Drizzt looked to Alton, wondering what the unpredictable master would do next.
"Do go." Alton said calmly, knowing the facade Masoj had begun would be his only way around the wrath of his adopted matron mother. "I am confident that this day’s lesson was learned." he said, his eyes on Masoj.
Drizzt glanced back to Masoj, then back to Alton again. He let it go at that. He wanted to learn more of Guenhwyvar.
When Masoj had Drizzt back in the privacy of the tutor’s own room, he took out the polished onyx figurine in the form of a panther and called Guenhwyvar back to his side. The mage breathed easier after he had introduced Drizzt to the cat, for Drizzt spoke no more about the incident with Alton.
Never before had Drizzt encountered such a wonderful magical item. He sensed a strength in Guenhwyvar, a dignity, that belied the beast’s enchanted nature. Truly, the cat’s sleek muscles and graceful moves epitomized the hunting qualities drow elves so dearly desired. Just by watching Guenhwyvar’s movements, Drizzt believed, he could improve his own techniques.
Masoj let them play together and spar together for hours, grateful that Guenhwyvar could help him smooth over any damage that foolish Alton had done.
Drizzt had already put his meeting with the faceless monster far behind him.
"Matron SiNafay would not understand." Masoj warned Alton when they were alone later that day.
"You will tell her." Alton reasoned matter-of-factly. So frustrated was he with his failure to kill Drizzt that he hardly cared.
Masoj shook his head. "She need not know."
A suspicious smile found its way across Alton’s disfigured face. "What do you want?" he asked coyly. "Your tenure here is almost at its end. What more might a master do for Masoj?"
"Nothing." Masoj replied. "I want nothing from you."
"Then why?" Alton demanded. "I desire no debts following my paths. This incident is to be done with here and now!"
"It is done." Masoj replied. Alton didn’t seem convinced.
"What could I gain from telling Matron SiNafay of your foolish actions?" Masoj reasoned. "Likely, she would kill you, and then the coming war with House Do’Urden would have no basis. You are the link we need to justify the attack. I desire this battle, I’ll not risk it for the little pleasure I might find in your tortured demise."
"I was foolish." Alton admitted, more somberly. "I had not planned to kill Drizzt when I summoned him here, just to watch him and learn of him, so that I might savor more when the time to kill him finally arrived. Seeing him before me, though, seeing a cursed Do’Urden standing unprotected before me…!"
"I understand." said Masoj sincerely. "I have had those same feelings when looking upon that one."
"You have no grudge against House Do’Urden."
"Not the house." Masoj explained, "that one! I have watched him for nearly a decade, studied his movements and his attitudes."
"You like not what you see?" Alton asked, a hopeful tone in his voice.
"He does not belong." Masoj replied grimly. "After six months by his side, I feel I know him less now than I ever did. He displays no ambition, yet has emerged victorious from his class’s grand melee nine years in a row. It’s unprecedented! His grasp of magic is strong he could have been a wizard, a very powerful wizard, if he had chosen that course of study."
Masoj clenched his fist, searching for the words to convey his true emotions about Drizzt. "It is all too easy for him." he snarled. "There is no sacrifice in Drizzt’s actions, no scars for the great gains he makes in his chosen profession."
"He is gifted." Alton remarked, "but he trains as hard as any I have ever seen, by all accounts."
"That is not the problem." Masoj groaned in frustration.
There was something less tangible about Drizzt Do’Urden’s character that truly irked the young Hun’ett. He couldn’t recognize it now, because he had never witnessed it in any dark elf before, and because it was so very foreign to his own makeup. What bothered Masoj―and many other students and masters―was the fact that Drizzt excelled in all the fighting skills the drow elves most treasured but hadn’t given up his passion in return. Drizzt had not paid the price that the rest of the drow children were made to sacrifice long before they had even entered the Academy.
"It is not important." Masoj said after several fruitless minutes of contemplation. "I will learn more of the young Do’Urden in time."
"His tutelage under you was finished, I had thought." said Alton. "He goes to Arach-Tinilith for the final six months of his training―quite inaccessible to you."
"We both graduate after those six months." Masoj explained. "We will share our indenture time in the patrol forces together."
"Many will share that time." Alton reminded him. "Dozens of groups patrol the corridors of the region. You may never even see Drizzt in all the years of your term."
"I already have arranged for us to serve in the same group." replied Masoj. He reached into his pocket and produced the onyx figurine of the magical panther.
"A mutual agreement between yourself and the young Do’Urden." Alton reasoned with a complimentary smile.
"It appears that Drizzt has become quite fond of my pet.", Masoj chuckled.
"Too fond?" Alton warned. "You should watch your back for scimitars."
Masoj laughed aloud. "Perhaps our friend, Do’Urden, should watch his back for panther claws!"
Chapter 16
Sacrilege
"Last day." Drizzt breathed in relief as he donned his ceremonial robes. If the first six months of this final year, learning the subtleties of magic in Sorcere, had been the most enjoyable, these last six in the school of Lolth had been the least. Every day, Drizzt and his classmates had been subjected to endless eulogies to the Spider Queen, tales and prophecies of her power and of the rewards she bestowed upon loyal servants.
"Slaves" would have been a better word, Drizzt had come to realize, for nowhere in all this grand school to the drow deity had he heard anything synonymous with, or even hinting at, the word love. His people worshiped Lolth, the females of Menzoberranzan gave over their entire existence in her servitude. Their giving was wholly wrought of selfishness, though a cleric of the Spider Queen aspired to the position of high priestess solely for the personal power that accompanied the title.
It all seemed so very wrong in Drizzt’s heart.
Drizzt had drifted through the six months of Arach-Tinilith with his customary stoicism, keeping his eyes low and his mouth shut. Now, finally, he had come to the last day, the Ceremony of Graduation, an event most holy to the drow, and wherein, Vierna had promised him, he would come to understand the true glory of Lolth.
With tentative steps, Drizzt moved out from the shelter of his tiny, unadorned room. He worried that this ceremony had become his personal trial. Up to now, very little about the society around Drizzt had made any sense to him, and he wondered, despite his sister’s assurances, whether the events of this day would allow him to see the world as his kin saw it. Drizzt’s fears had taken a spiral twist, one rolling out from the other to surround him in a predicament he could not escape.
Perhaps, he worried, he truly feared that the day’s events would fulfill Vierna’s promise.
Drizzt shielded his eyes as he entered the circular ceremonial hall of Arach-Tinilith. A fire burned in the center of the room, in an eight-legged brazier that resembled, as everything in this place seemed to resemble, a spider. The headmistress of all the Academy, the matron mistress, and the other twelve high priestesses serving as instructors of Arach-Tinilith, including Drizzt’s sister, sat cross-legged in a circle around the brazier. Drizzt and his classmates from the school of fighters stood along the wall behind them.