Nurthel shook his head, then he produced the telkiira from a hidden pocket and carried it to Sarya's divan. "Good," said Sarya.
Sarya examined the gemstone closely, turning away from her captives.
Over her shoulder, she said, "Since you have not told me who your companions are, Araevin, choose one of them to die-the human dog or the planar mongrel, I don't care. If you don't pick, I'll kill them both."
"Wait!" cried Araevin. He indicated them with a nod of his head. "He is Grayth Holmfast, a cleric of Lathander. She is Maresa Rost. And this is Ilsevele Miritar." He drew a deep breath, and fixed his eyes on Sarya's back. "You've won. You have your damned telkiira. The others had no part in this affair. I asked them to join me in recovering the stones. Let them go, and you can do as you will with me."
Sarya laughed aloud-a husky, predatory sound-and said, "Why, Araevin, I believe I will do with you as I please, regardless. You have little to bargain with."
"They'll most likely kill us anyway, Araevin," Grayth growled. "There isn't much point in trying to spare us any trouble."
"I thought I heard a dog barking," Sarya remarked.
Nurthel turned at once and snapped a vicious circle kick to Grayth's chin, smashing the cleric to the floor. Grayth groaned once and lay still, knocked senseless by the blow.
In spite of his determination to endure whatever petty malice the daemonfey chose to inflict, Araevin surged to his feet before the demons behind him caught his shackled arms and hurled him back down to the cold, marble floor.
"Get on with it, then!" he snarled, spitting blood from his mouth. "Whatever you're going to do, do it."
"Ready to die already?" Sarya laughed.
Araevin simply glared at her. The daemonfey queen arose and paced near. She leaned down close to him, and held the green-black gemstone before his face.
"Don't you want to find out what is in this third stone," Sarya teased, "and puzzle out the little mystery Philaerin left for you, the old fool?"
Araevin glanced up, despite himself. Sarya smiled and drew away, her sharp nails gliding across his cheek.
Araevin forced himself to say, "If Philaerin had lived, you never would have found any of the telkiira!*
"That is not entirely true, paleblood. The second and third stones we never would have found without your help. But the first stone… that one belongs to me. I took it from Kaeledhin more than five thousand year ago, and I gave it to Nurthel to conceal on Philaerin's body once he'd killed the high mage. I knew that some enterprising young fool just like you would find it and seek out its sisters."
Araevin looked at her blankly. He couldn't make sense of it. The daemonfey had the stone, and hid it in the stronghold of their enemies? Were the telkiira some form of insidious trap? Had the daemonfey manufactured them to destroy Philaerin? It explained how the daemonfey found him so quickly with their scrying spells and anticipated his efforts to find the stones. In fact, they had likely prepared the telkiira with enchantments that would make its bearer easier to find. He felt sick.
"You spied on me, waiting for me to find each stone. They are sealed against you."
Sarya paced away again, pausing to study Ilsevele before nodding in approval.
"A fine-looking girl," said Sarya, looking at Ilsevele. "I should give you to my son. We need more Dlardrageths." Ilsevele's face paled, but she refused to look away from Sarya until the daemonfey turned back to Araevin. "Yes, they are sealed against us. You can open the telkiira, but we cannot. Before my imprisonment, I spent years trying to open Kaeledhin's key with no success."
Araevin shook his head, horrified. All his efforts since the raid on Tower Reilloch had played directly into the hands of the daemonfey queen.
Ilsevele drew herself up and looked Sarya in the eye.
"What are the stones for?" she demanded. "Why are they important?"
"We were betrayed9, Sarya hissed. "The telkiira are the key to redressing many wrongs. My family was destroyed by the Coronal of Arcorar and his High Spell — star, Ithraides. Only a few of us escaped from Arcorar.
"Of all the heirlooms we abandoned in Arcorar, the greatest was the selukiira known as the Nightstar. High mages of my House preserved many of the old secrets of glorious Aryvandaar in its depths. After the Coronal of Arcorar destroyed my family, Ithraides discovered our selukiira in the ruins of our palace. He hid it away very carefully to make sure it would never fall into our hands again, but he recorded the hiding spot in these three telkiira you have helped us find.
"During the days of my exile in Siluvanede, I searched assiduously for the Nightstar. With the secrets of the selukiira, I could remake Siluvanede in the image of glorious Aryvandaar, and take the throne denied my House for generations. I found Kaeledhin, and from him I extracted the tale of what Ithraides had done with my family's heirloom. But I could not defeat Ithraides' wards guarding the telkiira, and so I could not follow it to its fellows or discern the hiding place of the Nightstar."
"Siluvanede fell almost five thousand years ago," Ilsevele said. She tossed her head and studied Sarya with determination. "Why wait for so long?"
"Because my enemies buried my son and I in a forgotten tomb, and claimed that they were showing us mercy!" Sarya whirled away from Ilsevele and stalked over to Araevin again. She stooped and cupped his face in her hand. Her iron-hard nails dug into his flesh. "And that is where you come in, my paleblooded friend. We cannot use these telkiira, since they were made to deny us access. You, on the other hand, can read these stones and tell us where our heirloom lies."
"I will not help you," he rasped.
"I have waited five thousand years to come into my inheritance," Sarya said. "I am not about to be balked by any inconvenient stubbornness on your part, paleblood." She gripped his face until blood ran from the points of her fingernails. She leaned close to whisper in his ear, "You understand what I am capable of, I think. I will not harm you, not at first. But the things that will happen to your companions, they will be hard to watch. When shall we begin?"
"Once I do as you ask, all our lives are forfeit. Now or later, what is the difference?" Araevin quivered with terror, but he kept his voice even and level. "If you let the others go, I will do as you ask. But I must know that they are safe before I cooperate."
"As you wish," Sarya said. "I would love to explore the question of how much pain you could stand to inflict on your comrades. But it might take a little time to persuade you to cooperate, and I am out of patience."
She wove her hands in arcane passes, and began to speak the words of a spell. Araevin recognized it at once and steeled his will to resist. Sarya's spell settled over his mind, seeking to shackle his will to hers. Shadowy fingers seemed to creep into his soul, insidious as serpents, their merest touch enough to render him cold and numb. He bared his teeth in a fierce snarl and battled against the enchantment, refusing to buckle beneath the daemonfey queen's sorcery.
"Your will is strong. I should have expected that," Sarya observed. She glanced at Nurthel. "Kill the human dog."
The fey'ri lord drew a dagger of black iron at his belt and strode over to Grayth. He knelt behind the Lathanderite and seized the semiconscious cleric by his hair. Araevin watched in horror, still battling against Sarya's spell, as the fey'ri fixed his remaining eye on Araevin's face and buried the knife in Grayth's throat. Bright blood poured from the wound. Grayth's eyes opened wide, and an awful gagging sound came from his mouth as blood drowned him.
"Grayth! " cried Ilsevele.
She wrenched herself free of the fey'ri gripping her shoulders and surged to her feet, only to be knocked down again. Maresa swore a vile oath and struggled as well, her hair streaming with her fury.
Grayth's feet clattered against the stone, and he shook, as if trying to free his bound hands. Then his eyes drooped, and he sank down to the cold marble, face down in the spreading pool of crimson. Nurthel jerked out the dagger, and held its bloody edge in front of him.