Daughter of the Drow

The child's mother will be leaving this house," Gromph Baenre told the elf-size golem. "See to it, and inform her family that she met with an unfortunate accident on the way to the Bazaar."

The stone servant bowed and then disappeared into the wall as easily as a wraith might pass through a fog bank. A moment later, the scream of a drow female came from a nearby chamber--a scream that began in terror and ended in a liquid gurgle.

Gromph leaned forward and blew out the candle, for darkness best revealed the character of the drow. All light fled the room, and the archmage's eyes changed from amber to brilliant red as his vision slipped into the heat-reading spectrum.

"You are Liriel Baenre, my daughter and a noble of the First House of Menzoberranzan," he announced, and then sat back to study the child's reaction.

The crimson glow of heat and warmth drained from her face, and her tiny, pale-knuckled hands gripped the edge of the desk for support. It was clear that the little drow understood all that had just occurred. Her expression remained stoic, however, and her voice was firm when she repeated her new name.

Gromph nodded approvingly. Liriel had accepted the reality of the situation--she could hardly do otherwise and survive--yet the rage and frustration of an untamed spirit burned bright in her eyes.

This was his daughter, indeed.