The priestess was definitely dead, yet her body was uncorrupted. Even the smell of death was missing. This might have been construed as a sign from Eilistraee-save for the faint discoloration on the lower half of Nastasia's face which Qilue's detection spell had just revealed.
A discoloration in the shape of a mask.
Qilue turned to the four priestesses who had carried Nastasia's body into the Promenade's Hall of Healing. The novices from the shrine at Lake Sember shifted uneasily as Qilue examined the body, particularly at the revelation of a square of darkness shrouding Nastasia's cheeks and chin. Their hands twisted nervously on the leather-wrapped hilts of swords, or fingered the silver holy symbols that hung against their breastplates.
At last, one of them spoke. "Vhaeraun's mark. What does it signify, Lady?"
Qilue's voice was grave. "Nastasia is not dancing with Eilistraee in the sacred groves. Her soul has been stolen-it's trapped inside a Nightshadow's mask. They call it 'soultheft.'"
Eyes widened. "But why, Lady? What does he want with her soul?"
"I don't know." Qilue lied, loath to elaborate. The novices were rattled enough. She didn't want them to panic. The Nightshadows typically used soultheft to revitalize the enchantments on a depleted magical item. In the process, the soul was consumed.
From the look of Nastasia's body, that hadn't happened yet. Her soul was, apparently, still trapped within the mask, her body not yet truly dead, but at any moment, the assassin who had stolen Nastasia's soul might annihilate it.
"You were right to bring her here," Qilue told the priestesses. "We must find the one who did this to her."
"We tried a scrying, immediately after the attack. It didn't reveal-"
"This will."
Lifting her arms, Qilue drew the moon's chill light down into the Hall of Healing. Pale radiance limned her body as she began her dance. Singing a hymn to the goddess, Qilue spun in place, faster and faster until her body became a blur. The moonlight that enveloped her waxed brighter, filling her with radiance. In another moment, she would know the direction of the assassin she sought. That done, she would teleport to another of the shrines and repeat the dance there. The point where the two lines crossed would pinpoint the assassin. Then she could strike.
The sudden, jerking halt of the spell's culmination, however, did not come. Eventually, the glow that surrounded Qilue waned then disappeared. She slowed, lowering her hand.
Her dance had revealed nothing. The assassin had either shielded himself with potent magic, fled to another plane, or died.
Eilistraee might know the answer.
Qilue began a second prayer. Invoking Eilistraee's name, she sent her awareness up into a shaft of moonlight to commune with her goddess. It would be a fleeting link, but it would serve. Radiance filled Qilue's mind as the link was forged.
She asked her first question of the goddess: "Does the person who killed Nastasia live?"
Eilistraee's face-a thing of unearthly beauty that Qilue was unable to look upon without tears-turned slightly, from side to side. The answer, just as Qilue had anticipated, was no.
"Is his mask still with his body?"
The face nodded.
"Is Nastasia's soul still-?"
Wait.
The word startled Qilue. The goddess ordinarily answered a question asked in communion with a simple yes or no. On top of that, Eilistraee's voice sounded strange. The word had been layered with a deeper, rougher tone, one whose reverberations left an ache in Qilue's mind. She could still see Eilistraee's face, but it was more distant than it had been, dimmer than before. It unnerved her, but she did as instructed. She waited.
Another word came: No.
The communion ended.
Qilue shivered. What had just happened? Had it been Eilistraee who had answered, or… some other goddess? If another deity, why had Eilistraee permitted the intrusion? And what question had just been answered? Had the other deity-if indeed, it had been another deity who had spoken-been saying that the assassin did indeed still have his mask, or had the answer been for the question that Qilue had not quite completed?
The four priestesses were staring at her, waiting for answers. Qilue, badly rattled, took a breath to steady herself-and was surprised to smell the odor of decay. She looked down just in time to see the dark shadow that lay across the bottom half of Nastasia's face split down the middle, as if it had been sliced in two. Then it faded.
Hope shone into Qilue, bright as moonlight. She shoved aside the worries about whose voice had answered her.
"Eilistraee be praised!" she said. Something-perhaps the goddess herself-had just broken the soultheft's hold. Qilue immediately laid her hands on the corpse. "Join me!" she cried to the lesser priestesses. "A song to raise the dead."
The other four were startled but swiftly joined Qilue in prayer. Together, their voices washed over the dead woman, calling her soul back to her body. The song ended on Qilue's sustained note, layered by the harmonies of the other four priestesses-and Nastasia's eyes sprang open. She immediately flailed with one arm, as if shoving an attacker away. Her other hand groped for her sword. Then she recognized where she was. She stared up at Qilue, eyes wide.
"Lady," she gasped. She sat up and rubbed her throat, then stared at her own hand, a wondering expression on her face. Her joy at finding herself alive again was obvious, but so too was a hint of sorrow-understandable, in a priestess who for the briefest moment had been dancing at Eilistraee's side. She looked up at Qilue. "You called me back."
Qilue spoke in a gentle voice. "Your soul was stolen, but something caused it to be set free again. All is well now." She paused. "I called you back because we need to know what happened. Tell me what you remember. Everything that followed the assassin's attack."
Nastasia swallowed. Winced. "I was dead."
"And then? Between that time and just now, when you found yourself dancing in Eilistraee's grove?"
Nastasia glanced off into an unseen distance. "Darkness. Nothing."
Inwardly, Qilue sighed. She'd hoped for more.
"And…" Nastasia frowned, thinking hard. "There was a voice, the voice of the man who killed me."
The four novices whispered anxiously to each other.
Qilue held up a hand. "Silence." She gently touched Nastasia's shoulder. "Try to remember. What was he saying? Could you make out any words?"
Nastasia closed her eyes. Her frown deepened. She started to shake her head, but then her eyes sprang open in alarm.
"He plans to open a gate." She looked up at Qilue, her face gray with worry. "A gate to Eilistraee's domain, so that Vhaeraun can attack her. He's going to use our souls to fuel it."
"No!" one of the lesser priestesses gasped. She turned to Qilue. "Is it possible, Lady?"
"The Nightshadows are adept at conjuring," Qilue said, "but they would have to send one of their members into Eilistraee's domain in order to open a gate there, and no follower of the Masked Lord can enter Eilistraee's realm without her knowing it."
Nastasia shook her head, eyes wide. "They don't need to enter her domain. The assassin told them they could cast the spell from Toril, from a cavern in the Underdark that lies inside a powerful earth node. He told the other clerics he knew a ritual of high magic that would accomplish this."
"Drow males?" Qilue's lips quirked into a smile. "Casting high magic?"
Even as the others chuckled, reassured, Qilue wondered. If it was possible, what then?