Sacrifice of the Widow

CHAPTER EIGHT

Q'arlynd watched from a distance as Leliana, Rowaan, and the other priestesses who had survived the drider attack stood under the tree and sang, completing their sacred observances for the six who had died at the judicator's hand. Normally, Rowaan had explained, the bodies of the faithful were lashed into a bier high in the treetops, but the judicator's magical attack had left nothing behind of those he had slain. The priestesses had been forced to make do with empty clothing and armor. These they had bundled and lain to rest in the bare branches of the trees to be washed by moonlight-"Eilistraee's tears."

At the moment, however, the night sky was overcast. It wasn't moonlight that fell on the bundles in the treetops but snow. Q'arlynd had read about the stuff in books, but this was the first time he'd experienced it firsthand. It dusted his piwafwi like a thick layer of drifting spores-except that these "spores" of frozen water were cold and melted on contact with the skin. They soaked right through his piwafwi and into his shirt, making him shiver.

He squinted as the wind blew snow into his eyes. Why he'd lingered to watch the singing, he couldn't say. He was still very much an outsider, despite having spoken the vows that had admitted him to Eilistraee's faith. Males weren't invited to join the sacred dances, nor could they lend their voices to the Evensong. Eilistraee granted magic to her priestesses only, and males could play but a supporting role, just as in Lolth's faith.

Like mother, like daughter, Q'arlynd supposed.

The song ended. The ritual was over. Q'arlynd waved at Rowaan, beckoning her over. She glanced at Leliana, who shrugged, then walked toward him, her boots crunching holes into the ankle-deep snow.

Q'arlynd bowed his head as she approached. "Lady," he said. "May I ask a question?"

"Call me Rowaan. We're all equals, in Eilistraee's eyes."

Hardly, Q'arlynd thought.

"What's your question?"

Q'arlynd took a deep breath. As a boy, he'd once asked this question of one of Lolth's priestesses and gotten a thorough whipping in reply, but he was curious to know what awaited him in the afterlife, having accepted Eilistraee as his patron deity. "What was it like-being dead?"

Rowaan was silent for several moments. "You want to know what awaits you in Eilistraee's domain."

Q'arlynd nodded. "Do you remember much of it?"

Rowaan smiled. "A little. I realized I was dead when I found myself standing, alone, in a place that was featureless and gray: the Fugue Plain. There were others around me-other souls-but I couldn't see or touch them, just feel them. Then I heard a voice." She blinked, her eyes shiny with tears. "An indescribably beautiful voice. It was Eilistraee, singing to me. Calling me. A rift opened in the gray, and a shaft of moonlight shone through. I moved toward it, but just as I was about to touch the moonbeam and ascend to the goddess, it was gone. I woke up in the forest, alive. Chezzara had raised me from the dead before I could enter Eilistraee's domain."

She shrugged and gave him a shy smile. "So I really can't tell you what dancing with the goddess is like."

"The shaft of moonlight," Q'arlynd said. "It just appeared?"

Rowaan nodded. "Of course. When Eilistraee sang. It's the gateway to her domain."

"Probably just as well you didn't go there."

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean."

"You might have been attacked and your soul consumed."

Rowaan frowned. "By what?"

Q'arlynd hesitated. "Aren't there usually… some sort of creatures your soul has to fight its way past, or some other trial you must endure before passing into the goddess's presence?"

"Why would you think that?"

"Lolth's domain is filled with monsters that consume souls," Q'arlynd explained. "If your soul manages to avoid those, there's still the Pass of the Soulreaver to get through. From what the priestesses teach, it's the equivalent of being flayed alive. Only the toughest and most tenacious survive the passage to eventually stand by Lolth's side. The rest are annihilated." He shrugged. "I expected Eilistraee to at least throw up a wall of swords or something to whittle out the faithful from the dross, to select those who are truly worthy."

Rowaan smiled. "Eilistraee doesn't test her faithful. We test ourselves. It's what we do here on Toril, before our deaths, that matters."

"What about those who convert to the faith?" Q'arlynd asked. "What if, before they sought redemption, they did things that Eilistraee found abhorrent?"

Rowaan stared at him for several moments. Then she nodded. "Ah. I see. You're worried that Eilistraee won't accept you."

"Actually, I was thinking about Halisstra," he lied.

Rowaan touched his arm, not really listening. "It doesn't matter what you were before your redemption, which deity you worshiped. You belong to Eilistraee now."

His heart nearly skipped a beat at that. Had Halisstra told the priestesses about his earlier, half-hearted "conversion" to Vhaeraun's worship? Q'arlynd opened his mouth, intending to explain that the dalliances of his youth were just that-mere flirtations, the sort of thing any boy might make the mistake of getting caught up in. He paused before speaking, worried that anything he said might bring his more recent conversion into question. If he protested that he hadn't been serious back then, the priestesses might think him less than sincere with them, too-something that would be a mark against him, when he finally got to meet their high priestess.

Rowaan, perhaps sensing his unease, gently touched his arm. "The Spider Queen has no hold upon you any more."

