Jule Pepper laughed aloud at the question. Soon after Jule had arrived at Golden Cove, Le'lorinel had spent hour after hour with her, making her mimic every movement she'd seen Drizzt make, even those unrelated to battle. Le'lorinel wanted to know the length of his stride, the tilt of his head when he spoke, anything at all about the hated drow. Jule knew Morik would likely show the elf nothing of any value, but knew, too, that Le'lorinel would make him repeat his actions and words again and again. Never had Jule seen anyone so perfectly obsessed.
“Morik is likely beside Le'lorinel even now, no doubt reenacting the sequence that got him caught by Drizzt and Catti-brie,” Bellany answered with a glance at the amused Jule.
“Ye be watchin' them with yer magic,” Sheila instructed the sorceress. “Ye pay attention to every word Le'lorinel utters, to every movement made toward Morik.”
“You still fear that our enemies might have sent the elf as a diversion?” Bellany asked.
“Le’lorinel's arrival was a bit too convenient,” Jule remarked.
“What I'm fearin' even more is that the fool elf'll go finding Drizzt and his friends afore they're finding us,” Sheila explained. “That group might be spendin' tendays wandering the mountains without any sign o' Minster Gorge or Golden Cove, and I'm preferring that to having enemies that powerful walkin' right in.”
“I'd like to raise a beacon to guide them in,” Jule said quietly. “I owe that group and intend to see them paid back in full.”
“To say nothing of the many magical treasures they carry,” Bellany agreed. “I believe I could get used to such a companion as Guenhwyvar, and wouldn't you look fine, Sheila, wearing the dark elf's reportedly fabulous scimitars strapped about your waist?”
Sheila Kree nodded and smiled wickedly. “But we got to get that group on our own terms and not theirs,” she explained. “We'll bring 'em in when we're ready for 'em, after the winter's softened them up a bit. We'll get Le'lorinel the fight that's been doggin' the stubborn fool elf for all these years and hope that Drizzt falls hard then and there. And if not, there'll be fewer of us left to split the treasure.”
“Speaking of that,” Jule put in, “I note that many of our ogre friends have gone out and about, hunting the countryside. We would do well, I think, to keep them close until this business with Drizzt Do'Urden is finished.”
“Only a few out at a time,” Sheila Kree replied. “I telled as much to Chogurugga already.”
Bellany left the room soon after, and she couldn't help but smile at the way things were playing out. Normally, the winters had been dreadfully uneventful, but now this one promised a good fight, better treasure, and more companionship in the person of Morik the Rogue than the young sorceress had known since her days as an apprentice back in Luskan.
It was going to be a fine winter-But Bellany knew that Sheila Kree was right concerning Le'lorinel. If they weren't careful, the crazy elf's obsession with Drizzt could invite disaster.
Bellany went right to her chamber and gathered together the components she needed for some divination spells, tuning in to the wide and rocky chamber Sheila Kree had assigned to Le'lorinel, watching as the elf and Morik went at their weapon dance, Le'lorinel instructing Morik over and over again to tell everything he knew about this strange dark elf.
* * * * * * * * * * *
“How many times must I tell you that it was no fight?” Morik asked in exasperation, holding his arms out and down to the side, a dagger in each hand. “I had no desire to continue when I learned the prowess of the drow and his friend.”
“No desire to continue,” Le’lorinel pointedly echoed. “Which means that you began. And you just admitted that you learned of the dark elf's prowess. So show me, and now, else I will show you my prowess!”
Morik tilted his head and smirked at the elf, dismissing this upstart's threat. Or at least, appearing to. In truth, Le'lorinel had Morik quite unsettled. The rogue had survived many years on the tough streets by understanding his potential enemies and friends. He instinctively knew when to fight, when to bluff, and when to run away.
This encounter was fast shifting into the third category, for Morik could get no barometer on Le'lorinel. The elf's obsession was beyond readable, he recognized, drifting into something nearing insanity. He could see that clearly in the sheer intensity of the elf's blue and gold eyes, staring out at him through that ridiculous black mask. Would Le'lorinel really attack him if he didn't give the necessary information, and, apparently, in a manner that Le'lorinel could accept? He didn't doubt that for a moment, nor did he doubt that he might be overmatched. Drizzt Do'Urden had defeated his best attack routine with seeming ease, and had begun a counter that would have had Morik dead in seconds if the drow had so desired, and if Le'lorinel could pose an honest challenge to' Drizzt. .
“You wish him dead, but why?” the rogue asked.
“That is my affair and not your own,” Le'lorinel answered curtly.
“You speak to me in anger, as if I can not or would not help you,” Morik said, forcing a distinct level of calm into his voice. “Perhaps there's a way—”
“This is my fight and not your own,” came the response, as sharp as Morik's daggers.
“Ah, but you alone, against Drizzt and his friends?” the rogue reasoned. “You may begin a brilliant and winning attack against the drow only to be shot dead by Catti-brie, standing calmly off to the side. Her bow—”
“I know all of Taulmaril and of Guenhwyvar and all the others,” the elf assured him. “I will find Drizzt on my own terms and defeat him face to face, as justice demands.”
Morik gave a laugh. “He is not such a bad fellow,” he started to say, but the feral expression growing in Le'lorinel's eyes advised him to alter that course of reasoning. “Perhaps you should go and find a woman,” the rogue added. “Elf or human—there seem to be many attractive ones about. Make love, my friend. That is justice!”
The expression that came back at Morik, though he had never expected agreement, caught him by surprise, so doubtful and incredulous did it seem.
“How old are you?” Morik pressed on. “Seventy? Fifty? Even less? It is so hard to tell with you elves, and yes, I am jealous of you for that. But you are undeniably handsome, a delicate beauty the women will enjoy. So find a lover, my friend. Find two! And do not risk the centuries of life you have remaining in this battle with Drizzt Do'Urden.”
Le'lorinel came forward a step. Morik fast retreated, subtly twisting his hands to prepare to launch a dagger into the masked face of his opponent, should Le'lorinel continue.
“I can not live!” the elf cried angrily. “I will see justice done! The mere notion of a dark elf walking the surface, feigning friendship and goodness offends everything I am and everything I believe. This dupe that is Drizzt Do'Urden is an insult to all of my ancestors, who drove the drow from the surface world and into the lightless depths where they belong.”
“And if Drizzt retreated into the lightless depths, would you then pursue him?” Morik asked, thinking he might have found a break in the elf’s wall of reasoning.
“I would kill every drow if that power was in my hands,” Le'lorinel sneered in response. “I would obliterate the entire race and be proud of the action. I would kill their matrons and their murderous raiders. I would drive my dagger into the heart of every drow child!”
The elf was advancing with every sentence, and Morik was wisely backing, staying out of dangerous range, holding his hands up before him, daggers still ready, and patting the air in an effort to calm this brewing storm.
Finally Le'lorinel stopped the approach and stood glaring at him. “Now, Morik, are you going to show me the action that occurred between you and Drizzt Do'Urden, or am I to test your battle mettle personally and use it as a measure of the prowess of Drizzt Do'Urden, given what I already know about your encounter?”