Storm of the Dead

CHAPTER 10

Cavatina levitated up the mineshaft, fully on alert. The description the Protectors had given of the "demon" matched Halisstra, but Cavatina was still cautious. As she rose, she pulled the stopper from her iron flask. If this turned out to be a demon after all, she'd trap it.

She landed softly at the lip of the shaft and looked around. The cavern was wide and filled with ancient debris. Tunnels led off from it in three directions. The glow of the Faerzress contrasted with the dark shadows of fallen timbers, winches, tangles of wire, and other abandoned equipment. Halisstra might have been hiding anywhere.

So might any number of undead.

"Halisstra?" Cavatina called softly. The sword in her hand hummed softly, a precaution against enchantments.

She heard a scuffling in the tunnel to her left. "Halisstra?" she called again, slightly louder. She walked in the direction of the noise.

Something scurried up a support beam beside her. Cavatina turned. A rat stared down at her from a sagging roof timber, eyes gleaming. It regarded her a moment, then scuttled away.

Cavatina stood in silence, wondering if Zindira might have been seeing things-shadows turned into demons by an overactive imagination. Zindira was a Protector, and well trained, yet the encounter with the undead head might have left her jumpy.

Something touched Cavatina's shoulder. She whirled and brought her sword into play. At the last moment, she halted her thrust.

Halisstra stared down at the sword point that touched her midriff, just below the lowest of the eight spider legs protruding from her chest. Her bestial face twisted in a pout. "Is this how you greet a friend?"

Cavatina took a step back, sword still at the ready. If the creature was a demon, somehow impersonating Halisstra, it was doing a fine job of it. "Is that really you, Halisstra?"

"You want proof?" The fangs protruding from her cheeks twitched. She pointed at Cavatina's breastplate. "Those dents: they're from Selvetarm's teeth. You were in his jaws-helpless-when I passed you the Crescent Blade." She cocked her head. "That's something I'll bet the ballads don't tell."

Cavatina nodded. Indeed it wasn't. She lowered her sword. "Halisstra."

Halisstra bent in a self-deprecating bow. "In the flesh."

"What happened to you after Selvetarm died? I went back to the Demonweb Pits to search for you but couldn't find you. Where have you been?"

Halisstra's shoulders slumped. She was still twice Cavatina's height. "Lolth captured me. She imprisoned me in her fortress."

"You escaped?"

Halisstra shook her head. Her matted hair was stuck to her shoulders and didn't move. "Lolth bored of me. She threw me out. She said I'd served my purpose."

"Which was…?" Cavatina prompted.

Halisstra's eyes gleamed maliciously. "To help you slay Selvetarm."

Cavatina's lips parted in surprise. "Lolth wanted him dead?"

"Of course," Halisstra hung her head. "He'd outlived his usefulness, too."

Cavatina tightened her grip on her sword. It was unlike Lolth to simply cast a tool aside. The Spider Queen delighted in destruction and would shred a soul after only the slightest of provocations. Halisstra was probably wrong in saying that Lolth had no further use for her. Was she back under the Spider Queen's thrall? Had she ever not been?

"Did Lolth order you to help me kill Selvetarm?"

"No. I did that of my own accord. Because…" Halisstra's head lifted. "Because you offered me redemption." She raised a hand and held it out imploringly. "I'm ready to accept it. To atone for all I've done."

Cavatina stared at the proffered hand. The claws that tipped Halisstra's fingers were filthy, jagged as broken glass. The hand itself was misshapen, bestial, its palm scarred.

The gesture seemed sincere, but Cavatina was no fool. Decades of hunting demons had taught her caution. Had the Faerzress not prevented her from singing a divination, she might have found out if Halisstra was telling the truth-to find out if it was Halisstra, and not just some demon who had been told, by Lolth, the details of her champion's death. As it was, Cavatina would have to resort to other methods.

"Quarthz'ress," she whispered.

Silver light flashed out of the flask, striking Halisstra in the chest. Instead of recoiling, she glanced down dispassionately as the rays ricocheted off her glossy black skin. Slowly, the glow of the flask faded until only the bluish flicker of Faerzress remained.

"You think I'm a demon," Halisstra said. She gave an odd, strangled laugh and spread her arms wide. "Go on. Kill me, then."

"If you really are Halisstra, I can't."

"Exactly." Halisstra's hand whipped out and caught the sword, midway down the blade. She yanked-hard-driving it into her own chest.