Q'arlynd relaxed as he realized she'd been talking about Lolth, not Vhaeraun.

"I only paid Lolth lip service," he said. "I spoke the words, because her priestesses ordered me to, but I never gave the Spider Queen my heart." He touched his chest as he said that, an earnest expression on his face.

Part of what he said was true. He certainly hadn't made the Spider Queen any promises, let alone claimed her as his patron deity. He'd never seen the point. For the living worshipers of Lolth, there was great reward-power and glory-but only if you were female. Males were told their reward would come after death, but from all Q'arlynd had heard, Lolth handed out only more suffering.

"You've left all that behind in the darkness," Rowaan continued. "You've come up into Eilistraee's light. As long as you've truly taken her song into your heart, you'll dance forever with the goddess."

"Eternal reward," Q'arlynd whispered, adding a touch of reverence to his voice. He needed to appear suitably awed, even though he knew what Rowaan was saying was too good to be true. "But only, surely, for the souls of those who proved themselves worthy of it in life by aiding the goddess in some substantial way."

"No," Rowaan said, her voice firm. "To Eilistraee, struggle and success are the same. It's the intent behind the act that truly counts."

Q'arlynd stroked his chin, mulling that over. If what Rowaan said was true, Eilistraee offered eternal life to anyone who stuck to their vows of aiding the weak and working to convert other drow to the faith. It didn't matter if they actually succeeded in achieving those goals, only that they had tried.

It was an astonishing doctrine, one that contradicted everything Q'arlynd had learned in life thus far. From all that he'd observed and been taught, the gods demanded either everything or nothing of their faithful. Vhaeraun, for example, insisted on perfection from his followers. The slightest failure in following the Masked Lord's decree would earn his eternal wrath. Even those who had hitherto been the most devout of his followers could find themselves forever barred from his domain. Lolth, in contrast, reveled in chaos and didn't seem to care what her faithful did. Nor did she take much of a hand in the trials they faced after death, leaving that to the minions of her domain. Souls-from the lowest male lay worshiper to the highest female priestess-succeeded in making the passage across the Demonweb Pits by chance as much as anything.

In contrast, Eilistraee made demands of her followers but showed mercy to them, even when they failed.

Q'arlynd supposed that was a comforting thought to most, but to him the idea of a deity who weighed not just deeds but intentions was more than a little unnerving, and it seemed a little unfair. Vhaeraun's followers, as long as they produced results that were to their god's liking, could harbor whatever rebellious thoughts they liked in their hearts. Lolth's priestesses could do and think whatever they wanted, since the rewards their goddess bestowed were so often arbitrary. Eilistraee's faithful, on the other hand, had to always be asking themselves not just if they were doing the right thing but if they were doing it for the right reasons.

Q'arlynd didn't want to have to live up to that. After a lifetime of lying to survive, he wasn't sure himself when he was telling the truth.

Most of the other females had returned to their quarters. Leliana, however, lingered, talking to another priestess who had also remained behind. Q'arlynd could see that Leliana was keeping an eye on her daughter. Despite his avowed conversion, she still didn't trust him. Not fully.

"One other question… Is Eilistraee's domain truly a place where the dead are happy?"

Rowaan seemed startled by his question. "Of course. What could bring more joy than slowly becoming one with the goddess herself?"

Q'arlynd lowered his voice. "Then why were you so sad when Leliana died?"

"Because I'd miss her," Rowaan said. She paused a moment then added, "Imagine if someone you loved suddenly disappeared, and you knew it might be many years-perhaps centuries-before you'd see them again. You'd be terribly sad to see them go. You'd cry, too."

No, I wouldn't, Q'arlynd thought. I didn't, not three years ago, and not now.

"Then why did you use your ring to change places with her?" he asked. "The same would apply. You would be dead, and she would be alive, and it might be many years before you met again."

Rowaan winced. "My mother is a powerful priestess. She can do more to further Eilistraee's cause here on Toril than I can."

She glanced up at the bundles in the trees. "We raise our dead because we must. We're few in number and we can't afford to lose a single one of the faithful from our ranks. That's why the judicator's attack was so devastating. Without a body, we can't resurrect the dead, and there's so much work yet to be done. So many drow haven't yet been brought up into the light. Every one of Eilistraee's faithful is going to be needed in the coming fight." She stared down at Q'arlynd, and for a moment he felt as if a divine being stared into his soul. "Every one."

Q'arlynd shivered.

Behind Rowaan, Leliana ended her conversation with the other priestess and walked toward them. Q'arlynd bowed as she approached.

"What are you two talking about?" Leliana asked.

Rowaan turned, smiling. "He was asking about Eilistraee's domain and what it's like to dance with the goddess."

Leliana cocked an eyebrow and turned to Q'arlynd. "Why? Are you planning on dying some time soon?"

He rose from his bow. "Not if I can help it, Lady. Eilistraee willing, it will be a while yet before I set foot in her domain." He gave them one of his most boyish smiles. "I'm not much of a dancer, you see."

