Storm of the Dead

CHAPTER 9

Mazeer lifted the bottle to her lips, inhaled, and swam forward a few more strokes. Her exhaled bubbles flattened against the roof just above her head. A Nightshadow swam immediately ahead of her, his feet fluttering the water. Ahead of him, the passage they were following narrowed to a crack that looked barely wide enough for a drow to squeeze into. The cleric paused there, sculling in place, and stared into the fissure, his face illuminated by the blue-green Faerzress that permeated the nearby stone. Mazeer took another suck on the bottle that trailed by a cord from her wrist, and swam up next to him.

Another dead end? she signed. The Nightshadow shook his head and his mask fluttered back and forth like wave-lapped seaweed. It leads down. His chest rose and fell as he breathed water.

Mazeer sucked another breath from her bottle. Bubbles continued to stream out of it as she lowered it, tickling her arm. This is pointless. We should go back. This place is a labyrinth.

It looks as though the crack widens, about a hundred paces below. What if it's the passage that leads to the Acropolis?

Mazeer peered down the narrow crack. She'd been uneasy about closed-in places ever since the time, as a novice wizard, she'd miscast a teleportation spell and wound up wedged inside one of the college's chimneys. Unable to climb out, unable to refresh her teleportation spell because her spell-book was inside her pack, mashed tight against her back, she'd remained stuck inside the chimney until she was faint with hunger and thirst and her clothes were soiled. Eventually, someone conjuring darkfire in the fireplace below had at last heard her hoarse screams for help.

She'd made a point, after that, of learning a spell that would reduce the size of her body. It helped, a little, to know she could use it to free herself if she did get stuck. Yet as she stared down into that long, narrow fissure the old fear made her shudder. She didn't want the Nightshadow above her, blocking the way out.

You go first, she signed. I'll follow.

The cleric nodded and edged sideways into the gap. He nodded at the wands sheathed at her wrists. Just don't be too long in following. If this leads to a monster's lair, I don't want to be fighting alone.

Mazeer laughed out the breath she'd just drawn from the bottle. 'Monsters' didn't scare her. Back at the college, she'd slain everything the teachers had summoned and thrown at her. Hordes of undead, however, were another matter entirely. Given a choice, she hoped the fissure would deadend in a monster's lair, and that one of the other search teams would have the dubious honor of finding the route to the Acropolis. Daffir had predicted that one of the pairs of searchers would find it, though he'd been woefully short on details. Nor had Khorl been much help in predicting what they might face along the way, despite his haughty pride. So much for the "best" the College of Divination could provide. Eilistraee's priestess had been right, Kiaransalee's followers weren't so crazy that they couldn't cast wards.

The cleric pushed away from the ceiling, forcing his body down the fissure. Mazeer waited until he was about a dozen paces below. She pinched the tiny pouch that hung at her throat, whispered a word that shrank her to half her normal size, and followed. To keep the panic at bay, she kept her head tilted back, her eyes on the opening above. Bubbles streamed up toward it each time she exhaled. Up toward freedom. Each push of her hands sent her farther away from it. Even though she had lots of elbow room and plenty of space between her diminished body and the walls of rock on either side, her heart was pounding by the time her foot touched the bottom of the shaft. Loose rock shifted underfoot with a dull clunk.

She tore her eyes away from the exit above and stared ahead. The Nightshadow hovered a few paces away, sculling water. He glared back at her. Quiet!

He'd been right, the passage did widen. The cavern at the bottom of the fissure was at least a dozen paces across. About fifty paces beyond the Nightshadow, the ceiling curved up and out of a flat spot on the water: the exit to an air-filled chamber. A rhythmic noise came from that direction, muffled by the intervening water. It sounded like sticks clattering on stone.

The Nightshadow's eyes glittered. Hear that? He drew a "breath" of water, held it a moment then exhaled. I think we've found it. The water here smells of death. Let's take a look.

Mazeer nodded. The sooner they confirmed it as the passage leading to the Acropolis, the better. Then they could return to the rest of the group.

Mazeer hadn't been keen on setting out to search the maze of water-filled passages with only a Nightshadow as backup. She would have felt better with other conjurers flanking her and the priestesses in the lead, their magical swords between Mazeer and whatever dangers lay ahead. Yet she'd done as Gilkriz ordered.

The Nightshadow touched the phylactery on his arm and motioned for her to follow. Dagger in hand, he swam up toward the surface. Mazeer restored herself to her usual size, and pushed off from her crouched position. Halfway through the cavern, she noticed a spot where the Faerzress was dimmer, as though screened by a gauzy curtain. A kick of her legs sent her in that direction. As she swam closer to it, breathing from her bottle, she saw that the "curtain" was a loose tangle of thick strands of colorless thread, nearly invisible in the water, that made up a loosely woven bag with several large tears in it. She touched it, and the strands felt slightly sticky. Below it, she noticed what looked like a knobby white wand wedged in a crack in the floor. She swam down for a look. It turned out to be a femur, small enough to have come from a child.

