The Best of the Realms, Book I

CHAPTER 1

There were in the lands of Toril powerful men whosenames were seldom heard, and whose deeds were spoken only in furtive whispers.Among these were the Twilight Traders, a coalition of merchant captains whodid business with the mysterious peoples of the Underdark.

There were perhaps six in that exclusive brotherhood,all canny, fearless souls who possessed far more ambition than morals.Membership in the clandestine group was carefully guarded, achieved onlythrough a long and difficult process monitored not only by the members, but bymysterious forces from Below. Those who survived the initiation were granted arare window into the hidden realms: the right to enter the underground tradecity known as Mantol-Derith.

An enormous cavern hidden some three miles below thesurface, Mantol-Derith was shrouded with more layers of magic and might than a wizard'sstronghold. Secrecy was its first line of defense: even in the Underdark, notmany knew of the marketplace's existence. Its exact location was known only toa few. Even many of the merchants who regularly did business there would havebeen hard pressed to place the cavern on a map. So convoluted were the routesleading to Mantol-Derith that even duergar and deep gnomes could not hold theirrelative bearings along the way. Between the market and any nearby settlementlay labyrinths of monster-infested tunnels complicated by secret doors,portals of teleportation, and magical traps.

No one "stumbled upon" Mantol-Derith; amerchant either knew the route intimately or died along the way.

Nor could the marketplace be located by magical means.The strange radiations of the Underdark were strong in the thick, solid stonesurrounding the cavern. No tendril of magic could pass through-all spells wereeither diffused or reflected back to the sender, sometimes dangerously mutated.

Even the drow, the undisputed masters of theUnderdark, did not have easy access to the market. In the nearest dark elvensettlement, the great city of Menzoberranzan, no more than eight merchantcompanies at any one time knew the secret paths. That knowledge was the key toimmense wealth and power, and its possession the highest mark of statusattainable by members of the merchant class. Accordingly, it was pursued withan avid ferocity, with complex levels of intrigue and bloody battles ofweaponry and magic, all of which would probably earn nods of approval from thecity's ruling matrons-if indeed the priestesses of Lolth were inclined tonotice the doings of mere commoners.

Few of Menzoberranzan's ruling females-except forthose matron mothers who maintained alliances with this or that merchantband-had much interest in the world beyond their city's cavern. Those drow werean insular people: utterly convinced of their own racial superiority,fanatically absorbed in their worship of Lolth, completely enmeshed in thestrife and intrigue inspired by their Lady of Chaos.

Status was all, and the struggle for power all-consuming.Very little could compel the subterranean elves to tear their eyes from theirtraditionally narrow focus. But Xandra Shobalar, third-born daughter of a nobleHouse, was driven by the most powerful motivating forces known to the drow: hatred and revenge.

The members of House Shobalar were reclusive even bythe standards of paranoid Menzoberranzan, and they were seldom seen outside ofthe family complex. At the moment, Xandra was farther from home than she hadever intended to go. The journey to Mantol-Derith was long-the midnight hour ofNarbondel would come and pass perhaps as many as one hundred times from theoutset of her quest until she stood once again within the walls of HouseShobalar.

Few noble females cared to be away for so long, forfear that they would return to find their positions usurped. Xandra had no suchfears. She had ten sisters, five of whom were, like Xandra, counted among therare female wizards of Menzoberranzan. But none of these five wanted her job.

Xandra was Mistress of Magic, charged with the wizardlytraining of all young Shobalars as well as the household's magically giftedfosterlings. She had a great deal of responsibility, certainly, but there wasfar more glory to be found in the hoarding of spell power, and in conductingthe mysterious experiments that yielded new and wondrous items of magic. Ifone of the Shobalar wizards should ever try to wrest the instructor's positionaway, the powerful Xandra would certainly kill her-but only as a matter ofform. No drow female allowed another to take what was hers, even if she herselfdid not particularly want it.

