Realms of the Underdark - J. Robert King [8]
Vierna and Maya looked at the elder women in concern, wanting to speak their own worries, but remembering their places this time.
Malice tapped her cheek, musing this over. "If Zaknafein dies in an attempt to gain the glory of Lloth, the Spider Queen will certainly consider it a sacrifice in her honor." Malice allowed herself a throaty laugh. "Either way," she crooned, "Lloth is bound to be pleased with House Do'Urden." Malice's daughters joined in her laughter.
Chapter Three
Page Prince
Never lift your gaze from the floor.
That was Drizzt Do'Urden's first lesson as page prince, and it had been one hard learned. He couldn't count the times he had felt the stinging bite of his sister Briza's snake-headed whip as punishment for breaking that all-important rule. It wasn't that it was so hard a thing to remember. Drizzt knew that he wasn't supposed to look up without permission. But knowing something wasn't as easy as doing it. No matter how hard he tried to stare at his boots, it seemed that something peculiar, or interesting, or wonderful always caught his attention, lifting his gaze before he even knew it was happening.
Unfortunately, more often than not, Briza would be lurking behind him, waiting for just such a transgression to occur. With an evil grin, she would uncoil her hissing whip and rake the fanged serpents across his back. Drizzt never cried out or tried to dodge the blows. To do so would only win him more lashes. He was page prince, and as far as he could tell, that meant he was the lowest form of life in all House Do'Urden.
"Page Prince, come here!" a voice called out across the house's main enclosure. "I have a task for you."
This time Drizzt remembered to keep his head down. He could not see the speaker, but he knew the voice well. It belonged to his sister, Vierna.
For the first ten years of his life, before he had become page prince, Vierna's had been the only voice he had known, save for his own. Vierna had been his word-wean mother. She had been given Drizzt as an infant, and as he grew she had taught him the language of the drow-both the spoken tongue and the complex system of hand signs that the dark elves used to communicate in silence. She had also taught him how to use and control his innate magical abilities: the power to levitate by force of will, and to conjure glowing faerie fire from thin air. More than anything else, however, she had taught him his place as a male in drow society. Females were his superiors, and he was always to defer to them. She had made him repeat this doctrine so often that sometimes he still woke at night to find he had been speaking it in his sleep.
Though Vierna's teachings had been anything but gentle, she had seldom used her whip on him, and when she did it was without the open relish Briza always displayed. However, in the year since he had become page prince, Vierna had resumed her studies at Arach-Tinilith, and would soon be anointed as a high priestess. As that time approached, Drizzt knew he could expect less and less kindness from his sister. High priestesses of Lloth were not known for their mercy.
Keeping his eyes on the floor, Drizzt hurried in the direction of the voice, relying on his keen senses of hearing and touch to avoid objects he could not see. In moments, he stood before a pair of supple leather slippers he knew belonged to his sister.
"Listen well, Page Prince, for I do not have time to instruct you twice," Vierna said in curt tones. "The Festival of the Founding is but two days hence, and the matron mother has ordered that the house be made ready for the Spider Queen's imminent visit."
"If she bothers to come at all," Drizzt mumbled under his breath before he could think to stifle the words. To his good fortune, Vierna either did not hear the statement or chose to ignore it.
"A green fungus has grown on the walls in the feast hall since the last revel was held," the young drow woman went on. "Briza wants you to clean all the stones. With this."
Into his hand she thrust a bent copper spoon.