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Salvatore - Legacy 01 - LegacyeVersion 2.0 - see revision notes at end of textLegacybyR. A. SalvatoreBook 1 of the Legacy of the Drow seriesCONTENTSPreludePART 1 -THE INSPIRING FEAR1 -Spring Dawning2 -Together3 -Parley4 -Dwarven Toy5 -Ye of Little FaithPART 2 -PERCEPTIONS6 -A Path, Straight and Smooth7 -Quiet in the Darkness8 -Sparks A-Flying9 -Too Clean Cuts10 -In the Facets of a Wondrous GemPART 3 -LEGACY11 -Family Business12 -The Truth Be Known13 -Broken Vows14 -OvermatchedPART 4 -CAT AND MOUSE15 -The Play's the Thing16 -Drawing Lines17 -Friendly Burden18 -Common Danger19 -SacrificePART 5 -END GAME
 
20 -Suddenly21 -Mountain Valley Winds22 -Charge of the Heavy Brigade23 -The Warrior Incarnate24 -The Long Walk Home25 -The Palm of Her HandEpiloguePreludeThe rogue Dinin made his way carefully through the darkavenues of Menzoberranzan, the city of drow. A renegade,with no family to call his own for nearly twenty years, theseasoned fighter knew well the perils of the city, and knewhow to avoid them. He passed an abandoned compound alongthe two mile-long cavern's western wall and could not helpbut pause and stare. Twin stalagmite mounds supported ablasted fence around the whole of the place, and two setsof broken doors, one on the ground and one beyond a balconytwenty feet up the wall, hung open awkwardly on twisted andscorched hinges. How many times had Dinin levitated up tothat balcony, entering the private quarters of the noblesof his house, House Do'Urden?House Do'Urden. It was forbidden even to speak the name inthe drow city. Once, Dinin's family had been theeighth-ranked among the sixty or so drow families inMenzoberranzan; his mother had sat on the ruling council;and he, Dinin, had been a Master at Melee-Magthere, theSchool of Fighters, at the famed drow Academy.Standing before the compound, it seemed to Dinin as if theplace were a thousand years removed from that time of glory.His family was no more, his house lay in ruins, and Dininhad been forced to take up with Bregan D'aerthe, an infamous
 
mercenary band, simply to survive."Once," the rogue drow mouthed quietly. He shook his slendershoulders and pulled his concealing piwafwi cloak aroundhim, remembering how vulnerable a houseless drow could be.A quick glance toward the center of the cavern, toward thepillar that was Narbondel, showed him that the hour waslate. At the break of each day, the Arch-mage ofMenzoberranzan went out to Narbondel and infused the pillarwith a magical, lingering heat that would work its way up,then back down. To sensitive drow eyes, which could lookinto the infrared spectrum, the level of heat in the pillaracted as a gigantic glowing clock.Now Narbondel was almost cool; another day neared its end.Dinin had to go more than halfway across the city, to asecret cave within the Clawrift, a great chasm running outfrom Menzoberranzan's northwestern wall. There Jarlaxle,the leader of Bregan D'aerthe, waited in one of his manyhideouts.The drow fighter cut across the center of the city, passedright by Narbondel, and beside more than a hundred hollowedstalagmites, comprising a dozen separate family compounds,their fabulous sculptures and gargoyles glowing inmulticolored faerie fire. Drow soldiers, walking postsalong house walls or along the bridges connectingmultitudes of leering stalactites, paused and regarded thelone stranger carefully, hand crossbows or poisonedjavelins held ready until Dinin was far beyond them.That was the way in Menzoberranzan: always alert, alwaysdistrustful.Dinin gave one careful look around when he reached the edgeof the Clawrift, then slipped over the side and used hisinnate powers of levitation to slowly descend into thechasm. More than a hundred feet down, he again looked intothe bolts of readied hand crossbows, but these were
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