精灵血脉四部曲-第127部分

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　the　figurine　hit　the　ground；　Catti…brie　drew　Khazid'hea　from　its　sheath　and　leaped　to　the　spot。　Up　went　the　sword；　over　her　head；　its　fine　edge　still　showing　the　red　line　of　its　enchantment。

　　　〃No！〃　Drizzt　cried；　lunging　for　her。

　　　He　was　too　late。　Tears　rimming　her　blue　eyes；　her　thoughts　jumbled；　Catti…brie　found　the　courage　for　a　last；　desperate　try；　and　she　brought　the　mighty　blade　to　bear。　Khazid'hea　could　cut　through　stone；　and　so　it　did　now；　at　the　very　instant　that　Guenhwyvar　went　through　the　breach。

　　　There　came　a　flash；　and　a　throbbing　pain；　a　pulsating　magic；　shot　up　Catti…brie's　arm；　hurling　her　backward　and　to　the　ground。　Drizzt　skidded；　pivoted；　and　ducked　low；　shielding　his　head　as　the　figurine's　head　fell　free；　loosing　a　line　of　raging　fire　far　out　into　the　air。

　　　The　flames　blew　out　a　moment　later　and　a　thick　gray　smoke　poured　from　the　body　of　the　broken　figurine。　Gradually　Drizzt　straightened　from　his　defensive　crouch　and　Catti…brie　came　back　to　her　senses；　both　to　find　a　haggard…looking　Guenhwyvar；　the　panther's　thick　coat　still　smoking；　standing　before　them。

　　　Drizzt　dove　to　his　knees　and　fell　over　the　panther；　wrapping　Guenhwyvar　in　a　great　hug。　They　both　crawled　their　way　to　Catti…brie；　who　was　still　sitting　on　the　ground；　laughing　and　sobbing　though　she　was　weak　from　the　impact　of　the　magic。

　　　〃What　have　you　done？〃　Drizzt　asked　her。

　　　She　had　no　immediate　answers。　She　did　not　know　how　to　explain　what　had　happened　when　Khazid'hea　struck　the　enchanted　figurine。　She　looked　to　the　blade　now；　lying　quiet　at　her　side；　its　edge　no　longer　glowing　and　a　burr　showing　along　its　previously　unblemished　length。

　　　〃I　think　I've　ruined　me　sword；〃　Catti…brie　replied　softly。



　　　*****



　　　Later　that　same　day；　Drizzt　lounged　on　the　bed　in　his　room　in　the　upper　levels　of　Mithril　Hall；　looking　worriedly　at　his　panther　panion。　Guenhwyvar　was　back；　and　that　was　a　better　thing；　he　supposed；　than　what　his　instincts　had　told　him　would　have　happened　had　Catti…brie　not　cut　the　figurine。

　　　A　better　thing；　but　not　a　good　thing。　The　panther　was　weary；　resting　by　the　hearth　across　the　small　room；　head　down　and　eyes　closed。　That　nap　would　not　suffice；　Drizzt　knew。　Guenhwyvar　was　a　creature　of　the　Astral　Plane　and　could　truly　rejuvenate　only　among　the　stars。　On　several　occasions　necessity　had　prompted　Drizzt　to　keep　Guenhwyvar　on　the　Material　Plane　for　extended　periods；　but　even　a　single　day　beyond　the　half　the　cat　usually　stayed　left　Guen　exhausted。

　　　Even　now　the　artisans　of　Mithril　Hall；　dwarves　of　no　small　skill；　were　inspecting　the　cut　figurine；　and　Bruenor　had　sent　an　emissary　out　to　Silverymoon；　seeking　help　from　Lady　Alustriel；　as　skilled　as　any　this　side　of　the　great　desert　Anauroch　in　the　ways　of　magic。

　　　How　long　would　it　take？　Drizzt　wondered；　unsure　if　any　of　them　could　repair　the　figurine。　How　long　could　Guenhwyvar　survive？

　　　Unannounced；　Catti…brie　burst　through　the　door。　One　look　at　her　tear…streaked　face　told　Drizzt　that　something　was　amiss。　He　rolled　from　the　bed　to　his　feet　and　stepped　toward　the　mantle；　where　his　twin　scimitars　hung。

　　　Catti…brie　intercepted　him　before　he　had　pleted　the　step　and　wrapped　him　in　a　powerful　hug　that　knocked　them　both　to　the　bed。

　　　〃All　I　ever　wanted；〃　she　said　urgently；　squeezing　tight。

　　　Drizzt　likewise　held　on；　confused　and　overwhelmed。　He　managed　to　turn　his　head　so　he　could　look　into　the　young　woman's　eyes；　trying　to　read　some　clues。

