“Le'lorinel is obsessed with that one,” Tunevec answered. More so than I would ever have believed possible.”

Mahskevic merely shrugged, as if that hardly mattered. “He has labored for me for more than five years, both to earn the use of my spells and to pay you well,” the wizard reminded. “We searched for many months to even find you, one who seemed promising in being able to emulate the movements of this strange dark elf, Drizzt Do'Urden.”

“Why waste the time, then?” the frustrated half-elf retorted. “Why do you not accompany Le'lorinel to find this wretched drow and be done with him once and for all. Far easier that would seem than this endless sparring.”

Mahskevic chuckled, as if to tell Tunevec clearly that he was underestimating this rather unusual drow, whose exploits, as Le'lorinel and Mahskevic had uncovered them, were indeed remarkable. “Drizzt is known to be the friend of a dwarf named Bruenor Battlehammer,” the wizard explained. “Do you know the name?”

Tunevec, putting on his gray shirt, looked to the old human and shook his head.

“King of Mithral Hall,” Mahskevic explained. “Or at least, he was. I have little desire to turn a clan of wild dwarves against me—bane of all wizards, dwarves. Making an enemy of Bruenor Battlehammer does not seem to me to be an opportunity for advancement of wealth or health.

“Beyond that, I have no grudge against this Drizzt Do'Urden,” Mahskevic added. “Why would I seek to destroy him?”

“Because Le'lorinel is your friend.”

“Le'lorinel,” Mahskevic echoed, again with that chuckle. “I am fond of him, I admit, and in trying to hold my responsibilities of friendship, I often try to convince him that his course is self-destructive folly, and nothing more.”

“He will hear none of that, I am sure,” said Tunevec.

“None,” agreed Mahskevic. “A stubborn one is Le'lorinel Tel'e'brenequiette.”

“If that is even his name,” snorted Tunevec, who was in a rather foul mood, especially concerning his sparring partner.” 'I to you as you to me, “ he translated, for indeed Le'lorinel's name was nothing more than a variation on a fairly common Elvish saying.