Daughter of the Drow (25 page)

“That could very well have been us, you know,” the right head pointed out.

I’m hurrying,” Liriel assured the dragon. The drow was well aware of the precarious nature of her situation. She wished she could have brought Kharza along to aid her work with spells of levitation, but the fretful old wizard would likely have died of fright during the trip. Water-running was not a sport for the timid.

Liriel could have floated up to the Banshee’s Needle under her own power, but doing so would have exhausted her ability to levitate for the rest of the day. The drow still had to make the long trip up the shaft, and she had to rely on Zz’Pzora to hoist her up. It was not unlikely that the dragon, in a fit of pique, might “accidentally” lose her grip on the rope. So Liriel clung to the dragon’s purple neck with one hand as she tapped away at the wall of glowing rock.

Suddenly brilliant blue light bathed the grotto—the Banshee’s Needle was free of its rocky sheath. The drow worked even more quickly now, for neither her light-sensitive eyes nor her dragon helper could take much more of this. She carefully inserted the tip of her knife under the exposed sliver of stone and pried it loose. The amulet hung ready about her neck; she dropped the glowing bit of stone . into the sheath and quickly twisted the dagger-hilted chisel back into place.

“Got it!” she exulted. “Let’s go down.”

Tiamat be praised!” grumbled the dragon, both heads joining in unison in an oath invoking the god of dragons.

The creature swept down toward the cavern floor and skidded to a grateful stop.

Liriel slid off the dragon’s shoulders and began to gather, up her magical items. If the renewed glitter of her piwaftui was any indication, her things had more than regained the magic they’d lost in her two moonlit visits Above. And so soon! Usually a new item needed to bask in such sites of power for years in order to become imbued with magic; an item whose magic had been lost completely needed at least a year to regain potency. For the first time, Liriel felt truly confident her plan would work.

“Now what?” the right head inquired. “After all the trouble we’ve gone through to get that thing, you could at least tell me what you plan to do with it.”

I’m going on a long journey, Zz’Pzora,” Liriel said happily.

“Good!” huffed the dragon heads in unison. The purple creature settled back on her haunches and folded her arms across her chest in an oddly elven gesture. “You’re much more trouble than you’re worth,” her right head added caustically.

The drow raised a single eyebrow. “And I’ll miss you, too,” she returned with equal warmth. “But I won’t be making the trip for some time, not until I’ve finished my training at Arach-Tinilith. As a high priestess, HI have the power and status HI need to come and go as I please.”

“In that case, you’ll be coming again soon?”

Liriel shook her head. “I’m sorry, Zip, but I don’t dare leave the Academy again. PI! come to see you as soon as my training is finished.”

“Hmmph.”

Zz’Pzora pouted. There was no other word for it. The sulky expression looked a bit out of place on the scaly, fearsome faces of the purple dragon, but Liriel found it rather endearing.

“The years will pass quickly, you’ll see; my training and my journey will soon come to an end. When I return, would you like me to bring you something from the Lands of Light?” she wheedled, thinking that perhaps naming her destination would lift Zz’Pzora from her dark mood.

The dragon’s reptilian eyes—all four of them—widened in surprise. A crafty smile spread across the left head’s face.

Until now, the practical right head had dominated the dragon’s words and actions, but finally something had ignited the interest of the dragon’s flightier half.

“Yes,” the head said, and the decisive tone sounded odd in its chirpy, little-girl voice. “Find me a way to get to the surface.”

Liriel blinked. “Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of a spellbook, a treasure of some sort.”

“Nevertheless, you have offered, and I have answered.”

Again that decisive, passionate tone, so unexpected of Zz’Pzora’s left-headed persona. Even the dragon’s right head looked at her counterpart with amazement.

After a moment’s shared silence, the drow shrugged. “All right, Zip, I’ll do what I can.”

Promises of both drow and deep dragon were easily made and seldom kept, but Zz’Pzora seemed satisfied with this response. Liriel gathered up the rest of her.magical items and took her place in the shaft. For once the dragon hoisted the drow up without any of the sudden jerks or teasing pauses that usually denned the trip. When the drow reached the top, she heard the faint, distant sound of the dragon’s two voices raised in a haunting song of farewell.

