Chapter 5
White Hunters
The wolves glanced around nervously, then padded away. The current Leader looked back once, and whined almost apologetically before following its pack. Winter chuckled at some joke known only to herself, then stared out into the new cavern.
It was mostly undulating piles of sand, gritty sand that was probably simply disintegrated rock. Like someone had taken an immense hammer and pulverized a huge section of solid rock in the Underdark – before us, before the immense tunnel mouth that led to the cavern, was a seemingly endless stretch of sand.
Winter raised Irr'liancrea which let out a modicum of brighter light, a grudging, grayish blue which showed that the sword did not approve, and squinted away over the sand. "I cannot see the end of it," she said, morbidly, then sheathed her sword and stepped forward, boots crunching softly into the sand.
"That light is a beacon for any monsters which this place may hold," Irr'liancrea said irritably. Winter ignored it.
You followed quickly, then began to lead Winter over the apparently endless distance. It was eerily silent. You had expected monsters or worse, perhaps some evil sorcerer that built a huge tower and ruled this barren place with an iron fist – but nothing, nothing at all. After three sleeps, there still seemed to be no end of the sand, and yet no sound. The advice about water had been well given – there seemed to be nothing but fine sand in this place.
After the fifth sleep (you had been counting time in the number of times Winter stopped the trek to lay out rolls for sleeping, since there were no clocks here) you thought you saw the faintest gleam of light to the northeast – you pointed it out to Winter, who chuckled again to herself and refused to say anything else.
Whatever it was, it was alive. Your gift pointed it out as the next living thing closest to you and Winter.
During the next hours of walking you realized that the light seemed to be getting closer, as if the two of you were approaching it. You asked this again of Winter, softly – the vastness of the cavern seemed to breed silence – and she chuckled again.
This was beginning to get annoying.
After the eight sleep, a few hours, the light abruptly brightened, a ring of them. You blinked – to the northwest, a fair distance away, was what appeared to be a ring of caravans. Four caravans, thin-sided and made of some strange, whitish substance.
The hardness of the light betrayed it as mage-light, and you felt wary, but Winter was heading straight for them and you could only follow and hope she knew what she was doing.
Then Irr'liancrea's light revealed something soft and sharp and large to the side in front. You squinted – it was as tall as Winter's shoulder and massive – and realized to your terror that it was the biggest spider you had ever seen.
You let out a gasp of horror which Winter blinked at, then she smiled down at you. "Nothing to worry about," she murmured, then shouted, "Greetings to the camp!"
The spider scuttled forward, and you realized it was some huge species of tarantula – spiky fur on its legs and body, many beady black eyes, and two curving, giant fangs. It appeared to study the both of you calmly.
Then a figure ducked out from behind it, emerging from darkness to Irr'liancrea's light – drow! And strange drow at that – male, wearing shirt and breeches and no armor. Boots, plain, leather. Tattered, discoloured robe. Scruffy, long hair, common-enough, rugged features, and a wide ingratiating smile.
"Who are you?" he asked politely.
"A Loremaster of Morikan's," Winter replied. "And this is a friend of mine known as Kel."
"Morikan...can you prove it?"
Winter unfastened her robe and swept it in front of her. In Irr'liancrea's light the underside showed the design of the white dragon that you had seen before. She laced it back onto her shoulders.
The male let out a low whistle. "Ah. And your business?"
"I would like to meet Qarrin," Winter smiled. "She comes highly recommended."
The male nodded, at some secret satisfaction. "Wait here." He patted the spider affectionately – patted, without being bitten! – and it chirred at him. "I hope Xal're did not startle you."
"No," Winter nodded graciously at the creature.
You wondered, a little faintly, how many more revelations would rise to the surface as you found yourself being introduced to a few more giant spiders and drow of both sex as the male returned and led everyone towards the main caravan. Whoever these drow were, both sexes seemed to be on equal footing. They all seemed to have at least one spider friend, and they all wore no armor and watched us as we passed them with curiosity.