Cavatina, horrified, yanked it out again. The sword keened as she danced away from the wounded Halisstra. She watched, horrified, as Halisstra doubled over, grunting against the pain. Halisstra braced one hand against the floor and shuddered, breathing in short, shallow gasps. Her other hand clutched her wound. Slowly her flesh closed. At last she rose.

"You see?" she said. "It's me. Lolth still won't let me die." Anguished eyes bored into Cavatina's. "Please. Help me." The hand lifted imploringly again. "Rip Lolth's webs from my soul. Redeem me."

"Halisstra," Cavatina said. "It really is you."

She lowered her sword and reached out with her free hand.

Halisstra took it.

A low chuckle escaped from Halisstra's throat like a burble of blood. Then she threw back her head and howled, "Wendonai!"

Suddenly, Cavatina and Halisstra were somewhere… else.

Halisstra released Cavatina's hand and leaped backward, laughing. Cavatina whirled. All around her was a flat, featureless plain whose sun-bleached ground glittered as if it had been seeded with salt. A hot wind howled past her, and grit stung her skin. A few paces away stood a pile of flaming skulls. A figure reclined lazily on them, basking in their heat: a demon with horns, folded bat wings and brick-red skin. A balor. He smiled at her, lazily scratching his groin.

Cavatina ripped the iron flask from her belt and held it in front of her. "Quarthz'ress!"

The demon disappeared even before silver streaked from the flask. A heartbeat later, the metal grew too hot to hold. It seared Cavatina's palm, forcing her to drop the red-hot flask. She backed slowly away, searching for the vanished demon. The runes of silver embossed on the sides of the flask turned molten, blackened, rearranged themselves in a new pattern, then the flask exploded.

Cavatina ducked as a near-molten shard of it whizzed past her face.

The balor, fully twice her height, appeared next to Cavatina and leered down at her. "Such trinkets will not hold me," he whispered in a breath that stank of sulfur.

Cavatina danced back, menacing the demon with her weapon. The sword's song was high and shrill, a reflection of the tension she felt. Had Demonbane not been destroyed, Cavatina might have been holding a sword that would make even the balor flinch. Instead she had to rely on bravado alone. "You don't scare me, demon."

As she spoke, she touched the silver dagger that hung against her chest and sang a question. Knowledge hummed into her mind. Poison would not harm a balor, nor would fire or cold, lightning or acid. Nor would any of the tricks she might have used against a lesser demon.

Wendonai had no known vulnerabilities.

She let the spell dissipate.

The balor reached over his back to draw his own weapon. The flame-shaped blade of the long sword glowed white. Even from several paces away, Cavatina could feel its heat. A second weapon-a flaming whip-was coiled around the demon's waist like a belt. The hair under him was scorched black.

Cavatina risked a glance to the side. Halisstra crouched just behind the balor, her posture completely submissive. She stared up at the demon, a sly smile on her face. He reached down with his free hand and stroked her head. Idly, as one would stroke a cat. Halisstra both flinched and leaned into the caress at the same time.

Cavatina's lips curled in disgust. "Halisstra. You betrayed me."

Halisstra's glance slid to Cavatina. "Of course." Her lips twisted in a rueful smile. "I am the Lady Penitent. Lolth's battle-captive. What else did you expect?"

"Something more," Cavatina said. "As did Eilistraee. She reached out to you, through me. You spurned her."

"You lie!" Halisstra shouted. She reared to her feet. Standing, she was nearly as tall as the balor. "Eilistraee abandoned me."

"Silence, both of you!" the demon roared.

Halisstra fell back into her crouch. "Yes, Master." One of her hands pawed at his knee. She pointed at Cavatina. "There. You have what you wanted. Return me to-"

"You dare make demands of me?" The balor's eyes blazed.

Halisstra cringed. "No, Master, I-"

The balor flicked a finger. With a hollow crunch, Halisstra's chest caved in. The skin of chest and back met, and like a doll from which the stuffing had been yanked, her body folded in two. Halisstra toppled to the ground, blood trickling from mouth and nostrils.

When the demon glanced down at his handiwork, Cavatina lunged. Her sword sang with glee as it slashed the balor's stomach, slicing deep into his flesh.

The demon staggered back, his stomach dribbling gobs of smoking black blood. His whip, sliced in two by Cavatina's sword, fell to the ground behind him, its flames flickering.

"Mortal!" he roared. "Your insolence will cost you dearly." One hand shot up, clawing at the sky.

"Eilistraee!" Cavatina cried. She grasped her holy symbol as the demon's hand swept down, a roaring gout of fire streaming in its wake. "Protect me!"

