As soon as the thought entered my mind, I knew it was true. I was afraid that the youths would cast me out for my appearance, for what, in their minds, I was supposed to be.

"I am," I finally replied to Belwar. "I am afraid that their young eyes will not see past what I am supposed to be like."

Belwar considered me for a moment. "It is their young eyes," he said at last, "which are most capable of seeing who you truly are."

He left me then, and I sat watching Drizzt for a very long time, lost in my thoughts.

-Nyadenalan-

I stood there, breathless, the moisture on my tongue fast evaporating. She had me now. If I lied, her spell of detection would surely catch it; if I told the truth, she would likely kill me, at least after subjecting me to mindless torture.

"Well?" Adrys asked impatiently, and I heard the growing suspicion in her voice. My thoughts raced frantically, searching for some chant or spell that could help me.

Suddenly, my heartbeat calmed. My pulse slowed. I breathed easier.

"I had nothing to do with it," I replied evenly.

Matron Adrys looked absolutely baffled, and I knew the spell had worked. I had cast a very powerful aura of confusion over the room, which distracted and befuddled the minds of anyone in its range. I felt very smug… wait, why did I feel smug? What was I even doing in here?

I cursed as I tried to bring my mind back in order, my thought processes going hazy. Maybe that particular spell had not been the best idea. Wait… what spell?

Struggling to hold myself together, I started to walk towards the chapel door. I stopped several times, trying to remember where I was going. Finally my thoughts could no longer stand it. My entire mental facility went haywire, and the world turned dark around me as I collapsed to the floor.

I woke up in a very dark room. There was nobody else in the room with me, and even the walls and floor had only the faintest of heat signatures.

A blinding headache pulsed in my temples, making my eyes throb. I tried to remember what had happened. The memory trickled slowly back, but even as it did, it confused me. Wizards were usually immune to their own spells; why, then, had this one affected me?

Magical ward, I realized instantly. The chapel was enchanted, ironically, with one of my own wards, one that would turn any spell cast inside it against the wizard who cast the spell, with no harm done to the family. Since the new spell had been my own enchantment, there had been a magical reaction between the two dweomers, causing the spell of confusion to affect everyone in the room, including me.

I tried to raise my hand to rub my pounding head, and that was when I discovered that my hands were bound to the bed by iron shackles. I tried to move my legs only to discover that they, too, were bound. I realized then where I was, and a trickle of cold flowed down the length of my spine.

I was in the House dungeons.

-Drizzt-

I looked up from the excited faces surrounding me, a wide smile of my own stretching my face from ear to ear. I had just finished my tale of one of my most difficult encounters in the wild Underdark, a time when I had been forced to defend my cave against a group of vicious hook horrors that had been moving our way. The young deep gnomes' eyes were wide with fright and excitement at my story, and now they chattered amongst themselves, leaving me to think.

How easily these young svirfnebli had trusted me! I knew that I did not deserve that trust, not in full, after what had happened with the basilisk statue. The thought sent a shudder of guilt and shame through me. I had almost become that murderous drow that everyone had believed I was on my arrival in Blingdenstone.

Yet I had stayed my hand, and, though frightened, the youths had slowly come to accept me again. It warmed my heart to finally have friends who trusted me.

I glanced up at the window of Belwar's house, and caught a glimpse of Nysta sitting at the sill, looking out. She was watching me with those odd blue eyes, so full of expression. At that moment, the blue seemed forlorn and empty, desolate of emotion.

When she saw me looking at her, she gave a small wave, and I waved back. I tried to call to her to join us, but at that moment, one of the young svirfnebli tugged at my piwafwi. I turned, and the youth, his face eager, said, "Will you give us more tales, Drizzt? Please?"

I gave one last glance at Nysta's forlorn eyes, and then turned to the band of young deep gnomes.

"I shall tell you the tale of how I first arrived here in Blingdenstone," I told them.

They began chattering even more loudly, raising speculations as to what sort of adventure this tale would hold. Fights with vicious monsters? Encounters with enemies? Suspenseful chases through long tunnels and huge caverns?

I laughed gently and waited for silence. Finally, the chattering died down, and I began.

"I have told you many tales of my wicked sisters and brother," I said to them.

They all nodded gravely, I had indeed related much about Briza, Vierna, Maya and Dinin. "Well," I continued, "it was on one peaceful day, about three tendays ago, when I was out patrolling the perimeter of my cave…"

I proceeded to tell them about the encounter with Briza and Dinin; they oohed and winced when I told them of Briza's severed fingers. I left out no details, shamelessly relating my desire to chase down my sister and finish the deed. I told them of Nysta, of our encounter in the cave and how I had come to believe in her morals and to trust her as a friend. I told of our travels over the last three tendays, of following the miners and living on the edge of starvation. To all of this, they paid careful attention, listening with wide eyes and heads cocked forward eagerly. I was careful to leave out nothing, not even my emotions or thoughts. They hung on every word, eating my tale as if it were sweet bread. When, at last, I finished, they were gravely silent. It seemed as if the whole group, collectively, was thinking. I thought they were finished with me, and I rose from my perch on a rounded stone before them and turned to go.

"Drizzt!" one of them called suddenly.

I turned back. "Yes?" I asked.

"Do you think…Nysta…would mind terribly telling the story again…I mean, as she saw it?" the youth asked shyly, stumbling over my friend's name.

I smiled widely. "I do not think she would mind at all," I said, and I knew my feeling to be right.

I am very happy that Nyadenalan's involvement has received such enthusiastic support; indeed, he is one of my favorite characters to write, and rest assured that he will be making plenty of appearances in the future!