Qarrin turned out to be a female, of dark beauty, carelessly sprawled on the doorframe of the first caravan, digging her fingernails with a large knife. She raised an eyebrow as the two of you approached, glanced at Winter, then nodded to herself.
"Thank you, Pie'rre." She told the male, and he withdrew. "So," she continued, not looking at us, "You are Winter."
"That I am," Winter inclined her head graciously.
"Hmph. How goes that annoying member of our mutual race now known as a Sword Master?"
"Fine, last I saw," Winter smiled, a noncommittal smile that vanished as quickly as it had appeared. There was a silence where both females seemed to evaluate each other, then Qarrin waved the both of you to be seated, and Winter pulled you up to the caravan platform before hoisting herself up with the grace of a gymnast.
You realized that the caravan seemed to be made of some hardened web, like a new type of cobweb compacted together to a substance harder than wood...but Qarrin was speaking before you could comment.
"Knew him before he went to Menzoberranzan. Promising fellow...even if his attitude was...is terrible. Told him he'd go to a sticky end...turns out that he went to two of them. Ha."
"Before he went to Menzoberranzan?" Winter stared blankly at Qarrin, composure dropped for an instant before she recovered graciously. "I was under the impression he was born there."
"Born there?" Qarrin snorted. "Of course not. If he was born there he'd just be like any other spineless drow. Purebred city drow are so pathetic. Oh, he may say he's born there – outsider drow were not welcome four hundred years ago. He may even believe it now. He is those sort of people who create all sorts of masks for themselves and never manage to merge them – when one mask grows out of place they simply destroy it utterly. I would think that the mask he wears now is most different from the one he wore in Menzoberranzan. Everything about Zaknafein is usually under rigid control."
You listened, confused, to the rather neurotic conversation that was going on above your head, thought of asking a question, then decided the better of it.
"Then where did he come from? If you do not mind me asking." Winter amended, as Qarrin began to look amused at the questions.
"He? Ah...probably another of the Wandering Tribes." Qarrin shrugged. You had never heard of the Wandering Tribes before, and you felt lost in the sea of words.
"Alone? In the Underdark?" Winter looked incredulous.
"He has a lot of good and bad luck. Bad luck was to get seriously injured by stumbling into a waerse fungus cavern after he struck out on his own, good luck was for us to find him when he crawled out to die," Qarrin smirked. "Lucky for him."
"Which tribe?" Winter pressed.
"He never said. He's a private person...but I would think it was Kae'lesh'ra...the Named blades. Certainly he inherited their fighting skills...if not their unreliable luck." Qarrin shook her head briefly. "Why are we discussing him?"
Winter ignored that hint to get to the point. "Named blades? But I have never seen his Name sword..."
"He gave it to us when we dropped him off at Menzoberranzan." Qarrin smiled at Winter's start of astonishment.
"What?"
"He gave it to us. I did tell you about his masks. He wanted to start afresh, the silly fellow. I suppose four centuries may have made him wiser...he was the most naive person I had ever seen then."
Winter blinked. "Are we talking about the same person?"
"Zaknafein, yes?" Qarrin inquired.
"Yes...really Zaknafein?"
"Why should I lie to you?"
"Zaknafein? Naive? Sounds more like his son..." Winter paused at Qarrin's smirk. "Ah, I see history is repeating itself. How fun. Though if Drizzt does manage to get to four centuries at the rate he's going, I personally will be very surprised."
"Hmph," Qarrin snorted.
"Have you passed Menzoberranzan lately?" Winter abruptly changed the subject.
"Last week."
"Any news?" Winter grinned.
"What sort of news? Like what color robes are Gromph wearing today? Or the latest gossip on Triel Baenre? Be more specific," Qarrin returned to her nails with studied care.
"Like the most neutral, no-questions-asked inn to stay at," Winter said. "Then you can tell me about Mikaras."
"What are you giving me?" Qarrin grinned. "Oh very well. Morikan did instruct us that a Loremaster would pass this way, though I did not expect a drow. That inn would be the Sword Hilt inn on Draeka street, though they may charge quite a price."