Fire blazed all around her in a storm of light, heat, and noise. Her clothing and boots burst into flame and were instantly reduced to ash. The straps that held her breastplate charred and parted, and the two halves of metal fell away. The heat was intense, and each indrawn breath filled her lungs with pain. The singing sword grew so hot she was forced to let it fall. It tumbled to the ground with a mournful wail. Blisters erupted on her skin, and the bitter tang of singed hair filled her nostrils. White flame blinded her and smoke boiled in the sky above her head. Yet she did not burn. By Eilistraee's mercy, she did not burn.

The firestorm ended as suddenly as it had begun, leaving her blinking. The singing sword lay silent at her feet, its blade dark with soot.

Cavatina yanked her holy symbol from around her neck. Its silver still gleamed, unblemished by the balor's foul magic. Wendonai might have no natural vulnerabilities, but Halisstra had inadvertently handed Cavatina a weapon she might use.

"Eilistraee!" she cried. "My enemy stands before me: the demon Wendonai. Smite him!"

A note pealed from the holy symbol, pure as thrice-blessed water. The balor, unable to fend off an attack that utilized his name, staggered backward. He threw down his sword and howled in agony, hands clasping his ears.

Cavatina bore down on him, holding the miniature sword before her. A shaft of moonlight split the flat, empty sky, its light eclipsing that of the pale yellow sun. The balor staggered back, his cloven feet punching holes in the ground that welled up with blood.

"Mortal," he panted, black smoke puffing from his nostrils. "You vex me."

He droned a word, low and terrible. It rasped against the pure note of the holy symbol, which trembled in Cavatina's hand, then was parried. The note droned into Cavatina's very core, rattling her bones. Suddenly weak, her body hot and feverish, she trembled. The holy symbol vibrated out of her hand and fell at her feet. The shaft of moonlight disappeared.

All was still for a moment. Then the howling wind returned. On it came Wendonai's triumphant cry. "You think you can best me, mortal," he chortled. "Think again!"

He barked out a word that hit Cavatina like the blast from a furnace, instantly stunning her. Dizzy, she toppled. She landed on her back next to Halisstra's body. Already, the corpse was mending itself, the concavity that was her chest slowly filling, her eyelids fluttering. Halisstra would live. Such was Lolth's infinite torment.

Wendonai loomed over Cavatina, a length of his severed whip in either hand. Bending down, he used them to bind her ankles and wrists. He licked her cheek, leaving a smear of tar on her skin. Hot, sulfuric breath panted in her face.

"Now our fun begins."

Karas plunged his dagger into the weeping svirfneblin's chest, held it there a moment while the gnome died, then yanked it free. He turned, wiping the blood from his blade. "There," he told the others. "I've given him the 'mercy' you pleaded for. No more arguments."

The others stared at him with a range of expressions. The priestesses had shown open disgust as he'd questioned the third svirfneblin. They were angry that he'd ignored their protests that the other two had told them all they needed to know. One of the Nightshadows looked as though he shared their sentiments, but the other three males nodded in agreement with what Karas had just done, as did the mages.

Karas stepped over the mutilated body of the dead svirfneblin. All three lay on the floor of the tunnel at odd angles, their feet still encased in the re-hardened stone. He nodded at Q'arlynd, and the wizard repeated his spell. The stone softened beneath them, and with a push of his foot, Karas forced them down into the mud, one by one.

As the wizard made the floor solid again, Karas turned to the others. "Before Cavatina ran off to chase demons, she named me leader of this expedition," he reminded them. "I'm in charge-you all just heard Qilue confirm this. The Masked Lady herself condones what I just did. There were no signs of her displeasure when I was questioning the svirfneblin. Eilistraee, at least, acknowledges what must be done if our mission is to succeed."

No one seemed ready to argue with that.

"The plan has changed," he told them. He gestured down at the strongbox. "We've learned what's augmenting the Faerzress: voidstone. Now we need to find out exactly how the Crones are doing this, so we can put a stop to it. That requires a lighter touch-something a little more subtle than simply charging in and fighting our way to the Acropolis."

The Nightshadows nodded. So did the mages.

"Three of us will disguise ourselves as deep gnomes and infiltrate the Acropolis. We'll learn what we can, and pass the information along to Qilue. The rest of you-"

"Who's going to pose as the three svirfneblin?" Leliana interrupted.

Karas turned to her. With Cavatina gone, Leliana had assumed command of the other Protectors. She wasn't like the Darksong Knight; she was less prone to erupt when prodded. She had the air of someone who'd been raised in the Underdark, who knew how to keep herself alive by swimming with the ever-shifting tide.

"I will," Karas answered. "I was in Maerimydra when the Crones overran it. I know how they're likely to react."