The remark had the desired effect. Rowaan laughed out loud.

Leliana, however, did not.

"I was thinking about my sister, actually," Q'arlynd hurriedly continued. "I wanted to know what happened to her after her death."

Leliana's expression softened. "Don't worry-you'll see her again in Svartalfheim some day." She paused. "If you remain faithful to your vows, that is."

Q'arlynd bowed. "I will, Lady." It was a promise he wasn't likely to keep, but that wouldn't matter until he was dead. As long as he still drew breath, he could always choose a different patron deity, if things didn't work out with Eilistraee's high priestess.

It was time to get moving on that.

He caught Leliana's eye. "You told me a meeting with your high priestess would be possible." He gestured at the bier in the tree. "Now that the funeral rites are over, I was wondering when I might meet Lady Qilue. I understand she's in your chief temple-the Promenade?"

Leliana shook her head. "We can't spare anyone to take you there. Not right now."

"I can teleport, remember?" Q'arlynd reminded her. "I don't need an escort. Just describe this Promenade for me, and I'll make my way there myself."

"No," Leliana said firmly.

"Have you at least told Lady Qilue I'd like to meet with her?"

Leliana threw up her hands. "When would I have had the chance to do that, between battling driders and dealing with our dead?"

"The drider attack was more than a tenday ago," Q'arlynd continued, using the surface dwellers' term for the passage of time. He understood the delay-the priestesses had been busy strengthening their defenses in the aftermath of the attack-but it still irritated him. "When were you going to tell Lady Qilue that I'd like to meet with her?"

Leliana folded her arms. "When I'm good and ready-and not a moment before."

Q'arlynd fumed, wishing he had disposed of Leliana when he'd had the chance. Clearly, she'd changed her mind about arranging a meeting with the high priestess, and since she was the one who had taken charge of him, back at the portal, she had the final say over what duties he would have among the faithful-as well as whether he might move on to another shrine or temple. Q'arlynd, however, had higher aspirations than sitting in some mist-choked forest, listening to the females sing. He wanted to be at the heart of things, at the seat of power, which would only be possible if he secured an audience with Qilue. That was how a male succeeded in life, by attaching himself to a powerful female and serving her well.

"It's best for now if you stay here, Q'arlynd," Rowaan said. "The drider attack cut our numbers nearly in half. If the judicator returns, we'll need your spells."

Q'arlynd inclined his head in a show of modesty, inwardly gritting his teeth.

"And if Vhaeraun's assassins show up here-"

"Rowaan!" Leliana snapped, rounding on her daughter. "That's not something lay worshipers need to trouble themselves with."

Q'arlynd blinked. Rowaan had obviously just said something he wasn't meant to hear. It almost sounded as if the priestesses were expecting the Nightshadows to strike.

"But Q'arlynd is one of us now," Rowaan protested. "He-"

"Is not a priestess," Leliana said. "He's a powerful wizard, yes, but he's…"

She didn't have to finish the sentence. Q'arlynd could do it for her. A male.

He bowed his head, silently acknowledging Leliana's superiority. Whether one worshiped Lolth or Eilistraee, it was all the same. A priestess was a priestess.

Female.

But females, in his experience, often had a weakness for a handsome face, something Q'arlynd might just be able to use to his advantage. He smiled at Rowaan-the seemingly apologetic smile of a male who knew his place in the world but just couldn't help wanting more. She gave the slightest of nods in return.

Rowaan, he was certain, trusted him.

He could use that.

Qilue stared with a mixture of pity and wariness at the creature that squatted before her. Little remained of the drow Halisstra Melarn had once been. Lolth had expanded Halisstra's body to twice its size, enhancing it with wiry muscle and giving her face an elongated, bestial appearance. The spider legs protruding from her ribs and the fangs scissoring out of those bulges on her cheeks made her monstrous indeed, but despite her size and power, Halisstra's eyes hinted that something still remained of the priestess she had once been. Qilue saw a yearning there, a faint spark of hope nearly lost amidst the anguish and rage.

They stood in the forest, Qilue wrapped in protective silver moonfire, Halisstra with a palpable taint surrounding her. Qilue had come armed with a singing sword, silver dagger, and her magical bracer in addition to her spells, but so far there had been no treachery. Halisstra had clearly been claimed by Lolth, but if this was a trap it had yet to be sprung.

Cavatina stood a few steps behind Halisstra, sword in hand. Moonlight glinted off her armor. "Repeat what you told me about the temple," she prompted. "Describe it for Qilue."

Halisstra bared pointed teeth in what Qilue supposed was meant to be a smile. "It stands on top of a tall spire of rock. Feliane, Uluyara, and I shaped it with our prayers from the stone of the Demonweb Pits. It's intact and is sacred ground still. Lolth's creatures cannot enter it."

"Including Halisstra," Cavatina added.

Halisstra bowed her head.

"Yet you were able to place the Crescent Blade inside this temple?" Qilue asked. She wanted to hear this part of the story again to see if there were any inconsistencies.

