, but he wanted no trouble. Yet with the heavy wagons rumbling along noisily, avoiding the goblins would be no easy feat. “Pass the word back that we sit quiet.” he decided at length. “If a fight there will be, let the goblins come to us.”
“What is the trouble?” Drizzt asked Belwar as he came in at the back of the caravan. He had kept a rear guard since the troupe had broken camp.
“Band of goblins.” Belwar replied. “Brickers says we stay low and hope they pass us by.”
“And if they do not?” Drizzt had to ask.
Belwar tapped his hands together. “They’re only goblins.” he muttered grimly, “but I, and all my kin, wish the path had stayed clear.”
It pleased Drizzt that his new companions were not so anxious for battle, even against an enemy they knew they could easily defeat. If Drizzt had been traveling beside a drow party, the whole of the goblin tribe probably would be dead or captured already.
“Come with me.” Drizzt said to Belwar. “I need you to help Burrow-Warden Brickers understand me. I have a plan, but I fear that my limited command of your language will not allow me to explain its subtleties.”
Belwar hooked Drizzt with his pickaxe-hand, spinning the slender drow about more roughly than he had intended.
“No conflicts do we desire.” he explained. “Better that the goblins go their own way.”
“I wish for no fight.” Drizzt assured him with a wink. Satisfied, the deep gnome fell into step behind Drizzt.
Brickers smiled widely as Belwar translated Drizzt’s plan.
“The expressions on the goblins’ faces will be well worth seeing,” Brickers laughed to Drizzt. “I should like to accompany you myself!”
“Better left for me,” Belwar said. “Both the goblin and drow languages are known to me, and you have responsibilities back here, in case things do not go as we hope:’
“The goblin tongue is known to me as well,” Brickers replied. “And I can understand our dark elf companion well enough. As for my duties with the caravan, they are not as great as you believe, for another burrow-warden accompanies us this day.”
“One who has not seen the wilds of the Underdark for many years,” Belwar reminded him.
“Ah, but he was the finest of his trade,” retorted Brickers. “The caravan is under your command, Burrow-Warden Belwar. I choose to go and meet with the goblins beside the drow.”
Drizzt had understood enough of the words to fathom Brickers’s general course of action. Before Belwar could argue, Drizzt put a hand on his shoulder and nodded. “If the goblins are not fooled and we need you, come in fast and hard,” he said.
Then Brickers removed his gear and weapons, and Drizzt led him away. Belwar turned to the others cautiously, not knowing how they would feel about the decision. His first glance at the caravan’s miners told him that they stood firmly behind him, every one, waiting and willing to carry out his commands.
Burrow-Warden Brickers was not the least disappointed with the expressions on the goblins’ toothy and twisted faces when he and Drizzt walked into their midst. One goblin let out a shriek and lifted a spear to throw, but Drizzt, using his innate magical abilities, dropped a globe of darkness over its head, blinding it fully. The spear came out anyway and Drizzt snapped out a scimitar and sliced it from the air as it flew by.
Brickers, his hands bound, for he was emulating a prisoner in this farce, dropped his jaw open at the speed and ease with which the drow took down the flying spear. The svirfneblin then looked to the band of goblins and saw that they were similarly impressed.
“One more step and they are dead.” Drizzt promised in the goblin tongue, a guttural language of grunts and whimpers. Brickers came to understand a moment later when he heard a wild shuffle of boots and a whimper from behind. The deep gnome turned to see two goblins, limned by the dancing purplish flames of the drow’s faerie fire, scrambling away as fast as their floppy feet could carry them.