Xandra Shobalar might not have been particularlyenamored of her role, but she was exceedingly good at what she did. TheShobalar wizards were reputed to be among the most innovative inMenzoberranzan, and all of her students were well and thoroughly taught.

These included the children-both female and male-ofHouse Shobalar, a few second-born sons from other noble Houses, which Xandraaccepted as apprentices, and a number of promising common-born boy-childrenthat she acquired by purchase, theft, or adoption-an option that usuallyoccurred after the convenient death of an entire family, rendering themagically-gifted child an orphan.

However they came to House Shobalar, Xandra's studentsroutinely won top marks in yearly competitions meant to spur the efforts of theyoung drow. Such victories opened the doors of Sorcere, the mage school at thefamed academy Tier Breche. So far every Shobalar-trained student who wished tobecome a wizard had been admitted to the Academy, and most had excelled in theArt. Their high standard was a matter of pride, which Xandra Shobalar possessedin no small measure.

It was that very reputation for excellence, however,that had caused the problem that brought Xandra to distant Mantol-Derith.

Almost ten years before, Xandra had acquired a newstudent, a female of rare wizardly promise. At first, the Shobalar mistress hadbeen overjoyed, for she saw in the girl-child an opportunity to raise her ownreputation to new heights. After all, she had been entrusted with the magicaleducation of Liriel Baenre, the only daughter and apparent heiress of GromphBaenre, the powerful Archmage of Menzoberranzan. If the child proved to betruly gifted-and that was almost a certainty, for why else would the mightyGromph bother with a child born of a useless beauty such as SosdrielleVandree? — then it was not unlikely that young Liriel might in due time inherither sire's title.

What renown would be hers, Xandra exulted, if shecould lay claim to training Menzoberranzan's next arch-mage-the first female tohold that high position.

Her initial joy was dimmed somewhat by Gromph'sinsistence that the arrangement be kept in confidence. It was not animpossibility, given the reclusive nature of the Shobalar clan, but it wasbrutally hard on Xandra not to be able to tout her latest student and claim theenhanced status that Baenre favor conferred upon her House.

Still, the Mistress Wizard looked forward to the timewhen the little girl could compete-and win! — at the mageling contests, and shebided her time in smug anticipation of glories to come.

From the start, young Liriel exceeded all of Xandra'shopes. Traditionally, the study of magic began when children entered theirAscharlexten Decade-the tumultuous passage between early childhood and puberty.During those years, which usually began at the age of fifteen or so and weredeemed to end either with the onset of puberty or the twenty-fifthyear-whichever came first-drow children at last became physically strong enoughto channel the forces of wizardly magic, and well-schooled enough to read andwrite the complicated drow language.

Liriel, however, came to Xandra at the age of five,when she was little more than a babe.

Though most dark elves felt the stirrings of theirinnate, spell-like powers in early childhood, Liriel already possessed aformidable command of her magical heritage, and furthermore, she could alreadyread the written runes of High Drow. Most importantly, she possessed inextraordinary measure the inborn talent needed to make a magic-wielding drowinto a true wizard. In a remarkably short time, the tiny child had learned toread simple spell scrolls, reproduce the arcane marks, and commit fairly complexspells to memory. Xandra was ecstatic. Liriel instantly became her pride, herpet, her indulged and-almost-beloved fosterling.

And thus she had remained, for nearly five years. Atthat point, the child began to pull ahead of the Shobalar's Ascharlexten-agedstudents. Xandra began to worry. When Liriel's abilities surpassed those of themuch-older Bythnara, Xandra's own daughter, Xandra knew resentment. When theBaenre girl began to wield spells that would challenge the abilities of thelesser Shobalar wizards, Xandra's resentment hardened into the cold,competitive hatred a drow female held for her peers. When young Liriel gainedher full height and began to fulfill her childhood promise of extraordinarybeauty to come, Xandra simmered with a deep and very personal envy. And when thelittle wench's growing interest in the male soldiers and servants of HouseShobalar made it apparent that she was entering her Ascharlexten, Xandra saw anopportunity and plotted a dramatic-and final-end to Liriel's education.

