Around her, Twilight picked up the sounds of chanting in a language she could not understand. Regardless, her keen mind processed the growling, rough texture of the words. It might have shared common roots with Dwarvish, but it was otherwise unfamiliar.
"Ithilnin karanok! Garum tellek!" the chant proclaimed.
Doesn't sound good, whatever it is, she thought.
Twilight smelled a combination of moldering wood and old stone-a musty scent she sensed was that of the grimlocks-mixed with a kind of summer flower, very faint, whose source she could not even guess. Falling into awareness of her body, Twilight surmised that she was being carried upon some kind of platform, laid out lengthwise. And, most importantly, her hands and feet were tied.
That was not a good sign.
Slowly, Twilight opened her eyes. She was right-four grimlocks bore her, bound but not gagged, upon a wooden pallet, marching down an aisle formed by their chanting fellows. There were no torches, so she could see only with her darksight. On her right, Twilight saw Taslin similarly secured and carried by four more.
That would explain the flowery scent, thought Twilight. She could tell from the priestess's breathing that Taslin was awake, but feigning unconsciousness as well. Wise.
"Ithilnin karanok! Garum tellek!" the grimlocks chanted.
Twilight almost hoped Taslin wasn't merely pretending so that she might be spared what would come next. "Taslin," she said, since the sun couldn't see her.
Taslin's eyes opened slowly. "They did not gag us," said the priestess in Elvish.
"The better to enjoy our screams, I would imagine," Twilight replied in kind. "Try not to move."
The nearest eyeless beast turned its attention to Twilight. Its sightless focus felt as keen as any knife. As open-minded as she had become in her travels, the empty gaze of the grimlocks still disturbed Twilight profoundly.
"Their senses extend only so far," Twilight said. "They can see without eyes and can hear us, but it seems we can talk. You will only provoke them if you move. And no spellcasting. They have their own priests."
Taslin looked about without moving her head. Her eyes flicked back to Twilight. "This is a ritual," she said.
"Indeed."
"Ithilnin karanok! Garum tellek darakow!"
"And we're the ones to be sacrificed."
"I can only assume so."
"No," said Taslin. "I can understand their words."
Twilight raised a brow.
"My earring," she explained.
"Right."
"Ithilnin karanok! Garum tellek darakow!" the grimlocks roared. In Twilight's opinion, the chant was starting to grate.
"A chant about a god, a name-Ithilnin-and sacrificing us." Her face turned stormy. "They think we're drow."
"That would explain the yellow and white flesh, respectively."
"You could always be an albino drow," she said.
Twilight couldn't help but smile. Of all the things she had been called in her long life, she hadn't heard that one before.
Not, of course, that the grimlocks could distinguish color, she realized.
Floating along that dark path, completely blind-the grimlocks had no need of torches, being able to "see" in perfect darkness-Taslin sighed. Her attempt at levity had been artifice. Unless the others came to rescue them in the next two dozen heartbeats…
"Do you think the others survived?" she asked, hoping Twilight was still awake.
"No." A pause. "And even if they did, they wouldn't come back for us. Davoren will control them-and he hates you almost as much as he hates me."
"Why does he hate you so?"
Twilight did not reply.
"How do we escape?" Taslin asked.
"Occasionally, being polite works." Twilight said. "So I'm told, anyway."
"Then I shall speak to them," said Taslin. "They may understand Common, at least." The priestess addressed the nearest grimlock in the trade tongue. "We are not your enemies. Release us," she said. "Appease your vile god some other way."
Something warm and sticky struck her cheek, and the creature growled in its own guttural speech, which came through her earring as Elvish. "Silence, drow."
"I confess, my suggestion was something of a jest," said Twilight.
Taslin ignored the spittle running down her face. "Come to think of it, they probably can't see color."
"Ithilnin! Ithilnin karanok! Ithilnin!" The chant only redoubled in volume.
"That's it, then," Twilight said. "Can't go wrong with pretty lasses on the altar."
"You are so young." Taslin shook her head. "Do you take nothing seriously?"
"Not if I can help it." The tremor in her voice didn't display calm, though. "In the face of inescapable death, if you haven't got your sense of humor, what have you got?"
Taslin closed her eyes in silent acquiescence, and she forced an ironic smile, even though she felt like crying. She'd just learned something about her companion-not from her words, but form how she had spoken.
Fear. Twilight was afraid.
During the silence that followed, Twilight took the opportunity to explore their surroundings, moving only her eyes.
The grimlocks carried them through a plain, if large, cavern. With closer scrutiny, however, Twilight realized it was some sort of settlement. The city-if such it could be called-was completely unlit. If not for her darksight, she would have observed none of it.
Three dozen or so houses carved out of the rock adorned the sides of the cavern, stacked two, three, even four high. A series of ladders led to each house, and grimlocks stood-dead silent-outside each door, their arms held aloft in recognition. Male and female they stood, Twilight guessed, along with children. She might have found it charming if the situation hadn't been so dire, and if they weren't so eyeless. The unnerving, empty gazes felt like death itself.
In front of the window or door of each house hung several rods on a rope that Twilight took for a crude wind chime, though there was no wind underground. She was proven wrong, however, when one of the creatures reached up and tapped the contraption. Its three reeds spun, producing a series of whistles that rippled through the air, perking up ears and turning heads.
A means of producing sound-thus making them able to find their way-without opening their mouths, Twilight thought. How practical.
The grimlock leading the ritual procession held his arms aloft and stopped. Silence fell and all eyes in the city-all four of them-went to his crude robes, horned headpiece, and gnarled staff. Twilight noted that the leader wore both of the elves' swords, though none of their other equipment had been taken.
She also couldn't help but note that he wore a particularly shiny ring on his finger, a plain gold band that looked rather familiar. Twilight's eyes narrowed. A coincidence?
Twilight felt the reassuring pressure of her hidden amulet against her collarbone. Its power would prevent anyone from noticing it who wasn't specifically looking. Ordinarily, Twilight would be comforted, but part of her wanted the amulet off so any searchers would see her peril and come to her aid. And of course, her hands were tied.
Ironic, she thought. How like her lord and master to trick her to her death.
Indicating the prisoners, the grimlock priest uttered a series of grunts and hoots, casting his staff back and forth as though fighting invisible attackers. When he was done, the grimlocks of the city hooted and growled in agreement.
"What did he say?" Twilight asked quietly.
"Calling upon their god, Ithilnin," whispered Taslin, "and a blessing over those the Great Slitherer shall consume."
"Radiant," said Twilight. "That sounds like something I'd look forward to."
The chorus of applause and hooting ended, and the column moved forward again.
Twilight saw Taslin's lips moving gently. She spoke silently. Not magic-the shadowdancer would have sensed that. Rather…