For the first time, a touch of sadness tainted Liriel’s excitement, and she began to ponder all she would leave behind. She was not entirely sorry the trip lay several years in the future. There was still so much to do, so much to learn and experience, in her native Menzoberranzan. And the more powers she gained, the more she could take with her into the Lands of Light. Yet, whenever her time came, Liriel knew she would be traveling alone in a strange land.

Perhaps, the drow mused as she stepped through the gate that would bring her back to Spelltower Xorlarrin, she might try to keep her promise to the dragon after all.

Suddenly Shakti stopped her restless pacing. Perhaps, she mused, a few hours might be enough.

She straightened the folds of her robes and impatiently smoothed her hair back into place—she had a habit of tugging at it during her rages. Her suppers crunched the shards of broken pottery as she stalked from the room in search of Matron Zeld.

Three days!” raged Shakti Hunzrin, hurling her water pitcher at the door of her room. The fine earthenware shattered with a satisfying crash and a cascade of dust and splinters. This did little to improve the draw’s mood; there was scant pleasure to be had in the destruction of inanimate objects. She continued to pace the room restlessly, feeling as thoroughly out of sorts as a dwarf in water.

The priestess had wasted much time and several good spells watching the comings and goings of her Baenre rival. All that effort was for naught. The matron mistress had, against all logic, simply given her precious niece a leave of absence. And for what? By all reports, Liriel had barricaded herself in her home. No doubt the little princess needed time to recover from the rigors of a full five days at Arach-Tinilith, Shakti concluded sourly.

But three days? She herself had been granted only a few hours’ leave here and there, and that only to attend the pressing concerns of her family business.

“Why do you need the time away, and why do you come tome?”

They were reasonable questions both, and Shakti was prepared for them. “It is breeding season for the rothe,” the Hunzrin priestess explained. “No one knows more about the matter than I. Not even the rothe themselves,” she added proudly.

Mistress Zeld’s brow furrowed at that strange pronouncement, but she quickly decided not to pursue the matter. “But you are a twelfth-year student, nearing high priestess status. I have no authority over you.”

Shakti leaned forward. “But you can give me permission to leave. It is to both our advantages that I go. I can bring back information.”

“I must admit, I have little interest in the social life of cattle,” the mistress said in an acid tone.

The young priestess fell silent, struggling against her rising anger. She had not expected the mistress to be so difficult. By all appearances, Mistress Zeld held little affection for Liriel and would not be displeased to see her young student brought down. If doing so could bring trouble to House Baenre, so much the better.

“May I speak frankly?”

Zeld’s lips curved in ironic amusement. “That would be refreshing.”

It could also be deadly, and knowing this, Shakti chose her next words with care. “Arach-Tinilith is the strength of our city, the glory of Lloth. For centuries untold, the students were not allowed to leave the Academy until their training was completed. Now, in these troubled times, individual houses need all the talents at their command, including those of their youngest members. Even so, permission to leave the Academy is not granted lightly, and not without some greater gain in sight.”

Mistress Zeld listened carefully, hearing the words that Shakti left unspoken. “And you are saying your need is great enough to justify your release.”

The Hunzrin priestess dipped her head in a respectful bow. “Not as great, perhaps, as the plans and designs of some of the greater houses.”

“I see.” Zeld leaned back in her chair and considered the younger female. Finally, the young priestess had stated her intent, and done so with impressive subtlety. Of course, Mistress Zeld had understood Shakti’s motivation from the start, and she stalled merely to force the Hunzrin female to lay some inducements on the bargaining table. Shakti was not alone in wondering what plot House Baenre had in mind that would require the involvement of Gromph’s wizard daughter. Many had tried to discover this—without drawing fire from the powerful first house—and so far all had failed. Perhaps the singleminded, hate-filled young priestess could do better. If Shakti failed, it would be no great loss. But if she succeeded, Zeld’s own clan would be pleased to receive this information, and she herself would surely be rewarded for Shakti’s efforts.

“You have my permission to leave, provided you return in time for chapel. There are other conditions, of course.”

“Naturally.”