It was a fairly typical progression, as drow relationshipswent, made unusual only by the sheer force of Xandra's animosity and thelengths she was willing to go to assuage her burning resentment of GromphBaenre's too-talented daughter.

That, then, was the succession of events that hadbrought Xandra to the streets of Mantol-Derith.

Despite her urgent need, the drow wizard could nothelp marveling at the sights surrounding her. Xandra had never before steppedoutside of the vast cavern that held Menzoberranzan, and the strange and exoticmarketplace bore little resemblance to her home city.

Mantol-Derith was set in a vast natural grotto, acavern that had been carved in distant eons by restless waters, which werestill busily at work. Xandra was accustomed to the staid black depths ofMenzoberranzan's Lake Donigarten, and the deep, silent wells that were the carefullyguarded treasures of each noble household.

In Mantol-Derith, water was a living and vital force.The cavern's dominant sound was that of moving water. Waterfalls splashed downthe grotto walls and fell from chutes from the high-domed cavern ceiling,fountains played softly in the small pools that seemed to be around every turn,and bubbling streams cut through the cavern.

Apart from the gentle splash and gurgle echoing ceaselesslythrough the grotto, the market city was strangely silent. Mantol Derith was nota bustling bazaar, but a place for clandestine deals and shrewd negotiations.

Light was far more plentiful than sound. A few dimlanterns were enough to set the whole cavern asparkle, for the walls wereencrusted with multicolored crystals and gems. Bright stonework was everywhere.The walls containing fountain pools were wondrous mosaics fashioned fromsemiprecious gems, the bridges spanning the stream were carved-or perhapsgrown-from crystal, and the walkways were paved with flat-cut gemstones.Xandra's slippers whispered against a path fashioned from brilliant greenmalachite. It was unnerving, even for a drow accustomed to the splendors ofMenzoberranzan, to tread upon such wealth.

At least the air felt familiar to the subterraneanelf. Moist and heavy, it was dominated by the scent of mushrooms. Groves of giant fungi ringed the central market. Beneath the enormous, fluted caps,merchants had set up small stalls offering a variety of goods. Perfumes, aromaticwoods, spices, and exotic, sweetly scented fruits-which had become afashionable indulgence to the Underdark's wealthy-added piquant notes offragrance to the damp air.

To Xandra, the strangest thing about the marketplacewas the apparent truce that existed among the various warring races who didbusiness there. Mingling among the stalls and passing each other peaceably onthe streets were the stone-colored deep gnomes known as svirfneblin; thedeep-dwelling, dark-hearted duergar; a few unsavory merchants from the WorldAbove; and, of course, the drow. At the four corners of the cavern, vaststorehouses had been excavated to provide storage as well as separate housingfor the four factions: svirfneblin, drow, duergar, and surface dwellers.Xandra's path took her toward the surface dweller cavern.

The sound of rushing water intensified as Xandraneared her goal, for the corner of the marketplace that sold goods from theWorld Above was located near the largest waterfall. The air was especially dampthere, and the stalls and tables were draped with canvas to keep out thepervasive mist.

Moisture pooled on the rocky floor of the grotto and dampenedthe wools and furs worn by the surface dwellers who clustered there-a motleycollection of orcs, ogres, humans, and various combinations thereof.

Xandra grimaced and pulled the folds of her cloak overthe lower half of her face to ward off the fetid odor. She scanned thebustling, smelly crowd for the man who fit the description she'd been given.

Apparently, finding a drow female in such a crowd wasa simpler task than singling out one human. From the depths of one tentlikestructure came a low, melodious voice, calling the wizard properly by her nameand title. Xandra turned toward the sound, startled to hear a drow voice insuch a sordid setting.

But the small, stooped figure that hobbled toward herwas that of a human male.

The man was old by the measure of humankind, withwhite hair, a dark and weathered face, and a slow, faltering tread. He had notgone unscathed by his years-a cane aided his faltering steps, and a dark patchcovered his left eye. Those infirmities did not seem to have hampered hissuccess.