Or from a svirfneblin.

Spit me like a lizard, she thought. The svirfneblin who found this passage didn't drown, he got eaten by a water spider.

She twisted around to warn the Nightshadow. Ripples marked the spot where he'd just climbed out of the water. A heartbeat later, he plunged into the water in a dive. He was only waist-deep when his body abruptly halted and his eyes flared open in alarm. Then something yanked him out of the water, and he vanished from sight.

Mazeer took a breath from her bottle and shouted a spell. Her words exploded in a flurry of bubbles. She swept her free hand in a circle, fist clenched, then opened it. The water shimmered as magical energy infused it. At her command, the water elemental she'd summoned bulged toward the surface just as an enormous spider plunged into the water, dragging the web-bound Nightshadow behind it. The elemental crashed into the monster, snapping two of the spider's legs. Then the battle raged.

The water in the cavern churned into a whirlpool that slammed Mazeer into a wall. Over the tumult of rushing water, she heard a faint crack. Pain lanced through her hand as shards of glass drove into her palm. Her bottle-broken! She fought her way to the surface. She barely had time to draw breath before she was sucked under again by the maelstrom. It slammed her into another wall and one of her ribs cracked. Dizzy with pain, she tried to push off the wall, but couldn't. The force of the water held her fast.

"Help… me… surface…" The words cost her the last of the air in her lungs, but they were enough. A surge of water-one of the elemental's wide "arms"-hurled her toward the surface. She burst into the air like a leaping fish and slammed down onto stone.

She rose, shaking, in a room-sized cavern. A hole in one wall led to a larger cavern beyond. At the far side of the pool-the spot where the Nightshadow had climbed out of the water-strands of web draped the rock. Great gouts of water erupted from the pool, spraying the walls and ceiling. The Nightshadow's web-wrapped body momentarily bobbed to the surface next to a broken spider leg, then got sucked under again.

Mazeer drew a wand woven from green willow twigs and held it ready, in case the spider won the fight. When pieces of spider floated to the surface in a dark slick of blood, she knew that battle was at an end. She snapped her fingers and pointed at a dark shape in the water: the body of the Nightshadow. The elemental bulged, lifting it to the surface. Mazeer bent down and grasped him by his shirt. She hauled him out of the water, grunting at the pain that lanced through her side. Then she passed a hand over the surface of the pool, releasing the elemental.

She rolled the web-shrouded Nightshadow onto his side to drain the water from his lungs. His head flopped and came to rest at an unnatural angle. A crunching noise came from inside his neck: broken bones grinding together.

Mazeer sighed. She had no magic that could revive him. She was on her own. And she wouldn't be able to get back, she thought as she looked ruefully down at the broken chunk of bottle that dangled from the thong around her wrist.

She held her side and breathed shallowly against the pain of her broken rib. The water had stilled, and she could hear the staccato of clicking bone coming from the larger cavern beyond. It sounded like an entire army of skeletons on the march. She peered through the hole and saw distant white dots on the ceiling: the skulls the Darksong Knight had described.

She crept closer to the opening for a better look. The cavern beyond was filled with a vast lake, its depths illuminated from below by the Faerzress. At its center stood an island, capped with a forest of stalagmites that made up the buildings of the ruined city. The stalagmites crackled with blue-green light, as if it were a living city decorated with faerie fire, but that was only the glow of the Faerzress.

At the center of the island was a massive spire of flat-topped stone. It, too, pulsed with Faerzress energy, but the building that stood atop it was black as a starless sky. Mazeer could guess what it was: the Acropolis of Thanatos, temple of Kiaransalee, Queen of the Undead. Above the temple drifted the pale shapes of restless ghosts. Their wails echoed faintly across the lake. Even at a distance, the sound made Mazeer shiver.

Her teleportation spells were useless, thanks to the Faerzress. She couldn't escape. And it was unlikely that Daffir or Khorl would be able to use their divinations to find her. The protections that had prevented them from scrying the main cavern likely extended as far as the smaller cavern.

One avenue of communication remained open, however: Eilistraee's high priestess. Mazeer might be stuck, just like that time in the chimney, but this time when she called for help someone would hear her.

"Qilue," she whispered. Despite the cacophony of clattering bone from the cavern beyond, she was wary of raising her voice. "It is Mazeer, of the College of Conjuration and Summoning. One of those traveling in Cavatina's band. Qilue, can you hear me? I've something urgent to report."

The reply came a moment later: a female voice that seemed to sing, rather than speak. I'm listening.

"Tell Cavatina I've found the way to Kiaransalee's temple. It's a narrow fissure that leads down to…"

The words faded on her lips as a skull leered in through the hole in the wall. Mazeer could see right through it, and the Faerzress gave it an eerie, blue-green glow. The body was a trailing wisp of bone-white, with hands whose fingers tapered to dagger-sharp points. Its jaw creaked open. A ghastly din erupted from the blackness within-the sound of hundreds of phlegm-choked voices, groaning in agony.

