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  "Fret was with the party that first tracked Drizzt from the Underdark," Alustriel continued. "After Drizzt had left the area, my curious sister and her companions backtracked the drow's trail and located the cave, the entrance to the deep tunnels.

  "I hesitate to point the way for you," the Lady of Silverymoon said after a long pause, her concern for the young woman's safety evident in her tone and expression.

  Catti-brie's blue eyes narrowed, and she quickly pulled on her breeches. She would not be looked down upon, not even by Alustriel, and would not have others deciding her course.

  "I see," remarked Alustriel with a nod of her head. Her immediate understanding set Catti-brie back.

  Alustriel motioned for Fret to retrieve Catti-brie's pack. A sour expression crossed the tidy dwarf's face as he moved near the dirty thing, and he lifted it gingerly by two extended fingers. He glanced forlornly at Alustriel, and when she did not bother to look back at him, he left the room.

  "I did not ask ye for any companion," Catti-brie stated bluntly.

  "Fret is a guide to the entrance," Alustriel corrected, "and nothing more. Your courage is admirable, if a bit blind," she added, and before the young woman could find the words to reply, Alustriel was gone.

  Catti-brie stood silently for a few moments, water from her wet hair dripping down her bare back. She fought away the feeling that she was just a little girl in a big and dangerous world, that she was small indeed beside the tall and powerful Lady Alustriel.

  But the doubts lingered.

  Two hours later, after a fine meal and a check on provisions, Catti-brie and Fret walked out of Silverymoon's eastern gate, the Sundabar Gate, beside Lady Alustriel, an entourage of soldiers keeping a respectful but watchful distance from their leader.

  A black mare and a shaggy gray pony awaited the two travelers.

  "Must I?" Fret asked for perhaps the twentieth time since they had left the castle. "Would not a detailed map suffice?"

  Alustriel just smiled and otherwise ignored the tidy dwarf. Fret hated anything that might get him dirty, anything that would keep him from his duties as Alustriel's best-loved sage. Certainly the road into the wilds near Dead Ore Pass qualified on both counts.

  "The horseshoes are enchanted, and your mounts will fly like the wind itself," Alustriel explained to Catti-brie. The silver-haired woman looked over her shoulder to the grumbling dwarf.

  Catti-brie was not quick to respond, offered no thanks for Alustriel's effort. She had said nothing to Alustriel since their meeting earlier that morning, and had carried herself with an unmistakably cool demeanor.

  "With luck, you will arrive at the cave before Drizzt," Alustriel said. "Reason with him and bring him home, I beg. He has no place in the Underdark, not anymore."

  "Drizzt's 'place' is his own to decide," Catti-brie retorted, but she was really implying that her own place was hers to decide.

  "Of course," Alustriel agreed, and she flashed that smile—that knowing grin that Catti-brie felt belittled her— again.

  "I did not hinder you," Alustriel pointed out. "I have done my best to aid your chosen course, whether I think it a wise choice or not."

  Catti-brie snickered. "Ye just had to add that last thought," she replied.

  "Am I not entitled to my opinion?" Alustriel asked.

  "Entitled to it and givin' it to all who'll hear," Catti-brie remarked, and Alustriel, though she understood the source of the young woman's demeanor, was plainly surprised.

  Catti-brie snickered again and kicked her horse into a walk.

  "You love him," Alustriel said.

  Catti-brie pulled hard on the reins to stop her horse and turn it halfway about. Now she wore the expression of surprise.

  "The drow," Alustriel said, more to bolster her last statement, to reveal her honest belief, than to clarify something that obviously needed no further explanation.

  Catti-brie chewed on her lip, as though seeking a response, then turned her mount roughly about and kicked away.

  "It's a long road," Fret whined.

  "Then hurry back to me," Alustriel said, "with Catti-brie and Drizzt beside you."

  "As you wish, my lady," the obedient dwarf replied, kicking his pony into a gallop. "As you wish."

  Alustriel stood at the eastern gate, watching, long after Catti-brie and Fret had departed. It was one of those not-so-rare moments when the Lady of Silverymoon wished that she was not encumbered with the responsibilities of government. Truly, Alustriel would have preferred to grab a horse of her own and ride out beside Catn'-brie, even to venture into the Underdark, if necessary, to find the remarkable drow that had become her friend.