His cane was carved from lustrous wood and ornamentedwith gems and gilding. Over a silvered tunic of fine silk, he wore a capeembroidered with gold thread and fastened with a diamond neck clasp. Gems thesize of laplizard eggs glittered on his fingers and at his throat. His smilewas both welcoming and confident-that of a male who possessed much and was wellsatisfied with his own measure.

"Hadrogh Prohl?" Xandra inquired.

The merchant bowed.

"At your service, Mistress Shobalar," hesaid in fluent but badly accented Low Drow.

"You know of me. Then you must also have someidea what I need."

"But of course, Mistress, and I will be pleasedto assist you in whatever way I can. The presence of so noble a lady honors thisestablishment. Please, step this way," he said, moving aside so that shecould enter the canvas pavilion.

Hadrogh's words were correct, his manner proper almostto the point of being obsequious-which was, of course, the prudent approachwhen dealing with drow females of stature. Even so, something about the merchantstruck Xandra as not quite right. To all appearances, he seemed atease-friendly, relaxed to the point of being casual, even unobservant. In otherwords, a naive and utter fool. How such a man had survived so long in thetunnels of the Underdark was a mystery to the Shobalar wizard. And yet, shenoted that Hadrogh, unlike most humans, did not require the punishing light oftorches and lanterns.

His tent was comfortably dark, but he had no apparentdifficulty negotiating his way through the maze of crates and cages that heldhis wares.

A curious Xandra whispered the words to a simplespell, one that would yield some answers about the man's nature and the magiche might carry. She was not entirely surprised when the seeking magic skitteredoff the merchant. Either he was astute enough to carry something thatdeflected magical inquiry, or he possessed an innate magical immunity thatnearly matched her own.

Xandra had her suspicions about the merchant's origins,suspicions that were too appalling to voice, but she did not doubt that the" human" was quite at home in the Underdark, and quite capable oftaking care of himself, despite his fragile, aged facade.

The half-drow merchant-for Xandra's suspicions wereindeed correct-appeared to be unaware of the female's scrutiny. He led the wayto the very back of the canvas pavilion. There stood a row of large cages, eachwith a single occupant. Hadrogh swept a hand toward them, and stepped back sothat Xandra could examine the merchandise as she wished.

The wizard walked slowly along the row of cages,examining the exotic creatures destined for slavery. There was no shortage ofslaves to be had in the Underdark, but the status-conscious dark elves were evereager to acquire new and unusual possessions, and there was a high demand forservants brought from the World Above. Halfling females were prized as ladies'maids for their deft hands and their skill at weaving, curling, and twistinghair into elaborate works of art. Mountain dwarves, who possessed a finer touchwith weapons and jewels than their duergar kin, were considered hard to managebut well worth the trouble it took to keep them. Humans were useful as beastsof burden and as sources of spells and potions unknown to the Underdark. Exoticbeasts were popular, too. A few of the more ostentatious drow kept them aspets or displayed them in small private zoos. Some of those animals found theirway to the arena in the Manyfolks district of Menzoberranzan. There, drow whopossessed a taste for vicarious slaughter gathered to watch and wager whiledangerous beasts fought each other, slaves of various races, and evendrow-soldiers eager to prove their battle prowess or mercenaries who covetedthe handful of coins and the fleeting fame that were the survivors' reward.

Hadrogh could supply slaves or beasts to meet almostany taste. Xandra nodded with satisfaction as she eyed the collection.

"I was not told, my lady, what manner of slaveyou required. If you would describe your needs, perhaps I could guide yourselection," Hadrogh offered.

A strange light entered the wizard's crimson eyes.

"Not slaves," she corrected him."Prey."

"Ah." The merchant seemed not at allsurprised by that grim pronouncement. "The Blooding, I take it?"

