Daughter of the Drow - Elaine Cunningham [56]
She quickly stripped off her chain mail and weapons. Dancing while armed was not only an insult in drow society, but a hazard. A single knife wielded amid a throng of leaping, whirling drow could do considerable damage, and weapons were by law and custom left beyond the circle of a dance floor. Dancing was as close to an honorable truce as dark elves could come, and therefore Liriel did not fear these drow strangers as much as she might have under different circumstances. And though she left her weapons behind, she took her magic with her. She would be safe enough.
Clad only in her leggings and tunic, Liriel leaped into the circle of song and firelight. The other drow parted to make room for her, and she fell easily into the flow and pattern of the dance.
The moon rose slowly into the sky, casting long tree-shadows into the firelit clearing. At last, the music ended and the dark elves whirled the dance to a finish. The tall female who had summoned Liriel came forward and dropped to one knee-a gesture that in Menzoberranzan signified surrender. Since Liriel was alone and this powerful-looking female was surrounded fay a score of comrades, the Baenre girl took it to be an offer of peace. She accepted the gesture with her own: both hands held out, palms up, to show she held no weapons.
The strange female rose, smiling. "I am Ysolde Veladorn. These are my friends and fellow priestesses. Our campfire is yours, for as long as you would like to share it. From whence, if I may ask, have you come?"
This was strange behavior for priestesses, but Liriel was not inclined to point this out. "I am Liriel of House Baenre, first bouse of Menzoberranzan," she said.
That announcement was usually received with a mixture of fear and respect. A strange emotion-compassion, perhaps?-crossed Ysolde's dark face. "You have traveled far," she observed. "Would you sit with us awhile, and share our meal?"
Liriel glanced toward the campfire. One of the dark elves had taken up a harp-an instrument rare in the Underdark-and was playing softly. The other females were lounging about, laughing easily and passing around portions of the roast meat. There was a comfortable, unguarded air about these drow that Liriel found odd but strangely appealing.
"I will stay," she agreed, and then added, "Of course, I will pay for the food."
Ysolde smiled and shook her head. "That is not needed. In honor of our goddess, we share what we have with travelers."
That custom is new to me," Liriel observed, as she followed the tall drow to the fire. "But then, I just started at the Academy."
One of the other females, a shorter, slimmer version of Ysolde, lifted her head suddenly from her meal. "Not Arach-
Tinilith?"
Liriel nodded and accepted a skewer of roasted meat and mushrooms. "You know of it?"
The drow exchanged glances. "We have heard tales of Menzoberranzan," one of them said carefully. Liriel got the impression they would have liked to ask more, but Ysolde sent a calm, silencing gaze around the circle.
"Thank you for joining us in the ritual," the tall female said. "To have a stranger among us is a special offering to the goddess."
Fear knotted Liriel's throat, and she nearly choked on her first bite. Disbelief followed at once, quickly giving way to outrage. She threw aside her meal and leaped to her feet. "I might not be of your number, but you would not dare to offer a Baenre female to Lloth!" she snarled. "The ritual knife you raised to slay me would turn back against you!"
Every jaw dropped. Then, to Liriel's utter astonishment, the silver-haired females began to laugh.
Ysolde rose and laid a hand on the girl's shoulder. "We do not worship the Queen of Spiders. Our goddess is Eilistraee, the Dark Maiden, patron of song and swordcraft. The dance you joined was a ritual of praise to her!"
It was Liriel's turn to gape. In Menzoberranzan, rituals usually involved sacrifice of some sort. Prayers were