Xandra let out a wail that would have shamed a banshee,and with a speed that rivaled that of a weapons master's death blow, she lashedback. Pain, desperation, and wrath combined to fuel a blast of magic powerfulenough to send a thunderous, shuddering roar through the stone chamber.
The human caught the full force of the attack. Hissmoking body hurtled up and back like a loosed arrow. He hit the far wall nearthe ceiling and slid down, leaving a rapidly cooling streak on the stone. There was a holethe size of a dinner plate where his chest had been, and his sodden robes werea slightly brighter shade of crimson.
Xandra, too, crumpled, utterly exhausted by themomentous spell battle, and further weakened by the copious flow of bloodspilling from her torn face. Drow servants rushed to attend her, and her sistersgathered around to murmur spells of healing. Through it all, Liriel stoodbefore the matron's throne, her face set in a mask of faint, cynical amusement,and her eyes utterly cold.
When at last the Mistress of Magic had recoveredenough breath for speech, she hauled herself into a sitting position andleveled a shaking finger at the young wizard.
"How do you dare commit such an … anoutrage!" she sputtered. "The rite has been profaned!"
"Not so," Liriel said. "You stipulatedthat the wizard could be slain with any weapon of my choice. The weapon I chosewas you."
A second stunned silence descended upon the chamber.It was broken by a strange sound, one that no one there had ever heard beforeor had ever expected to hear:
Matron Mother Hinkutes'nat Alar Shobalar was laughing.
It was a rusty sound, to be sure, but there wasgenuine amusement in the matron's voice and in her crimson eyes.
"This defies all the laws and customs of.." Xandra began, but the matron mother cut her off with an imperious gesture.
"The rite of Blooding has been fulfilled,"Hinkutes'nat proclaimed, "for its purpose is to make a true drow of ayoungling dark elf. Evidence of a devious mind serves this purpose as well asbloody hands."
Ignoring her glowering daughter, the matron turned toLiriel and said, "Well done! By all the power of this throne and thisHouse, I proclaim you a true drow, a worthy daughter of Lolth! Leave yourchildhood behind, and rejoice in the dark powers that are our heritage and ourdelight."
Liriel accepted the ritual welcome-not with a deepbow, but with a slight incline of her head. She was a child no longer, and as anoble female of House Baenre, she was never to bow to a dark elf of lesser rankagain. Gromph had schooled her in such matters, drilling her until sheunderstood every shade and nuance of the complicated protocol. He had impressedupon her that the Blooding ceremony marked not only her departure fromchildhood, but her full acceptance into the Baenre clan. All that stood betweenher and both those honors were the ritual words of acceptance that she mustspeak.
But Liriel was not quite finished. Following animpulse that she only dimly understood, she crossed the dais to the place wherea defeated Xandra sat slumped, submitting glumly to the continuedministrations of the House Shobalar priestesses.
Liriel stooped so that she was at eye level with herformer mentor. Slowly she extended her hand and gently cupped the older drow'schin-a rare gesture that was occasionally used to comfort or caress a child,or, more often, to capture the child's attention before dictating terms. It wasunlikely that Xandra, in her pain-ridden state, would have consciously attachedthat meaning to her former student's gesture, but it was clear that she instinctivelygrasped the nuance. She flinched away from Liriel's touch, and her eyes werepure malevolence.
The girl merely smiled. Then, suddenly, she slid herpalm up along the jawline of Xandra's wounded cheek, gathering in her cuppedhand some of the blood that stained the wizard's face.
With a single, quick movement, Liriel rose to her feetand turned to face the watching matron mother. Deliberately she smearedXandra's blood over both hands, front and back, and she presented them toMatron Hinkutes'nat.
"The ritual is complete. I am a child no more,but a drow," Liriel proclaimed.
The silence that followed her words was long andimpending, for the implications of her action went far beyond the limits ofpropriety and precedence.
At last Matron Mother Hinkutes'nat inclined herhead-but not in the expected gesture of completion. The Shobalarmatriarch added the subtle nuance that transformed the regal gesture into thesalute exchanged between equals. It was a rare tribute, and rarer still was theamused understanding-and the genuine respect-in the spidery female's eyes.
All of which struck the young drow as highly ironic.Though it was clear that Hinkutes'nat applauded Liriel's gesture, she herselfwas not entirely certain why she had done what she did.
That question plagued Liriel throughout the celebrationthat traditionally followed the ceremony. The spectacle provided by herBlooding had been unusually satisfying to the attending drow, and the revelryit inspired was raucous and long. For once Liriel entered into festivities withless than her usual gusto, and she was not at all sorry when the last bellsignaled the end of the night.
CHAPTER 8
The summons from the Narbondellyn district came earlythe next day. Gromph Baenre sent word that Liriel's belongings were to bepacked up and sent after her.
The young drow received that information stoically. Intruth, Liriel did not regret her removal from House Shobalar. Perhaps she didnot understand the full meaning of her own Blooding ceremony, but she knewwith certainly that she could no longer remain in the same complex as XandraShobalar.
Liriel's reception at the archmage's mansion was aboutwhat she had expected. Servants met her and showed her to her apartment-a smallbut lavish suite that boasted a well-equipped library of spellbooks andscrolls. Apparently her father intended for her to continue her wizardlyeducation. But there was no sign of Gromph, and the best the servants could dofor Liriel was to assure her that the archmage would send for her when she waswanted.
And so it was that the newly initiated drow spent herfirst darkcycle alone, the first of what she suspected would be many to come.Liriel found the solitude painfully difficult, and the silent hours crept by.
After several futile attempts at study, the weary girlat last took to her bed. For hours she stared at the ceiling and longed for theoblivion of slumber. But her mind was too full, and her thoughts too confused,for sleep to find her.
Oddly enough, Liriel felt less triumphant than sheshould have. She was alive, she had passed the test of the Blooding, she hadrepaid Xandra's treachery with public humiliation, she had even devised a wayto keep from slaying the human wizard.
Why was it, then, that she felt his blood on her handsas surely as if she'd torn out his heart with her own fingernails? And whatwas that soul-deep sadness, that dark resignation? Though she had no name togive the emotion, Liriel suspected that it would ever after cast a shadow uponher blithe spirit.
The hours passed, and the distant tolling of Narbondelsignaled that the darkest hour was once again upon Menzoberranzan. It was thenthat the summons finally came. A servant bid Liriel to dress and await thearchmage in his study.
Liriel was less than anxious to face her drow sire.What would Gromph have to say about her unorthodox approach to the Bloodinghunt and ceremony? During her three days of preparation, the archmage hadrepeatedly expressed concern about her judgment and ambition, pronouncing hertoo trusting and carefree, and he had wondered at the strange bias of hercharacter. It seemed likely to her that he would not approve.