He just stood there, trembling, waging an inner battle against the sword’s murderous intent, Drizzt surmised.

“The orcs have gone on the attack once again,” Drizzt remarked, and his tone changed, and his thoughts went dark, as he reminded himself of the fate of Innovindil. “In the Moonwood and against the dwarves.”

“They are old enemies.” Tos’un replied, as if the whole news was matter-of-fact and hardly unexpected.

“Spurred by instigators who revel in chaos—indeed, who worship a demon queen who thrives on a state of utter confusion.”

“No,” Tos’un answered flatly. “If you are referring to me—”

“Are there other drow about?”

“No, and no,” said Tos’un.

“You would have to say that.”

“I fought beside the Moonwood elves.”

“Why would you not, in the service of chaos? I doubt that you care which side wins this war, as long as Tos’un realizes his gain.”

The drow shook his head, unconvinced.

“And in the Moonwood, “Drizzt continued, “the orcs’ attacks were cunning and coordinated—more so than one might expect from a band of the dimwitted goblinkin.” As he finished, Drizzt’s scimitars appeared in his hands as if they had simply materialized there, so fast and fluid was his motion. Again he sidled to his left, reminding himself that Tos’un was a drow warrior, trained at Melee-Magthere, likely under the legendary Uthegental. House Barrison Del’Armgo’s warriors were known for their ferocity and straightforward attacks. Formidable, to be sure, Drizzt knew, and he could not forget for one instant that sword Tos’un carried.

Drizzt went to the right, trying to keep Tos’un using only short strokes with Khazid’hea, a weapon powerful enough to perhaps sever one of Drizzt’s enchanted blades if swung with enough weight behind the blow.

“There is a new general among them, an orc most cunning and devious,” Tos’un replied, his face twisting with every word—arguing against the intrusions of Khazid’hea, Drizzt clearly recognized.

That obvious truth of Tos’un’s inner struggle had Drizzt somewhat hesitant, for why would this drow, if everything Drizzt presumed was true, be arguing against the murderous sword?

Before his thoughts could even go down that road, however, Drizzt thought again of Innovindil, and his face grew very dark. He turned his blades over and back again, anxious to exact revenge for his lost friend.

“More cunning than a warrior trained in Melee-Magthere?” he asked. “More devious than one raised in Menzoberranzan? More hateful of elves than a drow?”

Tos’un shook his head through all of the questions. “I was with the elves,” he argued.

“And you deceived them and ran—and ran with knowledge of their tactics.”

“I killed none as I left, though I surely could—”

“Because you are more cunning than that,” Drizzt interrupted. “I would expect nothing less from a son of House Barrison Del’Armgo. You knew that if you struck and murdered some in your escape, the elves of the Moonwood would have understood the depths of your depravity and would have known that an attack was soon to befall them.”

“I did not,” Tos’un said, shaking his head helplessly. “None of…” He stopped and grimaced as Khazid’hea assaulted his thoughts.

He will take from you his friend’s sword! Without me, your lies will not withstand the interrogations of the elf clerics. They would know your heart.

Tos’un found it hard to breathe. He was trapped in a way he never wanted, facing a foe he believed he could not defeat. He couldn’t run away from Drizzt as he had Obould.

Kill him! Khazid’hea demanded. With me in your grasp, Drizzt Do’Urden will fall. Take his head to Obould!

“No!” Tos’un shot back audibly—and Drizzt smiled in under-standing—instinctively recoiling from the orc king, an emotion that Khazid’hea surely understood.

Then take his head to Menzoberranzan, the sword offered, and again Tos’un’s reasoning argued, for he hadn’t the strength to return to the drow city alone along the unmerciful corridors of the Underdark.

But again the sword had the answers waiting. Promise Dnark the friendship of Menzoberranzan. He will give you warriors to accompany you to the city, where you will betray them and assume your place as a hero of Menzoberranzan.

Tos’un tightened his grip on both his swords and thought of Kaer’lic’s warning regarding Drizzt. Before Khazid’hea could even begin to argue, though, the drow did it for himself, for Kaer’lic’s warning that Drizzt might be in the graces of Lolth had been but a suspicion, and an outlandish one at that, but that mortal predicament standing before him loomed all too real.

And Drizzt watched it all, and recognized many of the fears and emotions playing through Tos’un’s thoughts, and so when the son of House Barrison Del’Armgo leaped toward him, his scimitars rose in a sudden and effortless cross before him.

Tos’un executed a double-thrust wide, Khazid’hea and his other sword stabbing past the axis of Drizzt’s blades. Drizzt threw his hands out wide to their respective sides, the called-for defense, each of his blades taking one of Tos’un’s.

Advantage taken, Drizzt went for the greater stance offered by his curved blades. A more conventional warrior would have reversed the thrust back at his opponent, but Tos’un, expecting that, would have been too quick on the retreat for any real advantage to be realized. So Drizzt turned his scimitars over Tos’un’s swords, using the curve of his blades to draw the swords in tighter, that he could send them out with more authority and perhaps even knock his foe off-balance enough that he could score a quick kill.

He rolled the scimitars over with a snap of his wrists.

But Khazid’hea….

Tos’un countered by jamming the powerful sword hard into the hilt of Drizzt’s scimitar—and the impossibly sharp blade cut in, catching a hold that halted Drizzt’s move. Tos’un pressed forward with his right and stepped back with his left, keeping perfect balance as he disengaged his left from Drizzt’s rolling blade.

Seeing disaster, Drizzt reversed suddenly, bringing Icingdeath, his right-hand blade, across hard instead of ahead, which would have left him off-balance and lunging. He drove Twinkle down hard directly away from the terrible blade of Khazid’hea, for that was the only chance to disengage before the mighty sword cut half of Twinkle’s crosspiece away. Tos’un followed until the disengagement, then thrust forward at Drizzt, of course, and Icingdeath came across in the last instant, scraping along Khazid’hea’s blade, shearing a line of sparks into the air.

Drizzt was half-turned, though, and Tos’un stabbed forward with his left for the ranger’s exposed side.

But Twinkle came up from under Drizzt’s other arm, neatly picking off the attack, and Drizzt uncrossed his arms suddenly, Icingdeath slashing back across to knock Tos’un’s sword aside. Twinkle slapped back against Khazid’hea with equal fury. Tos’un leaped back, as did Drizzt, the two again circling, taking a measure of each other.

He was good, Drizzt realized. Better than he had anticipated. He managed a glance at Twinkle to note the clear tear where Khazid’hea had struck, and noted, too, a nick on Icingdeath’s previously unblemished blade.

Tos’un came ahead with a lazy thrust, a feint and a sudden flurry, leading with his left then rattling off several quick blows with Khazid’hea. He moved forward with every strike, forcing Drizzt to block and not dodge. Every time Khazid’hea slapped against one of his blades, Drizzt winced, fearing that the awful sword would cut right through.

He couldn’t play it Tos’un’s way, he realized. Not with Khazid’hea in the mix. He couldn’t use a defensive posture, as he normally would against a warrior who had trained under Uthegental, an overly aggressive sort that would allow him to simply let Tos’un’s rage wear him out.

As soon as the attacks of Khazid’hea played out, Drizzt sprang forward, putting his blades up high and rolling his hands in a sudden blur. Over and over went his scimitars, as he rolled his hands left and right, striking rapidly at Tos’un from varying angles.