　　　〃I　was　made　for　ye；　Drizzt　Do'Urden；〃　Catti…brie　said　between　sobs。　〃Ye're　all　that's　been　in　me　thoughts　since　the　day　we　met。〃

　　　It　was　too　crazy。　Drizzt　tried　to　extract　himself；　but　he　didn't　want　to　hurt　Catti…brie　and　her　hold　was　simply　too　strong　and　desperate。

　　　〃Look　at　me；〃　she　sobbed。　〃Tell　me　ye　feel　the　same！〃

　　　Drizzt　did　look　at　Catti…brie；　as　deeply　as　he　had　ever　studied　the　beautiful　young　woman。　He　did　care　for　her梠f　course　he　did。　He　did　love　her；　and　had　even　allowed　himself　a　fantasy　or　two　about　this　very　situation。

　　　But　now　it　seemed　simply　too　weird；　too　unexpected　and　with　no　introduction。　He　got　the　distinct　feeling　that　something　was　out　of　sorts　with　the　woman；　something　crazy；　like　the　magic　all　about　them。

　　　〃What　of　Wulfgar？〃　Drizzt　managed　to　say；　though　the　name　got　muffled　as　Catti…brie　pressed　tightly；　her　hair　thick　against　Drizzt's　face。　The　poor　drow　could　not　deny　the　woman's　allure；　the　sweet　scent　of　Catti…brie's　hair；　the　warmth　of　her　toned　body。

　　　Catti…brie's　head　snapped　as　if　he　had　hit　her。　〃Who？〃

　　　It　was　Drizzt's　turn　to　feel　as　if　he　had　been　slapped。

　　　〃Take　me；〃　Catti…brie　implored。

　　　Drizzt's　eyes　couldn't　have　gone　any　wider　without　falling　out　of　their　sockets。

　　　〃Wield　me！〃　she　cried。

　　　〃Wield　me？〃　Drizzt　echoed　under　his　breath。

　　　〃Make　me　the　instrument　of　your　dance；〃　she　went　on。　〃Oh；　I　beg！　It　is　all　I　was　made　for；　all　I　desire。〃　She　stopped　suddenly　and　pushed　back　to　arm's　length；　staring　wide…eyed　at　Drizzt　as　though　some　new　angle　had　just　popped　into　her　head。　〃I　am　better　than　the　others；〃　she　promised　slyly。

　　　What　others？　Drizzt　wanted　to　scream；　but　by　this　point；　the　drow　couldn't　get　any　words　out　of　his　slack…jawed　mouth。

　　　〃As　are　yerself；〃　Catti…brie　went　on。　〃Better　than　that　woman；　I'm　now　knowing！〃

　　　Drizzt　had　almost　found　his　center　again；　had　almost　regained　control　enough　to　reply；　when　the　weight　of　that　last　statement　buried　him。　Damn　the　subtlety！　the　drow　determined；　and　he　twisted　and　pulled　free；　rolling　from　the　bed　and　springing　to　his　feet。

　　　Catti…brie　dove　right　behind；　wrapped　herself　about　one　of　his　legs；　and　held　on　with　all　her　strength。

　　　〃Oh；　do　not　deny　me；　me　love！〃　she　screamed；　so　urgently　that　Guenhwyvar　lifted　her　head　from　the　hearth　and　gave　a　low　growl。　〃Wield　me；　I'm　begging！　Only　in　yer　hands　might　I　be　whole！〃

　　　Drizzt　reached　down　with　both　hands；　meaning　to　extract　his　leg　from　the　tight　grip。　He　noticed　something　then；　on　Catti…brie's　hip；　that　gave　him　pause；　that　stunned　him　and　explained　everything　all　at　once。

　　　He　noticed　the　sword　Catti…brie　had　picked　up　in　the　Underdark；　the　sword　that　had　a　pommel　shaped　into　the　head　of　a　unicorn。　Only　it　was　no　longer　a　unicorn。

　　　It　was　Catti…brie's　face。

　　　In　one　swift　movement；　Drizzt　drew　the　sword　out　of　its　sheath　and　tugged　free；　hopping　back　two　steps。　Khazid'hea's　red　line；　that　enchanted　edge；　had　returned　in　full　and　beamed　now　more　brightly　than　ever　before。　Drizzt　slid　back　another　step；　expecting　to　be　tackled　again。

　　　There　was　no　pursuit。　The　young　woman　remained　in　place；　half　sitting；　half　kneeling　on　the　floor。　She　threw　her　head　back　as　if　in　ecstacy。　〃Oh；　yes！〃　she　cried。