Xandra nodded absently. The Blooding was a uniquelydrow ritual, a rite of passage in which young dark elves were required to huntand kill an intelligent or dangerous creature, preferably one native to theWorld Above. Surface raids were one means of accomplishing that task, but itwas not unusual for the hunts to take place in the tunnels of the wildUnderdark, provided suitable captives could be acquired. Never had theselection of the ritual prey been so important, and Xandra looked over theprospective choices carefully.

Her crimson eyes lingered longingly on the huddledform of a pale-skinned, golden-haired elf child. The hate-filled drow bore aspecial enmity for their surface kindred. Faerie elves, as the light-dwellingelves were called, were the preferred target of those Blooding ceremonies thattook the form of a raid, but they were seldom hunted in the Underdark.Accordingly, there would be great prestige in obtaining such rare quarry forthe ritual hunt.

Regretfully Xandra shook her head.

Though the boy-child was certainly old enough toprovide sport-he was probably near the age of the drow who would hunt him-hisglazed, haunted eyes suggested otherwise.

The young faerie elf seemed oblivious to his surroundings.His gaze was fixed upon some nightmare-filled world that only he inhabited. Theboy-child would command a fabulous price; there were many drow who would paydearly for the pleasure of destroying even so pitiful a faerie. Xandra,however, was in need of deadlier prey.

She walked over to the next cage, in which prowled amagnificent, catlike beast with tawny fur and wings like those of a deepbat. Asthe creature paced the cage, its tail-which was long and supple and tipped withiron spikes-lashed about furiously, clanging each time it hit the bars. Thebeast's hideous, humanoid face was contorted with fury, and the eyes thatburned into Xandra's were bright with hunger and hatred.

Now this is promising! she thought.

Not wishing to appear too interested-which wouldcertainly add many gold pieces to the asking price-Xandra turned to themerchant and lifted one eyebrow in a skeptical, questioning arch.

"This is a manticore. A fearsome monster,"wheedled Hadrogh. "The creature is driven by a powerful hunger for humanflesh-though certainly it would not be adverse to dining upon drow, if such isyour desire. By which," he added hastily, "I meant only to imply thatthe beast's voracious nature would add excitement to the hunt. The manticoreis itself a hunter, and a worthy opponent."

Xandra looked the thing over, noting with approval itsdaggerlike claws and fangs.

"Intelligent?" she asked.

"Cunning, certainly."

"But is it capable of devising strategy anddiscerning counterstrategy, to the third and fourth levels?" the wizardpersisted. "The youngling mage who will face her Blooding is formidable. Ineed prey that will truly test her abilities."

The merchant spread his hands and shrugged.

"Strength and hunger are also mightyweapons," he said. "These the manticore has in abundance."

"Since you have not said otherwise, I assume itwields no magic," the wizard observed. "Has it at least some naturalresistance to spellcasting?"

"Alas, none. What you ask, great lady, are thingsthat belong rightfully to the drow. Such powers are difficult to find in lesserbeings," the merchant said in a tone calculated to flatter and appease.

Xandra sniffed and turned to the next cage, where an enormous,white-furred creature gnawed audibly on a haunch of rothé.

The thing was a bit like a quaggoth-a bearlike beastnative to the Underdark-except for its pointed head and strong, musky odor.

"No, a yeti is not quite right for yourpurposes," Hadrogh said thoughtfully. "Your young wizard could tracksuch a beast by its scent alone!"

The merchant's uncovered eye lit up, and he snappedhis fingers.

"But wait! It may be that I have precisely whatyou require."

He bustled off, returning in moments with a human malein tow.

Xandra's first response was disgust. The merchantseemed a canny sort, too knowledgeable in the ways of the drow to offer suchinferior merchandise. Her scornful gaze swept over the human-noting his coarse,dwarflike form, the pale leathery skin of his bearded face, the odd tattoosshowing through the stubble of gray hair that peppered his skull, the dustyrobes of a bright red shade that would be considered tawdry even by one of thelow-rent male companions who did business in the Eastmyr district.

