it back or at least want it out of Catti-brie's possession, for it seems the two had somewhat of a rivalry growing concerning the affections of the rogue Drizzt Do'Urden.'
Both the others crinkled their faces in disgust at the thought that any drow so beautiful could find passion with a non-drow, a creature, by that simple definition, who was obviously iblith, or excrement.
Jarlaxle, himself intrigued by the beautiful Catti-brie, didn't bother to refute their racist feelings.
'But if that is a copy, is the magic strong enough?' Kimmuriel asked, and he emphasized the word «magic» as if to prompt Jarlaxle to explain how it might prove useful.
'Magical dweomers create pathways of power,' Rai'gy Bondalek explained. 'Pathways that I know how to enhance and to replicate.'
'Rai'gy spent many of his earlier years perfecting the technique,' Jarlaxle added. 'His ability to recover the previous powers of ancient Ched Nasad relics proved pivotal in his ascension to the position as the city's high priest. And he can do it again, even enhancing the previous dweomer to new heights.'
'That we might find Drizzt Do'Urden,' Kimmuriel said.
Jarlaxle nodded. 'What a fine trophy for Artemis
Entreri.'
Part 3 CLIMBING TO THE TOP OF THE BOTTOM
I watched the miles roll out behind me, whether walking down a road or sailing fast out of Waterdeep for the southlands, putting distance between us and the friend we four had left behind. The friend?
Many times during those long and arduous days, each of us in our own little space came to wonder about that word «friend» and the responsibilities such a label might carry. We had left Wulfgar behind in the wilds of the Spine of the World no less and had no idea if he was well, if he was even still alive. Could a true friend so desert another? Would a true friend allow a man to walk alone along troubled and dangerous paths?
Often I ponder the meaning of that word. Friend. It seems such an obvious thing, friendship, and yet often it becomes so very complicated. Should I have stopped Wulfgar, even knowing and admitting that he had his own road to walk? Or should I have gone with him? Or should we all four have shadowed him, watching over him?
I think not, though I admit that I know not for certain. There is a fine line between friendship and parenting, and when that line is crossed, the result is often disastrous. A parent who strives to make a true friend of his or her child may well sacrifice authority, and though that parent may be comfortable with surrendering the dominant position, the unintentional result will be to steal from that child the necessary guidance and, more importantly, the sense of security the parent is supposed to impart. On the opposite side, a friend who takes a role as parent forgets the most important ingredient of friendship: respect.
For respect is the guiding principle of friendship, the lighthouse beacon that directs the course of any true friendship. And respect demands trust.
Thus, the four of us pray for Wulfgar and intend that our paths will indeed cross again. Though we'll often look back over our shoulders and wonder, we hold fast to our understanding of friendship, of trust, and of respect. We accept, grudgingly but resolutely, our divergent paths.
Surely Wulfgar's trials have become my trials in many ways, but I see now that the friendship of mine most in flux is not the one with the barbarian-not from my perspective, anyway, since I understand that Wulfgar alone must decide the depth and course of our bond-but my relationship with Catti-brie. Our love for each other is no secret between us, or to anyone else watching us (and I fear that perhaps the bond that has grown between us might have had some influence in Wulfgar's painful decisions), but the nature of that love remains a mystery to me and to Catti-brie. We have in many ways become as brother and sister, and surely I am closer to her than I could ever have been to any of my natural siblings! For several years we had only each other to count
on and both learned beyond any doubt that the other would always be there. I would die for her, and she for me. Without hesitation, without doubt. Truly in all the world there is no one, not even Bruenor, Wulfgar, or Regis, or even Zaknafein, with whom I would rather spend my time. There is no one who can view a sunrise beside me and better understand the emotions that sight always stirs within me. There is no one who can fight beside me and better compliment my movements. There is no one who better knows all that is in my heart and thoughts, though I had not yet spoken a word. But what does that mean?
Surely I feel a physical attraction to Catti-brie as well. She is possessed of a combination of innocence and a playful wickedness. For all her sympathy and empathy and compassion, there is an edge to Catti-brie that makes potential enemies tremble in fear and potential lovers tremble in anticipation. I believe that she feels similarly toward me, and yet we both understand the dangers of this uncharted territory, dangers more frightening than any physical enemy we have ever known. I am drow, and young, and with the dawn and twilight of several centuries ahead of me. She is human and, though young, with merely decades of life ahead of her. Of course, Catti-brie's life is complicated enough merely having a drow elf as a traveling companion and friend. What troubles might she find if she and I were more than that? And what might the world think of our children, if ever that path we walked? Would any society in all the world accept them?
I know how I feel when I look upon her, though, and believe that I understand her feelings as well. On that level, it seems such an obvious thing, and yet, alas, it becomes so very complicated.
Chapter 13 SECRET WEAPON
You have found the rogue?' Jarlaxle asked Rai'gy Bondalek. Kimmuriel Oblodra stood beside the mercenary leader, the psionicist appearing unarmed and unarmored, seeming perfectly defenseless to one who did not understand the powers of his mind.
'He is with a dwarf, a woman, and a halfling,' Rai'gy answered. 'And sometimes they are joined by a great black cat.'
'Guenhwyvar,' Jarlaxle explained. 'Once the property of Masoj Hun'ette. A powerful magical item indeed.'
'But not the greatest magic that they carry,' Rai'gy informed. 'There is another, stored in a pouch on the rogue's belt, that radiates magic stronger than all their other magics combined. Even through the distance of my scrying it beckoned to me, almost as if it were asking me to retrieve it from its present unworthy owner.'
'What could it be?' the always opportunistic mercenary asked.
Rai'gy shook his head, his shock of white hair flying
from side to side. 'Like no dweomer I have seen before,' he admitted.
'Is that not the way of magic?' Kimmuriel Oblodra put in with obvious distaste. 'Unknown and uncontrollable.'
Rai'gy shot the psionicist an angry glare, but Jarlaxle, more than willing to utilize both magic and psionics, merely smiled. 'Learn more about it and about them,' he instructed the wizard-priest. 'If it beckons to us, then perhaps we would be wise to heed its call. How far are they, and how fast can we get to them?'
'Very,' Rai'gy answered. 'And very. They had begun an overland route but were accosted by giantkind and goblinkin at every bend in the path.'
'Perhaps the magical item is not particular about who it calls for a new owner,' Kimmuriel remarked with obvious sarcasm.
'They turned about and took ship,' Rai'gy went on, ignoring the comment. 'Out of the great northern city of Waterdeep, I believe, far, far up the Sword Coast.'
'But sailing south?' Jarlaxle asked hopefully.
'I believe,' Rai'gy answered. 'It does not matter. There are magics, of course, and mind powers,' he added, nodding deferentially to Kimmuriel, 'that can get us to them as easily as if they were standing in the next