　　　Drizzt　stared　down　at　the　pommel；　watched　in　blank　amazement　as　it　shifted　from　the　image　of　Catti…brie's　face　back　into　a　unicorn。　He　felt　an　overwhelming　warmth　from　the　weapon；　a　connection　as　intimate　as　that　of　a　lover。

　　　Panting　for　breath；　the　drow　looked　back　to　Catti…brie；　who　was　sitting　straighter　now；　looking　around　curiously。

　　　〃What're　ye　doing　with　me　sword？〃　she　asked　quietly。　Again　she　looked　about　the　room；　Drizzt's　room；　seeming　totally　confused。　She　would　have　asked；　〃And　what　am　I　doing　here？〃　Drizzt　realized；　except　that　the　question　was　already　obvious　from　the　expression　on　her　beautiful　face。

　　　〃We　have　to　talk；〃　Drizzt　said　to　her。



Chapter　9

IMPLICATIONS



　　　It　was　rare　that　both　Gromph　and　Triel　Baenre　would　be　in　audience　with　their　mother　at　the　same　time；　rarer　still　that　they　would　be　joined　by　Berg'inyon　and　Sos'Umptu　and　the　two　other　notable　Baenre　daughters；　Bladen'Kerst　and　Quenthel。　Six　of　the　seven　sat　in　fortable　chairs　about　the　dais　in　the　chapel。　Not　Bladen'Kerst；　though。　Ever　seeming　the　caged　animal；　the　most　sadistic　drow　in　the　first　house　paced　in　circles；　her　brow　furrowed　and　thin　lips　pursed。　She　was　the　second　oldest　daughter　behind　Triel　and　should　have　been　out　of　the　house　by　this　time；　perhaps　as　a　matron　in　the　Academy；　or　even　more　likely；　as　a　matron　mother　of　her　own；　lesser；　house。　Matron　Baenre　had　not　allowed　that；　however；　fearing　that　her　daughter's　simple　lack　of　civility；　even　by　drow　standards；　would　disgrace　House　Baenre。

　　　Triel　looked　up　and　shook　her　head　disdainfully　at　Bladen'Kerst　every　time　she　passed。　She　rarely　gave　Bladen'Kerst　any　thought。　Like　Vendes　Baenre；　her　younger　sister　who　had　been　killed　by　Drizzt　Do'Urden　during　the　escape；　Bladen'Kerst　was　an　instrument　of　her　mother's　torture　and　nothing　more。　She　was　a　buffoon；　a　showpiece；　and　no　real　threat　to　anyone　in　House　Baenre　above　the　rank　of　mon　soldier。

　　　Quenthel　was　quite　a　different　matter；　and　in　the　long　interludes　between　Bladen'Kerst's　passing；　Triel's　stern　and　scrutinizing　gaze　never　left　that　one。

　　　And　Quenthel　returned　the　look　with　open　hostility。　She　had　risen　to　the　rank　of　high　priestess　in　record　time　and　was　reputed　to　be　in　Lloth's　highest　favor。　Quenthel　held　no　illusions　about　her　tentative　position；　had　it　not　been　for　that　fact　of　favor；　Triel　would　have　obliterated　her　long　ago。　For　Quenthel　had　made　no　secret　of　her　ambitions；　which　included　the　stepping　stone　as　matron　mistress　of　Arach…Tinilith；　a　position　Triel　had　no　intention　of　abandoning。

　　　〃Sit　down！〃　Matron　Baenre　snapped　finally　at　the　annoying　Bladen'Kerst。　One　of　Baenre's　eyes　was　swollen　shut　and　the　side　of　her　face　still　showed　the　welt　where　she　had　collided　with　the　wall。　She　was　not　used　to　carrying　such　scars；　nor　were　others　used　to　seeing　her　that　way。　Normally　a　spell　of　healing　would　have　cleaned　up　her　face；　but　these　were　not　normal　times。

　　　Bladen'Kerst　stopped　and　stared　hard　at　her　mother；　focusing　on　those　wounds。　They　carried　a　double…edged　signal。　First；　they　showed　that　Baenre's　powers　were　not　as　they　should　be；　that　the　matron　mother；　that　all　of　them；　might　be　very　vulnerable。　Second；　coupled　with　the　scowl　that　perpetually　clouded　the　worried　matron　mother's　features；　those　wounds　reflected　anger。

　　　Anger　overweighed　the　perceived；　and　likely　temporary；　vulnerability；　Bladen'Kerst　wisely　decided；　and　sat　down　in　her　appointed　chair。　Her　hard　boot；　unus