"I am not going." Masoj declared.
"Why?" Alton gasped. "This is a rare opportunity indeed. Menzoberranzan―to the anger of Lolth, I am certain―has not staged a surface raid in two decades. It may be twenty more years before the next, and by then you will no longer be among the patrols."
Masoj looked out from the small window of Alton’s room in House Hun’ett, surveying the compound.
"Besides." Alton continued quietly, "up there, so far from prying eyes, you might find the chance to dispose of two Do’Urden’s. Why would you not go?"
"Have you forgotten a ruling that you played a part in?"
Masoj asked, whirling on Alton accusingly. "Two decades ago, the masters of Sorcere decided that no wizards are to travel anywhere near the surface!"
"Of course." Alton replied, remembering the meeting. Sorcere seemed so distant to him now though he had been within the Hun’ett house for only a few weeks. "We concluded that drow magic may work differently―unexpectedly―under the open sky." he explained. "On that raid twenty years ago…"
"I know the story." Masoj growled, and he finished the sentence for Alton. "A wizard’s fireball expanded beyond its normal dimensions, killing several drow. Dangerous side-effects, you masters called it, though I’ve a belief that the wizard conveniently disposed of some enemies under the guise of an accident!"
"Yes." Alton agreed. "So said the rumors. In the absence of evidence…" He let the thought go, seeing that he was doing little to comfort Masoj. "That was so long ago." he said, trying to offer some hope. "Have you no recourse?"
"None." Masoj replied. "Things move so very slowly in Menzoberranzan I doubt that the masters have even begun their investigation into the matter.
"A pity." Alton said. "It would have been the perfect opportunity."
"No more of that!" Masoj scolded. "Matron SiNafay has not given me her command to eliminate Drizzt Do’Urden or his brother. You have already been warned to keep your personal desires to yourself. When the matron bids me to strike, I will not fail her. Opportunities can be created."
"You speak as if you already know how Drizzt Do’Urden will die." Alton said.
An smile spread over Masoj’s face as he reached into the pocket of his robe and produced the onyx figurine, his unthinking magical slave, which the foolish Drizzt had come to trust so dearly. "Oh, I do." he replied, giving the statuette of Guenhwyvar an easy toss, then catching it and holding it out on display.
"I do."
The members of the chosen raiding party quickly came to realize that this would be no ordinary mission. They did not go out on patrol from Menzoberranzan at all during the next week. Rather, they remained, day and night, sequestered within a barrack of Melee-Magthere. Through nearly every waking hour, the raiders huddled around an oval table in a conference room, hearing the detailed plans of their pending adventure, and, over and over again, Master Hatch’net, the master of Lore, spinning his tales of the vile elves.
Drizzt listened intently to the stories, allowing himself, forcing himself, to fall within Hatch’net’s hypnotic web. The tales had to be true Drizzt did not know what he would hold onto to preserve his principles if they were not. Dinin presided over the raid’s tactical preparations, displaying maps of the long tunnels the group would travel, grilling them over and over until they had memorized the route perfectly.
To this, as well, the eager raiders―except for Drizzt―listened intently, all the while fighting to keep their excitement from bursting out in a wild cheer. As the week of preparations neared its end, Drizzt took note that one member of the patrol group had not been attending. At first, Drizzt had reasoned that Masoj was learning his duties in the raid in Sorcere, with his old masters. With the departure time fast approaching and the battle plans clearly taking shape, though, Drizzt began to understand that Masoj would not be joining them.
"Where is our wizard?" Drizzt dared to ask in the late hours of one session.
Dinin, not appreciating the interruption, glared at his brother. "Masoj will not be joining us." he answered, knowing that others might now share Drizzt’s concern, a distraction they could not afford at such a critical time.
"Sorcere has decreed that no wizards may travel to the surface," Master Hatch’net explained. "Masoj Hun’ett will await your return in the city. It is a great loss to you indeed, for Masoj has proven his worth many times over. Fear not, though, for a cleric of Arach-Tinilith shall accompany you."
"What of. " Drizzt began above the approving whispers of the other raiders.
Dinin cut his brother’s thoughts short, easily guessing the question. "The cat belongs to Masoj." he said flatly. "The cat stays behind."
"I could talk to Masoj." Drizzt pleaded.
Dinin’s stern glance answered the question without the need for words. "Our tactics will be different on the surface." he said to all the group, silencing their whispers. "The surface is a world of distance, not the blind enclosures of bending tunnels. Once our enemies are spotted, our task will be to surround them, to close off the distances." He looked straight at his young brother. "We will have no need of a point guard, and in such a conflict, a spirited cat could well prove more trouble than aid."
Drizzt had to be satisfied with the answer. Arguing would not help, even if he could get Masoj to let him take the panther, which he knew in his heart he could not. He shook the brooding desires out of his head and forced himself to hear his brother’s words. This was to be the greatest challenge of Drizzt’s young life, and the greatest danger.
Over the final two days, as the battle plan became ingrained into every thought, Drizzt found himself growing more and more agitated. Nervous energy kept his palms moist with sweat, and his eyes darted about, too alert. Despite his disappointment over Guenhwyvar, Drizzt could not deny the excitement that bubbled within him. This was the adventure he had always wanted, the answer to his questions of the truth of his people. Up there, in the vast strangeness of that foreign world, lurked the surface elves, the unseen nightmare that had become the common enemy, and thus the common bond, of all the drow. Drizzt would discover the glory of battle, exacting proper revenge upon his people’s most hated foes. Always before, Drizzt had fought out of necessity, in training gyms or against the stupid monsters that ventured too near his home.
Drizzt knew that this encounter would be different. This time his thrusts and cuts would be carried by the strength of deeper emotions, guided by the honor of his people and their common courage and resolve to strike back against their oppressors. He had to believe that.
Drizzt lay back in his cot the night before the raiding party’s departure and brought his scimitars through some slow-motion maneuvers above him.
"This time." he whispered aloud to the blades while marveling at their intricate dance even at such a slow speed. "This time your ring will sound out in the song of justice!" He placed the scimitars down at the side of his cot and rolled over to find some needed sleep. "This time." he said again, teeth clenched and eyes shining with determination. Were his proclamations his belief or his hope? Drizzt had dismissed the disturbing question the very first time it had entered his thoughts, having no more room for doubts than he had for brooding. He no longer considered the possibility of disappointment, it had no place in the heart of a drow warrior.
To Dinin, though, studying Drizzt curiously from the shadows of the doorway, it sounded as if his younger brother was trying to convince himself of the truth of his own words.
Chapter 20
That Foreign World
The fourteen members of the patrol group made their way through twisting tunnels and giant caverns that suddenly opened wide before them. Silent on magical boots and nearly invisible behind their piwafwis, they communicated only in their hand code. For the most part, the ground’s slope was barely perceptible, though at times the group climbed straight up rocky chimneys, every step and every handhold drawing them nearer their goal. They crossed through the boundaries of claimed territories, of monsters and the other races, but the hated gnomes and even the duergar dwarves wisely kept their heads hidden. Few in all the Underdark would purposely intercept a drow raiding party.