Halisstra nodded. "From a distance, yes. I tossed the broken pieces of the sword through the doorway. I had thought only to put the pieces somewhere safe, so that the weapon might later be recovered and repaired, but the temple must have worked some kind of magic on the sword. As I watched, blade and hilt slid toward one another and joined. Eilistraee's sacred moonlight filled the temple, and the sword glowed white. The light blinded me for a time. When I could see again, I looked into the temple and saw the sword lying on the floor, reforged."

It seemed strange to Qilue that Lolth had allowed that to happen within her own domain, stranger still that the temple to Eilistraee remained intact. The Spider Queen was known to permit spaces sacred to other deities to exist within her realm-the Demonweb Pits housed portions of the domains of Vhaeraun, Kiaransalee, and Ghaunadaur, after all-but they were deities who had allied with Lolth during her revolt against the Seldarine. Eilistraee was Lolth's enemy. A temple to her within the Demonweb Pits should have been an unbearable burr upon the Spider Queen's throne. Lolth was either suffering the temple to exist for some reason of her own, or-Qilue grimly smiled-she had been weakened by her Silence to the point where Eilistraee might, at long last, vanquish her.

Or Halisstra was lying about the existence of a temple.

"Tell me again how the Crescent Blade came to be broken," Qilue said.

"After Danifae treacherously attacked me, I lay injured for a time. When I regained consciousness-miraculously, still alive-Uluyara and Feliane were dead. Danifae and the draegloth had disappeared. I realized they must have entered the Pass of the Soulreaver and knew I had to follow. I entered the pass and battled the monsters Lolth sent against me. I fought well, but just as I neared the exit, a misplaced thrust wedged my sword in a crack in the rock. When I tried to wrench it free, the blade snapped. I had fought my way through the pass, only to stand at the very doorstep of Lolth's fortress with a broken weapon."

Halisstra paused, her spider fangs quivering. After a moment, she composed herself.

"I still had Seyll's sword," she continued, "so I carried on. I fought Danifae and Quenthel, but in the middle of that battle we were drawn into Lolth's city, to her very throne. Lolth had awakened from her Silence. I tried to fight the goddess herself, but without the Crescent Blade…" A shudder ran through her body. "I had no hope. Lolth was too powerful. She forced the three of us to kneel before her. Danifae, she killed and consumed. She was the most worthy, in Lolth's eyes, and the goddess wanted to add her substance to her own. Quenthel she spared and sent back to Arach-Tinilith, where she serves the Spider Queen still. I was deemed unworthy for having renounced my faith to embrace Eilistraee. For this, Lolth said, I would do eternal penance. She seized me and bit me." Halisstra touched the puncture marks on her neck. "Eight times she sank her teeth into my flesh. Then she spun me into a cocoon. When I emerged, I was… like this."

Qilue nodded. "What happened then?"

"I made my way out of Lolth's fortress. It was filled with yochlols, but they made no move to stop me. I stumbled away across the plain, back to the Pass of the Soulreaver. I recovered the pieces of the Crescent Blade and entered the pass. This time, nothing attacked me. I made my way to Eilistraee's temple and placed the sword inside."

"Tell her how you escaped from the Demonweb Pits," Cavatina prompted. "It was a very clever tactic."

Qilue shot the Darksong Knight a look. Thus far, Qilue herself had offered neither praise nor criticism of anything Halisstra had said. Qilue wished that she had been able to come more swiftly to the Velarswood. Halisstra had obviously told her story more than once to Cavatina, something that would have allowed Halisstra to smooth out any wrinkles in the tale. Normally, Qilue would have used a spell to tell what parts of the story rang true and which were lies or embroideries, woven onto a slim thread of truth, but whatever hold Lolth had on the tragic creature that Halisstra had become was strong. Even Qilue's magic could not penetrate it.

Qilue wondered what Lolth was trying to hide.

"I escaped by observing Selvetarm," Halisstra continued. "By following him, I learned where one of the portals that leads from Lolth's domain was located. It was guarded by a songspider, a creature whose webs create music that can enslave or even kill. This barrier would have barred my way, had I not been schooled in bae'queshel. I used that magic to play the strands of the web like a lyre, plucking it open. The portal led back to this plane, to a place east of Lake Sember."

"Halisstra can show us where it is," Cavatina said, her eyes gleaming, "and lead us to the temple in the Demonweb Pits. The Crescent Blade-"

Qilue held up a hand for silence. She didn't like the look in Halisstra's eye. A former priestess she might be, but her eyes held a gleam as malicious as Lolth's own. Her desire to return to the Demonweb Pits was just a little too strong.

Yet the pain and desperation that Qilue could sense in Halisstra seemed real enough. Part of her, at least, still yearned for a second chance at redemption, but because Halisstra could not die, she would, for all eternity, be in bondage to the Spider Queen, unless the sticky webs with which Lolth held her could somehow be broken.