Waves of despair poured from the apparition and enveloped Mazeer like a cold, moldy blanket. Trembling, with a stomach that felt hollow and sick, she remembered the wand in her hand. Somehow, she forced her arm to rise. She pointed the wand and sobbed out a word. A sickly green ray shot from it, striking the skull.

The apparition never even slowed. It loomed into the cave and clutched at Mazeer with skeletal hands that raked her body, passing through her chest. For a moment, she couldn't breathe. Her legs buckled, sending her to her knees. Then the hands retracted, yanking something from her. Mazeer felt a hollow open as all vestiges of hope and joy were torn from her.

Only bitterness remained.

It was enough. She clutched the emotion like an icy seed, using it to draw herself back to the here and now. Dropping the willow wand, she clawed a second wand from her bracer. This one had a pea-sized sphere of hollow glass at its tip. The creature screamed at her, a soul-numbing wail that slammed against Mazeer's eardrums. She felt her right eardrum rupture. Intense pain flared through that side of her head. Even as the skull's wail drove her past the edge of madness, she shouted the wand's command word. Ripples of energy shot from it. They slammed into the skull and expanded outward from it, encasing it in a bubble of silence.

The apparition raged impotently, mouth open. It clawed at the bubble that surrounded its head, but without effect. The silence ate at it like acid. A portion of the skull dimpled, then crumbled away, leaving a black hole. Hollow eyesockets glared at Mazeer. Then, still raging in utter silence, the creature turned and fled.

Mazeer? Can you hear me? Are you still there?

Mazeer whirled. Her heart pounded even faster than the staccato clacking in the cavern beyond. Thousands of skulls! What was that voice? It was inside her head. A skull! Thousands of them, pressing in on her from every side. She slapped her palms against her ears, and one hand became sticky with blood. The skulls were consuming her from within!

"Get out!" she shrieked. "Get out of my head!"

Mazeer, it's Qilue. You called me.

"The skull is stuck!" Mazeer wailed, beating her forehead with her fists. "Stuck inside the chimney. Light a fire. Get it out!"

It's Qilue, Mazeer, High Priestess of Eilistraee. Listen to me. Let me help you.

"No!" The skulls surrounded her like invisible walls. Mazeer could feel them digging into her back, her arms, her chest. Bones and teeth. Laughing at her. "Stupid girl, getting stuck in a chimney."

Her eyes widened. Had she just said that? Or had it been the voice inside her head? What was that clacking noise?

Like spears, rattling. Spears stabbing her chest, the palm of her hand, the right side of her head. Throbbing. Pain. Her chest was tight. She couldn't breathe. She clawed out a wand, hurled it at the blue-green glow. The fire. It was all around her. Fire and smoke. Making her cough. Too tight, stuck in a chimney…

"Get out. Out of here. Must get…"

She fell backward. Splashing water choked off her scream. She was cold and wet. Sinking. The water hugged her close, extinguishing the fire. Something brushed against her: a sticky net. She remembered it had caught another drow. He was the one trapped. She laughed, and watched languidly as bubbles danced above her face. There was something she should be doing. Oh yes, the bottle. She raised it to her lips and inhaled deeply. Water slid into her lungs, smooth as a wand into a sheath. She didn't notice the coughing, or the hot flare of pain in her chest.

The skull was gone. At last.

She was free.

Cavatina waited impatiently as Khorl cast his spell. A mirror of polished silver hung on one wall, enlarged by magic from a brooch the wizard had unpinned from his piwafwi. Khorl peered into it intently, oblivious to the harsh glare of the reflected Faerzress. The blue glow was painfully bright. Cavatina squinted, yet it still hurt her eyes. Backlit by its glare, Khorl's head and shoulders were a dark silhouette.

"Can you see anything?" she asked. "Mazeer told Qilue she'd found the way to the Acropolis. She mentioned a fissure in the rock."

"And a skull," Eldrinn added. "You said she mentioned a skull." He stood next to Daffir, fiddling nervously with a vial he held. If the boy wasn't careful, he was going to drop his potion.

Karas pushed past him. "What about Telmyz? Is there any sign of him?"

"Patience, all of you," Khorl said. His fingers flicked in front of the mirror as if turning pages. "A scrying cannot be rushed."

Gilkriz stood to one side, arms folded and fingers drumming restlessly. One of his wizards had gone missing. Perhaps he'd already accepted the worst. According to Qilue, Mazeer had been incoherent when her message abruptly cut off. That-and the silence that followed-didn't bode well.

All the other search teams had returned safely, if unsuccessfully. Despite more than a day's worth of searching, none had found the way to the Acropolis.

Khorl's hand dropped. "The mirror reveals nothing." A wave of his hand shrank the polished oval of silver back down to brooch size.

"Conjure up the eyes again," Cavatina ordered. "We need to find Mazeer and Telmyz."

Khorl shook his head firmly. "A second application of that spell will only produce the same result."

Cavatina turned to the human wizard. "Daffir?"

He inclined his head. "I will try, Madam."

