she had recognized his approach. 'But the wind is chill.»
'The winter's coming in full,' Catti-brie replied softly, not taking her gaze from the darkened eastern sky.
Drizzt sought a reply, wanted to keep talking. He felt awkward here, strangely so, for never in the years he had known Catti-brie had there been such tension between them. The drow walked over
and crouched beside Catti-brie, but did not look at her, as she did not look at him.
'I'll call Guenhwyvar this night,' Drizzt remarked.
Catti-brie nodded.
Her continued silence caught the drow off guard. His calling of the panther, for the first time since the figurine was repaired, was no small thing. Would the figurine's magic work properly, enabling Guenhwyvar to return to his side? Fret had assured him it would, but Drizzt could not be certain, could not rest easily, until the task was completed and the panther, the healed panther, was back beside him.
It should have been important to Catti-brie as well. She should have cared as much as Drizzt cared, for she and Guenhwyvar were as close as any. Yet she didn't reply, and her silence made Drizzt, anger budding within him, turn to regard her more closely.
He saw tears rimming her blue eyes, tears that washed away Drizzt's anger, that told him that what had happened between himself and Catti-brie had apparently not been so deeply buried. The last time they had met, on this very spot, they had hidden the questions they both wanted to ask behind the energy of a sparring match. Catti-brie's concentration had to be complete on that occasion, and in the days before it, as she fought to master her sword, but now that task was completed. Now, like Drizzt, she had time to think, and in that time, Catti-brie had remembered.
'Ye're knowin' it was the sword?' she asked, almost pleaded.
Drizzt smiled, trying to comfort her. Of course it had been the sentient sword that had inspired her to throw herself at him. Fully the sword, only the sword. But a large part of Drizzt—and possibly of Catti-brie, he thought in looking at her—wished differently. There had been an undeniable tension between them for some time, a complicated situation, and even more so now, after the possession incident with Khazid'hea.
'Ye did right in pushing me away,' Catti-brie said, and she snorted and cleared her throat, hiding a sniffle.
Drizzt paused for a long moment, realizing the potential weight of his reply. 'I pushed you away only because I saw the pommel,' he said, and that drew Catti-brie's attention from the eastern sky, made her look at the drow directly, her deep blue eyes locking with his violet orbs.
'It was the sword,' Drizzt said quietly, 'only the sword.»
Catti-brie didn't blink, barely drew breath. She was thinking how noble this drow had been. So many other men would not have asked questions, would have taken advantage of the situation. And would that have been such a bad thing? the young woman had to ask herself now. Her feelings for Drizzt were deep and real, a bond of friendship and love. Would it have been such a bad thing if he had made love to her in that room?
Yes, she decided, for both of them, because, while it was her body that had been offered, it was Khazid'hea that was in control. Things were awkward enough between them now, but if Drizzt had relented to the feelings that Catti-brie knew he held for her, if he had not been so noble in that strange situation and had given in to the offered temptation, likely neither of them would have been able to look the other in the eye afterward.
Like they were doing now, on a quiet plateau high in the mountains, with a chill and crisp breeze and the stars glowing ever more brightly above them.
'Ye're a good man, Drizzt Do'Urden,' the grateful woman said with a heartfelt smile.
'Hardly a man,' Drizzt replied, chuckling, and glad for the relief of tension.
Only a temporary relief, though. The chuckle and the smile died away almost immediately, leaving them in the same place, the same awkward moment, caught somewhere between romance and fear.
Catti-brie looked back to the sky; Drizzt did likewise.
'Ye know I loved him,' the young woman said.
'You still do,' Drizzt answered, and his smile was genuine when Catti-brie turned back again to regard him.
She turned away almost at once, looked back to the bright stars and thought of Wulfgar.
'You would have married him,' Drizzt went on.
Catti-brie wasn't so sure of that. For all the true love she held for Wulfgar, the barbarian carried around the weight of his heritage and a society that valued women not as partners, but as servants. Wulfgar had climbed above many of the narrow-thinking ways of his tribal people, but as his wedding to Catti-brie approached, he had become more protective of her, to the point of being insulting. That, above anything else, proud and capable Catti- brie could not tolerate.
Her doubts were clear on her face, and Drizzt, who knew her better than anyone, read them easily.
'You would have married him,' he said again, his firm tone forcing Catti-brie to look back to him.
'Wulfgar was no fool,' Drizzt went on.
'Don't ye be blamin' it all on Entreri and the halfling's gem,' Catti-brie warned. After the threat of the drow hunting party had been turned away, after Wulfgar's demise, Drizzt had explained to her, and to Bruenor, who perhaps more than anyone else needed to hear the justification, that Entreri, posing as Regis, had used the hypnotic powers of the ruby pendant on Wulfgar. Yet that theory could not fully explain the barbarian's outrageous behavior, because Wulfgar had started down that path long before Entreri had even arrived at Mithril Hall.
'Surely the gem pushed Wulfgar further,' Drizzt countered.
'Pushed him where he wanted to go.»
'No.' The simple reply, spoken with absolute surety, almost caught Catti-brie off guard. She cocked her head to the side, her thick auburn hair cascading over one shoulder, waiting for the drow to elaborate.
'He was scared,' Drizzt went on. 'Nothing in the world frightened mighty Wulfgar more than the thought of losing his Catti-brie.»
'
Drizzt laughed at her oversensitivity. 'His Catti-brie, as he was your Wulfgar,' he said, and Catti-brie's smirk fell away as fully as her trap of words.
'He loved you,' Drizzt went on, 'with all his heart.' He paused, but Catti-brie had nothing to say, just sat very still, very quiet, hearing his every word. 'He loved you, and that love made him feel vulnerable, and frightened him. Nothing anyone could do to Wulfgar, not torture, not battle, not even death, frightened him, but the slightest scratch on Catti-brie would burn like a hot dagger in his heart.
'So he acted the part of the fool for a short while before you were to be wed,' Drizzt said. 'The very next time you saw battle, your own strength and independence would have held a mirror up to Wulfgar, would have shown him his error. Unlike so many of his proud people, unlike Berkthgar, Wulfgar admitted his mistakes and
never made them again.»
As she listened to the words of her wise friend, Catti-brie remembered exactly that incident, the battle in which Wulfgar had been killed. Those very fears for Catti-brie had played a large part in the barbarian's death, but before he was taken from her, he had looked into her eyes and had indeed realized what his foolishness had cost him, had cost them both.
Catti-brie had to believe that now, recalling the scene in light of the drow's words. She had to believe that her love for Wulfgar had been real, very real, and not misplaced, that he was all she had thought him to be.
Now she could. For the first time since Wulfgar's death, Catti-brie could remember him without the pangs of guilt, without the fears that, had he lived, she would not have married him. Because Drizzt was right; Wulfgar would have admitted the error despite his pride, and he would have grown, as he always had before. That was the finest quality of the man, an almost childlike quality, that viewed the world and his own life as getting better, as moving toward a better way in a better place.
What followed was the most sincere smile on Catti-brie's face in many, many months. She felt suddenly free, suddenly complete with her past, reconciled and able to move forward with her life.
She looked at the drow, wide-eyed, with a curiosity that seemed to surprise Drizzt. She could go on, but exactly what did that mean?
Slowly, Catti-brie began shaking her head, and Drizzt came to understand that the movement had something to do with him. He lifted a slender hand and brushed some stray hair back from her cheek, his ebony skin