Qilue suspected that Halisstra was, consciously or not, trying to play both sides of the sava board at once. Redemption lay on one side of the board. On the other was the possibility of a reward from the Spider Queen for delivering a priestess of Eilistraee into her hands, except that Lolth was capricious when it came to rewarding mortals for services rendered. The Spider Queen was just as likely to punish as to pardon, as Halisstra was doubtless well aware.

"We can do it, Lady Qilue," Halisstra whispered, "finish what we started. Use the Crescent Blade to kill Lolth." She spread her elongated fingers, looked down at the claws that protruded from their tips. "But she won't die by these hands. Someone else will have to wield the Crescent Blade this time."

Qilue nodded. Eilistraee's faithful would not make the same mistake twice. Three years before, Uluyara's decision to let Halisstra carry the Crescent Blade had proved a disaster, even though the choice had seemed sound at the time. Halisstra had been part of the group that had been seeking Lolth during her Silence. She stood the best chance of infiltrating Quenthel's band and traveling with them to the place where Lolth had secluded herself, but Halisstra had been a novice, not yet fully trusting in her newfound faith. It would be one of Eilistraee's Chosen-Qilue herself-who would carry the battle forward.

If, indeed, the Crescent Blade did still exist.

"Three years ago," Qilue said, "Uluyara came to me and told me what you planned to do. When you entered the Demonweb Pits, I was watching."

That got a reaction. "You were scrying?" Halisstra's spider legs drummed against her chest. Her breathing was fast and light.

Qilue nodded. Deliberately, she added details that Halisstra would recognize. "Could you not feel me, when I shattered the ice that Pharaun used to imprison you? I saw through your eyes when Danifae lifted you by the hair and made you watch as the draegloth tore into Feliane."

Halisstra's eyes narrowed, perhaps in pain at the memory. "You saw Feliane die?" Every muscle of her body was tense.

"Yes."

For several moments, there was strained silence. Qilue waited expectantly for Halisstra to reveal, through some ill chosen word, whatever secret had caused her to tense up. Something had happened after the draegloth killed Feliane-something Halisstra didn't want Qilue to know about-but what?

Halisstra laughed, a wild sound that rippled at the edge of insanity. Qilue thought she heard an undertone of relief in it, but couldn't be certain. "You think I could have done more to save Feliane, but I was weak, nearly dead myself. I could do nothing to stop the draegloth from killing her."

Qilue arched an eyebrow, waiting. Nothing more was forthcoming, however. Qilue at last nodded. "You could do nothing to save her," she agreed.

Halisstra's relief was clearly visible, and perhaps it really was as simple as that. Perhaps Halisstra felt guilty about the deaths of the two priestesses who had accompanied her to the Demonweb Pits, a guilt as painful as any penance Lolth had imposed.

Qilue suddenly wondered if she'd pushed Halisstra too far. She switched to a soothing tone. "A death like Feliane's is disturbing," she said. "It would make anyone question her faith. It's easy enough to think that Eilistraee had abandoned you, but she didn't. It was her magic that revived you, after Danifae's mace shattered your face."

Halisstra cocked her head. "Eilistraee was… with me?" she whispered in a dry, strangled voice. "Even when…"

Qilue nodded. "She was."

Halisstra's eyes hardened. "If Eilistraee was with me, why did she let Lolth claim me?"

"Strong as Eilistraee is, Lolth is more powerful within her own domain, especially within her fortress," Qilue spread her hands, "but Eilistraee-and I-did not just abandon you. My scrying ended when Danifae struck you down. I assumed you were dead, until Eilistraee hinted otherwise. Whatever happened in the Demonweb Pits after that, Eilistraee will forgive you."

Halisstra stared flatly back at Qilue. There was no conviction in her eyes.

"One last question," Qilue said. "It's been three years since Lolth broke her Silence. What have you been doing all this time?"

Halisstra shifted uncomfortably. "I only escaped the Demonweb Pits a year ago. Since then, I've been… busy."

"Doing Lolth's bidding," Qilue suggested.

Halisstra's eyes blazed. "I never attacked your priestesses."

Qilue noted the choice of words. "Your" priestesses. A bitter twist to the word.

"It was House Jaelre and House Auzkovyn that I hunted," Halisstra continued. "Vhaeraun's clerics. They're your enemies, as well."

"Those who worship Vhaeraun, yes," Qilue said softly, "but some from those Houses have sought redemption."

"Not all of them," Cavatina interrupted. She nodded at Halisstra. "The last one she killed died unrepentant. I gave him every opportunity to redeem himself before he died, but he refused."

Qilue frowned, not understanding. "You raised one of her victims from the dead?"

The Darksong Knight laughed. "Quite the contrary. He was very much alive, inside her cocoon, when I found him."

"You killed him?"

Cavatina stared back at Qilue, unrepentant. "He deserved to die."

Cavatina seemed disinclined to say more. Rather than pursue the discussion in front of Halisstra, who was listening a little too attentively, Qilue let the matter drop. There were more important matters at hand. The Crescent Blade. If it still existed, the quest that had begun three years ago might continue.