As Daffir cast his spell, Cavatina brooded. The message about Mazeer and Telmyz hadn't been the only sending from Qilue. There had been two other sendings from the high priestess a short time after that. The first had contained surprising news: Halisstra lived! She'd somehow escaped the Demonweb Pits, and had been spotted in the Shilmista Forest. Priestesses and Nightshadows had died there, at the hands of Lolth's minions. Halisstra, however had managed to escape through the shrine's portal.

She'd portaled to the Moondeep, where Q'arlynd had spotted her. Not surprisingly, he hadn't recognized his own sister. Halisstra wandered the mine tunnels, somewhere between the Moondeep and the spot where the party rested.

Cavatina would have ordered a search for Halisstra, but Qilue had forbidden it. Eilistraee herself had warned the high priestess that Halisstra had some part to play in the attack on the temple-a role that might be disrupted if too many knew she was there. Cavatina had to trust in the goddess, to let Halisstra find her own path in the dance.

It rankled Cavatina, but an order was an order. A Darksong Knight always did her duty.

One thing was certain. The longer Cavatina and the others lingered there, the better the chance Halisstra would blunder into them. Knowing that, Cavatina had ordered the two priestesses guarding the shaft that was this tunnel's only access point to contact her with a sending at once if they spotted anything resembling a demon, and not to engage it in combat themselves-to let her, the party's only Darksong Knight, deal with any demons.

Cavatina turned to the human mage. "Daffir. Anything yet?"

Daffir leaned on his staff, eyes closed. "Mazeer and Telmyz are in a cavern."

"The Acropolis?"

"No," Daffir opened his eyes. "That much, at least, I am certain of. Had they reached it, the name Thanatos would have rung through my mind like a tolling bell."

"Are they still underwater?" Karas asked.

Daffir shook his head. "That, I cannot tell."

Cavatina struggled to keep her frustration in check. "Keep trying," she told the wizards. She turned to walk back to the spot at the bottom of the shaft, where the others had set up a fortified position, but Karas caught her arm. "Telmyz is dead," he told her. "This was the wrong way to go."

Cavatina rounded on him. "We don't know that."

"Yes we do. The prayer that allowed him to breathe water would have elapsed long ago. If he's still submerged, he's dead."

"Then we'll recover his body. Return him to the Promenade, where he can be resurrected."

Karas made a dismissive gesture. "That's not worth the cost."

Cavatina was inclined to agree, for different reasons. Yet her duty was clear. "Our numbers are small. We can't afford the loss of even one of Eilistraee's faithful."

"Precisely," Karas said. "Which is why we should abandon this route and go another way. You heard the reports of the search teams. There's a veritable labyrinth of passages down there. Trying to figure out which one leads to the Acropolis-if any even do-might take days. We should take a route that we know leads to the Acropolis. One that won't cost us any more lives."

"This is our way in," Cavatina said. "The Crones will be watching the other entrances."

"You said Mazeer mentioned a skull. Even if she did find the 'back door' the deep gnomes told you about, it may not be such a secret any more."

"He's right," Gilkriz said, stepping closer. "And the longer we sit here, the more likely we'll be discovered. What if your svirfneblin 'allies' were lying entirely, and this is nothing but a dead-end? I don't want to be trapped down here."

Cavatina stared down at him. "You'd abandon Mazeer?"

Gilkriz unfolded his arms and tugged at his gold sleeves, straightening them. Despite immersion in the Moondeep, his clothes were impeccable. "If she's dead, yes." He nodded at the Faerzress. "Solving our problem as quickly as possible is what's most important."

Cavatina glared at him. But she had to admit that Gilkriz was right. So was Karas.

"I've made up my mind," she told them. "We'll go in another way. One of those other entrances Karas is so fond of."

His mask hid the smirk she knew was there.

"But we stay together."

The smirk disappeared from his eyes.

"Gilkriz, Eldrinn, assemble your wizards. Get them ready to move. Karas, do the same for your Nightshadows."

"As you command, Lady," Karas replied.

Cavatina gave him a tight smile. She knew that Karas's obedience was the calm before the storm. When he found out how she planned on entering that "side door," he wasn't going to like it. She'd had it with this skulking about. It was time for something bolder.

She was just about to pass the word to the two priestesses who guarded the top of the shaft when one of them contacted her with a sending. Lady Cavatina, the demon you anticipated! Zindira just spotted it!

Fall back to the bottom of the shaft, Cavatina ordered, praying they would obey quickly. If they made the mistake of attacking Halisstra, they likely wouldn't survive. I'm on my way.

She turned and spoke swiftly. "Karas, keep the others together. Don't let them follow me up the shaft."

His eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Lady?"

"Our guards have spotted something-possibly a demon." She slapped the flask at her hip. "I'm going to deal with it. You're in charge until I get back."

She sprinted away down the tunnel.