"Money is not much of a problem," Winter said complacently, and you blinked.
"Mum..." you began.
"Shh, Kel."
"As to Mikaras...not much is known about him, really," Qarrin admitted. "He is not from Irinelaeran, but from Menzoberranzan."
"He has an Irinelaeran accent," Winter pointed out, though by the narrowing of her eyes you thought that she had some of her suspicions confirmed.
"He spent some time there. Business is unknown," Qarrin continued, "However, he then had that famous accident of his. Found by duergar, almost killed, managed to make friends with them, and now he's doing what he knows best."
"Any affiliation to outside drow?" Winter inquired blandly.
"Not that I can see." Qarrin shrugged. "Mikaras is also a rather private person. He does not like publicity very much – keeps a low profile."
"Menzoberranzan...that city does breed a lot of wanderers," Winter mused to herself, but Qarrin took it as a de facto question.
"Menzoberranzan is a strange city by rights," Qarrin said, "Hardly any of the drow cities would even think of invading the surface world. Hardly any drow cities even rigidly follow that primitive ranking system any longer. And hardly any of them still have civil wars, even if it is just inter-house. And even fewer are pure Lloth-worshippers. Although there are some cities whom still have that Females Are Better Than Males policy, I cannot think of any other offhand that pursue it to Menzoberranzan's degree. Zaknafein made a bad choice when he decided to 'start anew' there."
"Should have chosen Irinelaeran?" Winter raised an eyebrow.
"No, perhaps Q'Xarr'rae." Qarrin grinned. "First drow city set up by a male."
"Still exists?" Winter blinked.
"Why yes," Qarrin smiled. "The Underdark is a large place. And one of Q'Xarr'rae's more endearing characteristics is that it is a city of agnostics and athiests. Has been destroyed and rebuilt several times, however. Q'Xarr'raenians appear to offend many people easily."
"I knew that," Winter muttered. "Very well, back to Menzoberranzan. Are there any unspoken rules in there?"
"Do not speak back to a priestess," Qarrin recited blandly, "If you are a commoner, respect a noble. This sort of rule. I probably have a book somewhere..." she got up and entered the caravan.
You looked up carefully at Winter. "Who're these people?" you ask softly.
"One of the Wandering Tribes. Or rather, they are classed as one, even though they deny it. They're the White Hunters, or Bl'anc'Tree'a." Winter leaned back comfortably. "Only tribe adopted by Morikan. They're allied to those huge white spiders you saw – all friends. No special bond or anything, but most spiders only have one rider until that rider dies or they die themselves. If the former, then they simply choose another rider or return to their homeworld. Yes, they are not from this realm – Morikan merely makes it convenient for them to enter and leave."
"I ain't 'eard o' 'em before," you said doubtfully. "An' o' the Wanderin' Tribes."
"I'm not surprised," Winter nodded. "They are only well known in the non-Lloth cities. Especially if said cities are non-drow."
"Mum, 'bout Mikaras...is 'e bad?"
"Bad? I doubt it. I liked him, and so does Irr'liancrea. No, I just believe, to use a famous phrase, there's more to him than meets the eye."
Qarrin reappeared, waving a rather battered looking book which she handed in a flourish to Winter. Winter took it graciously and thumbed through the pages, before snapping the book shut.
"Thanks," she said.
Qarrin grinned. "Anything for a Loremaster. However, you can now oblige me by talking about Sanctuary."
"What do you want to know?" Winter hugged the book to herself absently.
"My alma mater, of course. Warrior School." Qarrin smiled. "More precisely..." she reached into the dark, leather smelling recesses of the caravan and pulled out a spear, with a tassel of an iridescent, unidentifiable color and inscriptions on the handle.
"Spear classes," Winter grinned. "Spear master...there's a new one, did you know?"
"What happened to Tre'ile?" Qarrin asked.
"Accident involving twenty armed elves with elf-shot on another world," Winter said wryly.
