“She sleeps,” Val’tissa said. “Now be silent. Say nothing that will give Eralynn’s condition away, or the dwarves will panic. If anyone asks, your leg was broken in a fall from a ledge, and Eralynn died of a broken neck after falling while trying to rescue you. Now lie still, and pretend to be in pain. Say nothing of the stoneplague.”
Torrin chafed at the blunt instructions, but did as she suggested. He lay back down on the driftdisc, allowing himself to be borne along. If Eralynn had arranged matters-and there was no reason to believe she hadn’t-he didn’t want to spoil whatever chance of healing the strange elves could offer. Perhaps they would succeed, where all others had failed.
They emerged into a wide canyon whose high walls had been carved into a series of switchback stairs punctuated by balconies-the settlement of Sundasz. Windows, some filled with soft yellow candlelight, dotted the canyon walls. Far overhead, the canyon closed to a narrow crack, through which Torrin could see the starry night sky. A warm breeze blew down from above, carrying the smell of woodland. Closer at hand, the air smelled of coal smoke.
A handful of dwarves made their way back and forth across the canyon floor. Others were climbing or descending the stairways, or could be seen through the windows, inside the residences above. As the dark elves made their way through the canyon, Torrin spotted people of other races: humans, some fair-skinned elves, more than one person who was an obvious mix of elf and human, even a tiefling or two. Though several people turned to stare at Torrin and sadly shook their heads at the driftdisc that held Eralynn’s “corpse,” no one seemed at all surprised to see the two dark elves in their settlement.
Val’tissa and Imyr continued across the canyon floor to one of the staircases, with the two driftdiscs floating between them. It was a long climb up the stair. Close to the top, they turned into an arched tunnel just wide enough to accommodate the discs. From there, they entered a wider corridor, ascended a broad flight of stairs flanked by an intricate mosaic of a forest, and at last passed through stout wooden doors into a cavern open to the sky.
The canyon walls were thick with ferns. A grove of oak trees wove their branches together high overhead into a natural lattice through which the stars peeped. Torrin smelled dew-wet grass and night-blooming flowers. The dark elves made their way to a white marble statue that gleamed in the moonlight. The statue was of a tall, thin elf wearing armor and carrying a shield. The elf’s face looked both male and female. It was Corellon Larethian, high lord of the elf gods.
Val’tissa gestured. The disc carrying Eralynn drifted to the statue and settled on the grass at the god’s feet. Imyr sent Torrin’s driftdisc slowly to the ground nearby.
“Up now, you,” he told Torrin. “Clothes and pack.”
Torrin rose and pulled on his shirt and trousers. After the long ride on the driftdisc, he felt as though he were still rising and falling, even though he stood on solid ground. As he fastened his belt and tied his mace to it, he watched as Val’tissa kneeled beside Eralynn. “Is she… alive still?” he asked, a catch in his voice.
Val’tissa gently pulled the blanket down from Eralynn’s face. It looked gray in the moonlight. “She lives,” Val’tissa said as she stood. “We will perform the ritual as soon as we are ready. Go with Imyr. He will take you to one of the local inns. We will send word to you there, once Eralynn has been healed.”
Imyr touched Torrin’s shoulder, but Torrin shrugged his hand off. “I’m staying,” Torrin protested. “Right here, with Eralynn.”
“The spellsong is a secret ritual,” Val’tissa said, gesturing at the forest. “We normally would not have allowed someone who’s not one of the faithful to come even this far. But we made an exception this night, for Eralynn’s sake. She and I have known each other for many years, ever since she saved my life-something few other dwarves would have done. I always said I’d repay her, if I could. Tonight I shall honor that promise.”
Again, Torrin felt a stab of hurt. Eralynn had known these dark elves for years, and had never once told him? All that time, he’d thought he was her shield brother, that she would confide anything to him. He’d been wrong. She was even more of a loner than he’d thought.
“Now leave her,” Val’tissa said. “And know that she’s in Corellon’s hands.”
“All right, I’ll go,” Torrin said. “But there’s something you need to know before you attempt your ritual. The stoneplague isn’t a disease.”
“How do you know this?” Val’tissa asked. “That’s not what Eralynn told me.”
“She left before we discovered the true cause.”
“Which is…?
Torrin hesitated. Should he tell her the truth?
He thought back to what the Lord Scepter had said to him on the staircase. The Deep Lords had acted sagely when they’d kept secret the reason why gold was suddenly being confiscated. Letting the general populace know that gold was the source of the stoneplague would indeed have thrown the city into panic, despite the natural stoicism of the dwarf race. What’s more, it would have opened the door for unscrupulous rogues to buy gold-especially cursed gold-at a fraction of its value. Gold that would later come back into circulation, spreading the stoneplague once more. And should people learn the unwitting role Sharindlar’s temples had played in the spread of the disease, clerics like Maliira would be in danger.
All that meant there was a need for secrecy. Yet the Lord Scepter hadn’t ordered Torrin to remain silent. Instead, he’d set him free to do as he saw fit, just as he’d freed the star in his prophetic dream.
Torrin glanced at Eralynn’s gray face. If it would help, he decided, he’d speak. Her life wasn’t the only one hanging in the balance. Kier needed a cure, as did hundreds, perhaps even thousands of others.
“A curse caused the stoneplague,” Torrin began. “A curse that was placed on gold.” He told the dark elf about the gold bars from the earthmote, and the unusual way in which the “stoneplague” had spread throughout Eartheart, a pattern of infection unlike any regular disease. He paused at that point, loathe to reveal how Sharindlar’s clerics had inadvertently exposed supplicants to the gold, but after a moment’s hesitation he plunged on. He would tell all, he decided. Eralynn’s life might depend upon it. He wound up by describing the experiment Wylfrid had performed, describing the way the gold foil had pulsed with red, and the strange black pattern that looked like veins he’d seen through the tube.
“Thank you for that information,” Val’tissa said. “But curse or plague, with Corellon’s blessing, our spellsong will remove Eralynn’s affliction.”
Though far from certain, Torrin nodded.
“Now go,” Val’tissa said. “I’ll send word when we’re done. But know that it may take some time. The rest of the night, at least.”
Torrin saw movement in the forest. About a dozen other women, dark elves like Val’tissa, moved toward them through the trees. Val’tissa called out a greeting in drow, and they answered.
Once again, Imyr took Torrin’s shoulder, his grip firm.
Torrin let the dark elf lead him away from the statue. Away from Eralynn.
Torrin glanced back at her, lying so still under that blanket. As he left, he whispered a fervent prayer to Moradin, begging the god to permit one of his own to be healed by those strange, dark elves.
Chapter Eleven
“Truth, like gold, is to be found by washing away from it all that is not gold.”
Torrin was tired of waiting. For the remainder of the night, he’d sat in the inn, nursing an ale and using it as an excuse to nod off at his table and get some much-needed rest. Fortunately, the barkeep hadn’t thrown him out. Unfortunately, Imyr hadn’t yet returned to tell him how the spellsong had gone, and whether Eralynn had been cured. Torrin had eventually tried to return to the grove-filled cavern, but its doors were locked, and none of the people he’d spoken to had known how to contact Val’tissa. Torrin had considered trying to force his way in, but decided against it. With Eralynn’s life hanging in the balance, he didn’t want to anger the dark elf clerics.