A pity, Bruenor thought, but he remained tactfully quiet.
'With me are—'
'Harkle and Regweld,' Regis interrupted, knowing the two quite well from a previous stay in Longsaddle. 'Well met! And it is good to see that your experiments in crossbreeding a horse and a frog came to fruition.»
'Puddlejumper!' the normally forlorn Regweld happily replied.
That name promised a sight that Regis would like to see!
'I am the daughter of DelRoy,' Bella said rather sharply, eyeing
the halfling squarely. 'Please do not interrupt again, or I shall have to turn you into something Puddlejumper would enjoy eating.»
The sparkle in her good green eye as she regarded Regis, and the similar glint in the halfling's gray orbs, told Regis that the threat was a hollow one. He heeded it anyway, suddenly anxious to keep on Bella's good side. She wasn't five feet tall, the halfling realized, and a bit on the heavy side, somewhat resembling a slightly larger version of Regis himself—except that there was no mistaking her feminine attributes. At least, not for Regis.
'My third companion is Bidderdoo,' Bella went on.
The name sounded curiously familiar to both Bruenor and Regis, and came perfectly clear when Bidderdoo answered the introduction with a bark.
Bruenor groaned; Regis clapped and laughed aloud. When they had gone through Longsaddle, on their way to find Mithril Hall, Bidderdoo, through use of a bad potion, had played the role of the Harpell family dog.
'The transformation is not yet complete,' Bella apologized, and she gave Bidderdoo a quick backhand on the shoulder, reminding him to put his tongue back in his mouth.
Harkle cleared his throat loudly and fidgeted about.
'Of course,' Bruenor said immediately, taking the cue. The dwarf gave a sharp whistle, and one of his attendants came out of a side room, carrying the disembodied eyes, one in each hand. To his credit, the dwarf tried to keep them as steady as possible, and aimed them both in Harkle's direction.
'Oh, it is so good to see myself again!' the wizard exclaimed, and he spun about. Following what he could see, he started for himself, or for his eyes, or for the back wall, actually, and the door he and his companions had already come through. He cried out, 'No, no!' and turned a complete circle, trying to get his bearing, which wasn't an easy thing while viewing himself from across the room.
Bruenor groaned again.
'It is so confusing!' an exasperated Harkle remarked as Reg-weld grabbed him and tried to turn him aright.
'Ah, yes,' the wizard said, and turned back the wrong way once more, heading for the door.
'The other way!' frustrated Regweld cried.
Bruenor grabbed the dwarven attendant and took the eyes,
turning them both to look directly into his own scowling visage.
Harkle screamed.
'Hey!' Bruenor roared. 'Turn around.»
Harkle calmed himself and did as instructed, his body facing Bruenor once more.
Bruenor looked to Regis, snickered, and tossed one of the eyes Harkle's way, then followed it a split second later with the other, snapping his wrist so the thing spun as it soared through the air.
Harkle screamed again and fainted.
Regweld caught one of the eyes; Bidderdoo went for the other with his mouth. Luckily, Bella cut him off. She missed though, and the eye bounced off her arm, fell to the floor, and rolled about.
'That was very naughty, King Dwarf!' the daughter of DelRoy scolded. 'That was…' She couldn't maintain the facade, and was soon laughing, as were her companions (though Bidderdoo's chuckles sounded more like a growl). Regis joined in, and Bruenor, too, but only for a second. The dwarf king could not forget the fact that these bumbling wizards might be his only magical defense against an army of dark elves.
It was not a pleasant thought.
* * * * *
Drizzt was out of Mithril Hall at dawn the next morning. He had seen a campfire on the side of the mountain the night before and knew it was Catti-brie's. He still had not tried calling Guenhwyvar back and resisted the urge now, reminding himself to take on one problem at a time.
The problem now was Catti-brie, or, more specifically, her sword.
He found the young woman as he came around a bend in the path, crossing into the shadow between two large boulders. She was almost directly below him, on a small, flat clearing overlooking the wide, rolling terrain east of Mithril Hall. With the rising sun breaking the horizon directly before her, Drizzt could make out only her silhouette. Her movements were graceful as she walked through a practice dance with her sword, waving it in slow, long lines before and above her. Drizzt rested and watched approvingly of both the grace and perfection of the woman's dance. He had shown her this,
and, as always, Catti-brie had learned well. She could have been his own shadow, Drizzt realized, so perfect and synchronous were her movements.
He let her continue, both because of the importance of this practice and because he enjoyed watching her.
Finally, after nearly twenty minutes, Catti-brie took a deep breath and held her arms out high and wide, reveling in the rising sun.
'Well done,' Drizzt congratulated, walking down to her.
Catti-brie nearly jumped at the sound, and she spun about, a bit embarrassed and annoyed, to see the drow.
'Ye should warn a girl,' she said.
'I came upon you quite by accident,' Drizzt lied, 'but fortunately it would seem.»
'I seen the Harpells go into Mithril Hall yesterday,' Catti-brie replied. 'Have ye speaked with them?'
Drizzt shook his head. 'They are not important right now,' he explained. 'I need only to speak with you.»
It sounded serious. Catti-brie moved to slide her sword into its scabbard, but Drizzt's hand came out, motioning for her to stop.
'I have come for the sword,' he explained.
'Khazid'hea?' Catti-brie asked, surprised.
'What?' asked the even more surprised drow.
'That is its name,' Catti-brie explained, holding the fine blade before her, its razor-sharp edge glowing red once more. 'Khazid'hea.»
Drizzt knew the word, a drow word! It meant 'to cut,' or 'cutter,' and seemed an appropriate name indeed for a blade that could slice through solid stone. But how could Catti-brie know it? the drow wondered, and his face asked the question as plainly as words ever could.
'The sword telled me!' Catti-brie answered.
Drizzt nodded and calmed. He shouldn't have been so surprised—he knew the sword was sentient, after all.
'Khazid'hea,' the drow agreed. He drew Twinkle from its sheath, flipped it over in his hand, and presented it, hilt-first, to Catti-brie.
She stared at the offering blankly, not understanding.
'A fair exchange,' Drizzt explained, 'Twinkle for Khazid'hea.»
'Ye favor the scimitar,' Catti-brie said.
'I will learn to use a scimitar and sword in harmony,' Drizzt replied. 'Accept the exchange. Khazid'hea has begged that I be its wielder, and I will oblige. It is right that the blade and I are joined.»
Catti-brie's look went from surprise to incredulity. She couldn't believe Drizzt would demand this of her! She had spent days— weeks! — alone in the mountains, practicing with this sword, connecting with its unnatural intelligence, trying to establish a bond.
'Have you forgotten our encounter?' Drizzt asked, somewhat cruelly. Catti-brie blushed a deep red. Indeed, she had not forgotten, and never would, and what a fool she felt when she realized how she—or at least how her sword, using her body—had thrown herself at Drizzt.
