The Best of the Realms, Book I

CHAPTER 8

The summons from the Narbondellyn district came earlythe next day. Gromph Baenre sent word that Liriel's belongings were to bepacked up and sent after her.

The young drow received that information stoically. Intruth, Liriel did not regret her removal from House Shobalar. Perhaps she didnot understand the full meaning of her own Blooding ceremony, but she knewwith certainly that she could no longer remain in the same complex as XandraShobalar.

Liriel's reception at the archmage's mansion was aboutwhat she had expected. Servants met her and showed her to her apartment-a smallbut lavish suite that boasted a well-equipped library of spellbooks andscrolls. Apparently her father intended for her to continue her wizardlyeducation. But there was no sign of Gromph, and the best the servants could dofor Liriel was to assure her that the archmage would send for her when she waswanted.

And so it was that the newly initiated drow spent herfirst darkcycle alone, the first of what she suspected would be many to come.Liriel found the solitude painfully difficult, and the silent hours crept by.

After several futile attempts at study, the weary girlat last took to her bed. For hours she stared at the ceiling and longed for theoblivion of slumber. But her mind was too full, and her thoughts too confused,for sleep to find her.

Oddly enough, Liriel felt less triumphant than sheshould have. She was alive, she had passed the test of the Blooding, she hadrepaid Xandra's treachery with public humiliation, she had even devised a wayto keep from slaying the human wizard.

Why was it, then, that she felt his blood on her handsas surely as if she'd torn out his heart with her own fingernails? And whatwas that soul-deep sadness, that dark resignation? Though she had no name togive the emotion, Liriel suspected that it would ever after cast a shadow uponher blithe spirit.

The hours passed, and the distant tolling of Narbondelsignaled that the darkest hour was once again upon Menzoberranzan. It was thenthat the summons finally came. A servant bid Liriel to dress and await thearchmage in his study.

Liriel was less than anxious to face her drow sire.What would Gromph have to say about her unorthodox approach to the Bloodinghunt and ceremony? During her three days of preparation, the archmage hadrepeatedly expressed concern about her judgment and ambition, pronouncing hertoo trusting and carefree, and he had wondered at the strange bias of hercharacter. It seemed likely to her that he would not approve.

Liriel did as she was told and hastened to herfather's sanctum. She had not long to wait before Gromph appeared, stillwearing the wondrous, glittering piwafwi that held an arsenal of magicalweapons, and that proclaimed his power and his high office. The archmageacknowledged her presence with a curt nod and sat down behind his table.

"I have heard what transpired at yourceremony," he began.

"The ritual was fulfilled," Liriel saidearnestly-and a trifle defensively. "I might not have shed blood, but MatronHinkutes'nat accepted my efforts."

"More than accepted," the archmage saiddryly. "The Shobalar matron is quite impressed with you. And moreimportantly, so am I."

Liriel absorbed that in silence then, suddenly, sheblurted out, "Oh, but I wish I understood why!"

Gromph lifted one brow.

"You really must learn to speak with less thancomplete candor," he advised her. "But in this case, no harm isdone. Indeed, your words only confirm what I had suspected. You acted partlyby design, but partly by instinct. This is indeed gratifying."

"Then you're not angry?" Liriel ventured.When the archmage sent her an inquiring look, she added, "I thought youwould be furious upon hearing that I did not actually kill the human."

Gromph was silent a long moment then said, "Youdid something far more important. You fulfilled both the spirit and the letterof the Blooding ritual, in layers of subtle complexity that did credit to youand to your House. The human wizard is dead-that much was a needed formality.Using Xandra Shobalar as a tool was a clever twist, but washing your hands inher blood was brilliant."

"Thank you," Liriel said, in a tone soincongruously glum that it surprised a chuckle from the archmage.

"You still do not understand. Very well, I willspeak plainly. The human wizard was never your enemy. Xandra Shobalar was yourenemy. You recognized that, you turned her plot against her, and you proclaimeda blood victory. And in doing so, you demonstrated that you have learned whatit is to be a true drow."

"But I did not kill," Liriel saidthoughtfully. "Why do I feel as if I had?"

"You might not have actually shed blood, but theritual of the Blooding has done its intended work all the same," thearchmage asserted.

Liriel considered that, and she knew her father'swords as truth. Her innocence was gone, but pride, power, treachery, intrigue,survival, victory-all of those things she knew intimately and well.

"A true drow," she repeated in a tone thatwas nine parts triumph and one portion regret. She took a deep breath andlooked up into Gromph's eyes-and into a mirror.

For the briefest of moments, Liriel glimpsed a flickerof poignant sorrow in the archmage's eyes, like the glint of gold shiningthrough a deep layer of ice. It came and departed so quickly Liriel doubtedthat Gromph was even aware of it. After all, several centuries of cold andcalculating evil lay between him and his own rite of passage. If he rememberedthat emotion at all, he was no longer able to reach into his soul and bring itforth. Liriel understood, and at last she had a name to give the final, missingelement that defined a true drow:

Despair.

"Congratulations," the archmage said in avoice laced with unconscious irony.

"Thank you," his daughter responded in kind.