Qarrin winced. "Another good one is lost. And the new one? Marist, I believe?"
"No, Elikkar," Winter smirked at Qarrin's look of astonishment.
"The Saur?" Qarrin said slowly.
"The Saur," Winter confirmed.
"I don't believe it," Qarrin said slowly. "No, I really don't."
Saur? Spear Master? You sighed to yourself. The both of them did look as though they were enjoying, to a small degree, your fog of incomprehension.
**
"Do not tell me you are bringing that child into Menzoberranzan," Qarrin pointed at you with her knife, and you took an involuntary step back.
"Kel? I am afraid Kel is following me," Winter said calmly.
"Menzoberranzan is not pro-life." Qarrin grinned. "There is no way you can pull off any disguise if people see you are caring for a child with no apparent power and with no apparent value."
"Oh, Kel has a most useful gift," Winter said graciously.
"That may be even worse, if you think about it," Qarrin pointed out, and you did think about it. What if other people wanted your gift? People who were not like Winter or Petriarch?
"True," Winter agreed. "What do you suggest?"
"Change Kel's shape," Qarrin made a vague gesture.
"Into?" Winter pressed.
"Ask Kel," Qarrin waggled her eyebrows at you. "Well, child?"
"Not one of the other sentient races," Winter cautioned.
"Animal, then," Qarrin agreed.
"Nigouar?" you said tentatively. You did admire those fierce looking creatures. And if the transformation was only for your body and not for your mind, you would not be able to fly, at any rate. Any hoofed animals may invite questions as to why Winter was not riding. A flashy bird or that sort of mage's pet may invite potential buyers and thefts. But a wolf...a type of animal famous for having a mind of its own...
"Good one," Winter approved.
Qarrin was not so quick to do so. "Can you walk like one? Behave like one? Nigouar are complex animals, and they have all sorts of behaviors that you'd need a lifetime of study to reproduce."
"Some sort of different nigouar, then," Winter said, dismissive, "I doubt Menzoberranzan is quite aware of the species, at any rate. Certainly Irinelaeran ideas about the so called Underdark Wolf is incredible at best, downright absurd at worst."
"How can you change Kel? According to you, using that much magic from Irr'liancrea so close to Menzoberranzan is dangerous."
"One tends to agree," the sword spoke up. Irr'liancrea spoke less and less often now that you were nearing Menzoberranzan.
"Ah, I suppose I will have to try one of those much-vaunted Loremaster spells," Winter looked resigned. "Sit down, Kel."
Winter sat down as well, then Qarrin followed, cross-legged on the sand, watching curiously as Winter began to speak clearly in the other tongue, a singsong rhythm now, as if telling a lively story.
You frowned – nothing seemed to be happening. And nothing did, for about fifteen minutes while you became more and more bored, and Qarrin more and more interested. Then tickling at your neck made you reach up – your hair was growing longer! You blinked, and looked at your hands, rubbing one absently, and blinking further at the fine fuzz of fur which was already present.
Your body changed gradually over the next three hours, while Winter chanted out ceaselessly and the three of you began to attract a small audience. There was no pain, just a cramping and stretching sensation at certain parts. You wriggled out of your clothes finally, new claws scrabbling on the sand, then Winter's eyes seemed to focus on you, and she smiled.
"Voila, as M'sieur AndrÀ is wont to say." Winter beamed at you and the rest of the White Hunters gathered around.
You walked a cautious circle around your clothes. Four legs took some adjusting to, and it an embarrassing while later, filled with helpful comments and unhelpful laughter, that you managed to walk in a straight line without falling on your muzzle.
Winter left you to the babysitting of several highly entertained White Hunters, and went to speak with Qarrin.
When you mastered walking, or trotting, as one of the Hunters put it, you went on to trying to run, a disaster from the outset, but you managed a sedate lope. The world looked different from nigouar eyes – there were colors, but each object had its own scent, as well. Scent showed up in your 'vision', in the form of textures. The spiders had a knobby textured smell, and drow a smooth, creamy one. Each creature, however, had different 'feels' to their smells, and you tried to concentrate on differentiating each scent until your head reeled.
