Part Six: Dinin Do'Urden
"Come, my husband," Malice said to Rizzen. "Take your blade and mark your dead rival's face. It will feel good to you, and it will inspire terror in Drizzt when he looks upon his old mentor!"
... Rizzen put a hand to his sword, looking back to Malice one final time for confirmation. Malice nodded. With a snarl, Rizzen brought his sword out of its sheath and thrust it at Zaknafein's face. But it never got close.
Quicker than the others could follow, the spirit-wraith exploded into motion. ... Before the doomed patron of House Do'Urden could even speak a word of protest, one of Zaknafein's swords crossed over his throat and the other plunged deep into his heart. Rizzen was dead before he hit the floor. ...
"That one bores me," Malice explained to the disbelieving stares of her children. "I have another patron already selected from among the commoners." - Exile
Dinin left the chapel as quickly as possible without breaking into a run. He had held himself back for eight hours, since he had seen the spirit-wraith cut down his father. He had been the first of Malice's children to speak after Rizzen's death, coldly expressing admiration for Zaknafein's quickness and skill - because he knew that every silence, every expression of shock and pain would have been suspicious.
His face had remained blank after the first gasp of surprise when Rizzen had fallen down, his body virtually cut into pieces by the wraith's swords. When Matron Malice had ordered Dinin to take Zaknafein out into the Underdark, he had protested weakly - apparently out of fear of him, when he had really just wanted to be alone.
Malice had ignored his objections, of course, and Dinin had had no choice but to accompany Zaknafein to the region where he had last seen Drizzt. He had then hurried back to House Do'Urden, reported to Matron Malice and hoped now that he could finally return to his room.
He didn't even make it out of the chapel's anteroom. A mockingly soft voice stopped him, calling out his name. Dinin turned around to see Maya slowly sauntering towards him. He should probably be grateful that it wasn't Briza, but he knew that Maya, while she couldn't match Briza's brute strength or Vierna's determination, could be quite malicious and dangerous. As the only one of his sisters who was younger than him she had always felt the need to put Dinin in his place, using each opportunity to humiliate him.
Dinin swallowed and lowered his eyes before he looked up at her again. Maya was his only full sibling, but she looked nothing like her father. She had always despised Rizzen, as if she was envious that her sire was less impressive than Vierna's.
"You seem upset," Maya stated with feigned surprise, her eyes narrowed. "Does it not fill you with joy that Lolth has given us this gift to hunt down your renegade brother?"
Dinin had to fight hard not to slap her in the face. Maya knew how close Dinin and Rizzen had been - as close as father and son could be among drow. Sometimes he wondered if her hatred for both her brother and her father was nothing but jealousy for Rizzen's attention.
"Of course it does," Dinin replied, and it wasn't even a lie. He, more than anyone else, wanted Drizzt dead. "I am just tired. If you allow, I would like to retire to my quarters."
Maya's lips curled into a smile - she looked exactly like her mother when she smiled like this; hardly a comforting resemblance.
"And what are you going to do there? Cry like a faerie over the loss of the worthless scum that sired you?" she hissed, grabbing a handful of hair to yank her brother closer, holding him tight while she stared him in the eyes. Dinin trembled with anger, at her words as much as at her assault, but he knew better than to attack a female or even to struggle.
"You're as pathetic as he was. I know that you spent almost every evening with him, that you trusted him, liked him." She spat out those words with exaggerated disgust. "That you need him."
Dinin didn't answer, and he held her gaze only with difficulty. To his own dismay he had to admit that she was right. Rizzen had been the only one who had ever shown any real interest in him, when his mother and sisters had either ignored or scorned him. Rizzen had offered him some comfort and company during the years Dinin had spent under Zaknafein's tutelage, and their shared hatred for the Weapon Master had been one of the first things to bring them together. Rizzen had always been there; even during Dinin's years at the Academy - as student and later as teacher - he had always known that someone cared if he came back or not.
"And now? Who is going to clean your wounds and talk with you about whatever inanities you males talk about?" She gave him a rough push, and Dinin stumbled a few steps backward, relieved that Maya was less strong than her sisters.
