With his new weapon and shield, Vidrinath and Orbcress, and certainly with the head of Drizzt Do’Urden, Tiago had come to think his ascent to the position of weapons master in House Baenre would come quickly, likely immediately upon his return to the city. Even Anzdrel wouldn’t be foolish enough to oppose him.
But now he was thinking that perhaps that wasn’t the best course before him. Surely male drow would fare better in Gauntlgrym than in Menzoberranzan, for House Xorlarrin had always afforded their males positions of great power and influence compared to the other Houses.
Perhaps Tiago would serve House Baenre better, and serve himself better, if he remained in Gauntlgrym.
He veered Byok to the side toward Saribel, the other priestesses fading back when his intent to engage the Xorlarrin became obvious.
“I do not enjoy the World Above,” she said as he approached. “I feel ever vulnerable here, with no walls in close and no ceiling preventing attacks from above.” As she spoke, she glanced up at the towering mountain walls, and she shuddered, obviously imagining some archer up there, or a giant ready to drop rocks on them.
“Our prize is well worth the trouble,” Tiago assured her.
“Your prize, you mean.”
Tiago grinned at her. “Will you not share in my glory?”
“We are your raiding party, at your command.”
“And you are no more than that?”
She looked at him curiously.
“My lover?” he asked.
“So is Berellip,” she replied, referring to her older sister. “So are most of the females in Gauntlgrym, and a fair number in Menzoberranzan, I expect.”
Tiago laughed and shrugged, but didn’t argue the point. “Yes,” he said, “but none of them, not even Berellip, could find the gain you will discover from this journey. Consider the glory I will know when I have returned with the head of Drizzt Do’Urden. My path before me will be my own to choose.”
“Weapons master of House Baenre,” she said. Tiago shook his head, but Saribel pressed on, “That has been the rumor since before we set out for Gauntlgrym.”
“House Baenre will stake a strong position in your matron mother’s desired Xorlarrin city,” he replied. “Perhaps I will embody that position.”
Saribel tried to remain calm, but her eyes widened, giving her hopes away.
“Perhaps I will take a Xorlarrin noble as my wife, joining our families in an alliance that will further both our aims,” Tiago said.
“Berellip would be the obvious choice,” Saribel said.
“My choice,” Tiago emphasized, “would not be Berellip.”
Saribel swallowed hard. “What are you-?”
“We will be married, our families will be joined,” Tiago stated plainly.
“What?” came a question from the side, and the two turned to find Ravel listening in.
“You do not approve … brother?” Tiago said.
Ravel sat upon his invisible floating disc looking back at the Baenre, his expression shifting as he digested the startling news. Gradually a grin came to dominate his face-no doubt, Tiago realized, Ravel was going through the same thought process he had just realized, and coming to the same conclusion.
“Ah, brother,” Ravel said at length. “It is good to be out on the hunt with you!”
“Particularly when our prey is cornered,” Tiago replied.
“Well, hardly be callin’ it a forest,” Ambergris said, trudging through the scraggly trees above the small, dilapidated cabin on the banks of Lac Dinneshere. “Ye sure this be the place, then?”
The dwarf stopped talking and pulled up short when she regarded Dahlia and Drizzt, the drow crouched on one knee, staring down intently at his hand. No, not at his hand, she realized, but at something he held.
“What is it?” Dahlia asked.
Drizzt looked up at her, his expression blank, and he only shook his head, as if confused, as if he couldn’t find any words at that moment.
Ambergris and Entreri arrived then, from different directions.
Drizzt closed his hand and rolled his fingers, gradually finding the strength to rise.
“What is it?” Entreri asked this time.
Drizzt looked at him, then over Entreri’s shoulder, down at Effron and Afafrenfere, who were on the small dock before the old cabin.
“Drizzt?” Dahlia prompted.
“Scrimshaw,” he answered, his voice hollow.
Dahlia reached for the hand, but Drizzt pulled it away quickly and defensively. His movement surprised her, and startled the other two as well.
Drizzt took a deep breath and brought his hand up, unfolding his fingers to reveal a small statuette depicting a woman holding a very distinctive bow, the same bow, it appeared, as the one currently draped over Drizzt’s shoulder.
“Regis’s work,” Artemis Entreri said.
“Is that her?” Dahlia asked loudly, drowning out the assassin.
Drizzt stared at her blankly, hesitant to answer.
“Catti-brie?” she pressed. “Your beloved Catti-brie?”
“How’d it get out here?” Ambergris asked, looking all around. “Few been here in many years, I’m guessing.”
“None, more likely,” said Dahlia, staring still at Drizzt, her expression reflecting a deep and obvious discontent.
“Except when the forest is here, perhaps,” Artemis Entreri said, and Drizzt took another deep breath, feeling as if he might simply topple over-or wondering if Dahlia might leap over and throttle him, given her expression.
“It is likely nothing more than coincidence,” Drizzt said.
Artemis Entreri walked over and reached for the statue, but Drizzt kept it away.
“The foot,” Entreri said. “The right foot. Should I have to tell this to you?”
Drizzt slowly upturned the scrimshaw, looked at its underside, the clutched it tightly against his heart.
“The ‘R’ of Regis,” Entreri explained to the others.
“And how’re ye knowin’ that?” Ambergris asked.
“I have a long history with that one,” the assassin chuckled.
Drizzt locked stares with him. “What does it mean?”
Entreri shrugged and held out his hand, and this time, Drizzt handed the statue over. Entreri studied it closely. “It’s been lying out here for a long time,” he said.
“And there’s no forest to be seen,” Dahlia added, rather unkindly.
“And the day’s gettin’ long,” Ambergris remarked, looking back across the lake to the setting sun. “At least we’ll be sleeping under a proper roof this night, eh?” She glanced down at the lakeside cottage. “Such as it is.”
In reply, Drizzt rolled his pack off his back and let if fall to the ground.
Ambergris looked down at it, then back up to the stone-faced drow. “Like I was sayin’,” she said. “Another fine night out under the stars.”
Drizzt camped right there, sleeping on the very spot where he had found the figurine. None of his five companions went to the cottage, but rather surrounded him with their own bedrolls.
“Chasing ghosts,” Dahlia muttered to Entreri much later on, the two sitting off to the side, looking back at Drizzt. The night was not cold and the fire long out, but the half-moon had already passed overhead and they could see the drow clearly. He lay back on his bedroll, looking up at the multitude of stars shining over Lac Dinneshere. He still clutched the figurine, rolling it over in his nimble fingers.
“Chasing her, you mean.”
Dahlia turned on him.
“You can’t rightly blame him, can you?” Entreri went on against that stare. “These were his friends, his family. We’ve all chased our ghosts.”
“To kill them, not to make love to them,” Dahlia said and looked back at the drow.
Entreri smiled at her obvious jealousy, but wisely said nothing more.
At first he thought it Andahar’s barding, sweet bells ringing in the night, but as Drizzt opened his eyes, he came to understand that it was something more subtle and more powerful all at the same time, with all the forest around him resonating in a gentle and overwhelming melody.