“You will give me a full report upon your return. Leave out nothing.”

Shakti nodded respectfully and rose to leave. “The Hunzrins have purchased new breeding stock to revitalize the herd. We plan to introduce both wild rothe and the larger, surface rothe into the line. We expect good results from this mix. I will be happy to bring you a copy of the breeding records. This might be useful, if ever you should be questioned about your decision to grant me a leave of absence.”

“Your attention to detail is commendable,” Zeld said dryly. “There is one more condition. If you fail, we did not have this conversation.”

A grim smile firmed Shakti’s lips. They understood each other perfectly, without a direct word being spoken. “I

understand your reticence,” she said softly. “Rothe breeding is hardly a popular topic of conversation. I have noticed no one has quite the same enthusiasm for this subject as I do.”

“Not even the rothe, most likely.”

But Shakti, in her hurry to leave, did not hear the mistress’s arch comment. It would have been lost on the serious young priestess, anyway.

And this, Zeld concluded, was just as well. Shakti was talented, devious, hardworking, and utterly vicious. Young though she was, the Hunzrin priestess didn’t miss much, and she was proving herself to be a formidable enemy. Had she been blessed with a bit more perspective, which often manifested itself in dark humor, she would have been far more dangerous. Even without it, she was definitely a female to watch.

Every draw, even the powerful mistresses of Arach-Tinilith, kept an eye open for potential rivals.

Trust Liriel Baenre to have a house right across from Narbondellyn’s most infamous festhall, Shakti thought with bitter scorn. Seated in a plushly cushioned alcove and shielded from view by the curtains that draped it on all sides, she shifted the heavy velvet and peered out across the street at her enemy’s miniature castle.

In her hand she gripped the moonstone she’d had enspelled to seek out her rival, the same stone that had inexplicably ended up in Mistress ModVensis Tlabbar’s bedchamber. Retrieving it had been no little matter, and at the moment Shakti regretted the effort. The stone’s magic could not penetrate the veil of spells hiding Liriel from view. Shakti had tried clerical spells, as well, but Lloth did not respond to her entreaties. Whatever plot House Baenre had in mind, it had apparently found favor with the Lady of Chaos.

That made matters all the more difficult, for Shakti’s only hope of gaining access to Liriel’s castle was by physical means. Her spies had reported seeing the girl leave the place early that day, but who knew how long she might stay away? If Shakti was to find a way in, she must do it soon.

The nearsighted priestess squinted frantically, but she could see nothing from this distance that would help her.

With a hiss of frustration, Shakti left the festhall and hurried across the street, lake many of Menzoberranzan’s drow, she traveled swathed in her piwafwi, her face hidden by the deep cowl of her hood. She was all too aware, however, that her stout figure and distinctive, ungainly walk made her conspicuous, and she did not want to be seen examining the house too closely. One pass, two at the most, was all she dared risk.

At first Shakti saw nothing that might help her. The houses in this city, even those of the commoners, were virtual fortresses protected by magic and ingenious hidden devices. As far as she could see, there was no way in. Then suddenly, she detected a movement in the seemingly solid stone of the front door. A tiny swinging door poked up and outward, and the mottled red and black head of a lizard poked through the opening. Its tongue flicked out to taste the breeze, and it darted off into the shadows.

The priestess smirked. Finally, the chink in her rival’s defenses! She’d heard rumors the spoiled princess kept a menagerie of exotic pets brought from distant places in the Underdark, even from the Lands of Light. This door was no doubt designed to allow Liriel’s collection of pet lap-lizards to come and go as they pleased.

It was possible this door also had magic wards. Shakti would never know for certain unless she tested it.

So with all possible speed, the priestess made her way to the home of a certain wizard, a commoner of considerable skill whose talents were for hire. Granted, there were priestesses in her family who wielded more powerful clerical magic than her own, and two or three who might be able to cast the needed spell. But that would mean invoking Lloth—a dangerous enterprise at any time and utter insanity when the purpose was a direct attack against a Baenre female. Besides, this was a personal matter and Shakti did not wish to involve her family. Among the drow, it was far less expensive to buy a service than to accept a favor. The price for the latter was never quite what one expected it to be.