Leliana set a brisk pace through the abandoned mine. Q'arlynd hurried along beside her, glad to be moving again. The sooner he had Eldrinn back in his sight again, the better. The boy might be talented, but he was little more than a novice. There were all sorts of things down there that could kill him. Gigantic undead heads, demonic drow-things… why, even something so mundane as a cave-in, Q'arlynd thought as he ducked under a fungus-dotted shoring timber that stank of rot. If Q'arlynd were ever going to unlock Kraanfhaor's Door and plunder the riches that lay behind it, he'd need the secrets locked away in Eldrinn's mind.

In the meantime, he thought, glancing at the bluish glow that infused the tunnel, there was a job to be done: discovering what had augmented the Faerzress, and negating it before the College of Divination collapsed.

They walked in silence for some time. Then Leliana spoke. "Aren't you going to ask how Rowaan is, Q'arlynd?"

Q'arlynd took a deep breath. Here it comes, he thought. "I intended to, Lady, once there was time."

She halted abruptly. "No time like the present."

Q'arlynd slowly turned. "Lady, they enslaved me with magic that proved even stronger than Qilue's geas. I was forced to speak the words that-"

"What are you talking about?"

"The… the gate," Q'arlynd faltered. "Didn't Qilue tell you…?" Belatedly, he realized he'd just said too much.

"She did. She said you were the one who opened the gate that allowed Eilistraee to enter Vhaeraun's domain."

Q'arlynd raised his hands. "Not by choice, I assure you." Then he realized what she'd just said. "Vhaeraun's domain?"

"Of course. That was a clever ruse you pulled."

She didn't look angry, so Q'arlynd did his best to recover. "Qilue… told you about… that?"

Leliana smiled. "She also swore me to secrecy. But now that we're alone…" She glanced back the way they'd just come. "I can thank you. For saving Rowaan."

To Q'arlynd's utter surprise, she stepped forward and clasped his arms. She was strong; her hands pinched as they squeezed. Then she stepped abruptly back, as if embarrassed by the show of emotion. That figured; she'd been raised in the Underdark, after all.

"I'm surprised Qilue confided in you," Q'arlynd said, relaxing at last. "But I welcome the opportunity to boast. That switch I pulled was rather clever, wasn't it?"

Leliana's eyes glittered. "How did you ever trick them into reversing the spell? They were Nightshadows-didn't they see it coming?"

"Apparently not," said Q'arlynd. Nor had he seen this coming.

"I still can't quite believe they're part of our faith now, that they chose redemption," Leliana continued. "I thought them too steeped in lies and deceit to stick with it. But some did, amazingly enough." She paused. "I'm glad to see you still serve Eilistraee, as well."

"Of course." Q'arlynd waved a hand. "That's why I'm here." It was a conversation he didn't want to get any deeper into than he had to. "But you haven't answered my question. How is Rowaan?"

Leliana smiled. "She's well. After I was promoted to the ranks of the Protectors, she took charge of the Misty Forest shrine." Her voice deepened with pride. "There were other, more senior priestesses who could have been named its head priestess, but Qilue chose Rowaan."

Of course she did, Q'arlynd thought. The appointment would have ensured that Rowaan kept her mouth shut about what had really happened, that night in the dark-stone cavern.

He realized why Cavatina had failed to point him out during the briefing at the Promenade. She didn't want to run the risk of him contradicting the official version of what had happened. She wanted her priestesses to believe that Eilistraee was stronger than Vhaeraun-that she had defeated the Masked Lord on his home turf.

Q'arlynd wondered how closely held the true story was. Qilue knew it, of course, and Cavatina-as well as the priestesses whose souls, together with Rowaan's, had been drawn to Eilistraee when the gate opened. Q'arlynd supposed those priestesses had been bought off, too. And that Valdar, the only Nightshadow to have survived the casting of the gate, had been tracked down and killed to ensure his silence.

The ranks of Eilistraee's faithful had come to include more than one assassin, after all.

"We should get moving, if we want to catch up to the others," he reminded Leliana.

"Yes." She touched a hand to the Faerzress. "Too bad we can't teleport. You'd have us there like that." She started to snap her fingers, then touched the Faerzress again, as if caressing it.

The gesture disturbed Q'arlynd. He'd felt a similar urge himself. The soft hum of the bluish glow called to him. The Faerzress was beautiful, just like faerie fire, but what he felt went deeper than that. It drew him like…

He realized he was touching the wall. He jerked his fingers back.

Leliana's eyes met his. She looked as uneasy as he felt. "You're right," she said. "We should get moving."

Out of the corner of his eye, Q'arlynd saw a slight motion farther down the tunnel. A patch of wall dimmed and brightened again, as if the Faerzress had momentarily been blocked. Something was slowly creeping away from the spot where Q'arlynd and Leliana stood-something with an outline so blurred it was almost impossible to make out. It was the size and shape of a child.

We're being watched, Q'arlynd warned. He raised his chin slightly, indicating the tunnel behind Leliana. By a svirfneblin.

Our guide?

I'm not sure.