  But she could not. Drizzt Do'Urden, after all, was a small player in a wide world, a world that continually begged audience at the Lady of Silverymoon's busy court.

  "Good speed, daughter of Bruenor," the beautiful, silver-haired woman said under her breath. "Good speed and fare well."

  Drizzt eased his mount along the stony trail, ascending into the mountains. The breeze was warm and the sky clear, but a storm had hit this region in the last few days, and the trail remained somewhat muddy. Finally, fearing that his horse would slip and break a leg, Drizzt dismounted and led the beast carefully, cautiously.

  He had seen the shadowing elf many times that morning, for the trails were fairly open, and in the up-and-down process of climbing mountains, the two riders were not often far apart. Drizzt was not overly surprised when he went around a bend to find the elf approaching from a trail that had been paralleling his own.

  The pale-skinned elf, too, walked his mount, and he nodded in approval to see Drizzt doing likewise. He paused, still twenty feet from the drow, as though he did not know how he should react.

  "If you have come to watch over the horse, then you might as well ride, or walk, beside me," Drizzt called. Again the elf nodded, and he walked his shining black stallion up to the side of Drizzt's black-and-white mount.

  Drizzt looked ahead, up the mountain trail. "This will be the last day I will need the horse," he explained. "I do not know that I will ride again, actually."

  "You do not mean to come out of these mountains?" the elf asked.

  Drizzt ran a hand through his flowing white mane, surprised by the finality of those words, and by their truth.

  "I seek a grove not far from here," he said, "once the home of Montolio DeBrouchee."

  "The blind ranger," the elf acknowledged.

  Drizzt was surprised by the elf's recognition. He considered his pale companion's reply and studied him closely. Nothing about the moon elf indicated that he was a ranger, but he knew of Montolio. 'It is fitting that the name Montolio DeBrouchee lives on in legend," the drow decided aloud.

  "And what of the name Drizzt Do'Urden?" the moon elf, full of surprises, asked. He smiled at Drizzt's expression and added, "Yes, I know of you, dark elf."

  "Then you have the advantage," Drizzt remarked.

  "I am Tarathiel," the moon elf said. "It was no accident that you were met on your passage through the Moonwood. When my small clan discovered that you were afoot, we decided that it would be best for Ellifain to meet you."

  "The maiden?" Drizzt reasoned.

  Tarathiel nodded, his features seeming almost translucent in the sunlight. "We did not know how she would react to the sight of a drow. You have our apologies."

  Drizzt nodded his acceptance. "She is not of your clan," he guessed. "Or at least, she was not, not when she was very young."

  Tarathiel did not reply, but the intrigue that was splayed across his face showed Drizzt that he was on the right track.

  "Her people were slaughtered by drow," Drizzt went on, fearing the expected confirmation.

  "What do you know?" Tarathiel demanded, his voice taking a hard edge for the first time in the conversation.

  "I was among that raiding party," Drizzt admitted. Tarathiel went for his sword, but Drizzt, lightning fast, grabbed hold of his wrist.

  "I killed no elves," Drizzt e
xplained. "The only ones I wanted to fight were those who had accompanied me to the surface."

  Tarathiel's muscles relaxed, and he pulled his hand away. "Ellifain remembers little of the tragedy. She speaks of it more in dreams than in her waking hours, and then she rambles." He paused and stared Drizzt squarely in the eye.

  "She has mentioned purple eyes," he said. "We did not know what to make of that, and she, when questioned about it, cannot offer any answers. Purple is not a common color for drow eyes, so say our legends."

  "It is not," Drizzt confirmed, and his voice was distant as he remembered again that terrible day so long ago. This was the elf maiden! The one that a younger Drizzt Do'Urden had risked all to save, the one whose eyes had shown Drizzt beyond doubt that the ways of his people were not the ways of his heart.

  "And so, when we heard of Drizzt Do'Urden, drow friend—drow friend with purple eyes—of the dwarven king that has reclaimed Mithril Hall, we thought that it would be best for Ellifain to face her past," Tarathiel explained.

