side.
She stopped moving, and Drizzt did likewise, turning to regard her.
'Guenhwyvar?' she silently mouthed, referring to Drizzt's feline friend, a loyal panther that the drow could summon from the Astral Plane.
Drizzt considered the suggestion for a moment. He tried not to summon Guenhwyvar too often now, knowing there might soon be a time when the panther would be needed often. There were limits on the magic; Guenhwyvar could only remain on the Material Plane for half a day out of every two.
Not yet, Drizzt decided. Bruenor had not indicated what Regis might be doing down here, but the dwarf had given no hint that there might be danger. The drow shook his head slightly, and the two moved on, silent and sure.
A third crash came, followed by a groan.
'Yer head, ye durned fool!' came a sharp scolding. 'Ye gots to use yer stinkin' head!'
Drizzt and Catti-brie straightened immediately and relaxed their grips on their weapons. 'Pwent,' they said together, referring to Thibbledorf Pwent, the outrageous battlerager, the most obnoxious and bad-smelling dwarf south of the Spine of the World (and probably north of it, as well).
'Next ye'll be wantin' to wear a stinkin' helmet!' the tirade continued.
Around the next bend, the two companions came to a fork in the corridor. To the left, Pwent continued roaring in outrage; to the right was a door with torchlight showing through its many cracks. Drizzt cocked his head, catching a slight and familiar chuckle that way.
He motioned for Catti-brie to follow and went through the door without knocking. Regis stood alone inside, leaning on a crank near the left-hand wall. The halfling's smile lit up when he saw his friends, and he waved one hand high to them—relatively high, for
Regis was small, even by halfling standards, his curly brown hair barely topping three feet. He had an ample belly, though it seemed to be shrinking of late, as even the lazy halfling took seriously the threat to this place that had become his home.
He put a finger over pursed lips as Drizzt and Catti-brie approached, and he pointed to the «door» before him. It didn't take either of the companions long to understand what was transpiring. The crank next to Regis operated a sheet of heavy metal that ran along runners above and to the side of the door. The wood of the door could hardly be seen now, for the plate was in place right before it.
'Go!' came a thunderous command from the other side, followed by charging footsteps and a grunting roar, then a tremendous explosion as the barreling dwarf hit, and of course bounced off, the barricaded portal.
'Battlerager training,' Regis calmly explained.
Catti-brie gave Drizzt a sour look, remembering what her father had told her of Pwent's plans. 'The Gutbuster Brigade,' she remarked, and Drizzt nodded, for Bruenor had told him, too, that Thibbledorf Pwent meant to train a group of dwarves in the not-so-subtle art of battleraging, his personal Gutbuster Brigade, highly motivated, skilled in frenzy, and not too smart.
Another dwarf hit the barricaded door, probably headfirst, and Drizzt understood how Pwent meant to facilitate the third of his three requirements for his soldiers.
Catti-brie shook her head and sighed. She did not doubt the military value of the brigade—Pwent could outfight anyone in Mithril Hall, except for Drizzt and maybe Bruenor, but the notion of a bunch of little Thibbledorf Pwents running around surely turned her stomach!
Behind the door, Pwent was thoroughly scolding his troops, calling them every dwarven curse name, more than a few that Catti-brie, who had lived among the clan for more than a score of years, had never heard, and more than a few that Pwent seemed to be making up on the spot, such as 'mule-kissin', flea-sniffin', water-drinkin', who- thinks-ye-squeeze-the-durned-cow-to-get-the-durned-milk, lumps o' sandstone.»
'Wo are off to Settlestone,' Drizzt explained to Regis, the drow suddenly anxious to be out of there. 'Berkthgar is being difficult.»
Regis nodded. 'I was there when he told Bruenor he wanted the warhammer.' The halfling's cherubic face turned up into one of his common, wistful smiles. 'I truly believed Bruenor would cleave him down the middle!'
'We're needing Berkthgar,' Catti-brie reminded the halfling,
Regis pooh-poohed that thought away. 'Bluffing,' he insisted. 'Berkthgar needs us, and his people would not take kindly to his turning his back on the dwarves who have been so good to his folk.»
'Bruenor would not really kill him,' Drizzt said, somewhat unconvincingly. All three friends paused and looked to each other, each considering the tough dwarf king, the old and fiery Bruenor returned. They thought of Aegis- fang, the most beautiful of weapons, the flanks of its gleaming mithril head inscribed with the sacred runes of the dwarven gods. One side was cut with the hammer and anvil of Moradin the Soulforger, the other with the crossed axes of Clanggedon, dwarven god of battle, and both were covered perfectly by the carving of the gem within the mountain, the symbol of Dumathoin, the Keeper of Secrets. Bruenor had been among the best of the dwarven smiths, but after Aegis-fang, that pinnacle of creative triumph, he had rarely bothered to return to his forge.
They thought of Aegis-fang, and they thought of Wulfgar, who had been like Bruenor's son, the tall, fair- haired youth for whom Bruenor had made the mighty hammer.
'Bruenor
Drizzt started to speak, but Regis stopped him by holding up a finger.
'… now get yer head lower!' Pwent was barking on the other side of the door. Regis nodded and smiled and motioned for Drizzt to continue.
'We thought you might—'
Another crash sounded, then another groan, followed by the flapping of dwarven lips as the fallen would-be battlerager shook his head vigorously.
'Good recovery!' Pwent congratulated.
'We thought you might accompany us,' Drizzt said, ignoring Catti-brie's sigh of disgust.
Regis thought about it for a moment. The halfling would have liked to get out of the mines and stretch in the sunshine once more,
though the summer was all but over and the autumn chill already began to nip the air.
'I have to stay,' the unusually dedicated halfling remarked. 'I've much to do.»
Both Drizzt and Catti-brie nodded. Regis had changed over the last few months, during the time of crisis. When Drizzt and Catti-brie had gone to Menzoberranzan—Drizzt to end the threat to Mithril Hall, Catti-brie to find Drizzt—Regis had taken command to spur grieving Bruenor into preparing for war. Regis, who had spent most of his life finding the softest couch to lie upon, had impressed even the toughest dwarf generals, even Thibbledorf Pwent, with his fire and energy. Now the halfling would have loved to go, both of them knew, but he remained true to his mission.
Drizzt looked hard at Regis, trying to find the best way to make his request. To his surprise, the halfling saw it coming, and immediately Regis's hands went to the chain about his neck. He lifted the ruby pendant over his head and casually tossed it to Drizzt.
Another testament to the halfling's growth, Drizzt knew, as he stared down at the sparkling ruby affixed to the chain. This was the halfling's most precious possession, a powerful charm Regis had stolen from his old guild master in far-off Calimport. The halfling had guarded it, coveted it, like a mother lion with a single cub, at least until this point.
Drizzt continued to look at the ruby, felt himself drawn by its multiple facets, spiraling down to depths that promised…
The drow shook his head and forced himself to look away. Even without one to command it, the enchanted ruby had reached out for him! Never had he witnessed such a powerful charm. And yet, Jarlaxle, the mercenary, had given it back to him, had willingly swapped it when they had met in the tunnels outside Menzoberranzan after Drizzt's escape. It was unexpected and important that Jarlaxle had given it back to Drizzt, but what the significance might be, Drizzt had not yet discerned.
'You should be careful before using that on Berkthgar,' Regis said, drawing Drizzt from his thoughts. 'He is proud, and if he figures out that sorcery was used against him, the alliance may indeed be dissolved.»
'True enough,' Catti-brie agreed. She looked to Drizzt.
'Only if we need it,' the drow remarked, looping the chain
