It's funny how little I actually remember of this book. I remember the very beginning and I remember the climactic end, but the rest of this is a complete blank. It's a shame actually, because so far, it's been really enjoyable.

Anyway, last time, Drizzt and Belwar kicked a lot of bird person ass.



So we rejoin our heroes as they're racing away from the dire corbies. They've apparently gotten far enough that Belwar feels comfortable urging Drizzt to slow down. Drizzt has a bit of the crazy eyes going on ("angry fires burning still in his lavender eyes") but Belwar is able to reassure him that the danger is over.

Drizzt is now pretty sheepish and apologetic, he tries to explain, but Belwar cuts him off, reassuring him that he did fine and because of him, all three of them are fine. I really do like how Belwar gently but firmly has no time for Drizzt's self-recrimination. Drizzt was angry, but not mindlessly so, and they're alive.

It does make sense though that Drizzt is afraid of his own anger, given that he comes from a place where rage/sadism are celebrated. It's a humanizing element that I wish we'd seen in the Icewind Dale trilogy. But to be fair, Salvatore may not have thought of it yet. It'll be interesting to see if it comes up in Legacy or Starless Night.

Anyway, Belwar's a good comfort, and Drizzt shakes off the last of his berserker rage. Of course, his first thought after that is his cat girlfriend. Belwar still has the statue, but there's no telling how Guen took the acid bath. The statue itself is fine. Drizzt knows he should wait to call her, in case she's injured, but he's frantic to know if she's okay.

A dreadful sight awaited them. Obediently, faithfully, Guenhwyvar came to Drizzt’s summons, but as soon as the drow saw the panther, he knew that he should have left Guenhwyvar alone so that it might lick its wounds. Guenhwyvar’s silken black coat was burned and showing more patches of scalded skin than fur. Once-sleek muscles hung ragged, burned from the bone, and one eye remained closed and horribly scarred.

Guenhwyvar stumbled, trying to get to Drizzt’s side. Drizzt rushed to Guenhwyvar instead, dropping to his knees and throwing a gentle hug around the panther’s huge neck.

Oh no. Poor kitty. Is there a such thing as an astral veterinarian?! Belwar asks if they can help her, but Drizzt thinks that she'll heal better resting on her own plane. He sends her back.

We shift scenes now to poor Zombie-Zak. And this is interesting: he's found the fake camp, recognizes it as an "obvious dupe", but "the camp and the prospect of Drizzt returning to it, had kept Zaknafein at bay for several days!"

I wonder how much of that is Zak's own nature, or what's left of it, trying to slow himself down. Obviously Drizzt won't be returning to a fake camp. Especially after he'd "taken great pains to announce his departure from Blingdenstone".

And in fact, it does seem as though the zombie is in conflict: Drizzt's odd behavior is requiring it to think and analyze. In doing so, it has to tap into the rational being that it once was. This brings "the inevitable conflict between this undead animation and the spirit of the being it held captive."

Ooof. I think this is the first explicit indication that zombie-Zak isn't just an animated shell with built in muscle memory. The real thing is trapped in there somewhere. How horrid.

We get some back and forth scenes with the zombie and Malice back in Menzoberranzan. Apparently Zin-carla is a massive strain on a matron mother, because the wraith is her responsibility, and she needs to use all sorts of chants and spells to keep zombie separate from its emotions and its soul.

OOO. I was right!

The spirit-wraith lurched as he felt the intrusions of Malice’s powerful will. It proved to be no contest; in barely a second, the spirit-wraith was studying the small chamber Drizzt and one other being, probably a deep gnome, had disguised as a campsite. They were gone now, tendays out, and no doubt moving away from Blingdenstone with all speed. Probably, the spirit-wraith reasoned, moving away from Menzoberranzan as well.

Once Malice exerts direct control, the zombie stops his futile waiting and goes on the hunt again. He sniffs the air, which seems absurd to me, as drow aren't known for a sense of smell. He isn't a dog, Salvatore. But on the other hand, it does emphasize the horror and indignity of his plight. It wasn't enough for Zak to be a murdered sex slave, he's her pet in death as well.

--

Now we switch back to Drizzt and Belwar, and I think we've found the new traveling companion that I was teased/warned about! It's a human wizard! From the surface!

Now this should be interesting! There isn't a wizard among the Icewind Dale crew. The closest we got is the Harpells, and well, I hate them a lot. Salvatore, or at least Drizzt, expressed quite a bit of scorn toward the profession, insisting that fighters were just as good.

And honestly, while that's true in the role playing game, I still think that's kind of nonsense. Swinging a sword is not as impressive as setting fires with your brain, sorry.

But it'll be interesting to see what happens with this guy. Will he be serious or a joke? And how did I completely forget his existence?!?!

Anyway, the "stooping robed figure" is busy filling buckets from a fast stream. Drizzt is startled at the idea that a surface dweller could survive in the Underdark, as it goes against all of the Academy's teachings. Belwar is the one who figures out that he must be a wizard.

