Zak pushed back the hood of the ragged robe he had donned over his piwafwi. He glanced in either direction down the corridor, but there was no one in sight.

It had been easy enough to gain entrance to House Do'Urden by posing as a beggar. No one was turned away on the Festival of the Founding. Once inside, Zak had used his intimate knowledge of the compound to slip away. He had gone first to his old chamber, to retrieve his swords. Then he had begun his search.

Opening his hand, Zak glanced at the glowing spiderjewel. At first he had been shocked when the arachnid had led him here, to House Do'Urden. Someone here had retrieved the Dagger of Menzoberra. Zak did not know how this could be, yet it was. He could only hope the relic was not yet in Malice's hands, or he would have no chance of regaining her favor. With silent speed, he moved down the corridor.

Soon the sounds of revelry reached his ears. The feast hall was near. And by the gleaming of the spiderjewel's ruby, so was the Dagger. Zak moved through an archway and pressed himself into the concealment of a heat shadow. A figure came into view, walking down the corridor, face hidden by a tray heaped with dishes. The enchanted arachnid spun in agitation.

This is the one, Zak realized. This is the one who has taken the Dagger. He thrust the spiderjewel into his pocket and gripped the hilts of his two swords.

He waited until his quarry was near, then leapt out, tripping. With a loud crash of breaking crockery, the tray struck the floor. Zak thrust his swords down in a crossed position, thinking to trap his quarry against the floor by the neck, but the blades bit only stone, not flesh. His foe was more wily than he had guessed. In the chaos, the other had rolled to the side and was even now trying to crawl past Zak's legs. Fast as his quarry was, Zak was still a weapons master. Before his prey could wriggle away again, Zak lashed out a boot, pinning his enemy in a p.r.o.ne position. He lowered his sword until the tip bit into the skin of the other's neck. At this, all wriggling stopped.

"Turn over," Zak ordered. "Let me see your face. But do it slowly, or you'll lose your head in the process."

The other rolled over. Zak raised an eyebrow in surprise. This was hardly the foe he had expected.

"h.e.l.lo, Master Zaknafein," Drizzt Do'Urden said in a polite voice.

Despite himself, a chuckle rose in Zak's throat. The boy was a good fighter, and even though he had been defeated, there was no fear in his eyes. The young drow had spirit. More's the pity, Zak thought, for it would only be ground out of him in the years ahead. But right now, Zak had other matters with which to concern himself. He hauled Drizzt to his feet and flipped back the boy's piwafwi. Tucked into Drizzt's belt was an ornate knife, a large purple gem winking in its hilt. The spiderjewel had not erred.

Zak gave the boy a sharp stare. "Tell me how you came by this. Now."

Drizzt nodded in quick compliance. In even tones, he told of stumbling on the treasure room and the scrying bowl, and how he had reached into the water to grasp the relic. Zak listened in growing amazement. He did not doubt the boy's words. It was clear he was no liar- another trait that would cause him trouble in the dark world of the drow.

"Are you angry with me, Master Zaknafein?" Drizzt asked when he had finished.

Zak did not know how to answer that one. For some reason, he wished to rea.s.sure the boy. Impossible as it seemed-this was one of Rizzen's scions, after all- Drizzt reminded Zak of himself. He knelt and started to tell the boy that everything was going to work out now.

That was when he heard the chittering. Zak jerked his head up. A cold edge of dread sliced into his gut. He had forgotten about the jade spiders.Two ma.s.sive forms scuttled toward them, green and glistening, smooth stone made animate. The function of the house's jade spiders was to protect the compound against intruders. By attacking a scion of the house, Zak had made himself an intruder, and he had seen what jade spiders did to intruders.

Usually there wasn't enough remaining to even identify the victim's race.

Smooth legs clicking against the stone floor, the jade spiders approached.

"What's happening?" Drizzt asked, glancing in confusion at the magical monsters. "Why are the jade spiders attacking us?"

"They're not attacking us," Zak growled. "It's me they're after. Now get back." He drew his swords, one in each hand.

A grim light flashed in the boy's strange purple eyes. "No, I'm going to help you."

Zak stared in astonishment, then shook his head. He started to tell the young drow to get back, but it was too late. The chitinous clicking sound crescendoed as the jade spiders attacked.

The weapons master was ready for them. His two blades formed a whirling barrier before him. The spiders reached out only to have their barbed legs beaten back. However, the swords did nothing more than keep the spiders at bay. Even the adamant.i.te blades could not bite through enchanted stone. Zak continued to swing his swords in a dizzying pattern, fending off the spiders, but step by step, he lost ground, inching back toward the open archway.

He heard the chittering behind him almost too late. A third jade spider approached from the rear. He glanced over his shoulder to see it lumber through the archway, right toward Drizzt. In its attempt to get at Zak it would kill the boy. "Drizzt, run!" he shouted.

