Chapter V

Zak almost turned back-almost. He had already managed to leave his own house without being noticed and was deep into the alleys of Menzoberranzan by the time those dread-filled second thoughts hit him. Uneasily, Zak toyed with the idea of turning back to House Do'Urden, fear of a trick or a trap darkening his spirits.

This could be a lure to get me out while a rival house attacks, he thought, stealing a few glances in the darkness. Zaknafein grimaced. He didn't like the idea at all, but it made sense. Jarlaxle had warned him of strange drow in the streets. But somehow, although Zak couldn't place it, the pieces of the puzzle didn't fit together. That thought alone kept him from running back to House Do'Urden in full flight, sword drawn and ready to attack.

Within the course of a half an hour, Zak reached the Clawrift. No one was there, the immense shadow of the pit eerily wanting to swallow him up. Zak instinctively placed a hand on his sword's hilt, feeling the protecting curve of the pommel in his palm.

Seconds droned by as the drow scanned the area above and around him. Nothing was there. No one was watching-at least not that he could see. Still, Zak shifted his weight nervously, waiting.

Under his breath, he muttered, "Curiosity killed the drow." Zaknafein began tapping his foot in his mounting nervousness. Two more minutes passed in the stillness, and the thoughts of deception only grew in his mind.

If no one comes in the next minute, the weapons-master decided, he would hurry back. The weapons-master nodded to himself in agreement although he didn't know why.

A cry came out in the dank air, far away in the city's main streets. Zak ignored it. Seconds seemed like hours, but Zaknafein waited. After what seemed like forever, he heard the crackle of a heel scraping against the stone and gravel. Zak's head shot up, his eyes peering in the direction of the sound.

"Zaknafein Do'Urden?" a misty voice asked. Zak watched as a cloaked figure came into view. Something in that voice surprised Zak; it had been feminine. Despite the fact that power lay in the females in his society, he had thought that this mysterious "lord" was a male. He shrugged away the thought, not knowing what basis he had had with that assumption.

"Did you invite others out this evening?" Zak asked caustically. The cloaked figure didn't respond to the question.

"I am in need of your help," she told him.

Zak snorted. "Since when does a female drow come in the middle of the dark to ask a male for help?" His voice had a cutting edge and his index finger tapped his sword's hilt, his hand still in place.

"You will be paid for your troubles," she replied mystically, ignoring the question. Zaknafein surveyed her suspiciously. There was something in her voice that he had couldn't place. It wasn't right, whatever it was. Her voice echoed her youth, but there was something else, something deeper. . . .

"And what might those troubles be?" he asked her, not taking his eyes off of the cowl of her cloak. He wished he could see her face! But the cowl was drawn down far over her head and he could see nothing but a mask of darkness.

"The assassination of a matron mother," she replied coolly, trying to hide the slight tremor in her voice. Zak didn't miss it, but his mind was more concerned on other things.

"A matron mother?!" he asked incredulously. He shook his head. "Go home, young one. You do not want to be killed so needlessly. Forget your plans."

She shook her head. "I can't do that," she said with assurance. "But I need help."

Zak let out a deep, exasperated sigh. "Why me?"

"You are a fighter," she told him blandly.

Zak raised his brow. "I do believe Menzoberranzan has many fighters."

"None who would so easily defy the will of Lloth."

The words his Zaknafein in the chest like a blast of cold magic. He staggered back, completely caught off all aware.

"Why would you assume that?" he asked sharply, knowing full well that his tone gave away any hopes of putting doubt in her mind.

He could just imagine a shifty smile on the drow's face, shadowed by the cover of her cloak's cowl. "I have my sources."

"Next time, make sure they are reliable," he snapped, turning to walk away.

"Do not forget this offer," she told him, a warning in her voice.

Zak stopped, but did not turn. "Do not forget my refusal, Lord-"

She laughed. "I am nothing but Lea'Veril. I used that to get you to come. I thought you might be more willing to accept if you thought-"

"As you can so plainly see, you were mistaken. Good night, Mistress Lea'Veril." Zak walked away, heading back to the dark city streets of Menzoberranzan.

Left behind, Lea'Veril stood, her lips thin and determined. She was not one to give in so easily. She would wait. Zaknafein Do'Urden would help her before the end.

*** *** ***

"Sir." Jarlaxle's head shot up as the door opened. He had been dozing again.

"What is it, lieutenant?" he asked stiffly, having just woken up. Melyac bowed in apology for interrupting Jarlaxle's unintentional nap.

"I thought you might like to know, sir, that we spotted Zaknafein Do'Urden wandering through the city. It appears he was heading to the Clawrift."

Jarlaxle waved away the news with his hand. "The Do'Urden weapons-master is more than capable of taking care of himself."

Melyac nodded, even though he didn't walk away. "But sir, those drow we met two nights ago-they were following him."

Jarlaxle did not reply.

*** *** ***

The drow spy Helarin grinned lazily as he surveyed the room he was in, the bedchambers of Zaknafein Do'Urden. Lea was supposed to keep the weapons- master detained for as long as she could, but Helarin knew that he had best hurry. The last thing he wanted was to be caught breaking into the deadly drow's room.

"Nice," Helarin breathed, picking up one of the fine daggers that lay hidden around Zaknafein's room. Its blade had recently been sharpened, its point deadly. Helarin carefully set it back into place, making certain that he did not touch the cold metal of the dagger. He could tell without a second glance that it was laced with poison.

Lea had sent him to see what the weapons-master was like and he had learned much in the time he had spent exploring the room. But he knew now that he had best be going on his way.

Helarin remorsefully put a sculpted crystal back on the shelf. So many fineries. . . . Would Zaknafein realize if something were to be missing?

Of course he would, Helarin thought dryly. He turned away from the shelf, preparing the spell to leave.

The door to the room rattled and Helarin gave a jump. Quickly he pulled from his robes a pouch. Sprinkling its contents on the floor around him, he vanished.

And not a second too soon.

The door opened and Zaknafein Do'Urden walked in.

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Okay. Here we go.

I have been trying to balance all of this writing. I am writing a Harry Potter fanfiction, trying to start an Old Kingdom one, and continuing this. Plus, there are the two actual books I have been writing on my own. * blinks eyes, dazed from constant computer-screen viewing *

Anyway, this is sort of an apology and thank-you thing rolled into one. I'm sorry that Chapter IV was so short. Been busy, as you can tell. I'll try to get the chapters back to "normal" length. I needed some filler before I send Zak off. =) (Yes, action is on its way. Brace yourselves, people.)

Thank you to all those who have been reading Invisible Chains and those who have been reviewing it. I really appreciate it and wanted to tell you all thank you. =) It means a lot when I see new reviews, as I know it does to all writers.

Welps, now I'm off to write some more on this book idea I have been messing around with. Something with magic and thieves. . .great. LOL, I have no idea where it's heading.

Thanks again, guys!

~Aithne, TheBladedancer

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