“A strange lot are wizards,” Belwar explained, as though the truth was self-evident. “Human wizards, even more than any others, so I’ve heard tell. Drow wizards practice for power. Svirfneblin wizards practice the arts to better know the stone. But human wizards,” the deep gnome went on, obvious disdain in his tone. “Magga cammara, dark elf, human wizards are a different lot altogether!”

“Why do human wizards practice the art of magic at all?” Drizzt asked.

Belwar shook his head. “I do not believe that any scholars have yet discovered the reason,” he replied in all sincerity. “A strange and dangerously unpredictable race are the humans, and better to be left alone.”

A lot of folk think it's boring to play humans in RPGs, but sometimes it can be a lot of fun. It's fun in settings where humans are their own sorts of chaos gremlins.

Anyway, Belwar's met a few humans, and he wasn't impressed. He calls them ugly and arrogant, thinking the whole world is only for them. So...Americans.

“Comen out, leetle rodents,” the human called in a language that the companions could not understand. The wizard reiterated the request in another tongue, then in drow, and then in two more unknown tongues, and then in svirfneblin. He continued on or many minutes, Drizzt and Belwar looking at each other in disbelief.

“He is a learned man,” Drizzt whispered to the deep gnome.

“Rats, probibably,” the human muttered to himself. He glanced around, seeking some way to flush out the unseen noisemakers, thinking that the creatures might provide a fine meal.

...I'm not sure what viewpoint this last bit is in. How would Drizzt or Belwar know he was saying the same thing in other languages? Though I guess maybe they can figure it out from the drow/svirnebli words.

So Drizzt and Belwar come out and the guy is a little...confused? Weird?

The human’s eyes went hysterically wide and he pulled roughly on his scraggly white beard. “You ist notten a rat!” he shrieked in strained but understandable drow.

“No,” Drizzt said. He looked back to Belwar, who was moving out to join him.

“Thieves!” the human cried. “Comen to shteal my home, ist you?”

“No,” Drizzt said again.

“Go avay!” the human yelled, waving his hands as a farmer would to shoo chickens. “Getten. Go on, qvickly now!” Drizzt and Belwar exchanged curious glances. “No,” Drizzt said a third time.

“Thees ist my home, stupit dark elven!” the human spat. “Did I asket you to comen here? Did I sent a letter invititing you to join me in my home? Or perhapst you and your oogly little friend simply consider it your duty to velcome me to the neighborhood!

Ah, standard Salvatore comic relief wizard. Got it. You'd think Drizzt would be more comfortable with the Harpells, but then god knows how this interlude will end.

Anyway, the human's name is Brister Fendlestick, and he's decided that the drow and deep gnomes must have united in fear of him. Oh brother.

The dude may be wacky, but he is reasonably formidable, and when Drizzt comes closer (Drizzt is hoping to end this without blows, but for some reason, doesn't bother to SAY anything to the wizard. Even though we saw that the wizard speaks drow), blasts some spells at them.

Oh okay, this dude is probably NOT the companion I was promised. Belwar and Drizzt end up retreating into the stream and sneaking off.

They continue on for a few more days, to find somewhere that sounds rather nice:

“Home!” Belwar proclaimed a couple of days later. The two friends looked down from a narrow ledge at a wide and high cavern that housed an underground lake. Behind them was a three-chambered cave with only a single tiny entrance, easily defensible.

That does sound nice. Drizzt notes though that they're only a few days away from the crazy wizard. He's also not so happy about the water being so close. It has fish and edible plants, but he thinks that the "oasis" will attract visitors.

Belwar thinks the cave is high enough to not be a problem, and well, water that's clean and drinkable is hard to find in the Underdark. There are even crabs - okay, giant twelve-foot crabs, but they won't lack for seafood.

--

We switch scenes to Zaknafein closing in with the grubber. The grubber doesn't stand a chance.

--

Back to Drizzt and Belwar. "one day" they hear a clicking sound. It's a hook horror! Drizzt had encountered one back in Homeland, in that exercise that involved the sacrifice of a drow child. One of the few battles that Drizzt kinda-sorta lost.

This hook horror seems different though, because when Drizzt is about to kill it:

He could have finished the hook horror at once; his scimitars easily could have slipped through the bony defenses. But Drizzt saw something—terror?—on the hook horror’s face, something in the creature’s expression that should not have been there. He forced the hunter back inside, took control of his swords, and hesitated for just a second—long enough for the hook horror, to Drizzt’s absolute amazement, to speak in clear and proper drow language, “Please … do … not … kill … me!”

Oh, maybe THIS is our new companion?

I don't remember it either! (Actually in retrospect, I think I might vaguely? We'll see if I'm right!) Anyway, our chapter ends here.

...one day, I'll find out what Salvatore has against wizards.