Leliana nodded. She glanced at her Protectors, obviously trying to decide which of them had the best chance of surviving.

Karas spoke before she had a chance to announce her choice. "Gindrol and Talzir will come with me. They have the ability to alter their forms, as well." He didn't add the real reason he'd just named those two: that they were the only ones he could come close to trusting. Like him, they'd embraced Eilistraee's faith out of expediency. They kept their old skills well honed.

Leliana held his eyes a moment but made no protest. "All right," she agreed. Unlike Cavatina, she recognized the merits of using the best tools for the job. "The rest of us will circle around to the other side of the Acropolis and move in if you run into trouble."

"Not as one group," Karas amended. "The Nightshadows' stealth will be wasted in any attack in force. They should go a different way."

"Agreed." Leliana turned to the wizards. "You six have a choice. Come with us or tag along with the Nightshadows."

Gilkriz nodded at his underling. "Jyzrill will accompany one of the Nightshadows."

The shorter male's scowl deepened, but he nodded.

"Khorl will go with the other Nightshadow," Eldrinn said quickly. "And Daffir will join the Protectors. As for Q'arlynd and I-"

"We'll join the Protectors," Q'arlynd interrupted. "My spells are better suited to battle than to stealth. As are Eldrinn's."

A flicker of irritation crossed the younger male's face.

Karas nodded. "Let's go, then. The water clock's trickling, no time to waste."

The others shouldered their packs and secured their weapons. Leliana, however, drew Karas aside. "What if Cavatina returns?" she asked. "Someone should wait for her, tell her what's happening."

Karas gave her a level stare. "Didn't you hear what the moonrat said? The demon took Cavatina. Wherever she's vanished to, not even Qilue can contact her."

"She's a Darksong Knight. She can take care of herself. And that wasn't a demon."

"Oh? What was it, then?"

"It was-" Leliana halted abruptly. There was something she didn't want the others to know.

"Your devotion to your superiors is commendable," Karas said. He pretended to give her request serious consideration. "Very well, then. If you think it's that important, send one of your priestesses back to the spot where Cavatina disappeared."

Leliana turned to the wizard who stood next to her-an odd choice, Karas thought. "Q'arlynd, I think you should go."

The wizard gave a start. "Me?" He glanced at the young wizard who was nominally in charge of the diviners. "I can't. Eldrinn may need me to-"

Before he could finish, Gilkriz chuckled. "To what? Hold his hand in case he stumbles into a mine shaft and falls?"

The other conjurer added a bark of laughter.

Eldrinn stiffened. "I can take care of myself, Q'arlynd. And you'd do well to remember that Master Seldszar placed me in charge of our college's contingent." He folded his arms across his chest. His expression, however, wasn't angry at all. Instead the boy looked… desperate, Karas thought.

Q'arlynd pretended to applaud. "Well done, Eldrinn! You'll convince them you're a mere apprentice, yet." He winked at Gilkriz while pointing at Eldrinn. "A word to the wise: don't turn your back on this one. He's already fooled you once."

This time, it was the diviners who laughed.

Karas followed the exchange out of habit; one never knew when a tidbit of information could become useful. However amusing the interplay between the mages, it was irrelevant. What mattered was that Karas accomplish the task the Masked Lord had set for them: putting a stop to whatever the Crones were doing. Not because the effects it had on divination-as far as the Nightshadows were concerned, anything that prevented others from spying on them was a good thing. No, it had to be stopped because the augmented Faerzress was luring the drow below. That was where, ultimately, they belonged-in the Underdark-but in order for the Masked Lord's plans to be fulfilled, the Nightshadows needed more time on the surface. They weren't yet strong enough to overthrow Lolth's matriarchies.

"Enough banter." He nodded down at the strongbox. "Let's get moving, before the Crones start to wonder where their voidstone is."

Cavatina expected to die. That didn't bother her. She had served Eilistraee long and well, and her soul would certainly join the goddess's dance for all eternity. But for the first time in decades as a Darksong Knight, she had failed. She, a slayer of a demigod, lay at the mercies of a demon. She was trussed up and helpless as a newborn babe, her holy symbol well out of arm's reach, lying in the dust where Wendonai had kicked it. That burned at her pride like a hot coal, impossible to ignore.

She stared up at the balor with a glare fierce enough that it should have withered him where he stood. "Go on," she gritted. "Get it over with. Kill me."

