at Drizzt all the while, her inquisitive expression indicating that he should elaborate.
"His interest in Menzoberranzan is one of personal gain and nothing more," Drizzt remarked. "He had no desire for bettering the world, but only hoped that something I would tell him might offer him an advantage he could exploit."
Still Catti-brie stared at him, obviously not catching on. Even if Drizzt's words were true, why, given Drizzt's relationship with his wicked kin, did that even matter?
"He hoped I would unveil some of the mysteries of the drow," Drizzt continued, undaunted by his companion's expression.
"And even if ye did, from what I know of Menzoberranzan Val-Doussen couldn't be using yer words for anything more than his own doom," Catti-brie put in, and sincerely, for she had visited that exotic dark elf city, and she knew well the great power of the place.
Drizzt shrugged and reached for the spoon, but Catti-brie, smiling widely, pulled it away from him.
Drizzt sat back, staring at her, not sharing her smile. He was deep in concentration, needing to make his point. "Val-Doussen hoped to personally profit from my words, to use my tales for his own nefarious reasons, and at the expense of those my information delivered unto him. Be it my kin in Menzoberranzan, or Bruenor's in Mithral Hall, my actions would have been no less wicked."
"I'd not be comparing Clan Battlehammer to - " Catti-brie started.
"I am not," Drizzt assured her. "I speak of nothing more here than my own principles. If Val-Doussen sought information of a goblin settlement that he could lead a preemptive assault against them, I would gladly comply, because I trust that such a goblin settlement would soon enough cause tragedy to any living nearby."
"And didn't yer own kin come to Mithral Hall?" Catti-brie asked, following the logic.
"Once," Drizzt admitted. "But as far as I know, my kin are not on their way back to the surface world in search of plunder and mayhem."
"As far as ye know."
"Besides, anything I offered to Val-Doussen would not have prevented any dark elf raids in any case," Drizzt went on, stepping lightly so that Catti-brie could not catch him in a logic trap. "No, more likely, the fool would have gone to Menzoberranzan, alone or with others, in some attempt at grand thievery. That most likely would have done no more than to stir up the dark elves into murderous revenge."
Catti-brie started to ask another question, but just sat back instead, staring at her friend. Finally, she nodded and said, "Ye're making a bit o' assumptions there."
Drizzt didn't begin to disagree, audibly or with his body language.
"But I'm seeing yer point that ye shouldn't be mixing yerself up with those of less than honorable intent."
"You respect that?" Drizzt asked.
Catti-brie gave what might have been an agreeing nod.
"Then give me the spoon," the dark elf said more forcefully. "I'm starving!"
In response, Catti-brie moved forward and dipped the spoon into the pot, then lifted it toward Drizzt's waiting lips. At the last moment, the drow's lavender eyes closed against the steam, the woman pulled the spoon back to her own lips.
Drizzt's eyes popped open, his surprised and angry expression overwhelmed by the playful and teasing stare of Catti-brie. He went forward in a sudden burst, falling over the woman and knocking her right off the back of the log, then wrestling with her for the spoon.
Neither Drizzt nor Catti-brie could deny the truth that there was no place in all the world they would rather be.
* * * * * * * * * *
The walls climbed up around the small party, a combination of dark gray-brown cliff facings and patches of steeply sloping green grass. A few trees dotted the sides of the gorge, small and thin things, really, unable to get firm footing or to send their roots very deep into the rocky ground.
The place was ripe for an ambush, Le'lorinel understood, but neither the elf nor the other four members of the party were the least bit worried of any such possibility. Sheila Kree and her ruffians owned this gorge. Le'lorinel had caught the group's leader, the brown-haired woman named Genny, offering a few subtle signals toward the peaks. Sentries were obviously in place there.
There would be no calls, though, for none would be heard beyond a few dozen strides. In the distance, Le'lorinel could hear the constant song of the river that had cut this gorge, flowing underground now, under the left-hand wall as they made their way to the