"Maybe you will finally grow up now that he is dead, weakling," she hissed, getting so worked up that she didn't even realise that she wasn't making sense anymore. Dinin had certainly shortcomings, but being weak or childish were definitely not among them. Therefore he remained quite calm under Maya's insults.
"And get that cocky grin off your ugly face before I wipe it off!" Her words were stressed by an angry hiss from her snake whip and a vicious slap in the face. She glared at him for a few moments and turned on her heel to go back to the chapel.
Dinin let out a relieved sigh once she was out of sight and quickly rushed to his own quarters before anyone else could stop him. He locked the door behind himself, realising that his hands were shaking violently. He wasn't upset because of Maya's insults - they had become so banal that Dinin hardly ever listened to them - but because Rizzen's death gnawed at him.
Dinin had never minded the cold-blooded ambition and cruelty of drow society. He thrived in it - he had killed his brother to become elderboy, he had worked hard to become a master at the Academy, and if Zaknafein had only lived longer, Dinin was sure that he would have killed him - and Drizzt - as well, sooner or later. Dinin had embraced the madness of Menzoberranzan. He didn't love it, it was simply the only life he knew and could imagine. But in all this beautiful chaos, he had been grateful for the one steady factor in his life, his father. And now that Rizzen was gone, Dinin felt like everything would crush down around him. It was almost as if Rizzen's death had only been the harbinger of some greater disaster.
Yet he knew that there was no point in hoping that Malice and her daughters would somehow pay for this. Rizzen had only been a male, and nobody cared about his death, just like nobody would care about Dinin's death on the day the priestesses decided to kill him on a whim.
Males were only tools and toys, fed, housed and tolerated as long as they were useful or entertaining, and as soon as the females found a better tool, as soon as they got tired of their toy, they would throw them away.
Dinin had known that this would happen sooner or later. He had known that one day, Malice would grow tired of Rizzen and kill him. Zaknafein had been the only patron she had simply stripped of his rank; and while Rizzen was a capable mage, he wasn't as irreplaceable as Zaknafein. The Weapon Master had been allowed to live on, and he had thrown his life away. Even without any other reason, this would have been enough for Dinin to hate him.
He softly ran his fingers along the armchair in a corner of his room, the chair Rizzen had usually sat on when he was here. Dinin knew he should be angry; he had been angry and cocky and aggressive for his whole life. But right now, he felt only sad and tired, as if the spirit-wraith's sword had not only plunged into Rizzen's heart, but also into his own. Yes, he had known that this would happen, but he had never been prepared for it. He had never expected it to happen now.
Too weary to take off his armour Dinin just sat down on the chair, drawing his legs close to his body and nuzzling his face against the cushioned backrest. Maybe it was only his imagination, but he was sure that he could smell the lingering scent of Rizzen's hair from the night before. He knew how pointless and frustrating it was to fantasise about killing his mother, but he couldn't refrain from imagining what it would be like to cut Malice down, to mutilate her just like Zaknafein had mutilated Rizzen. But even these images were only a small comfort that couldn't take away the well-known, rotten taste of helplessness.
Dinin woke up hours later, and his back twitched painfully when he straightened up. He felt calmer now, his desperation replaced by a strange feeling of emptiness. He got up and washed his face, flinching when he looked into the mirror. For a moment he felt like he was staring at his father: they had always looked alike, and the sad expression Dinin wore now resembled almost eerily the one Rizzen had worn most of his life. Dinin swallowed and quickly forced the usual mask of cocky indifference on his face, relieved to see the ghost in the mirror disappear.
He knew that he wouldn't forget Rizzen overnight, but he was confident that he would get used to being alone. He would survive and thrive, just like he had always done. He was Weapon Master of House Do'Urden, a position he had held since Zaknafein's death; he was strong, intelligent, he had everything a drow male could wish for.
But for the first time in his life it meant nothing to him.
A/N: Thanks to Ziggy who gave me the idea for this scene (i.e. how Dinin would react to Rizzen's death if they had had some kind of relationship). As I really like the idea I'm thinking about writing a longer story about Rizzen and Dinin. Some kind of companion piece to The Seduction of Innocence. I don't know if anyone would be interested in that. ;)