Danifae and Halisstra both stepped in time to a different song. They moved toward the same endpoint but for different reasons and were surrounded by the same chilling stillness. In the sway of a shoulder, Eilistraee warned Halisstra not to trust Danifae but pushed her servant along the former battle-captive's path. Halisstra would lead some of the way, and Danifae would lead some too. Both goddesses would push and pull them from the edges, sending them toward a place and a time that no sane draw could possibly imagine except in a goddess-birthed nightmare.
Halisstra felt herself move through a still, empty space, and she knew that space was the Demonweb Pits—the home plane of Lolth, bereft of souls, an empty afterlife with no hope and no future. Halisstra felt Danifae whirl through that same dead space with her and look at Halisstra with the same dull fear. There would be no service, no reward but oblivion, and Danifae would arrive at the same conclusions, be dragged to the same realization.
Danifae can be turned, Halisstra danced.
Eilistraee hesitated.
It was with that wordless sense of uncertainty that the movement ceased. There was a solid, unmoving floor of sanded stone beneath her and dead gates all around. Halisstra rolled onto her back, wiped her face with her hands, and tried to steady her breathing. Sweat poured off her, and her body ached. She felt as if she'd been dancing for hours though she wasn't sure she'd actually been dancing at all
Halisstra looked around at the interior of the gatehouse, searching for Danifae. The former servant was nowhere to be found. Even Halisstra's shouts went unanswered, so she wandered outside.
The cave's dull light revealed a large and complex structure. Halisstra knew she was in Sschindylryn but knew little else about the city. Not sure if she was coloring the world through her own filtered perceptions, she felt that the air in the City of Portals was heavy with dissent and nascent violence. She'd sensed the same thing before—in Ched Nasad.
An image of Ryld came to her mind—not so much an image but the memory of the way he moved with her and the touch of his night-black skin. She'd led him to Danifae, who had led Jeggred to them on Quenthel's behalf. Quenthel knew that they—or at least Halisstra—had turned their backs on Lolth in favor of Eilistraee.
However, Ryld hadn't actually done that. A male, and not particularly religious, the weapons master served Lolth because everyone around him did. Ryld, like all drow in Menzoberranzan was raised with the words of Lolth never far from his ears. Halisstra had been raised the same way, but she had the sheer force of will to step back and examine the reality of the situation as it continued to unfold.
Danifae had a choice too, and the realization of it hit Halisstra the moment Danifae stepped out of the suddenly blazing-purple archway. The gate had burst into life, revealing Danifae and momentarily blurring Halisstra's vision.
Blinking, Halisstra stood and said, "Ryld?"
Danifae shrugged. It was a rude, dismissive gesture that set Halisstra's teeth on edge. The Melarn priestess's face flushed, her teeth clenched, but she did her best to swallow the anger at the same time pushing away memories of punishing her battle-captive, beating her, humiliating her, and breaking her.
"Where have you been?" Halisstra asked.
"With Mistress Quenthel," Danifae replied. "They're proceeding. I was sent back to retrieve Jeggred."
"You know where the draegloth is?" asked Halisstra. "If you do, then you must know where Ryld is."
"Jeggred was sent to kill him," replied Danifae. "I told you that."
"You did," Halisstra said, "but. ."
"You want to know if the weapons master has prevailed," Danifae replied, "or if the draegloth is feeding even now."
Halisstra swallowed in a parched throat and said, "Does he live? Has Ryld won?"
Danifae shrugged again.
"You can get me back to him," Halisstra said. "Using these gates of yours, you can send me to his side."
"Where Jeggred would shred you as well and eat you both in alternating bites," said the former servant, "or, you can move forward as opposed to backward."
"Forward? Backward? What is that supposed to mean?"
"The way I see it, Mistress Halisstra," Danifae said, "you have two choices: Go to your lover's side and die there, or go back to the surface temple and your new sisters in Eilistraee."
Halisstra let out a breath and looked the ravishing dark elf up and down. Danifae smiled back, though the expression looked more like a sneer.
"They're leaving," Danifae pressed, "and they're leaving soon. If you go back to the temple where I first contacted you, if you tell them that Quenthel and her crew are on their way to the Demonweb Pits in search of Lolth herself, the Eilistraeeans might have enough time to help."
"To help? To help whom?" whispered Halisstra, then more loudly: "I should go back to the Eilistraeeans and tell them that we can follow Quenthel and the others to the Demonweb Pits. Would you stand by and watch that and not warn them. . and not warn Lolth?"
"I'm still a servant," said Danifae, "I can't make the decision for you or ask you to trust me. I can give you no promises, no assurances, no guarantees about anything. For that, you'll have to look to your goddess. Either way, I can send you wherever you want to go."
She saw it. Only a flash, but there was the unmistakable look that had wrapped within it uncertainty, fear, embarrassment, and more. Danifae was jealous in a very immature way that Halisstra was once again serving a deity who would answer the prayers of her faithful while Danifae still clung to the memory of a dead goddess.
"I have a choice?" Halisstra asked, slowly shaking her head.
"I can send you where you want to go," Danifae repeated. "Tell me if you want to go back to your temple to organize the priestesses there, or—"
"Organize?" Halisstra interrupted.
Danifae was irritated, and Halisstra was momentarily taken aback by the reaction.
"Surely Eilistraee grants them spells still," Danifae said. "They will be able to travel the planes without a ship of chaos. Eilistraee should be able to take you right to them."
Halisstra watched her former servant's face change again—saw that fear return.
"Or," Danifae said, her voice deep and even, "you can go try to help your weapons master against the draegloth and die."
Halisstra closed her eyes and thought, occasionally stopping to wonder at the fact that she was thinking about it at all.
"My heart," Halisstra confided in Danifae, "wants me to go to Ryld, but my head tells me that my new sisters will want to know what you've told me and that they'll want to go to the Demonweb Pits."
"The time you have to gather them," warned Danifae, "is drawing increasingly short."
Halisstra clamped her mouth shut while her throat tightened.
"Choose," Danifae pressed.
"The Velarswood," Halisstra blurted out. A tear glimmered in the faerie light and traced a path down her deep black cheek. "Take me to the priestesses."
Danifae smiled, nodded, and pointed toward a purple-glowing gate.
The two of them stared at each other while a few heartbeats went by. Danifae's eyes darted back and forth between Halisstra's as if they were reading something written across her pupils. Halisstra saw the hope in Danifae's eyes.
"How bad is it?" Halisstra asked, her voice almost a whisper. "What has she sunk to?"
"She?" Danifae asked. "Quenthel?"
Halisstra nodded.
"She can go lower," the former battle-captive said.
"Come with me," Halisstra said.
Danifae stood silently for a long time before she said, "You know I can't. They won't leave without Jeggred, and I have to bring him back."
Halisstra nodded and said, "After he's murdered Ryld."
Danifae nodded and looked at the floor.