"Kaer'lic's continuing fear of Drizzt is disturbing," Ad'non remarked.
"Tos'un names the rogue as formidable."
"Indeed, and I do not doubt our Menzoberranyr friend at all in that regard," said Ad'non. "Still«/emphasis·"
"Kaer'lic seems more fearful of everything lately," Donnia agreed. "She verily trembled when she spoke of Obould. A mere orc!"
"Perhaps she has been away from our people for too long. Perhaps she needs to revisit the Underdark—back to Ched Nasad, possibly, or even Menzober-ranzan, if Tos'un can smooth our way in."
"Where we would be homeless rogues until one matron mother or another saw fit to offer us shelter—in exchange for slavish fealty," Donnia said sourly, and Ad'non could only shrug at that distinct possibility.
"Kaer'lic would not be pleased if she knew our intent this night," Donnia remarked a moment later.
Again Ad'non shrugged and said, "I answer not to Kaer'lic Suun Wett."
"Even if her reasoning is sound?"
Ad'non paused and considered the words for a long while.
"But we are not seeking Drizzt Do'Urden in any case," he said at length.
It was true enough, if only technically so. The pair had made up their minds to investigate the troubles Obould's rear lines had been experiencing over the Past couple of tendays. Of course they knew that Drizzt Do'Urden was central to those troubles, but it was not he who had lured the two drow out of their deep holes—both because of Kaer'lic's reasoning and Tos'un's warnings, and because, as far as Donnia and Ad'non were concerned, there was better prey to hunt.
A pair of surface elves, seen by Gerti's giants riding winged horses— wouldn't those mounts be fine trophies!
Within the hour, the pair were at the scene of the last assault, near to the smaller river within the mountains. Orc bodies still littered the ground, for no one had bothered to bury them. Following the path of the massacre, the two soon had Drizzt's route of battle discerned, and the bodies of many orcs in a circle around one point showed them where the two surface elves had joined the fray.
More than a score dead, and only three blades engaged, Donnia flashed with silent hand signals, taking care to hold her silence.
Most felled by Drizzt, no doubt, before the other two even arrived, came Ad'non's answer.
They tarried around the battleground for quite a while, trying to learn as much as they could, both from the pattern of the dead to the types of wounds, about the fighting styles of those engaged. More than once, Donnia flashed to Ad'non a signal revealing her admiration for the sword work, and more than once, Ad'non agreed. And, with the night almost half over, the pair went out from the immediate area, working about the perimeter and beyond for some sign of passage.
To their surprise and delight, they found a trail easily enough and knew from the footprints and the bent blades of grass that it had been made by at least two of the three enemies.
The surface elves, Ad'non flashed. I would have expected them to better cover their tracks.
Unless they were not making the trail for the orcs, Donnia reasoned. Few orcs could follow these subtle signs, I expect, though to our trained eyes they seem obvious.
To our trained eyes and to those of Drizzt Do'Urden, perhaps? asked Ad'non's fingers.
Donnia grinned and bent low to study one particular stretch of brush. Yes, it made perfect sense to her. The trail seemed obvious to the keen eyes and tracking skills of the trained dark elves, but surely it was nothing that any orcs would find and follow. And yet, with her experiences concerning surface elves, Donnia knew that it was a clumsy passage, at best. The more she looked, the more Ad'non's subtle suggestion that the trail had been left on purpose for Drizzt rang true to her. The elves thought their enemies to be orcs, goblins, and giants, and thought that a dark elf was numbered among their allies. The orcs who had witnessed the massacre had indeed noted that the surface elves and the dark elf had parted ways immediately following the fighting; perhaps the surface elves wanted to make sure that Drizzt Do'Urden knew how to find them should he need them.
Shall we go and find our pleasure? Ad'non's fingers waggled.
Donnia brought her hands up before her, a movement of accentuation and exclamation, and tapped the outsides of her thumbs together.
Indeed!
* * *
Tension hung thick in the air by the time Kaer'lic and Tos'un entered Obould's great tent. One glance at Gerti, the giantess sitting cross-legged (which still put her head near to the arched deerskin ceiling) between a pair of grim-faced guards, told the two drow that the meeting had not gone well to that point.
"Nesmй has been overrun in the south," Gerti resumed as soon as the two newcomers took their places across from her and to Obould's right. "Proffit and his wretched trolls have made more progress than we and in a shorter time."
"Their enemies were not nearly as formidable as ours," Obould countered. "They battled humans in open villages, while we try to dislodge dwarves from their deep holes."
"Deep holes?" Gerti roared. "We have gotten nowhere near to Mithral Hall yet. All you and your worthless son have encountered are minor settlements and a small force of dwarves on open ground! And Urlgen has not even been able to push a minor force over the cliff face and back to Mithral Hall. This is not victory. It is standstill, and all the while, Proffit the wretch marches from the Trollmoors!"
Proffit? Tos'un signed to Kaer'lic, spelling the unknown name phonetically.
Leader of the trolls, Kaer'lic replied, an assumption, of course, for she really had little knowledge of what was happening in the southland.
Kaer'lic turned her full attention back to the giantess and orc leader as she signed, though, and the expression on Obould's face rang out bells of alarm.
"King Obould's son claims the head of Bruenor Battlehammer as a trophy," the drow female interjected, trying to diffuse the situation.
Kaer'lic was only beginning to understand the depth of the change in the orc king, and it occurred to her that with his newfound confidence and prowess, Obould might not be above challenging Gerti or siccing his legions upon her and her minions.
"I have not seen any Battlehammer head," Gerti sharply replied.
"His fall was witnessed by many," Kaer'lic pressed. "As the tower fell."
"My giants claim no small part in that kill."
"True enough," Kaer'lic replied before Obould could explode—as he surely seemed about to do. "And so our victories to date at least equal those of this troll. . Proffit?"
"Proffit," Obould confirmed. "Who has bound the trolls and bog blokes under his command. Who has led them from the Trollmoors in greater numbers than ever before."
"He will squeeze Mithral Hall from the south?" Kaer'lic asked.
Obould leaned forward and dropped his chin in his hand, mulling it over.
"Better from the tunnels," Tos'un reasoned, and the eyes of the three leaders turned over him.
"Let Proffit keep the pressure on the dwarves," the drow went on. "Let him and his minions keep them fighting in their tunnels after we seal them in Mithral Hall. We will raze the land and claim our boundaries and turn our attention to the beleaguered dwarves."
Kaer'lic's face remained impassive, but she did flash a signal of gratitude to Tos'un for his clever thinking.
"The fall of Nesmй and the presence of the trolls will more likely incite Sil-verymoon to action," Kaer'lic added. "That, we do not want. Let them go underground and do battle with Mithral Hall, as the son of Barrison Del'Armgo suggests. Perhaps then our greater enemies will think that Proffit and his wretched creatures have retreated back to the Trollmoors, where even Lady Alus-triel would not go in pursuit."