Leliana turned and spoke aloud. "There's no need to fear us. We're the ones you came to meet. If we'd meant you harm, we'd already have-"

She suddenly reeled back and groped for the wall. "Mother's blood," she cursed, her voice overly loud. "What did you do that for?"

Q'arlynd understood at once what had happened. He too knew magic that could render someone blind and deaf. He shouted a word and flicked his fingers, triggering a ripple of energy that radiated from him, dispelling the effect. His spell revealed two svirfneblin standing only a pace or two away. One cradled a strongbox; the second held a hooked hammer in one hand, an egg-sized, blood-red gemstone in the other. The instant this fellow was revealed, he hurled the stone. It thudded into Q'arlynd's chest. Q'arlynd jumped back and tried to raise a hand, but couldn't. His arms felt weak, soft. He watched, horrified, as the skin shriveled on his hands and his fingers curled like dead leaves. He tried to cast a spell, but his fingers wouldn't move. His arms hung limp and lifeless at his sides.

He felt his eyes widen. Death magic! How in all that was unholy had the svirfneblin gotten hold of that?

He could think of only one answer.

Leliana, able to see again thanks to Q'arlynd's dispelling, touched the holy symbol that hung against her chest and sang out a word. The svirfneblin who'd thrown the gemstone froze in place, held fast by her prayer. She whirled and began singing a second prayer-still not drawing her sword.

"Leliana!" Q'arlynd shouted. "These aren't the-"

Though he spoke the word "guides," he never heard it. Suddenly blinded and deafened, he stumbled about, desperately trying to cast a spell-one that didn't require gestures, a touch, or the tossing of spell components. That left precious little.

He felt someone jostle him-Leliana, at last come to her senses and skewering the deep gnomes with her sword? He hoped so. If it weren't for the damned Faerzress, he might have conjured an arcane eye to see what was going on. Instead he did the only thing he could that would put him in the clear. He shouted the word that activated his House insignia, still not hearing his own voice, and felt himself rise.

A hand yanked him down again. The instant it touched him, he shouted out a spell. Whichever of the deep gnomes had just grabbed him would be blind and deaf, too. That should even the odds a little.

Suddenly he could see and hear again. Leliana lay on the floor, unconscious or dead from a wound that had bloodied her scalp. Her sword lay nearby. The deep gnome she'd immobilized a moment ago stood over her, his hammer dark with blood. A second deep gnome stood just behind him, glaring at Q'arlynd.

Q'arlynd tried to draw his ice wand from the sheath on his belt-if his useless hands could just lift it, he might be able to blast the svirfneblin-but his limbs wouldn't cooperate. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a blur to his right and behind him: the third svirfneblin moving in. Q'arlynd at last fumbled the wand out of its sheath and turned. He struggled to point it at the blurred gnome.

The two svirfneblin behind Q'arlynd moved right and left, flanking him. Backing him against a wall. Q'arlynd shifted his arms, trying to menace them with his wand. It fell from his withered hands and clattered to the floor. The svirfneblin who'd felled Leliana raised his hooked hammer, but the blurred gnome raised a hand.

"Hold," he told them.

Q'arlynd stared at the blurred gnome but could make out no details. He was like every other svirfneblin Q'arlynd had ever seen: mottled gray skin, bald head, just over half Q'arlynd's height, and wearing clothes the color of stone. Why had he just called off the attack?

"Flinderspeld? Is that you?"

The svirfneblin dropped his blur, revealing himself. It wasn't Flinderspeld. He had a wider forehead, one ear that cocked at an odd angle, and his hands were more heavily mottled than those of Q'arlynd's former slave. The deep gnome glanced at his two companions and said something in the svirfneblin tongue. They nodded and visibly relaxed.

"I not Flinderspeld," he told Q'arlynd, speaking in the pidgin language the races of the Underdark shared. "But I know him."

"Who are you?"

"Name's Durth."

"How do you know Flinderspeld?"

"Do business with him."

"Gems?" Q'arlynd guessed. Flinderspeld must have reentered the gem business after settling in Silverymoon. Q'arlynd wondered if the gem that had withered his arms had been destined for him. He shook his head, not quite believing the odds against this most unlikely of meetings. It made him wonder if Eilistraee really did watch over him. Or maybe she was just watching over her priestesses, he thought, glancing down at Leliana. Either way, Q'arlynd was thankful for Eilistraee's mercies. He shrugged his arms and nodded down at them for Durth's benefit. "Can you heal these?"

"No." Durth shrugged. "Maybe priestess can, if she wakes up. But she be mad at you for blinding her, I think."

The other svirfneblin laughed.

Q'arlynd silently cursed as he realized it had been Leliana who had yanked him down after he levitated. He added a silent prayer that Leliana would wake up-and not just because he needed healing. To his surprise, he found he actually cared whether she lived or died.

Durth turned to his companions and motioned for them to get the strongbox, which lay on the floor not far from Leliana. The lid hung from a single hinge and was split nearly in two-probably the result of one of Leliana's sword blows. Inside the box, Q'arlynd could see a fist-sized lump of utter blackness that made his eyes ache whenever he looked directly at it. The thing hovered at the exact center of the strongbox, not touching any of its interior surfaces.