But when Xandra met the captive's eyes-which were asgreen and as hard as the finest malachite-the sneer melted from her lips. Whatshe saw in those eyes stunned her: intelligence far beyond her expectations,pride, cunning, rage, and implacable hatred.

Hardly daring to hope, Xandra glanced at the man'shands. Yes, the wrists were crossed and bound together, the hands swathed in athick cocoon of silken bandages. No doubt some of the fingers had been brokenas well-such precautions were only prudent when dealing with captivespellcasters. No matter. The powerful clerics of House Shobalar could heal suchinjuries soon enough.

"A wizard," she stated, keeping her voicecarefully neutral.

''A powerful wizard," the merchantemphasized.

"We shall see," Xandra murmured."Unbind him-I would test his skills."

Hadrogh, to his credit, didn't try to dissuade her.The merchant quickly unbound the human's hands. He even lit a pair of smallcandles, providing enough dim light so that the man could see.

The red-robed man flexed his fingers painfully. Xandranoted that the human's hands seemed stiff, but unharmed. She tossed aninquiring glare at the merchant.

"An amulet of containment," Hadroghexplained, pointing to the collar of gold that tightly encircled the man'sneck. "It is a magical shield that keeps the wizard from casting any ofthe spells he has learned and committed to memory. He can, however, learn andcast new spells. His mind is intact, as are his remembered spells. As are hishands, for that matter. Admittedly, this is a costly method of transportingmagically-gifted slaves, but my reputation demands that I deliver undamagedmerchandise."

A rare smile broke across Xandra's face. She had neverheard of such an arrangement, but it was ideally suited to her purposes.

Cunning, quickness of mind, and magical aptitude werethe qualities she needed. If the human passed those tests, she could teach himwhat he needed to know. That his mind could be searched at some later time, andits store of magical knowledge plundered for her own use, was a bonus.

The drow quickly removed three small items from thebag at her waist and showed them to the watchful human. Slowly, she movedthrough the gestures and spoke the words of a simple spell. In response to hercasting, a small globe of darkness settled over one of the candles, completelyblotting out its light.

Xandra handed an identical set of spell components tothe human.

"Now you," she commanded.

The red-clad wizard obviously understood what wasexpected of him. Pride and anger darkened his face, but only for a moment-thelure of an unlearned spell proved too strong for him to resist. Slowly, withpainstaking care, he mirrored Xandra's gestures and mimicked her words. Thesecond candle flickered, then dimmed. Its flame was still faintly visiblethrough the gray fog surrounding it.

"The human shows promise," the Shobalarwizard admitted. It was unusual for any wizard to reproduce a spell-evenimperfectly-without having seen and studied the magical symbols. "Hispronunciation is deplorable, though, and will continue to hamper his progress.You wouldn't by chance have a wizard in stock who can speak Drowic? Or evenUndercommon? Such would be easier to train."

Hadrogh bowed deeply and hurried out of sight. Amoment later he returned, alone, but with one hand held palm-up andoutstretched so that Xandra could see he had another solution to suggest. Thefaint light of the fog-shrouded candle glimmered on the two tiny silver earringsin his hand, each in the form of a half-circle.

"To translate speech," the merchantexplained. "One pierces the ear, so that he might understand, the otherhis mouth, so that he might be understood. May I demonstrate?"

When Xandra nodded, the merchant lifted his empty handand snapped his fingers twice.

Two half-orc guards hastened to his side. They seizedthe human wizard and held him fast while Hadrogh pressed the rings' tiny metalspikes through the man's earlobe and the left side of his upper lip. The humangave off a string of Drowic curses, predications so colorful and virulent that,astonishment and fear darkening his gray-skinned face, Hadrogh fell back astep.

Xandra laughed delightedly.

"How much?" she demanded.

The merchant named an enormous price, hastening toassure Xandra that the figure named included the magical collar and rings. Thedrow wizard rapidly estimated the cost of those items, added the potentialworth of the spells she would steal from the human, and threw in the death ofLiriel Baenre.

"A bargain," Xandra said with darksatisfaction.