She glanced past Halisstra at Cavatina. The Darksong Knight stood ready, her eyes bright in the moonlight. Cavatina was skilled with a sword and experienced at fighting demons. Aside from Qilue herself, she was the most logical choice to recover the Crescent Blade. If it still existed.

"Priestess?" Qilue asked aloud. "Are you up to the challenge?" At the same time, she used her magic to send Cavatina a silent message. It will be a trap. In all likelihood the temple no longer exists, and the blade is still lost.

Cavatina's posture was tense. Eager. But if it is true? If the sword can be recovered?

"Then you will bring it to me," Qilue said, answering aloud. She kept an eye on Halisstra as she spoke, watching for a reaction. Halisstra gave no sign of disappointment. It didn't seem to matter to her that Qilue herself would not be lured into the Demonweb Pits.

Cavatina's lips parted then closed. Qilue could sense that she had been about to protest, to insist that it should be a Darksong Knight who made the attempt on Lolth, but instead she inclined her head.

"By the song and the sword, we will succeed," she said.

"The drow will be free of the Spider Queen at last."

"By the song and the sword," Qilue murmured. Then she took a deep breath. Halisstra, she thought, was a coin balanced on its edge. Which way would she fall-toward betrayal or aid? The prophecy of three years ago had said it could go either way.

No. The prophecy had said it would go both ways. In the goddess's own words, House Melarn would both aid-and betray. A single coin could only fall on one side or the other.

Was there a second "coin" out there somewhere, waiting to declare itself?

If so, where?

Q'arlynd approached the tree that housed the priestesses. It was still covered in leaves, despite the recent snowfall. Sustained by ancient magic, its branches sparkled against the night sky with a shimmer of green that reminded Q'arlynd of the faerie fire that had decorated the buildings and roads back home.

The trunk was massive, thick as any of the streets of Ched Nasad had been. Its bark bulged in several places, enormous knots of wood that were called burls. Hollowed into each of these was a room, its entrance a round wooden door. Leading up to the doors were ladders made of individual sticks that floated in mid air. These sticks appeared benign, but glyphs carved into them would activate if anyone of evil intent touched them, instantly making them as sharp as steel. Enemies of Eilistraee who were foolish enough to use a magical ladder would lose their fingers at the very least.

Q'arlynd, however, had an easier means of access at his disposal, his House insignia. With a thought, he activated it and rose into the air to the room that was Rowaan's.

Yellow light shone through the cracks between door and frame. Rowaan might be a dark elf, but she seemed to have forsaken the use of her darkvision. Q'arlynd, still levitating, dispelled the glyph on the door, a simple warding that gave a mental suggestion that dissuaded males from touching the door or its handle. Then he lifted his hand to knock.

He paused, however, without knocking. He'd gone to seduce Rowaan into accompanying him to the Promenade and introducing him to Qilue. He had the perfect story, carefully rehearsed to earn Rowaan's sympathy, the tale of how Halisstra had saved his life after his riding accident. He'd tell her that that had stirred feelings in him he'd never known he possessed, that he'd discovered that he cared for Halisstra. How he even-what was the word for it? — yes, that was it, how he loved his sister. He'd follow that up with a plea that if he could just talk to Qilue-briefly, and without interrupting the high priestess's doubtlessly important duties-that maybe he could learn more about the one person who truly mattered to him in the world. Floating on Rowaan's threshold, however, it all seemed too easy-about as exciting as jumping from a table to the floor. He wanted more of a challenge than that.

Above him, he could see Leliana's doorway.

He smiled. Now that would be a leap. And being introduced to Qilue by a more powerful priestess certainly wouldn't hurt.

He levitated to her door and dispelled the warding on it as well. Then he knocked, a light, seemingly hesitant tap. As he waited for the door to open, he ran a hand over his hair, smoothing it.

The door opened, revealing a small room that was comfortably dark. Q'arlynd bowed his head. "May I come in?"

Leliana glanced between the wizard and the door. "How did-?"

Q'arlynd waggled his fingers. "Magic."

Leliana's eyes blazed. "You're not permitted here. Only priestesses-"

"I know, but I need to speak to you." He lowered his voice, as if afraid someone might be listening. "It's about the Nightshadows. I have information I think you should hear."

Leliana glanced away, muttering something under her breath. "All right," she said. "Come in."

Q'arlynd pulled himself inside and allowed his levitation to end. The room was furnished with two cushioned stools and an intricately carved table whose legs were joined to the floor. It must have been carved when the burl was hollowed out. Pegs on the wall held Leliana's armor, weapons, and cloak. Wide notches, carved into the walls, were stuffed with baskets, folded clothes and books. Q'arlynd nodded. He wasn't surprised that Leliana read. She had a lively mind. Something else caught his eye, a crescent-shaped harp in an alcove next to the door. He reached out to touch it then lowered his hand, as if suddenly remembering his manners.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't touch your things, but it… reminds me of my sister." He glanced up at Leliana. "Did you know Halisstra well?"

"I met her only once."