Wendonai chuckled. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" he taunted, oily black smoke puffing from his mouth as he spoke. He slid his sword into the sheath on his back, extinguishing its flame. Then he squatted beside her, arms resting on his knees, wings folded. The slash in his midriff still gaped; that it had not healed told Cavatina she was within the Abyss-the only plane where a demon could be permanently destroyed. Wendonai didn't seem to be bothered by the entrails dangling from his wound, however, or the black blood that soaked the tangle of hair at his groin and dribbled onto the hard-packed earth below. He was too busy gloating.

Cavatina resolved to do one thing before the demon killed her. At the very least, she would alert the high priestess to Halisstra's treachery. She pretended to cough. It hid the name she urgently whispered: "Qilue."

"She can't hear you," the demon hissed. "Not unless I will it."

"Qilue!" Cavatina shouted. Her voice sounded strange. As if it were echoing back at her.

Qilue didn't answer.

Wendonai laughed.

Despite the residual heat of the whip that bound her, Cavatina felt a shiver slide down her spine. Qilue should have heard her name, even from the depths of the Abyss.

The high priestess's silence was more frightening than any demon.

Behind Wendonai, Halisstra groaned and flopped over onto her stomach. Unlike the demon, she was healing. Slowly, she drew her knees up under herself and used her arms to lever herself into a kneeling position. Turning her head slightly, she glanced sidelong at Cavatina through her tangle of hair. One hand twitched out words. I thought you would kill him. That's why I brought you here.

Cavatina didn't believe a word of it. Had Halisstra intended that Wendonai be slain, she would have warned Cavatina in advance-or at least hinted at it. No, Halisstra was truly in Lolth's thrall. The Lady Penitent had thrown away her final chance at redemption.

Halisstra was still signing: a single word that ended with the curved finger that turned it into a question. Attack? Her glance flicked to the demon.

Cavatina almost laughed. A little late for that. She was bound with magical rope whose heat was agony against her skin, a constant reminder of her humiliating plight. Even so, Cavatina nodded, disguising the gesture as a simple lifting of the head to glance down at her bound wrists. If Halisstra did attack the demon, it just might give Cavatina the moment she needed to roll across the ground to her holy symbol and grab it. Halisstra slowly rose…

The demon turned in her direction. "Down," he thundered.

Halisstra collapsed, whimpering.

Cavatina threw herself into a roll, but the demon grabbed her shoulder, halting her. He slammed her onto her back. The weight of his hand on her chest was like a boulder.

"For a Darksong Knight, you're not very smart," he told her.

Cavatina's eyes widened. She hadn't told him she was a Darksong Knight.

The balor smiled. "Oh yes, I can hear your thoughts. Both yours-and Halisstra's."

Was that so? Cavatina envisioned carving the demon into pieces. Slowly.

The balor laughed. "Halisstra bores me. You, on the other hand, I find amusing." He ran a lazy claw down Cavatina's naked body.

Cavatina knew he expected her to shudder under his touch. She kept her eyes on his, steeling herself, not allowing her flesh to so much as twitch.

"You don't frighten me," she said.

"I can see that." The demon lowered his blunt muzzle to her chest and sniffed. When he rose again, he was smiling. "Halisstra betrayed you. She delivered you into my hands. Tell me, priestess of Eilistraee, what will you do to her if you survive this?"

"The Lady of the Dance is infinitely merciful," Cavatina answered. "If Halisstra is truly repentant-"

"But she's not," Wendonai said. "You and I both know it. Remember, I can hear your thoughts. A moment ago, you hoped to reach your holy symbol. Just before that, you fantasized about spitting Halisstra with your sword. You would strangle her with your own two hands and commit her soul to the Abyss forever-if only she could be killed."

Halisstra, still cringing behind the demon, whimpered.

Cavatina said nothing. It was true. In its essence, if not in the exact details.

"Yes," the demon hissed through a jagged row of fangs. "It is, isn't it? There's a dark side to you, Cavatina, lurking just below the surface. One you work hard to suppress. A hardness. An inflexibility, born of pride."

Cavatina said nothing. She had every reason to be proud. Except, she thought ruefully, at this moment.

The demon leaned closer. "You cleave to the rules of your faith, but it's difficult for you, at times. Your temper sometimes… slips out. You enjoy the hunt, the kill. A little too much."

"I do as Eilistraee bids."

"Yes, but I can sense something that underlies this. The thing that drove you into demon hunting in the first place. An anger." The demon cocked his head. "Born of jealousy, perhaps? What could you, a Darksong Knight-the oh-so-proud slayer of Selvetarm-possibly be jealous of?"

Cavatina said nothing. She focused on her hatred of demons, of this demon in particular. She pushed everything else out of her mind. Shoved it into a dark corner, where Wendonai couldn't possibly find it.

