* * * * * * * * * * *
“I suppose you consider this humorous,” Drizzt said dryly, his tone interrupted only by the occasional wheeze as he tried to draw breath.
He was lying on the ground, facedown in the dirt, with six hundred pounds of panther draped over him. He had called up Guenhwyvar to do some hunting while he and Catti-brie continued their mock battle over the stew, but then the woman had whispered something in Guen's ear, and the cat, obviously gender loyal, had brought Drizzt down with a great flying tackle.
A few feet away, Catti-brie was thoroughly enjoying her stew.
“Ye do look a bit ridiculous,” she admitted between sips.
Drizzt scrambled, and almost slipped out from under the panther. Guenhwyvar dropped a huge paw on his shoulder, extracting long claws and holding him fast.
“Ye keep on with yer fighting and Guen'll have herself a meal,” Catti-brie remarked.
Drizzt's lavender eyes narrowed. “There remains a small matter of repayment,” he said quietly.
Catti-brie gave a snort, then moved down close to him, on her knees. She lifted a spoon full of stew and blew on it gently, then moved it out toward Drizzt, slowly, teasingly. It almost reached his mouth when the woman pulled it back abruptly, the spoon disappearing into her mouth.
Her smile went away fast, though, as she saw Guenhwyvar dissipating into a gray mist. The cat protested, but the dismissal of her master, Drizzt, could not be ignored.
Catti-brie darted off into the woods with Drizzt in fast pursuit.
He caught her with a leaping tackle a short distance away, bearing her to the ground beneath him, then using his amazing agility and deceptive strength to roll her over and pin her. The firelight was lost behind the trees and shrubs, the starlight and the glow of a half moon alone highlighting the woman's beautiful features.
“Ye call this repayment?” the woman teased when Drizzt was atop her, straddling her and holding her arms to the ground above her head.
“Only beginning,” he promised.
Catti-brie started to laugh, but stopped suddenly, her look to Drizzt becoming serious, even concerned.
“What is it?” the perceptive drow asked. He backed off a bit, letting go of her arms.
“With any luck, we'll be finding Wulfgar,” Catti-brie said.
“That is our hope, yes,” the drow agreed.
“How're ye feeling about that?” the woman asked bluntly.
Drizzt sat up straighter, staring at her hard. “How should I feel?”
“Are ye jealous?” Catti-brie asked. “Are ye fearing that Wulfgar's return—if he should return with us, I mean—will change some things in yer life that ye're not wanting changed?”
Drizzt gave a helpless chuckle, overwhelmed by Catti-brie's straightforwardness and honesty. Something was beginning to burn between them, the drow knew, something long overdue yet still amazing and unexpected. Catti-brie had once loved Wulfgar, had even been engaged to marry him before his apparent demise in Mithral Hall, so what would happen if Wulfgar returned to them now—not the Wulfgar who had run away, the Wulfgar who had slapped Catti-brie hard—but the man they had once known, the man who had once taken Catti-brie's heart?
“Do I hope that Wulfgar's return will not affect our relationship in any negative way?” he asked. “Of course I do. And saying that, do I hope that Wulfgar returns to us? Of course I do. And I pray that he has climbed out of his darkness, back to the man we both once knew and loved.”
Catti-brie settled comfortably and didn't interrupt, her interested expression prompting him to elaborate.
Drizzt began with a shrug. “I do not wish to live my life in a jealous manner,” he said. “And I especially can not think in those terms with any of my true friends. My stake in Wulfgar's return is no less than your own. My happiness will be greater if once again the proud and noble barbarian I once adventured beside returns to my life.
“As for our friendship and what may come of it,” Drizzt continued quietly, but with that same old self-assurance, that inner guidance that had walked the drow out of wicked Menzoberranzan and had carried him through so many difficult adventures and decisions ever since.
He gave a wistful smile and a shrug. “I live my life in the best manner I can,” he said. “I act honestly and in good faith and with the hopes of good friendship, and I hope that things turn out for the best. I can only be this drow you see before you, whether or not Wulfgar returns to us. If in your heart and in mine, there is meant to be more between us, then it shall be. If not. . ” He stopped and smiled and shrugged again.
“There ye go, with yer tongue wandering about again,” Catti-brie said. “Did ye ever think ye should just shut up and kiss me?”
Chapter 12 THE LAVENDER-EYED STATUE
Pull quiet, you oafs,” Gayselle softly scolded as the small skiff approached the imposing lights of Waterdeep Harbor. “I hope to make shore without any notice at all.”
The three oarsmen, half-ogres with burly muscles that lacked a gentle touch, grumbled amongst themselves but did try, with no success, to quiet the splash of the oars. Gayselle suffered through it, knowing they were doing the best they could. She would be glad when this business was ended, when she could be away from her present companions, whose names she did not know but who she'd nicknamed Lumpy, Grumpy, and Dumb-bunny.
She stayed up front of the skiff, trying to make out some markers along the shoreline that would guide her in. She had put into Waterdeep many, many times over the last few years and knew place well. Most of all now, she wanted to avoid the long wharves and larger ships, wanted to get into the smaller, less observed and regulated docks, where a temporary berth could be bought for a few coins.
To her relief she noted that few of the guards were moving about the pier this dark evening. The skiff, even with the half-ogres splashing, had little trouble gliding into the collection of small docks to the south of the long wharves.
Gayselle shifted back and reached to the nearest brute, Grumpy, holding out a satchel that held three small vials. “Drink and shift to human form,” she explained. When Grumpy gave her a lewd smile as he took the satchel, she added, “A male human form. Sheila Kree would not suffer one of you to even briefly assume the form of a woman.”
That brought some more grumbling from the brutes, but they each took a bottle and quaffed the liquid contents. One after another they transformed their physical features into those of human men.
Gayselle nodded with satisfaction and took a few long and steady breaths, considering the course before her. She knew the location of the target's house, of course. It was not far from the docks, set up on a hill above a rocky cove. They had to be done with this dark business quickly, she knew, for the polymorph potions would not last for very long, and the last thing Gayselle wanted was to be walking along Waterdeep's streets accompanied by a trio of half-ogres.
The woman made up her mind then and there that if the potions wore off and her companions became obvious as intruders, she would abandon them and go off on her own, deeper into the city, where she had friends who could get her back to Sheila Kree.
They set up the boat against one of the smaller docks, tying it off beside a dozen other similar boats quietly bumping the pier with the gentle ebb and flow of the tide. With no one about, Gayselle and her three “human” escorts moved with all speed to the north, off the docks and onto the winding avenues that would take them to Captain Deudermont's house.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Not so far away, Drizzt and Catti-brie walked through Water-deep's northern gate, the drow easily brushing away the hard stares that came at him from nearly every sentry. One or two recognized him for who he was and said as much to their nervous companions, but it would take more than a few reassuring words to alleviate the average surface dweller's trepidation toward a drow elf.