Q'arlynd brushed the strings of the harp with a fingertip. A shiver of notes filled the air. "She was a musician, too. She played the lyre."

"Quit stalling. You came here to tell me something about the Nightshadows. Spit it out."

Q'arlynd raised an eyebrow as he bowed. "As you command… Mistress."

"Don't call me that."

"Why not?" Q'arlynd countered. "You were born in the Underdark, weren't you? Menzoberranzan, if I'm not mistaken about your accent. Born into a noble House, no doubt. You certainly have an aristocratic bearing."

Leliana ignored the flattery. She closed the door against the chill wind then folded her arms across her chest. Now that she was no longer wearing her armor, Q'arlynd could appreciate the curve of her breasts and the lean muscles of her folded arms. She was only a little taller than he was-short, for a female.

"Get to the point," she said.

Q'arlynd sighed. "Things really are done differently in the surface realms, aren't they?" he said. "Very well, then. I gather, from our conversation of last night, that you're worried about an attack by Vhaeraun's assassins."

The silence stretched. Leliana neither confirmed nor denied what he'd just said. "Go on."

"The Nightshadows are masters of deception and disguise," Q'arlynd said. He leaned closer, as if about to share a dark secret. "But I know how to spot them."

"So do I," Leliana said sarcastically. "The first clue is that square of black cloth they're so fond of wearing."

Q'arlynd smiled. "That's true, but a Nightshadow can still work his magic, even when his mask is thousands of paces distant." He waved a hand. "But you knew that already, of course. Just as, no doubt, you already know that a Nightshadow's deception spell can mask his alignment, his true faith-even his very thoughts, but what you don't know, I'm willing to wager, is how to counter this deception."

"And you do?"

"Yes."

Leliana's expression was openly skeptical, but she hadn't thrown him out yet. She wanted to hear more.

"Let me explain. Many years ago, back when I was a novice wizard, a…" he searched for the right word-it wasn't one the drow frequently used. "A friend of mine came to me for help. A Nightshadow. He had a problem he thought my magic could solve."

"What problem was that?"

"He'd been cursed." Q'arlynd walked to the center of the room, deliberately testing her willingness to let him invade her private space. When she made no move to block him, he leaned back against the table, stretching himself out. Showing off his body. He smiled, inwardly, as he saw her eyes linger on it.

"You're familiar with Vhaeraun's avatar?" he asked.

"Not personally-we've never met. Eilistraee willing, I'll never have that pleasure."

Q'arlynd chuckled. "Nor have I, but my friend enlightened me. The Masked Lord's avatar, he said, looks just like a regular drow, except for his eyes. They change color, you see, to reflect his moods. Red when the god is angry, blue when he's pleased, green when-"

"Let me guess-when he's envious."

"When he's puzzled, actually." Q'arlynd waved a hand. "But that's neither blood nor water. What's important to the story is that this Nightshadow had transgressed against his faith. He'd cast an illusion upon himself that made his eyes change color and tried to pass himself off as Vhaeraun's avatar. It was a stupid thing to do, and he paid the price for his temerity. Vhaeraun cursed the Nightshadow so that his eyes would forever betray him. They continued to change color, even after his illusion ended, marking him as a cleric of Vhaeraun, and in Ched Nasad, that wasn't a healthy thing to be."

"So he asked you to remove the curse?"

"Exactly." Q'arlynd sighed. "But that spell, unfortunately for him, was beyond my abilities. I was still just a novice, capable of no more than a few cantrips and simple spells."

Leliana frowned. "Then why did he come to you for help?"

Q'arlynd shrugged and looked away. "He had his reasons."

"Why? Because you were a Nightshadow, too?"

Q'arlynd stared up into her eyes unflinchingly. "No. For a time, I considered becoming a petitioner-my friend took me into his confidence and told me a great deal about the Nightshadows. I even attended one of their secret meetings, but I never did take up the mask."

"So were you able to help your friend?"

Q'arlynd sighed. "In the course of telling him I couldn't help him, it slipped out that I was studying how to render living creatures invisible. He begged me to cast this spell on him, so he could escape the city."

She nodded. "Did he escape?"

Q'arlynd's expression hardened. "No. Instead of invisibility, I cast a spell that rendered him unconscious. Then I handed him over to the matron mother of our House."

That last "slip" had been deliberate. It took less time than he expected for it to sink in. Leliana's eyes widened almost immediately. "You and this 'friend' were blood relatives?"

Q'arlynd nodded. "He was my younger brother." He glanced away, letting the silence stretch for a moment. "I was 'rewarded' for turning him in by being allowed to watch when our mother sacrificed him. She cut his body apart, piece by piece, and offered it up to Lolth. It took…" he deliberately let his voice catch. "It took a very long time for him to die."

Leliana looked ill. "You betrayed your own brother."

"I had to. If I helped him, I'd have been marked for sacrifice myself."

"Not if he escaped."

"An invisibility spell wouldn't have helped. It would have worn off long before he escaped the city, and his eyes would have given him away. He'd have revealed who aided him. Lolth's priestesses, just like Eilistraee's, have ways of wringing the truth out of a person."

