Do’Urden.” He looked at the emblem the svirfneblin held, stamped with the insignia of his family, and tried to explain. “Daermon N’a’shezbaernon.”
The deep gnome turned to his comrades, who began talking all at once. One of them nodded excitedly, apparently recognizing the drow house’s ancient name, which surprised Drizzt.
The deep gnome who had been questioning Drizzt tapped his fingers over his wrinkled lips, making annoying little smacking sounds while he contemplating the interrogation’s direction. “By all of our information, House Do’Urden survives,” he remarked casually, noting Drizzt’s reactions. When Drizzt did not immediately respond, the deep gnome snapped at him accusingly, “You are no rogue!”
How could the svirfnebli know that? Drizzt wondered. “I am a rogue by choice …” he started to explain.
“Ah, dark elf,” the deep gnome replied, again calmly. “You are here by choice, that much I can believe. But a rogue? By thestones, dark elf—” the deep gnome’s face contorted suddenly and fearfully—“you are a spy!” Then, suddenly, the deep gnome once again calmed and relaxed into a comfortable posture.
Drizzt eyed him carefully. Was this svirfneblin adept at such abrupt attitude changes, designed to keep a prisoner off guard? Or was such unpredictability the norm for this race? Drizzt struggled with it for a moment, trying to remember his one previous encounter with deep gnomes. But then his questioner reached into an impossibly deep pocket in his thick robes and produced a familiar figurine.
“Tell me, now tell me true, dark elf, and spare yourself much torment. What is this?” the deep gnome asked quietly.
Drizzt felt his muscles twitching again. The hunter wanted to call to Guenhwyvar, to bring the panther in so that it could tear these wrinkled old svirfnebli apart. One of them might hold the keys to Drizzt’s chains—then he would be free …
Drizzt shook the thoughts from his head and drove the hunter out of his mind. He knew the desperation of his situation and had known it from the moment he had decided to come to Blingdenstone. If the svirfnebli truly believed him a spy, they surely would execute him. Even if they were not certain of his intent, could they dare to keep him alive?
“It was folly to come here,” Drizzt whispered under his breath, realizing the dilemma he had placed upon himself and upon the deep gnomes. The hunter tried to get back into his thoughts. A single word, and the panther would appear.
“No!” Drizzt cried for the second time that day, dismissing that darker side of himself. The deep gnomes jumped back, fearing that the drow was casting a spell. A dart nicked into Drizzt’s chest, releasing a puff of gas on impact.
Drizzt swooned as the gas filled his nostrils. He heard the svirfnebli shuffling about him, discussing his fate in their foreigntongue. He saw the form of one, only a shadow, close in on him and grasp at his fingers, searching his hands for possible magical components.
When Drizzt’s thoughts and vision had at last cleared, all was as it had been. The onyx figurine came up before his eyes. “What is this?” the same deep gnome asked him again, this time a bit more insistently.
“A companion,” Drizzt whispered. “My only friend.” Drizzt thought hard about his next actions for a long moment. He really couldn’t blame the svirfnebli if they killed him, and Guenhwyvar should be more than a statuette adorning some unknowing deep gnome’s mantle.
“Its name is Guenhwyvar,” Drizzt explained to the deep gnome. “Call to the panther and it will come, an ally and friend. Keep it safe, for it is very precious and very powerful.”
The svirfneblin looked to the figurine and then back to Drizzt, curiously and cautiously. He handed the figurine to one of his companions and sent him out of the room with it, not trusting the drow. If the drow had spoken truly, and the deep gnome did not doubt that he had,
The deep gnome turned to his comrades, who began talking all at once. One of them nodded excitedly, apparently recognizing the drow house’s ancient name, which surprised Drizzt.
The deep gnome who had been questioning Drizzt tapped his fingers over his wrinkled lips, making annoying little smacking sounds while he contemplating the interrogation’s direction. “By all of our information, House Do’Urden survives,” he remarked casually, noting Drizzt’s reactions. When Drizzt did not immediately respond, the deep gnome snapped at him accusingly, “You are no rogue!”
How could the svirfnebli know that? Drizzt wondered. “I am a rogue by choice …” he started to explain.
“Ah, dark elf,” the deep gnome replied, again calmly. “You are here by choice, that much I can believe. But a rogue? By thestones, dark elf—” the deep gnome’s face contorted suddenly and fearfully—“you are a spy!” Then, suddenly, the deep gnome once again calmed and relaxed into a comfortable posture.
Drizzt eyed him carefully. Was this svirfneblin adept at such abrupt attitude changes, designed to keep a prisoner off guard? Or was such unpredictability the norm for this race? Drizzt struggled with it for a moment, trying to remember his one previous encounter with deep gnomes. But then his questioner reached into an impossibly deep pocket in his thick robes and produced a familiar figurine.
“Tell me, now tell me true, dark elf, and spare yourself much torment. What is this?” the deep gnome asked quietly.
Drizzt felt his muscles twitching again. The hunter wanted to call to Guenhwyvar, to bring the panther in so that it could tear these wrinkled old svirfnebli apart. One of them might hold the keys to Drizzt’s chains—then he would be free …
Drizzt shook the thoughts from his head and drove the hunter out of his mind. He knew the desperation of his situation and had known it from the moment he had decided to come to Blingdenstone. If the svirfnebli truly believed him a spy, they surely would execute him. Even if they were not certain of his intent, could they dare to keep him alive?
“It was folly to come here,” Drizzt whispered under his breath, realizing the dilemma he had placed upon himself and upon the deep gnomes. The hunter tried to get back into his thoughts. A single word, and the panther would appear.
“No!” Drizzt cried for the second time that day, dismissing that darker side of himself. The deep gnomes jumped back, fearing that the drow was casting a spell. A dart nicked into Drizzt’s chest, releasing a puff of gas on impact.
Drizzt swooned as the gas filled his nostrils. He heard the svirfnebli shuffling about him, discussing his fate in their foreigntongue. He saw the form of one, only a shadow, close in on him and grasp at his fingers, searching his hands for possible magical components.
When Drizzt’s thoughts and vision had at last cleared, all was as it had been. The onyx figurine came up before his eyes. “What is this?” the same deep gnome asked him again, this time a bit more insistently.
“A companion,” Drizzt whispered. “My only friend.” Drizzt thought hard about his next actions for a long moment. He really couldn’t blame the svirfnebli if they killed him, and Guenhwyvar should be more than a statuette adorning some unknowing deep gnome’s mantle.
“Its name is Guenhwyvar,” Drizzt explained to the deep gnome. “Call to the panther and it will come, an ally and friend. Keep it safe, for it is very precious and very powerful.”
The svirfneblin looked to the figurine and then back to Drizzt, curiously and cautiously. He handed the figurine to one of his companions and sent him out of the room with it, not trusting the drow. If the drow had spoken truly, and the deep gnome did not doubt that he had,
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