Q'arlynd had seen something similar years before the fall of Ched Nasad. It had been housed in the Arcane Conservatory in a room with walls several paces thick. Great care had been taken so that, like the object in the strongbox, it touched neither walls, nor ceiling, nor floor: a levitation spell, made permanent and backed up by contingencies.

One of the svirfneblin picked up the strongbox and tried to force the lid shut. Q'arlynd took an involuntary step back.

"What?" Durth asked.

"That's voidstone," Q'arlynd croaked.

Even without eyebrows, Durth could still frown. "So?"

Q'arlynd was horrified. The deep gnomes obviously had no idea what they were carrying. "It's a solidified chunk of the negative energy plane," he told them, trying to quiet the inner voice that demanded he run screaming from the deep gnome who so casually held the box. "Anything that touches voidstone is instantly destroyed. If that 'rock' falls out of the box, it won't be pretty."

The deep gnome holding the strong box looked uncomfortable. He stopped fiddling with the lid.

Durth glared at his companion. "We not afraid to die," he told Q'arlynd. "Callarduran Smoothhands will-"

"No he won't," Q'arlynd interrupted. "Voidstone destroys both matter and spirit. If that chunk spills from the box, there won't be any souls left for your god to claim."

The deep gnome holding the box turned a lighter shade of gray.

Durth glared at him. "We are paid for the risk."

"By Flinderspeld?" Q'arlynd asked. His former slave should have had more sense than to handle the stuff. "I hope, for your sake, it's some serious coin he's promised you."

Durth's smirk confirmed it.

Q'arlynd nodded at the box. "Is Flinderspeld buying or selling the stuff?"

Durth's eyes narrowed. "What business is that of yours?"

"None," Q'arlynd said. "I just… hope he knows what he's dealing with, that's all."

Durth scratched behind his cocked ear. He glanced down at Leliana. "She mean anything to you?"

Q'arlynd kept his voice completely neutral. "She is the only one who can heal my arms."

Durth said something in his own language to the deep gnome who was holding the hooked hammer. The other gnome grunted. Leliana had just been granted a reprieve.

Durth glanced furtively around and crooked a finger at Q'arlynd, inviting him to bend down to ear level. Q'arlynd did, and the deep gnome whispered in his ear. "When you get close to Acropolis, hang back a little." He raised a hairless eyebrow. "Got it?"

Q'arlynd did. "The Crones," he whispered back. "You warned them Eilistraee's priestesses were coming."

Durth nodded. "Drow against drow. Seemed fitting then, but I regret it now. The priestesses don't know we play both sides, right?"

The other two gnomes shifted restlessly, as if bored with the conversation and ready to move on. The one who wasn't holding the box twirled his hammer back and forth on the cord that bound it to his wrist.

Q'arlynd suddenly realized what was going on. That last question had been the key-the reason he was still alive. He played dumb by answering it. "That's right."

"Too bad. But a friend of Flinderspeld…" Durth shrugged.

Had Q'arlynd been a surface elf, he might have been caught off guard. But Q'arlynd was a drow, born and raised in Ched Nasad. Treachery had been in the very air he breathed. The hammer twirling had been intended as a distraction; Q'arlynd had seen the svirfneblin's other hand slide stealthily into a pocket. When the deep gnome flicked a gemstone at him, Q'arlynd was ready. His cantrip required only the most basic of gestures; the caster had only to point. Q'arlynd flopped one withered arm in Durth's direction, guiding the gemstone to the deep gnome's chest. Durth's eyes widened as it struck him. Then he collapsed.

Q'arlynd lashed out with a foot. It sank into the throat of the deep gnome who'd just tossed the gemstone. The svirfneblin gasped and staggered backward. Q'arlynd twirled, causing his useless arms to windmill. He shouted out a spell as his left hand slapped the head of the deep gnome holding the box. Suddenly both blind and deaf, the deep gnome jerked in surprise. He backed away and halted. He carefully lowered the strongbox to the floor.

Q'arlynd, meanwhile, snapped a second kick at the other gnome-one that slammed the little male's skull into the wall, cracking his head against stone. The deep gnome slumped to the floor, unconscious. Meanwhile, the blinded svirfneblin blurred himself. He backed up the tunnel, trying to escape, but Q'arlynd's foot swept out, tripping him. A kick rendered him unconscious, as well.

Q'arlynd stood, panting. Durth lay on the floor a short distance away, snoring. The second gemstone, Q'arlynd realized, had contained nothing more lethal than a sleep spell. Harmless enough, but Q'arlynd was certain they'd intended to slit his throat the moment he was down.

He didn't have much time; magical sleep didn't last very long. He fell to his knees beside Leliana to listen to her breathing. It was regular enough, but she showed no signs of regaining consciousness.

"Leliana," he said, nudging her with his shoulder. "Can you hear me? Leliana, wake up!"