He sighed. "What I should have done was given Tellik a swift, clean death, but I wasn't strong enough to do that." He glanced up at her. "You grew up in the Underdark. You understand what's necessary. To survive. You must have… done things, things you later regretted."

Leliana's eyes narrowed. "I left all that behind."

"So have I. I've taken Eilistraee's vows. I've come into the light."

Leliana cocked an eyebrow. "Have you?"

"Yes. That's why I shared this story with you, painful though it was to relate. I wanted to give you a weapon you could use against any Nightshadows who try to sneak into your shrine in disguise." He smiled. "This is what I came to tell you. If you word a curse carefully, you can create the same effect, cause a Nightshadow's eyes to mirror his avatar's. No matter what disguise he's wearing, it will give him away."

Leliana considered this for several moments. "An interesting story," she said at last.

Q'arlynd felt his face grow warm. "You don't believe me?" He pointed at her sword. "Then wave that around and cast your truth spell. Make me repeat my 'story,' and see if I'm telling the truth."

Leliana's mouth quirked in a smile. "No need," she said. "Before inviting you in, I said a prayer that would cause me to hear a ringing sound, whenever you spoke a lie. It's much more subtle than the truth-compelling spell I used on you earlier, don't you think?"

Q'arlynd laughed, his anger having evaporated. Leliana was a drow female to the core. "Nicely done," he said, tipping his head.

"And you," she replied. "You told a heart-wrenching tale, complete with confessions and self-recriminations that should have earned my sympathy, and you've offered a possible method to reveal our enemies."

"The method will work," Q'arlynd said. "I've seen it tested."

"I'm sure you have," Leliana said, "but there's just one small problem. None of us knows how to bestow a curse."

Q'arlynd felt a rush of relief. Things were back on track again. "I realize that," he said solemnly. "Vlashiri's dead, but I overheard one of the priestesses saying that there are others at the Promenade who are familiar with curses. Send me there, and I'll teach them how to word a curse to reveal a Nightshadow in disguise."

Leliana laughed.

"What's so funny?" Q'arlynd asked.

"They know how to remove curses, not bestow them. Eilistraee won't permit anything else."

Q'arlynd's had to struggle to keep his emotions from showing. "I see."

Leliana moved to the door. "You're not ready to visit the Promenade yet."

"Meaning you don't trust me."

"Not fully, no." She opened the door, made ready to usher him out. "But I will send a message on your behalf to Qilue, if only to-"

The rest of her words were lost in a metallic crashing noise that came from below. It sounded like swords clanging together, but faster than any mortal hand could wield them. Doors banged open above and below Leliana's room.

"The barrier!" a priestess shouted. "Something's triggered it!"

Leliana sprang for her sword and armor. She shrugged on her chain mail as quickly as someone donning a shirt then ran for the open door. "Come on," she shouted as she rushed past him. "If it's the judicator again, we could use you."

Q'arlynd didn't wait for a second invitation. It was a chance to fight at Leliana's side-to at last prove himself to her. He yanked his wand out of its sheath and followed her to the door. Glancing outside as she hurried down the ladder, he saw magically animated blades whistling by several paces away from the tree, forming a circle around it. He wondered, briefly, why the magical trap hadn't sprung earlier, when he himself had crossed whatever invisible boundary encircled the tree. Perhaps because he was one of the "faithful" now. Shrugging, he cast a protective spell on himself. Then he jumped and activated his House insignia. As he slowly levitated to the ground, other priestesses scrambled past him down the ladders, swords in hand. One of them already stood at the bottom of the tree, spinning in place, her sword held out in front of her.

She stopped abruptly, pointing with her sword. "There!" she shouted. "He went that way."

Another priestess called a bolt of moonlight down from the sky. It lanced down into the woods and illuminated, just for a moment, the figure of a running man with black skin. He staggered as it struck the ground next to him and glanced over his shoulder. Even from a distance, Q'arlynd could see his mask.

"A Nightshadow," he whispered under his breath.

One of the priestesses spoke a word, negating the barrier of blades. As it fell, the other priestesses charged after the assassin, one of them blowing a hunting horn. Leliana ran after them.

"Q'arlynd!" she shouted over her shoulder. "What are you waiting for?"

Q'arlynd hesitated. He'd noticed something she'd missed. Rowaan's door was open, yet he hadn't seen her during the mad scramble to chase the assassin. He levitated to the opening and peered inside.

What he saw didn't surprise him. Rowaan lay on the floor of the room, her eyes bulging, a deep crease in her throat. The assassin must have been strangling her, even as Q'arlynd and Leliana were chatting.

And Q'arlynd had unlocked the door for him.

Leliana would realize that the instant she saw the dispelled glyph. All of the suspicions she harbored about Q'arlynd would be "confirmed."

That was it then. He'd never get an audience with the high priestess now, except, perhaps, as a prisoner.

He cursed and sheathed his wand. Then he teleported away.