  Again Drizzt, his mind looking more to the past than to the mountain scenery about him, merely nodded.

  Tarathiel let it go at that. Ellifain had, apparently, viewed her past, and the sight had nearly broken her.

  The moon elf refused Drizzt's request for him to take the horses and leave and, later that day, the two were riding again, along a narrow trail on a high pass, a way that Drizzt remembered well. He thought of Montolio, Mooshie, his surface mentor, the blind old ranger who could shoot a bow by the guidance of a pet owl's hoots. Montolio had been the one to teach a younger Drizzt of a god figure that embodied the same emotions that stirred Drizzt's heart and the same precepts that guided the renegade draw's conscience. Mielikki was her name, goddess of the forest, and since his time with Montolio, Drizzt Do'Urden had walked under her silent guidance.

  Drizzt felt a wellspring of emotions bubbling within him as the trail wound away from the ridge and climbed a steeper incline through a region of broken boulders. He was terrified of what he might find. Perhaps an orc horde—the wretched humanoids were all too common in this region— had taken over the old ranger's wondrous grove. Suppose a fire had burned it away, leaving a barren scar upon the land?

  They came into a thick copse of trees, plodding along a narrow but fairly clean trail, with Drizzt in the lead. He saw the wood thinning ahead, and beyond it a small field. He stopped his black-and-white horse and glanced back at Tarathiel.

  "The grove," he explained, and he slipped from his saddle, Tarathiel doing likewise. They tethered the horses under the cover of the copse and crept side by side to the wood's end.

  There stood Mooshie's grove, perhaps sixty yards across, north to south, and half that wide. The pines stood tall and straight—no fire had struck this grove—and the rope bridges that the blind ranger had constructed could still be seen running from tree to tree at various heights. Even the low stone wall stood intact, not a rock out of place, and the grass was low.

  "Someone is living in there," Tarathiel reasoned, for the place had obviously not grown wild. When he looked to Drizzt, he saw that the drow, features set and grim, had scimitars in his hands, one glowing a soft bluish light.

  Tarathiel strung his long bow as Drizzt crawled out from the brush and skittered over to the rock wall. Then the moon elf rushed off, joining his drow companion.

  "I have seen the signs of many orcs since we entered the mountains," Tarathiel whispered. He pulled back on his bowstring and nodded grimly. "For Montolio?"

  Drizzt returned the nod and inched up to peek over the stone wall. He expected to see orcs, and expected to see dead orcs soon after.

  The drow froze in place, his arms falling limply at his sides and his breath suddenly hard to come by.

  Tarathiel nudged him, looking for an answer, but with none forthcoming, the elf took up his bow and peeked over the wall.

  At first he saw nothing, but then he followed Drizzt's unblinking gaze to the south, to a small break in the trees, where a branch was bobbing as though something had just brushed against it. Tarathiel caught a flash of white from the shadows beyond. A horse, he thought.

  It came from the shadows then, a powerful steed wearing a coat of gleaming white. Its unusual eyes glowed fiery pink, and an ivory horn, easily half the height of the elf's body, protruded from its forehead. The unicorn looked in the companions' general direction, pawed the ground, and snorted.

  Tarathiel had the good sense to duck low, and he pulled the stunned Drizzt Do'Urden down beside him.

  "Unicom!" the elf mouthed silently to Drizzt, and the draw's hand instinctively went under the front collar of his traveling cloak, to the unicorn's-head pendant Regis had carved for him from the bone of a knucklehead trout.

  Tarathiel pointed back to the thick copse of trees and signaled that he and Drizzt should be leaving, but the drow shook his head. His composure returned, Drizzt again peeked over the stone wall.

  The area was clear, with no indication that the unicorn was about.

  "We should be gone," Tarathiel said, as soon as he, too, discerned that the powerful steed was no longer close. 'Take heart that Montolio's grove is in the best of care."

  Drizzt sat up on the wall, peering intently into the tangle of pines. A unicorn! The symbol of Mielikki, the purest symbol of the natural world. To a ranger, there was no more perfect beast, and to Drizzt, there could be no more perfect guardian for the grove of Montolio DeBrouchee. He would have liked to remain in the area for some time, would have dearly liked to glimpse the elusive creature again, but he knew that time was pressing and that dark corridors awaited.