But the boy held his ground. He gripped the Dagger of Menzoberra in one hand, and with the other scooped up a carving knife from among the broken crockery on the floor. With an intent look, he waved the blades at the spider. His motions were wild and ineffectual, and the spider batted the knives aside, opening its pincers, ready to sink them into the boy's flesh. Zak tried to break away from the other spiders but could not disengage. The third spider lunged toward Drizzt for the killing blow.

It happened with such speed Zak almost didn't believe his eyes. Face grim with determination, Drizzt thrust out both knives in a distinctive position: one high, one low, both slightly offset. The higher knife descended even as the lower knife rose, catching one of the spider's hooked mandibles between them.

As the two contacted, the Dagger of Menzoberra flashed with violet radiance.

The stone mandible shattered to dust. The jade spider reared back, emitting a piercing wail of pain.

So amazed was Zak that he nearly let down his guard. A leg swiped at him, and he renewed his onslaught even as he glanced again at Drizzt. The motion had been crude and clumsy, but there could be no doubt. It was the torque vise.

Zak had performed the move a thousand times himself on his enemies. But it was his signature trick. He had never taught it to another. How was it that this young boy seemed to have known by instinct just how to perform it?

Then the truth hit Zak. Of course. Why had he not seen it before? Drizzt's spirit, his instinctive skill with weapons, the light of defiance in his strange lavender eyes . . . Malice had lied to him eleven years ago. This was no child of Rizzen's.

"My son . . ." Zak breathed in wonder.

The third jade spider was recovering. Even a blow from the Dagger of Menzoberra had not been enough to keep it at bay for long. Drizzt had the instinct of a fighter, but he lacked the experience. That first blow had been lucky. The second might not be.

Zak launched a furious attack at the jade spiders, driving them back for a moment. He jerked open the door of a side chamber and pushed a surprised Drizzt inside.

"Lock the door, Drizzt!" he shouted. "And don't open it until I tell you!"

Drizzt shook his head in protest. "But I want to help you fight!"

This was no time to be soft with the boy. "That's an order!" Zak snarled. "Doit!"

Drizzt hung his head, his expression wounded, then nodded, shutting the door to the side chamber. Zak waited to hear the heavy lock slide into place.

Satisfied, he turned to engage his foes. The three jade spiders had recovered and scuttled toward him as one. A fierce grin spread across Zak's dusky visage as he raised his swords. He had something to fight for now.

"Come on, you magical vermin," he growled, and the jade spiders did.

Chapter Twelve.

Dagger Bearer.

"h.e.l.lo, Drizzt Do'Urden," spoke a sultry voice.

Gasping in surprise, Drizzt spun around. At first the small storeroom appeared empty. Then the shadows unfolded before him. He blinked and found he was not alone after all.

She was the most beautiful drow lady he had ever seen. Her skin was as dark as onyx and as radiant as faerie fire, and her bone-white hair fell over her smooth shoulders in a single l.u.s.trous wave. She was clad in a trailing gown of what seemed thick black velvet. Her deep red lips parted in a small smile, revealing pearl-white teeth. Most remarkable of all were her eyes. They were purple, just like Drizzt's own.

m.u.f.fled but clear, Drizzt heard the sounds of battle outside the door. "I should be out there, helping him," he protested. "I'm going to be a warrior one day, you know."

The lady laughed-clear water on dark stone. "Oh, yes. I know. But your place right now is here, Dagger Bearer."

Drizzt gazed at the ornate dagger in his grip. Its purple gem winked back like a secret eye. He looked up at the lady.

"How do you know me?" he demanded.

"I know many things," she replied. A breath of wind seemed to ripple the fabric of her gown, but Drizzt had felt no breeze. With a start he realized the truth. It was her dress itself that was moving. The gown was not fashioned of black velvet, but of tiny spiders, each clinging to another, weaving a living fabric.

Drizzt licked his lips. "I'm not. . . I'm not afraid of spiders, you know."

"Truly?" Her smile deepened, a perilous expression. "Then come closer, child."

The lady in the dress of spiders raised a slender arm, beckoning him, and Drizzt could not resist her power.

Chapter Thirteen.

The Favor of Lloth.

Matron Malice strode down the corridor toward the sounds of commotion, furious someone had dared disturb her celebration. Curious-or hoping to see blood-much of the feasting party followed in her wake, including, to her chagrin, Matron Baenre. Malice could only hope whatever she found would not embarra.s.s her in front of the powerful matron of Menzoberranzan's First House.

Her hopes were dashed when she rounded a corner and took in the scene before her. A mixture of emotions crashed through Malice: astonishment, rage, and an inexplicable feeling of... exultation The three jade spiders had him cornered. One of his swords had been knocked from his hand, and the other was broken a foot from the hilt. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. One jade spider he could have handled with ease, two with difficulty. But even for him, three was too much. They closed in for the kill.

