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By Root 754 0

and tear apart his place of business? “Drizzt,” I corrected, looking to the man. “Jak Timberline,” the man said. He extended his hand, then retracted it and wiped it on his shirt before putting it back out. “I've heard of you, Drizzt.” He took extra care to pronounce the name correctly, and I'll admit, I was flattered. “They say you're a ranger.” I accepted the shake firmly, and my smile was wide, I am sure. “I'll tell you right here, Drizzt-” again, the extra care with the name “-I don't care what color a fellow's skin might be. I heard of you, heard good things about what you and your friends've done up in Mithril Hall.” His compliment was a bit condescending, and poor Aganis blanched again. I took no offense, though, accepting Jak's clumsiness as inexperience. The greeting was actually quite tactful, weighed against so many others I have received since I came to the surface world-so many others that took place at the end of a drawn weapon. “It is a good thing that the dwarves have reclaimed the halls,” I agreed. “And a good thing, too, that you happened by Rico's group,” Jak added. “Tharman was a happy soul this morning,” put in the nervous barkeep. It seemed so normal to me, and you have to understand that I was used to anything but normal in my dealings with the various surface races. “Did you get Rico back his slave?” Jak asked bluntly. My last bite of food suddenly refused to go down my throat. “Nojheim,” Jak explained. “The goblin.” I had seen slavery in all its brutality in Menzoberranzan, the city of my birth. Dark elves kept many slaves of many races, working them brutally until they were no longer useful, then torturing them, butchering them, breaking their bodies as they had broken their spirits. I had always felt slavery to be the most repulsive of acts, even when practiced against the so-called unredeemable

races, such as goblins and ores. I nodded in answer to Jak, but my sudden grimace put the man off. Aganis nervously cleaned the same plate several times, all the while staring at me and occasionally putting his towel up to wipe his sweaty brow. I finished the meal without much more conversation, except to innocently discover which farmhouse belonged to Rico. I wanted no answers from these two. I wanted to see for myself what I had done. I was outside Rico's fenced-in yard by dusk. The farmhouse was a simple structure of boards and logs, mud patted in against the cracks to keep the wind out and a roof angled to handle the winter snows. Nojheim was going about his chores-unshackled, I noticed-but no one else was in sight. I did see the curtains of the single window on this side of the farmhouse move a few times. Rico, or one of his family, was probably keeping an eye out for the goblin. When he was done tending to a goat tied near the house, Nojheim considered the darkening sky and went into the small barn, barely more than a shed, a short distance from the house. Through the many cracks of this rough structure, I saw the light of a fire come up a moment later. What was this all about? I could not reconcile any of it. If Nojheim had initially come to Pengallen at the head of a raiding force, then why was he allowed such freedom? He could have taken a brand from that fire he had burning in the barn and set the main house ablaze. I decided not to get my answers from Rico-decided, since I knew in my heart what was going on, that I would get no honest answers from him. Nojheim went into his pitiful slobbering as soon as I walked into the shadows of the dimly lit barn. “Please, oh, please,” he whined in his squeaky goblin voice, his fat tongue smacking against his lips. I pushed him away, and my anger must have been obvious, for he suddenly sat quietly across the fire from me, staring into the orange and yellow flames. “Why did you not tell me?” He glanced up at me curiously, his expression a clear image of resignation. “Did you lead a raid against Pengallen?” I pressed. He looked back to the flames, his face twisted incredulously as though that question should not even be justified with an answer. And I believed