Then a new possibility occurred to her, one so full ofhope and promise that "the mask" dissipated like spent faerie fire. Abubble of joyous laughter burst from the dark elf maid, and she threw her armsaround the astonished-and highly gratified-young male.
After the Blooding, she would be accounted a truedrow! Perhaps then Gromph would deem her worthy of his attention, perhaps eventake over her training himself. Surely he had heard of her progress, and knewthat there was little more for her to learn in House Shobalar.
That must be it! concluded Liriel as she wriggled outof the servant's increasingly enthusiastic embrace.
She set out at a brisk pace for Xandra's chambers,spurred on by the rarest of all drow emotions: hope.
No dark elf male took much notice of his children, butsoon Liriel would be a child no more, and ready for the next level of magicaltraining. Usually that would involve the Academy, but she was far too young forthat. Surely Gromph had devised another plan for her future.
Liriel's shining anticipation dimmed at the sight ofher father's messenger: the elf-sized stone golem was only too familiar. Themagical construct was part of her earliest and most terrible memory. Yet eventhe appearance of the deadly messenger could not banish entirely her joy, orsilence the delightful possibility that sang through her heart: perhaps herfather wanted her at last!
At Xandra's insistence, a full octet patrol ofspider-mounted soldiers escorted Liriel and the golem to the fashionableNarbondellyn district, where Gromph Baenrekept a private home. For once, Lirielrode past the Darkspires without marveling at the fanglike formations of blackrock. For once, she did not notice the handsome captain of the guard, whostood watch at the gates of the Horlbar compound. She even passed by theelegant little shops that sold perfumes, whisper-soft silk garments, magicalfigurines, and other fascinating wares without sparing them a single longingglance.
What were such things, compared with even a moment ofher father's time?
As eager as she was, however, Liriel had to steel herselffor the first glimpse of Gromph Baenre's mansion. She had been born there, andhad spent the first five years of her life in the luxurious apartments of hermother, Sosdrielle Vandree, who had served for many years as Gromph's mistress.It had been a cozy world, just Liriel and her mother and the few servants whotended them. Liriel had since come to understand that Sosdrielle-who had beena rare beauty, but who lacked both the magical talent and the deadly ambitionneeded to excel in Menzoberranzan-had doted upon her child and had made Lirielthe beloved center of her world. Despite that, or perhaps because of it, Lirielhad not been able to bring herself to look upon her first home since the dayshe left it, more than twelve years before.
Carved from the heart of an enormous stalactite, thearchmage's private home was reputedly warded about with more magic than anyother two wizards in the city could muster between them. Liriel slid down fromher spider mount-a distinctively Shobalar means of conveyance-and followed thesilent and deadly golem toward the black structure.
The stone golem touched one of the moving runes thatwrithed and shifted on the dark wall, and a door appeared. Gesturing for Lirielto follow, the golem disappeared inside.
The young drow took a deep breath and fell in behindthe servant. She remembered, vaguely, the way to Gromph Baenre's private study.There she had first met her father, and had first discovered her talent for andlove of wizardry. It seemed fitting that she begin the next phase of her lifethere, as well.
Gromph Baenre looked up when she entered his study.His amber eyes, so like her own, regarded her coolly.
"Sit down," he invited her, gesturing withone elegant, long-fingered hand toward a chair. "We have much to discuss."
Liriel quietly did as she was told. The archmage didnot speak at once, and for a long moment she was content merely to study him.He looked exactly as she remembered: austere yet handsome, a drow male in hismagnificent prime. That was not surprising, considering how slowly dark elvesaged, yet Gromph was reputed to have witnessed the birth and death of sevencenturies.
Protocol demanded that Liriel wait for the high-rankingwizard to speak first, but after several silent moments she could bear no more.
"I am to undergo the Blooding," sheannounced with pride.
The archmage nodded somberly and said, "As I haveheard. You will remain here in my home until the time for the ritual, for thereis much to learn and little time for preparation."
Liriel's brows plunged into a frown of puzzlement. Hadshe not been doing just that for the past twelve years? Had she not gainedbasic but powerful skills in battle magic and drow weaponry? She had littleinterest in the sword, but no one she knew could out-shoot her with the handcrossbow, or best her with thrown weapons. Surely she knew enough to emergefrom the ritual with victorious and blooded hands.
A small, hard smile touched the archmage's lips whenhe said, "There is much more to being a drow than engaging in crudeslaughter. I am not entirely certain, however, that Xandra Shobalar remembersthis basic fact."
These cryptic words troubled Liriel.
"Sir?"
Gromph did not bother to explain himself. He reachedinto a compartment under his desk and took from it a small, green bottle.
"This is a vial of holding," he said."It will capture and store any creature that the Shobalar Mistress pitsagainst you."
"But the hunt!" Liriel protested.
The archmage's smile did not waver, but his eyesturned cold.
"Do not be a fool," he said softly. "Ifthe hunt turns against you and your quarry gains the upper hand, you willcapture it in this vial. You can spill its blood easily enough, and thusfulfill the letter of the ritual's requirements. Look…."
He twisted off the stopper and showed her the glisteningmithral needle that thrust down from it.
"Cap the vial, and you have slain your prey. Allyou need do is smash the vial, and the dead creature will lie before you, adagger-the transmuted needle, of course- thrust through its heart or into itseye. You will carry an identical dagger to the opening ceremony, of course, toforestall any possible inquiries into the weapon that caused the creature'sdeath. This dagger is magical and will dissipate when the mithral needle isblooded, to remove the possibility that it might be found discarded along yourpath. If pride is your concern, no one need know the manner of your quarry'sdeath."
Feeling oddly betrayed, Liriel took the glass bottleand pressed the stopper firmly back into place. In truth, she found theunsporting solution appalling. But since the vial was a gift from her father,she searched her mind for something positive to say.
"Mistress Xandra will be fascinated bythis," she offered in a dull voice, knowing well the Shobalar wizard'sfondness for magical devices of any kind.
"She must not know of the vial, or of any of thespells you will learn in this place. Nor does she need to hear of your other,more dubious skills. Please, save that look of wide-eyed innocence to beguilethe House guards," he said dryly. "I know only too well the mercenarycaptain who boasts he taught a princess to throw knives as well as any taverncutthroat alive. How you managed to slip past the guard spiders MatronHinkutes'nat posts at every turn, and find your way through the city to thatparticular tavern, is beyond my imagination."
Liriel grinned wickedly and said, "I stumbledupon the tavern that first time, and Captain Jarlaxle knew me by my Housemedallion and indulged my wish to learn … to learn many things. But it istrue that I have often fooled the spiders. Shall I tell you how?"
"Perhaps later. I must have your blood oath thatthis vial will be kept from Xandra's eyes."