"Is that not your weapons master, Matron Malice?" a voice croaked in her ear.

Matron Baenre.

Malice shook her head in confusion. "No . . . yes. I mean ... he was, but I...".

"Make up your mind, Sister," Baenre crooned in a mocking voice.

Anger cleared Malice's clouded mind. She would not be made a fool in her own house. Not by her intractable weapons master. Not even by Matron Baenreherself. She raised her voice in command. "Stop!"

At once the jade spiders heeded her order. The ensorcelled creatures retreated, then folded themselves up, inanimate stone once more. Zaknafein leaned against the wall, chest heaving, clutching a small wound in his side.

Briza's jaw dropped at the sight of the condemned weapons master, but for once she remembered to keep silent, as did the other members of the household. All held their breath as Malice approached him.

"How?" Her voice was flint: cool, hard, with a spark to its edge. "How did you survive the ceremony of transformation in the Cavern of the Lost?"

A roguish gleam touched Zaknafein's eyes. He bared his b.l.o.o.d.y teeth in a sardonic grin. "What can I say? Lloth's favor shone upon me."

It was a lie. They both knew it. But Malice did not dare probe deeper. He would only defy her, and she did not wish to reveal her lack of control over him in front of Matron Baenre. No one should have to suffer such a willful male. Whatever feelings for Zaknafein still burned in her heart, they were eclipsed at that moment by the dark blot of her outrage.

"If you are so favored by Lloth, you will be glad if I send you to her side in the Abyss!" Malice cried. She plucked a spider-shaped dagger from between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and held it aloft.

To her astonishment, Zak did not resist. "As you wish, Matron Mother." He bowed his head before her, presenting her with his bare neck.

Malice hesitated, regarding the weapons master in suspicion. What was Zaknafein up to?

"It is your right to take my life," Zak went on. "Of course, I do happen to know where the Dagger of Menzoberra is at this very moment."

Malice drew in a hissing breath. So that was his game. Well, she would not be taken in by his trickery. "Prove it," she snapped. "Or die."

"Very well."

Zak stood and opened a side door. All gasped as a small form stumbled out, lavender eyes vague and distant.

"Drizzt?" Malice snarled at this increasingly bizarre charade. "What does the boy have to do with this?"

Zak placed a hand on the young drow's shoulder. "Show them, Drizzt. Show them the Dagger."

The boy blinked, his violet gaze coming into focus. A shiver pa.s.sed through him. "I can't, Master Zaknafein. I don't have it anymore."

"What?" Zak cried. A look of horror racked his face. He gripped the boy's shoulders in desperation. "But what happened to it?"

Drizzt frowned, as if finding it difficult to recall just what had occurred.

"It was a lady. In the antechamber. She took the Dagger from me."

Zak gave the boy a rough shake. "Who? Who was it who took it from you? One of your sisters?"

Drizzt winced in pain, shaking his head. "No. No, I don't know who she was.

I've never seen her before. But now she's gone."

Zak released the boy, shoulders slumping in defeat. Malice pressed the spider-shaped blade against the weapons master's neck. "You have lost, Zaknafein," she spat. "Whatever subterfuge you arranged to trick me, it has failed. You escaped your doom once. You will not do so again."

"Wait a moment, Matron Malice. The spider is swift in dispatching its prey, but it is never hasty."

Malice hesitated, holding the knife against the taut skin of Zaknafein's throat. She watched in surprise as, with stiff movements, Matron Baenre approached the boy Drizzt. The ancient drow reached out a gnarled hand, cupping his chin, raising his strange lavender gaze to hers.

"Tell me more of this lady to whom you spoke, boy." Drizzt squirmed under the crone's glare but could not escape her pincerlike grip. He gasped the words.

"I already said, Matron Baenre, I don't know who she was."

"Oh? Then why did you give her the Dagger?" Drizzt bit his lip, as if puzzled himself. "She . . . she told me that I should give her the Dagger, that Matron Mother Malice would be glad if I did. Somehow, when she said it, it all madesense."

Malice could stand it no longer. All her carefully laid plans had been cast into ruin. These males had made an utter mockery of her. House Do'Urden would not gain station this day, but lose it. She would never gain a seat on Menzoberranzan's ruling council now. "Liar!" she shrieked, moving away from Zak to turn the knife on the boy.

"No, Matron Malice, the child does not lie," Baenre rasped in annoyance. "See?

The truth is written across his face." She waved a stunned Malice back, and returned her piercing gaze to Drizzt. "Tell me, boy. What did this lady look like?"

A look of awe crossed Drizzt's face. "She was beautiful, the most beautiful lady I've ever seen. Only her dress. It was ... it was made of spiders."

At this, a gasp of shock ran through the gathered drow. Matron Baenre nodded, as if this confirmed some suspicion.

Drizzt blinked, his expression of wonder gone, replaced by trepidation. "Did I do something wrong, Matron Baenre?"