assistance as a sister of the Lady of Silverymoon.”
The mayor and the rest of the visiting farmers departed, leaving Bartholemew, his father, Markhe, and Connor alone in the Thistledown kitchen.
“Wasn’t no goblin or wood elf,” Connor said in a low tone that hinted at both anger and embarrassment.
Bartholemew patted his son on the back, never doubting him.
Up in a cave in the mountains, Ulgulu and Kempfana, too, spent a night of worry over the appearance of a dark elf.
“If he’s a drow, then he’s an experienced adventurer,” Kempfana offered to his larger brother. “Experienced enough, perhaps, to send Ulgulu into maturity.”
“And back to Gehenna!” Ulgulu finished for his conniving brother. “You do so dearly desire to see me depart.”
“You, too, hope for the day when you may return to the smoking rifts,” Kempfana reminded him.
Ulgulu snarled and did not reply. The appearance of a dark elf prompted many considerations and fears beyond Kempfana’s simple statement of logic. The barghests, like all intelligent creatures on nearly every plane of existence, knew of the drow and maintained a healthy respect for the race. While one drow might not be too much of a problem, Ulgulu knew that a dark elf war party, perhaps even an army, could prove disastrous. The whelps were not invulnerable. The human village had provided easy pickings for the barghest whelps and might continue to do so for some time if Ulgulu and Kempfana were careful about their attacks. But if a band of dark elves showed up, those easy kills could disappear quite suddenly.
“This drow must be dealt with,” Kempfana remarked. “If he is a scout, then he must not return to report.”
Ulgulu snapped a cold glare on his brother, then called to his quickling. “Tephanis,” he cried, and the quickling was upon his shoulder before he had even finished the word.
“You-need-me-to-go-and-kill-the-drow, my-master,” the quick-ling replied. “I-understand-what-you-need-me-to-do!”
“No!” Ulgulu shouted immediately, sensing that the quickling intended to go right out. Tephanis was halfway to the door by the time Ulgulu finished the syllable, but the quickling returned to Ulgulu’s shoulder before the last note of the shout had died away.
“No,” Ulgulu said again, more easily. “There may be a gain in the drow’s appearance.”
Kempfana read Ulgulu’s evil grin and understood his brother’s intent. “A new enemy for the townspeople,” the smaller whelp reasoned. “A new enemy to cover Ulgulu’s murders?”
“All things can be turned to advantage,” the big, purple-skinned barghest replied wickedly, “even the appearance of a dark elf.” Ulgulu turned back to Tephanis.
“You-wish-to-learn-more-of-the-drow, my-master,” Tephanis spouted excitedly.
“Is he alone?” Ulgulu asked. “Is he a forward scout to a larger group, as we fear, or a lone warrior? What are his intentions toward the townspeople?”
“He-could-have-killed-the-children,” Tephanis reiterated. “I-guess-him-to-desire-friendship.”
“I know,” Ulgulu snarled. “You have made those points before. Go now and learn more! I need more than your guess, Tephanis, and by all accounts, a drow’s actions rarely hint at his true intent!”
Tephanis skipped down from Ulgulu’s shoulder and paused, expecting further instructions.
“Indeed, dear Tephanis,” Ulgulu purred. “Do see if you canappropriate one of the drow’s weapons for me. It would prove usef—” Ulgulu stopped when he noticed the flutter in the heavy curtain blocking the entry room.
“An excitable little sprite,” Kempfana noted.
“But with his uses,” Ulgulu replied, and Kempfana had to nod in agreement.
Drizzt saw them coming from a mile away. Ten armed farmers followed the young man he had met in the blueberry patch on the previous day. Though they talked and joked, the set of their stride was determined and their weapons were prominently displayed, obviously
The mayor and the rest of the visiting farmers departed, leaving Bartholemew, his father, Markhe, and Connor alone in the Thistledown kitchen.
“Wasn’t no goblin or wood elf,” Connor said in a low tone that hinted at both anger and embarrassment.
Bartholemew patted his son on the back, never doubting him.
Up in a cave in the mountains, Ulgulu and Kempfana, too, spent a night of worry over the appearance of a dark elf.
“If he’s a drow, then he’s an experienced adventurer,” Kempfana offered to his larger brother. “Experienced enough, perhaps, to send Ulgulu into maturity.”
“And back to Gehenna!” Ulgulu finished for his conniving brother. “You do so dearly desire to see me depart.”
“You, too, hope for the day when you may return to the smoking rifts,” Kempfana reminded him.
Ulgulu snarled and did not reply. The appearance of a dark elf prompted many considerations and fears beyond Kempfana’s simple statement of logic. The barghests, like all intelligent creatures on nearly every plane of existence, knew of the drow and maintained a healthy respect for the race. While one drow might not be too much of a problem, Ulgulu knew that a dark elf war party, perhaps even an army, could prove disastrous. The whelps were not invulnerable. The human village had provided easy pickings for the barghest whelps and might continue to do so for some time if Ulgulu and Kempfana were careful about their attacks. But if a band of dark elves showed up, those easy kills could disappear quite suddenly.
“This drow must be dealt with,” Kempfana remarked. “If he is a scout, then he must not return to report.”
Ulgulu snapped a cold glare on his brother, then called to his quickling. “Tephanis,” he cried, and the quickling was upon his shoulder before he had even finished the word.
“You-need-me-to-go-and-kill-the-drow, my-master,” the quick-ling replied. “I-understand-what-you-need-me-to-do!”
“No!” Ulgulu shouted immediately, sensing that the quickling intended to go right out. Tephanis was halfway to the door by the time Ulgulu finished the syllable, but the quickling returned to Ulgulu’s shoulder before the last note of the shout had died away.
“No,” Ulgulu said again, more easily. “There may be a gain in the drow’s appearance.”
Kempfana read Ulgulu’s evil grin and understood his brother’s intent. “A new enemy for the townspeople,” the smaller whelp reasoned. “A new enemy to cover Ulgulu’s murders?”
“All things can be turned to advantage,” the big, purple-skinned barghest replied wickedly, “even the appearance of a dark elf.” Ulgulu turned back to Tephanis.
“You-wish-to-learn-more-of-the-drow, my-master,” Tephanis spouted excitedly.
“Is he alone?” Ulgulu asked. “Is he a forward scout to a larger group, as we fear, or a lone warrior? What are his intentions toward the townspeople?”
“He-could-have-killed-the-children,” Tephanis reiterated. “I-guess-him-to-desire-friendship.”
“I know,” Ulgulu snarled. “You have made those points before. Go now and learn more! I need more than your guess, Tephanis, and by all accounts, a drow’s actions rarely hint at his true intent!”
Tephanis skipped down from Ulgulu’s shoulder and paused, expecting further instructions.
“Indeed, dear Tephanis,” Ulgulu purred. “Do see if you canappropriate one of the drow’s weapons for me. It would prove usef—” Ulgulu stopped when he noticed the flutter in the heavy curtain blocking the entry room.
“An excitable little sprite,” Kempfana noted.
“But with his uses,” Ulgulu replied, and Kempfana had to nod in agreement.
Drizzt saw them coming from a mile away. Ten armed farmers followed the young man he had met in the blueberry patch on the previous day. Though they talked and joked, the set of their stride was determined and their weapons were prominently displayed, obviously
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