"Oh, is that it?" Wendonai exclaimed, the mock surprise out of place on his bestial, leering face. "All this… just because you weren't redeemed?"

Behind him, Halisstra sat up. She leaned forward expectantly, staring at Cavatina.

"I am a priestess of Eilistraee," Cavatina said slowly. "I took the sword oath, just like any other priestess-"

"Not just like them," Wendonai said smoothly. "They were redeemed. You… merely took the oath."

Cavatina bristled. The demon was playing with her, yanking out her deepest fears and tossing them at her feet. She didn't have to take this. "I had no other patron deity before taking up Eilistraee's sword. I was born into the faith. Unlike the others, I didn't need to be redeemed. I had nothing to atone for."

"Luckily for you," Wendonai purred. "For, unlike the other priestesses, you could never, ever, have been redeemed." He leaned closer, the wound in his abdomen dribbling blood. "And do you know why?"

Cavatina said nothing.

"You're different from the other priestesses-in a way that's much more fundamental than where you were born and what deities they were taught to praise before they turned to Eilistraee's faith." He sniffed. "I can smell it on you."

Behind him, Halisstra's eyes widened.

Cavatina could see that what the demon had just said meant something to Halisstra. But Cavatina couldn't allow herself to become distracted by that. Not just then.

She glared up at Wendonai. "Your tricks won't work on me, demon."

"Tricks?" He chuckled, puffing the stench of sulfur into her face. "No trick, this. You…" he took a long, slow sniff of her body, moving his blunted muzzle from ankles to neck, lingering here and there, "… bear my taint."

Cavatina laughed. "Of course I do." She lifted a shoulder and used it to rub at the smear of tar Wendonai had left on her face earlier, with his tongue. "But a little holy water will take care of that."

"Very amusing," the demon replied. "But that wasn't what I was referring to." He rocked back on his heels. A fresh gout of blood slurped from his wound, and the bulging entrails shifted. With grimy fingers, he prodded them back inside the wound. Absently, as if it were a mere inconvenience. "How familiar are you with the history of your race?"

That took Cavatina by surprise. "What are you talking about?"

"The dark elves. Do you know how it was that they became dhaerow?"

He'd used the old word for it. The one that meant "traitor" in the language of the surface elves.

"You mean the Descent?"

Wendonai nodded.

"High magic, worked by the mages and clerics of the elves of Keltormir, Aryvandaar, and other elven enclaves, against the dark elves of ancient Ilythiir and their allies."

"Yes, but why?"

Cavatina knew her history well. She'd taught it to novices many times when explaining why the drow were meant to return to the surface realms. "It was in retaliation for the destruction of Shantel Othreier-which the Ilythiiri attacked only because the empire had laid waste to Miyeritar. The Dark Disaster was brutal, and it had to be answered in kind."

Wendonai's eyes gleamed. "Spoken like a true drow!" he exclaimed. "But there is a portion of the story you don't know, the reason Corellon Larethian consented to driving the dark elves below. The Ilythiiri, you see, were becoming a little too powerful. They had a divine ally. Lolth."

Cavatina snorted. "The Ilythiiri's worship of the Spider Queen is well documented, demon. Tell me something I don't already know."

Wendonai gave her a sly smile. "I was hoping you'd ask me to do that. Let me tell you this, then, priestess. Did you know who Lolth sent among the Ilythiiri to corrupt them?"

Cavatina didn't, but she could guess.

"You are correct. Me. Slowly, over millennia, both before and after the Descent, I had my way with the Ilythiiri. It was…" he ran a black, sore-crusted tongue over his lips. "… delicious. And with each succeeding generation, with each new squalling dhaerow babe born in the thirteen millennia between then and now, my taint spread."

Cavatina could see where the demon was headed. Wendonai was trying to convince her that she bore his taint, that it was the source of all of her faults. But it wasn't. The odd angry outburst and a little-inflexibility, as he'd called it-didn't add up to demonic taint.

"Oh, doesn't it?" Wendonai said. "In your case, unfortunately for you, it does. I can smell it on you, remember?"

Halisstra had been listening intently the whole time, and as if she'd forgotten whom she was addressing, she said. "But you couldn't smell it on me."

"No," Wendonai said flatly over his shoulder. "I couldn't. You're Miyeritari. Not a drop of Ilythiiri blood in you. Do you know what that makes you?"

Hope flickered tentatively to life in Halisstra's eyes. Wendonai crushed it with a word: "Weak."

He laughed-great, gobbling fits of mirth. Halisstra visibly crumpled under the onslaught.

