Realms of the Underdark

Chapter Eight: Relics

Drizzt knew he shouldn't be here. Briza had charged him with the task of polishing every doorknob in the entire house. She hadn't said anything about opening any of them.

The door clicked shut behind him. It was too late.

"Well, since I've already earned a whipping, I might as well look around," the young drow reasoned.

For a moment, Drizzt enjoyed the silence of the small antechamber. At present, all of House Do'Urden was astir with the final preparations for the Festival of the Founding, as well as for the imminent arrival of Matron Baenre and her entourage. Even by Briza's standards, the task she had assigned him was a tedious one. House Do'Urden was not the largest house in Menzoberranzan, but neither was it the smallest. After polishing a hundred knobs, Drizzt had lost count. Then he had come to the very last knob, set into a small door at the end of a seldom-trod hallway.

Drizzt wasn't certain what had first piqued his curiosity about the door. All of the other doors in the house were large and grand, graced by intricate carvings of webs and spiders and ancient drow heroes. This portal was so small and drab that he almost hadn't noticed it. Perhaps that was what had caught his interest. He hadn't even really meant to turn the knob, but as he buffed it one last time with the cloth, the knob had spun, and the door had swung open.

Now Drizzt gazed around the small chamber. After a moment he let out a sigh of disappointment. The room was empty, save for a few broken chairs and some rotting tapestries. Drizzt turned to leave. If he could slip out unnoticed, maybe he wouldn't get a beating after all. He reached for the knob.

That was when he noticed it. The walls of the chamber were all speckled with purple mold-except for a small circle in the center of the wall to his left. Drizzt frowned. That didn't make sense. Mold would grow on any surface that wasn't often disturbed…

In a second, he moved from door to wall, gazing at the circle of smooth stone. There was only one possible reason mold hadn't grown over that patch of wall. Testing his hunch, he lifted his hand and pressed against the circle.

I hadn't expected this, Drizzt thought as the floor dropped out beneath him. He tried to levitate but was too slow. With a soft, "Oof!" he landed on a heap of something cold, hard, and clinking.

Coins, he realized after a stunned moment. It was a pile of adamantite coins. He glanced up at the opening a dozen feet above his head. It would be no problem to levitate out of here. But first…

He pulled himself to his feet, shaking off a handful of coins, and gazed around. A gasp escaped his lips. His lavender eyes made out cool shapes wrought from silver, ruby, and pearl. He let his fingers run over ivory cups and jeweled scepters. Excitement rose in his chest. This was the house's secret treasure chamber! If his mother or sisters found him here, they would beat him within a hairbreadth of his life. Had he any sense at all, he would leave at once. But life as a page prince was dull, and everything his eyes found was so fascinating. Besides, he wouldn't stay long.

Drizzt donned an emerald crown and lifted a pale sword, pretending he was a great king of some deep, dark realm. He spun, waving the sword, imagining the terrible creatures of the Underdark he would slay.

A glint caught his eye. Sitting on a marble pedestal was a bowl of beaten gold. The sword slipped from Drizzt's fingers as he approached. The vessel was unadorned, but something told him this was no ordinary bowl. He reached out and touched the golden rim. As he did, clear water-springing from no visible source-filled the vessel. He bent over the bowl. At first all he saw was his own reflection, but then the water went dark, blacker than the deepest crevices of the Underdark. A sound of fear escaped Drizzt's throat, but he could not look away.

Images began to appear. They floated across the still surface of the water, quick and fleeting. He glimpsed his mother talking to his sisters, their heads bent together as they schemed some wickedness. The image changed and became his brother Dinin practicing with his swords. Then, in quick succession, came a dozen scenes scattered around the city: faces and places Drizzt did not know.

At last he understood. This was a scrying bowl. He had heard Matron Malice mention such a thing to Briza once, when she had not realized he was within earshot. This was one of the greatest treasures of House Do'Urden.

You should leave this place now, Drizzt, warned a voice in his head. The advice, however, was drowned out by exhilaration. The scrying bowl could show him anything he wanted! But what should he ask to see? Maybe he should let the bowl decide for him.

He gripped the rim. "Show me something important," he commanded. The metal seemed to hum beneath his hands.

For a moment he thought his request had confused the magical vessel, for the water went dark again, so black that it hurt to gaze upon. Then darkness turned into fire. The flames receded, revealing in their wake a dagger. It was beautiful. The dagger rested on what appeared to be a stone step. A purple gem winked in its hilt, and its blade still glowed with the heat of the fire. Drizzt bit his lip. The dagger seemed so real-so real that, before he even knew what he was doing, he reached into the bowl, his hand slipping beneath the cool surface of the water.

His fingers closed around hot metal.

With a yelp of surprise and pain, Drizzt snatched his hand back. The water bubbled, and there was a great hissing of steam. At last the vapor cleared. Drizzt stared in fear and wonder.

"What have I done?" he whispered.

In his hand he gripped the dagger, its metal now cool, quenched by the water in the scrying bowl.