and pushed in the door.
His breath came back out with a disappointed sigh. The room beyond glowed
with the waning light of two torches. It was small and empty, except for a
large, metal-rimmed mirror standing in its center. Drizzt dodged out of the
mirror's path, well aware of some of the strange magical properties these items
had been known to exhibit, and moved in to examine it more closely.
It was about half the height of a man but propped up to eye level by an
intricately worked iron stand. That it was lined in silver and in such an
out-of-the-way chamber led Drizzt to believe that there was something more here
than an ordinary mirror. Yet his scrutinizing inspection revealed no arcane
runes or markings of any kind that hinted at its properties.
Able to discover nothing unusual about the piece, Drizzt carelessly stepped
in front of the glass. Suddenly a pinkish mist began to swirl within the mirror,
giving the appearance of a three-dimensional space trapped within the flatness
of the glass. Drizzt jumped to the side, more curious than afraid, and watched
the growing spectacle.
The mist thickened and puffed as though fed by some hidden fire. Then its
center mushroomed out and opened into a clear image of a man's face, a gaunt,
hollowed visage painted in the tradition of some of the southern cities.
"Why do you bother me?" the face asked at the empty room before the mirror.
Drizzt took another step to the side, further away from the apparition's line of
sight. He considered confronting the mysterious mage, but figured that his
friends had too much at stake for him to take such a reckless chance.
"Stand before me, Biggrin!" commanded the image. It waited for several
seconds, sneering impatiently, and growing increasingly tense. "When I discover
which of you idiots inadvertently summoned me, I shall turn you into a coney and
put you in a pit of wolves!" the image screamed wildly. The mirror flashed
suddenly and returned to normal.
Drizzt scratched his chin and wondered if there was anything more he could do
or discover here. He decided that the risks were simply too great at this time.
* * * * *
When Drizzt returned through the lair, he found Wulfgar sitting with
Guenhwyvar in the main passage just a few yards from the closed and barred front
doors. The barbarian stroked the cat's muscled shoulders and neck.
"I see that Guenhwyvar has won your friendship," Drizzt said as he
approached.
Wulfgar smiled. "A fine ally," he said, giving the animal a playful shake.
"And a true warrior!" He started to rise but was thrown violently back to the
floor.
An explosion rocked the lair as a ballista bolt slammed into the heavy doors,
splintering their wooden bar and blasting them in. One of the doors broke
cleanly in half and the other's top hinge tore away, leaving the door hanging
awkwardly by its twisted bottom hinge.
Drizzt drew his scimitar and stood protectively over Wulfgar as the barbarian
tried to regain his balance.
Abruptly a bearded fighter leaped onto the hanging door, a circular shield,
its standard a mug of foaming ale, slung over one arm and a notched and
bloodstained battle-ax poised in the other. "Come out and play, giants!" Bruenor
called, banging his shield with his axe - as if his clan hadn't already made
enough noise to rouse the lair!