Cavatina, for her part, had to agree with the demon. Halisstra was weak. If she hadn't-

"Yes," Wendonai breathed, his attention suddenly riveted on Cavatina. "That's right. If she hadn't been so weak, it wouldn't have come to… this." He plucked at the bonds around her wrists, lifting her hands slightly, then letting them fall. "But you're not weak, Cavatina. You're strong. Demonic blood flows in your veins. Embrace it."

Cavatina shook her head, refusing to believe. The demon was lying. Twisting things around and trying to trick her.

"Eilistraee," she whispered. "Help me to see the light."

Wendonai shook his massive, horned head. "You just don't give up, do you?" He feigned a sigh. "But think about this. Why is it that only some dhaerow can be redeemed? You've seen as much, with your own two eyes."

He paused, and Cavatina could feel filthy mental fingers sifting through her mind. She tried to shove them out, but couldn't.

"That Nightshadow in Cormanthor, for example," Wendonai continued. "The one Halisstra cocooned in her web. You offered him a chance at redemption, and he just wouldn't take it."

No, he wouldn't, Cavatina thought. And no matter what you say, I won't apologize for sending him to his god.

"And there's the irony," Wendonai continued as if she'd spoken aloud. "Had you let him live, the pair of you might have been worshiping side by side today." He tapped a claw against his chin, as if thinking. "Then again, perhaps not. Perhaps that male was a descendant of the Ilythiiri, after all. That would explain his reluctance to convert. My taint has spread far and wide, after all. There were so few Miyeritari, after the Dark Disaster, and so very many Ilythiiri." He smiled. "Which explains all of the difficulties Eilistraee has faced in acquiring converts, these past few millennia. Why so few petitioners have come forward, despite the long and tireless efforts of her priestesses. It's so hard, these days, to find someone who can truly repent. To find a dhaerow who doesn't bear my taint."

"Lies," Cavatina gritted.

"Are they?" Wendonai breathed. "Look deep into your own soul, Cavatina. Can you honestly say you are without malice, without anger? Where does your unquenchable thirst for vengeance come from? You sublimate it by hunting demons. But if there were no demons to slay, would you turn your anger on your fellow drow? Can you truthfully say you haven't done so already? That fellow in the forest of Cormanthor, for one. The other Nightshadows-the ones who are now part of the faith. You hate them because they've truly embraced Eilistraee. Because they're something you can never be. Redeemed. Pure. Without taint."

Cavatina squeezed her fists so tight that fingernails dug into her palms. Her body was knotted tighter than the whip ends that bound her. It isn't true, she thought. None of it. She was a priestess of Eilistraee. A Darksong Knight. As good, as loyal, as pure as any one of them.

"Then why," Wendonai breathed into her ear, "has your goddess turned her face from you? Where is the miracle you were just praying for?"

Cavatina squeezed her eyes shut to hold back the tears. A miracle would come. It had to. Eilistraee would answer. Yet a tiny voice, deep within, whimpered that she wouldn't. That Wendonai was right. That a seed of taint lay deep in Cavatina's core, waiting to spread its tendrils through her like a weed. She'd succumbed to it, that time in the Darkwatch, when she'd hacked the dog to pieces. She'd shoved the evil back, forced it back into dormancy, but it lingered there still. Waiting to sprout up anew. And because of it, Eilistraee had abandoned her, just as she'd abandoned Halisstra. For all Cavatina's attempts to conform to the tenets of her faith, she would never be worthy of Eilistraee.

"That's right," the demon panted, his breath hot in her ear. "You can never be redeemed. Never."

Tears squeezed from Cavatina's closed eyes and trickled down her salt-encrusted cheeks. "I can never be-"

Suddenly, she realized the flaw in the demon's logic. If descendants of the Miyeritari were free of demonic taint, they didn't need to be redeemed. Yet redemption existed. The ritual had to have been created for a reason, and the ritual itself gave the answer. Redemption required the penitent to look deep into herself, to confront the evil that lay within her very soul. To pry that evil-that taint-out of the darkness that enshrouded it and expose it to Eilistraee's merciful light and-

Yes, daughter. Yes!

Cavatina couldn't have said, in that moment, if it was the single voice of Eilistraee herself speaking or a chorus of voices. Thousands of souls, speaking with one heart. Priestess and lay worshiper, female and male, Dark Maiden and…

Nightshadow.

Cavatina blinked. If a Nightshadow could be among the redeemed, why couldn't she?

Yes, the voice said again.