"Kel?" Winter was asking for you, so you loped back to her, taking pride in the fact that you had not once tripped over your long legs.
She smiled down at you, then adjusted her armor. "Come, we must be going."
"Wait," Qarrin approached quickly, then tossed a cloth-wrapped, long bundle to Winter. She unwrapped it to find two scabbards of plain black leather, one empty, and one containing a sword, the lighter sort of swords for one-handed use.
She drew it, admiring the easy-to-grip hilt and the blade, then peered at one edge. "Serrated," Winter said slowly. "This is a Name blade, is it not? I cannot think of any other with such quality..."
The blade's rainbow sheen was apparent even in the dim light, the mark of perfect workmanship, accomplished without magic.
"Unfortunately," Qarrin nodded. "Guess who."
"You are giving it to me?" Winter said, disbelieving, "His name blade?"
"If you would take it. I do not use swords, and it seems a waste to leave it to rot in a caravan. No one else here would use it, besides."
"I do not fight with one-handed swords," Winter said, though her resolve was visibly breaking down. The blade was very handsome, a quiet, simply unique beauty which would have been marred if the hilt had been, like so many other swords, carved into strange designs.
"A good disguise, eh? They will look for a single blade elf, if they are already aware of you. Enjoy using it," Qarrin smiled, a little wistfully. Winter said nothing, but clasped the other female's hand, then belted the scabbards on. A few murmured requests, and Irr'liancrea obligingly shrunk enough to fit into the empty scabbard. Its normal scabbard disappeared without fuss. Winter patted it, and the hilt changed to a replica of the Name blade.
"One more thing, Qarrin," Winter paused again. "Is it still there? The tagnik'zur-tur'rilthiir?"
Half elf which was a dragon? You blinked at Winter's words.
Qarrin's eyes held a world of mischief. "Did you think it could die?"
Winter laughed at that, another joke that passed over your head, then started off over the desert, you trotting by her side, listening to the 'best wishes' which floated over from the White Hunters.
You realized you could still invoke your gift, and led her out of the White Hunters' encampment.
Eventually the two of you left the desert-cavern and struck out back into the Underdark with relief.
The Underdark was an easier place to navigate now. If you concentrated you could make out each pitfall and crevasse simply by smelling them out. Even when infrared was not apparent, and it often was not, your nose told you everything.
"Normally nigouar do not see colors," Winter's voice sounded unnaturally loud to your enhanced ears, "So I changed your eyes a little."
You wanted to thank her and realized you could not speak, only a little bark.
"Couldn't change your voice box," Winter admitted. "Sorry."
You wanted to reassure her but could not, and compensated for bumping her leg with your nose.
The 'unknown area' to Mekkane was uneventful except for a few bats, which flapped out of your way and squeaked indignantly. You found that although you had taken a nigouar shape, you had not taken their instincts or their tastes – you much preferred your food cooked, still, and you had absolutely no idea how to hamstring a person. Or howl.
The route finally became more and more 'marked' by sentient creatures – rubbish strewn here and there, and the marks of carts and rothe and other domestic creatures. One sleep's journey away from the city, Winter stopped and began an elaborate disguise – her hair she hacked off shorter with a blade, even though it would still fit into a nice ponytail, it would not be to the hips, as before.
Makeup took a long time to apply, then she spent twice that time chanting to herself. Finally when she raised Irr'liancrea's light up a little to show off, you realized that the male mercenary you had seen that day in the market was back. Winter grinned crookedly at you, then touched her enhanced cheekbones. "This probably would not last a full body-check, but it is passable as a male. And blue eyes...I am afraid those will have to go." She concentrated a little, and when she looked back at you her eyes were a dark brown.
Without further word, she started off towards Mekkane. You noted that her stride was longer now, and her shoulders slightly hunched. Her cloak was turned around again, such that the plain side was the visible side, and the two of you approached the mongrel city.