She didn't stir.

Q'arlynd stood. The strongbox had been knocked over in the scuffle. Fortunately, the voidstone hadn't spilled out; magic held it in place. Gingerly, he touched his foot to the box and rocked it upright. Then he noticed something. The spot where the box had just lain glowed slightly brighter than the rest of the floor. Curious, he used his foot to ease the box to a different spot and tilted it until the open top was close to the floor. Once again, the Faerzress brightened to an eye-hurting hue.

He rocked the box upright again. With a thought, he summoned up faerie fire, clothing his body in a sparkling violet radiance. He lowered one of his withered hands to the box-taking great care not to actually touch its contents-and saw the violet glow intensify.

He straightened and nodded to himself. Qilue had been right about who was behind the augmentation of the Faerzress, as well as the involuntary manifestations of faerie fire by Sshamath's mages. Whatever the Crones were doing with the voidstone that the deep gnomes were supplying was causing both effects.

He stared down at the strongbox. The chunk of voidstone it held would be the expedition's way in. They could disguise themselves as deep gnomes, carry the voidstone to the Acropolis, and learn what the Crones were up to. Put a stop to it. End the crisis and ensure that the College of Divination would not fall.

Q'arlynd smiled. "Thanks, Eilistraee," he said, only half-jokingly. He nudged Leliana again with his foot, glancing warily at the prone bodies of the deep gnomes. "Now if I could just ask one more favor of you…"

Leliana, however, remained unconscious.

Durth snorted in his sleep and rolled over.

Q'arlynd grimaced. Then he remembered what Cavatina had told him, during the briefing. Perhaps Qilue would know what to do.

He whispered her name. A heartbeat later, her voice filled his mind. Q'arlynd? What is it?

"The svirfneblin," he said aloud. "They betrayed us. They're trading with the Crones. Supplying them with voidstone." Swiftly, he summed up what he'd just learned, capping it with the fact that he and Leliana were alone-and in trouble.

I will tell the others.

"They're too far away to get here in time! And these svirfneblin may wake up at any moment. Leliana's unconscious, and my arms are withered. I can't very well drag her away. We need your help. Is there anything you can do?"

No. But there's something you can do. Pray.

With that, the communication ended.

Q'arlynd raged at the high priestess's sudden dismissal, even though it was to be expected. He was expendable. Despite his vital discovery of the voidstone.

He stared down at Leliana, then at the slumbering and unconscious svirfneblin. The answer was simple, of course. He could just walk away and leave her there. It was the logical thing to do. The only sane thing to do.

Instead he fell to his knees. Pray, Qilue' had said. He snorted. As if Eilistraee had time to listen to him. But he was willing to give it a try. If it didn't work, he'd go. At least then, if the deep gnomes killed Leliana, it would be Eilistraee's fault.

He flopped one arm toward the unconscious priestess, moving it until his hand touched her holy symbol. Resting his useless fingers on it, he mumbled a prayer. "Eilistraee, it's uh, Q'arlynd. I pledged myself to you a couple of years ago. I need your help. Leliana needs your help. Heal her."

Durth stirred again. Still asleep, but starting to wake up.

Leliana remained unconscious. Q'arlynd's prayer hadn't worked.

He stood. That was it. He was out of there.

Leliana's eyes fluttered. "Q'arlynd?" She winced, as if speaking had hurt. One of her hands lifted slightly from the floor, grasping weakly.

Q'arlynd fell to his knees beside her and gripped her sleeve with his teeth. He lifted her arm, positioning her hand over her chest, above her holy symbol. He released his grip, and her hand fell on the miniature sword.

"Leliana, you need to heal yourself. If you don't, we're in big trouble."

Leliana nodded weakly. Her lips began to move. Her prayer came in whispered snatches, but a melody was there. Slowly, her voice strengthened. The song's final note burst from her lips with a joyous peal, and her head wound vanished. She sat up, looked around at the svirfneblin, and immediately grasped her sword. She climbed to her feet, murder in her eye.

"Wait!" Q'arlynd said. "We need them. They're our way into the Acropolis. Heal me, and I'll deal with them."

Leliana gave him a suspicious look but eventually nodded. Touching her holy symbol a second time, she sang out a prayer. Q'arlynd sighed in relief as a tingling rushed through his arms. A moment more, and they were functional again. He flexed his fingers and grinned.

"Remember that trick I pulled on the lamia, back when we first met?" he asked.

Leliana nodded.

Q'arlynd grabbed one of the deep gnomes and dragged him over to where Durth lay. "Haul that other one over here. Once I've trapped them, you can use that truth-compelling prayer of yours. These three were on their way to the Acropolis to deliver the contents of that strongbox to the Crones. They're about to tell us everything we need to know in order to do the same."

Leliana raised her eyebrows. "You missed your calling," she said as she grabbed the other unconscious deep gnome and dragged him across the floor. "You should have been a Nightshadow."

"Perhaps I should have," Q'arlynd whispered to himself. Then he cast his spell.