Leliana tore her eyes away from the body of her daughter. She took a deep breath then spoke again, shaking her head all the while. "I still can't understand it. I questioned him under a truth spell, and he gave his name and the details of his coming to the surface readily enough. He wasn't truly a petitioner-he only sought us out in order to find his sister-but he fought beside us when the judicator attacked, and later, when he took the sword-oath, I thought that perhaps he had-"
"Leliana," Qilue said, cutting the other priestess off in mid-flow with a touch on the arm. "You're getting ahead of yourself. One piece of the story at a time, please. What name did this male give?"
"Q'arlynd Melarn."
Qilue' gasped. Moonfire danced on her skin, washing the cavern with light. There was the second coin, dropped at her feet. It had landed, as Eilistraee had foretold, on the side that was betrayal. "Tell me everything about this male-and swiftly, but start at the beginning this time."
Qilue listened as Leliana's tale unfolded, occasionally interrupting with a question. When it was done, she stood in thought for several moments. "It seems odd that he confessed his knowledge of Vhaeraun to you on the very night the Nightshadow struck."
"Q'arlynd must be a Nightshadow," Leliana insisted. "He even admitted attending their meetings."
"Did he really?" Qilue said softly. An idea was beginning to take shape. "And now he's promised himself to Eilistraee." She paused. "Perhaps he's the one that will aid her."
"Aid who, Lady Qilue?" one of the other priestesses asked.
Qilue, lost in thought, didn't answer. If Q'arlynd was the Melarn who would aid Eilistraee, that meant Halisstra would betray the goddess. Cavatina knew how to take care of herself-she was skilled in hunting demons, and used to trickery-but even so, Qilue worried that she might have sent the Darksong Knight to her death. She steeled herself, telling herself it had to be done. Such sacrifices were necessary, if the drow were to be brought into Eilistraee's light. In the meantime, the new development had to be dealt with.
She stared down at the faint square of black that shrouded Rowaan's face. "Q'arlynd came directly from Ched Nasad, you say?"
Leliana nodded. "Through the portal in the ruins of Hlaungadath."
"Let's hope he tries to return the same way."
Q'arlynd squatted in the tiny patch of shadow cast by the wall, squinting at the portal. An entire night he'd tried to activate it, and nothing had happened. He'd thought it would be a simple matter-a repetition of the phrase that had triggered its magic from the other side back in Ched Nasad, but though he'd read the Draconic characters precisely as written, the space inside the arch remained a blank stone wall. He might as well have knocked on it with his head, for all the good it had done.
In full daylight, the sun beating down overhead, the glare rendered him almost blind. He wondered, for the hundredth time, if he should just give up on the portal and make his way to the closest Underdark city instead. Eryndlyn lay somewhere beneath ancient Miyeritar. Perhaps one of its merchant Houses could use a battle mage to accompany their trading missions. It would be a big step down from his hopes, but it would at least be something.
A sudden noise made him startle. Another lamia? Quickly, he rendered himself invisible. As he rose to his feet, he reached inside his pouch for components for a fire spell. He waited, sulfur-gum in hand, as footsteps approached the doorway to the room in which he stood.
A shadow fell across the floor, a shadow with the outline of a drow. A naked drow-and female, too. Q'arlynd almost laughed. How stupid did the lamias think he was? Still, he had to admire the detail they'd put into their illusion. Those curves were very enticing.
He pulled the quartz crystal from his pouch. With it, he'd be able to see through the lamia's illusions-and pinpoint the creature so that he could incinerate it where it stood. As the shadow lengthened, he activated his insignia and rose into the air, out of the roofless building.
Below him, a drow female appeared to step into the room. Q'arlynd squinted through the crystal at her, expecting to see either the bare stone of the floor below the illusion-or a lamia, underneath a drow-shaped glamor. Instead he saw a female who was tall and beautiful, with silver hair and a proud bearing, like the matron mother of a noble House. She wore a gauzy silver robe that did little to hide the dark curves beneath. A sword hung from a scabbard on her belt, and she wore a bracer on her right forearm that served as a sheath for a dagger. In her left hand, she held a curious looking metal wand with a knob at either end. Eilistraee's holy symbol hung from a chain around her neck. She had a deeply lined face and somber expression, but despite her age she looked as fit as a female in her first century of life. Regardless of the obvious threat she posed-perhaps because of it-he found her intensely attractive. She was, quite simply, the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.
Q'arlynd lowered his crystal. The priestess was real. She must have been sent to find him, to kill him. He placed a foot atop the ruined wall and gently pushed off, at the same time taking aim with the sulfur-gum.
Without warning, his levitation ended, sending him crashing into the street below. He rose, gasping and spitting blood from a cut lip. As he did, the priestess turned and glanced out into the street. She stared straight at him-seeing him. His invisibility must also have ended.
"Q'arlynd?"
He flicked the pinch of sulfur-gum at her and shouted the words of his spell. The tiny ball streaked through the air, igniting in mid-flight. It struck the priestess on the shoulder, immediately expanding into a violent ball of searing fire. Much of it washed back onto Q'arlynd-something it shouldn't have done.
He scrambled to his feet, his hair and skin singed from the blast, furiously blinking away the fiery afterimage that obscured his vision. He expected to see a charred body lying on the ground, but when his vision cleared the priestess was just standing there, completely unscathed. A nimbus of silver fire surrounded her naked body like a second skin, and her hair was one long, sparkling streak of silver. A candle-sized flame flickered at one end of the wand she held, and she raised it to her lips and blew it out.
"That wasn't very nice," she said in a dry voice.
Then she flicked a hand. A silver-white ray flashed from her fingertips to Q'arlynd, striking him in the chest. He touched fingers to the spot where it had struck, but felt no wound. A second flick of the priestess's fingers, and a wall of blades sprang up around Q'arlynd, completely enclosing him. They whizzed in a tight circle around him, giving him no space to move.
"If you try to attack me again," she said, "I'll tighten the ring." She made a squeezing motion with her hand, and the curtain of whirling blades cinched closer.
Q'arlynd, however, had no intention of letting her slice him up. With one word, he could teleport away. He spoke that word-
Nothing happened. He stood in the same spot as before. The magical blades swirled around him, filling the air with a dangerous hum.
"Your spells won't work," the priestess told him. "You're inside a field that negates magic."
"Impossible," Q'arlynd breathed. At the Conservatory, they'd taught that an antimagic field could only be cast by a wizard-on the wizard himself. It wasn't something a priestess hurled at someone else from a distance.
He tried a dispelling, but the whirling blades remained. He tried a second spell, but the magical armor that would have protected him from the blades failed to appear. Not wanting to press his luck-the priestess was watching his every move-he refrained from further spellcasting. His chest was tight with tension.