while, noting the degree of activity. The moon had come up, bright and clear,
and the night had lightened considerably. "I wonder if we'll be in time for
dinner," remarked the drow, still smirking wryly. Wulfgar shook his head and
laughed at the dark elf's uncanny composure.
Although the two often heard sounds from the shadows just beyond the opening,
pots clanging and occasional voices, no giant showed itself outside the cave
until shortly before moonset. A fat verbeeg, presumably the lair's cook from its
dress, shuffled out onto the doorstep and dumped a load of garbage from a large
iron pot down the slope.
"He's mine," said Drizzt, suddenly serious. "Can you provide a distraction?"
"The cat will do," Wulfgar answered, though he wasn't keen on being alone
with Guenhwyvar.
Drizzt crept up the rocky slope, trying to stay in the dark shadows as he
went. He knew that he would remain vulnerable in the moonlight until he got
above the entrance, but the climb proved rougher than he had expected and the
going was slow. When he was almost to the opening, he heard the giant chef
stirring by the entrance, apparently lifting a second pot of garbage for
dumping.
But the drow had nowhere to go. A call from within the cave diverted the
cook's attention. Realizing how little time he had to get to safety, Drizzt
sprinted the last few feet to the door level and peered around the corner into
the torchlit kitchen.
The room was roughly square with a large stone oven on the wall across from
the cave entrance. Next to the oven was a wooden door slightly ajar, and behind
this Drizzt heard several giant voices. The cook was nowhere in sight, but a pot
of garbage sat on the floor just inside the entrance.
"He'll be back soon," the drow muttered to himself as he picked his handholds
and crept noiselessly up the wall and above the cave entrance. At the base of
the slope, a nervous Wulfgar sat absolutely motionless as Guenhwyvar stalked
back and forth before him.
A few minutes later the giant chef came out with the pot. As the verbeeg
dumped the garbage, Guenhwyvar moved into view. One great leap took the cat to
the base of the slope. Tilting its head up at the cook, the black panther
growled.
"Ah, git outa here, ye mangy puss," snapped the giant, apparently unimpressed
and unsurprised by the sudden appearance of the panther, "afore I squash yer
head an' drop ye into a stewin' pot."
The verbeeg's threat was an idle one. Even as it stood shaking an oversized
fist, its attention fully on the cat, the dark shape that was Drizzt Do'Urden
sprang from the wall onto its back. His scimitars already in hand, the drow
wasted no time in cutting an ear-to-ear smile into the giant's throat. Without
uttering a cry the verbeeg tumbled down the rocks to settle in with the rest of
the garbage. Abruptly Drizzt dropped to the cave step and spun around, praying
that no other giants had entered the kitchen.
He was safe for the moment. The room was empty. As Guenhwyvar and then
Wulfgar crested the ledge, he signaled to them silently to follow him in. The
kitchen was small (for giants) and sparsely stocked. There was one table on the
right wall which held several pans. Next to it was a large chopping block with a
garish cleaver, rusty and jagged and apparently unwashed for weeks, buried into
it. Over to Drizzt's left were shelves holding spices and herbs and other