  He looked to Tarathiel and smiled, then turned to leave.

  But he found the way across the small field blocked by the mighty unicorn.

  "How did she do that?" Tarathiel asked. There was no need to whisper anymore, for the unicorn was staring straight at them, pawing the ground nervously and rolling its powerful head.

  "He," Drizzt corrected, noticing the steed's white beard, a trait of the male unicorn. A thought came over Drizzt then, and he slipped his scimitars into their sheaths and hopped up from his seat.

  "How did he do that?" Tarathiel corrected. "I heard no hoofbeats." The elf's eyes brightened suddenly, and he looked back to the grove. "Unless there are more than one!"

  "There is only one," Drizzt assured him. "There is a bit of magic within a unicorn, as this one, by slipping behind us, has proven."

  "Go around to the south," Tarathiel whispered. "And I will go north. If we do not threaten the beast,…" The moon elf stopped, seeing that Drizzt was already moving—straight out from the wall.

  'Take care," Tarathiel warned. "Beautiful indeed are the unicorns, but, by all accounts, they can be dangerous and unpredictable."

  Drizzt held a hand up behind him to silence the elf and continued his slow pace from the stone wall. The unicorn neighed and tossed its great head, mane flying wildly. It slammed a hoof into the ground, digging a fair-sized hole in the soft turf.

  "Drizzt Do'Urden," Tarathiel warned.

  By all reasoning, Drizzt should have turned back. The unicorn could have easily run him down, squashed him into the prairie, and the great beast seemed to grow more and more agitated with each step the drow took.

  But the beast did not run off, and neither did it lower its great horn and skewer Drizzt. Soon, the drow was just a few steps away, feeling small beside the magnificent steed.

  Drizzt reached out a hand, fingers moving slowly, delicately. He felt the outer strands of the unicorn's thick and glistening coat, then moved in another step and stroked the magnificent beast's muscled neck.

  The drow could hardly breathe; he wished that Guenhwyvar were beside him, to witness such perfection of nature. He wished that Catti-brie were here, for she would appreciate this vision as much as he.

  He looked back to Tarathiel, the elf sitting on the stone wall and smiling contentedly. Tarathiel's expression turned to one of surprise, and Drizzt looked back to see his ha
nd stroking the empty air.

  Part 2 PRAYERS UNANSWERED

  For since the day I walked out of Menzoberranzan have I been so torn about a pending decision. I sat near the entrance of a cave, looking out at the mountains before me, with the tunnel leading to the Underdark at my back. This was the moment in which I had believed my adventure would begin. When I had set out from Mithril Hall, I had given little thought to the part of my journey that would take me to this cave, taking for granted that the trip would be uneventful

  Then I had glimpsed Ellifain, the maiden I had saved more than three decades before, when she had been just a frightened child. I wanted to go to her again, to speak with her and help her overcome the trauma of that terrible draw raid, I wanted to run out of that cave and catch up with Tarathiel, and ride beside the elf back to the Moonwood.

  But I could not ignore the issues that had brought me to this place.

  I had known from the outset that visiting Montolio's grove, the place of so many fond memories, would prove an emotional, even spiritual, experience. He had been my first surface friend, my mentor, the one who had guided me to Mielikki. I can never express the joy I felt in learning that Montolio's grove was under the protective eye of a unicorn.

  A unicorn! I have seen a unicorn, the symbol of my goddess, the pinnacle of natural perfection! I might well be the first of my race to have ever touched the soft mane and muscled neck of such a beast, the first to encounter a unicorn in friendship. It is a rare pleasure to glimpse the signs that a unicorn has been about, and rarer still to ever gaze at one. Few in the Realms can say that they have ever been near a unicorn; fewer still have ever touched one.

  I have.

  Was it a sign from my goddess? In good faith, I had to believe that it was, that Mielikki had reached out to me in a tangible and thrilling way. But what did it mean?

  I rarely pray. I prefer to speak to my goddess through my daily actions, and through my honest emotions. I need not gloss over what has occurred with petty words, twisting them to show myself most favorably. If Mielikki is with me, then she knows the truth, knows how I act and how I feel.