Cavatina could hear the deeper tones that underlay the word. Bass, baritone, soprano, and alto, all blended into the single voice that was the Masked Lady.

Cavatina wept openly. Relief flooded her. She no longer feared Wendonai's taunting, or any physical cruelties he might inflict. In that moment, nothing but one simple fact mattered.

"I am redeemed!" she cried.

The demon reared back, his eyes blazing with fury. Then he threw back his head and howled.

In that instant, Halisstra lunged.

Q'arlynd, Eldrinn, Daffir, and Gilkriz followed the priestesses along the abandoned mineshaft. Leliana had ordered one priestess to wait at the spot where Cavatina had last been seen. Q'arlynd was thankful she'd stopped insisting that he go. That left four priestesses under her command. Each took a turn at scouting, ranging ahead of the others and returning to report their findings to Leliana with quick, concise hand signals. Leliana replied with the briefest of gestures, constantly cautioning silence. Each faint grunt, scuff of a foot, or creak of a leather pack brought a warning glare. The Faerzress probably wasn't helping. Its sparkling blue glow threw everyone into silhouette.

Gilkriz walked just ahead of Q'arlynd and Eldrinn; Daffir trailed behind. Every few hundred paces, the diviner paused to close his eyes. Whenever he did, he leaned on his staff, bending forward until the wood touched his forehead.

What's he doing? Q'arlynd signed.

Eldrinn glanced ahead at Gilkriz, making sure the conjurer wasn't "listening" in. Making sure we don't encounter any surprises, I guess.

Q'arlynd nodded. He'd made discreet enquiries about the staff after returning the feebleminded Eldrinn to Sshamath. He knew everything a staff of divination could do. If there were secret passageways, concealed by magic or mundane means, Daffir would spot them. He'd also be able to see, even with those weak human eyes of his, anything that was invisible or otherwise hidden by magic.

Q'arlynd might have been using his crystal to do the same, had he not been drow. Have you noticed'? he signed to Eldrinn. Daffir keeps looking up at the ceiling.

I noticed. Eldrinn clambered over a fallen beam and waited while Q'arlynd did the same. The boy nodded down at the rotten timber. Maybe he expects another of these to fall. Let's hope, when it does, it lands on Gilkriz. He shrugged. Though Daffir was wrong about the direction the threat came from, last time. Remember he said it was going to rise out of the lake?

The boy had that wrong, Q'arlynd thought. Daffir had said no such thing. The human had warned that something was approaching. Something big. And it had. He'd predicted not where it had come from, but where it would end up: in the lake. Dissolved to a slurry and washed away.

He'd seen into the future. A common enough accomplishment for a wizard who specialized in divination, but Q'arlynd was starting to wonder if it had been a spell that had been used. Daffir, he recalled, had pressed the staffs diamond to his forehead in just the same way before making his prediction.

They ducked under a sagging beam. Q'arlynd brushed away the cobweb that snagged his hair and flicked a hand to get Eldrinn's attention again. Your father's staff. Does it hold magic that will reveal the future?

That wouldn't surprise me. It would explain why the diamond is shaped like an hourglass.

Q'arlynd thought back to when he'd first met Eldrinn, out on the High Moor. Even feeblewitted, the boy had held on to the staff, rather than dropping it in the dust. Part of his spell-blasted mind had recognized it as valuable. As being important to his quest.

Q'arlynd caught the boy's eye. Could the staff also reveal the past?

I… An odd expression contorted Eldrinn's face-as if he had been about speak aloud but had suddenly forgotten what he was going to say, I suppose so, he signed at last.

Q'arlynd laughed aloud. Could the answer to the riddle of Kraanfhaor's Door really be that simple?

Gilkriz glanced back at them.

So did the priestess just ahead of them, who flicked a warning. Quiet!

Q'arlynd signed a quick apology. Its insincerity was betrayed by his grin, but he didn't care. Hundreds of kiira shimmered in his imagination. Thousands of them. He knew how Eldrinn had opened Kraanfhaor's Door: by using his father's staff to look back thousands of years to the time of ancient Miyeritar. The boy had watched one of the original dark elves open it.

Q'arlynd could do the same-all he needed was that staff.

What is it? Eldrinn asked.

Q'arlynd forced the grin from his face. I'll tell you later.

A few moments later, he sneaked a glance behind him. The dark lenses that hid Daffir's eyes made it almost impossible to read the human's expression. What's more, Daffir seemed as capable as any drow of hiding his thoughts. If he used his divinations to foresee Q'arlynd's treachery and decided to pre-empt it, there would be little warning.

Q'arlynd would have to be careful when he made his move.

Very careful indeed.