She expected him to ask the question. He obliged her. "What reward?"
Her eyes glittered as she hefted the Crescent Blade. "I killed a deity today."
She waited, obviously expecting awe. She was proud. As vain as any matron mother. Q'arlynd couldn't resist.
"So did I," he said with a smile.
Cavatina listened as Halisstra's brother made his report. It was an incredible tale, if it could be believed. Three drow males, working high magic? Opening a gate that bridged the realms of Vhaeraun and Eilistraee?
She waited impatiently, anxious to make her own report. The wizard's tale was incredible and almost certainly untrue. It was woven, through and through, with boastfulness masquerading as modesty. He was acting as if he expected some sort of reward from Qilue. The high priestess, however, either missed his cues-or ignored them.
Which was just fine with Cavatina. She didn't like Q'arlynd. He was too deliberately self-depreciating in that smarmy way that males fresh out of the Underdark had.
She stood slightly behind Q'arlynd, where he wouldn't see her silent communication to Qilue: Remember the prophecy. His sister proved herself loyal. This must be the Melarn who will betray us.
Qilue gave her a brief glance. Q'arlynd's betrayal is already past, she sent back, communicating mind to mind. I expected as much from him. He will be redeemed yet.
The wizard was still talking. "It would appear, Lady Qilue, that Eilistraee has triumphed over the Masked Lord. Moments after the gate closed again, the magic of his clerics became corrupted. The spells they tried to cast were laced through and through with Eilistraee's moonfire. Upon seeing that and realizing it must be significant, I came back immediately to make my report." He held up the mask. "And to return this to you."
Q'arlynd looked at the high priestess expectantly, but Qilue merely nodded and took the mask from the wizard's hand. Her expression remained noncommittal.
The wizard's shoulders slumped slightly. Then they straightened again. "Lady," he said, bowing once more. "I must say that it gives me great joy that, despite my blunders-despite being killed and later enslaved-I was still able to serve Eilistraee." He bowed again and added, "and to serve you."
The silence stretched.
A short distance away, lay worshipers cleared away the dead. The bodies of the faithful were gently laid onto blankets and carried away, but the corpse of the Selvetargtlin was left where it lay. Later, it would be burned.
Qilue touched the wizard's shoulder, bidding him to rise. Aloud, she said, "Go to the Hall of Healing, Q'arlynd. Someone is waiting there for you."
The wizard hid his disappointment well. He gave Qilue a puzzled look. "Who, Lady?"
"Rowaan."
The wizard's eyes widened. "But… her soul…"
"Flew straight to Eilistraee's domain, with those of the other two priestesses, as the gate opened. By the grace of our goddess, it was not consumed."
Halisstra's brother gave a relieved sigh. Perhaps he wasn't as unfeeling as he seemed, or perhaps he was just a good liar.
"Lady," he exclaimed. "I can't tell you how glad I am to hear that." He bowed again then hurried away.
Cavatina watched Q'arlynd make his way out of the cavern then turned to Qilue. "What a tale that one told!"
The high priestess nodded. "It's true. If not every word, at least in its essence."
That made Cavatina blink. "It is? Vhaeraun's really dead?"
Another nod. "I expected that Q'arlynd might fail in the task I assigned him, despite the geas I placed on him. Shortly after I sent him on his way, I entered communion with Eilistraee and warned her that Vhaeraun was poised to enter Svartalfheim. The goddess was prepared. Vhaeraun might be a master of stealth, but when the advantage of surprise was taken away from him, Eilistraee's prowess with the sword prevailed."
Cavatina let out a long, slow breath. "So it is true. Two deities, dead. In one day." She gave a fierce grin, unable to contain her pride. "And one of them by my hand."
Qilue glanced at the Crescent Blade. "Your sword served you well."
A voice whispered into Cavatina's mind from the sword. Dead, it chuckled. By my blade.
Cavatina bristled. It had been her victory. The sword was just… a sword. Not only was she irritated at it, but also at Qilue's almost blase response to the news. Chosen of Mystra Qilue might be, but surely she would acknowledge that Cavatina had just slain a demigod. Instead the high priestess just seemed… weary.
"You already knew that Selvetarm was dead?" Cavatina asked.
Qilue gestured at the dead cleric who lay a few steps away. "The Selvetargtlin nearly prevailed. They came within a blade's edge of taking the Promenade then all at once, their prayers failed them."
Cavatina noted Qilue's bloodstained armor and her freshly healed scars, one of which completely encircled her right arm. It had been a close thing. That realization sent a chill through Cavatina, one that tempered the thrill of her triumph.
"Make your report," Qilue said. "Tell me everything that happened." She clapped a hand on Cavatina's web-shrouded shoulder. "And… well done. I owe you my life."
That was better. Taking a deep breath, Cavatina related her tale, ending with her escape from the Demonweb Pits.
"I'm worried about Halisstra," she concluded. "There was no sign of her on the other side of the portal. I would have returned to the Demonweb Pits to search for her, but I didn't want to run the risk of the Crescent Blade falling into Lolth's hands. I came here instead, as quickly as I could."
"You did the right thing," Qilue answered. "I'll scry for Halisstra. We'll find her."
The conviction in the high priestess's voice reassured Cavatina, who felt terrible about leaving Halisstra behind. Not only had the former priestess redeemed herself, she'd tipped the balance between victory and defeat. Halisstra deserved better than to fall into Lolth's hands.
"If Halisstra is still within the Demonweb Pits, I'd like to lead the mission to rescue her," Cavatina said.
"Of course." Qilue pointed at the Crescent Blade. "But that will remain here, in the Promenade, where I can keep an eye on it. Until the time comes to challenge Lolth herself, it will be safer in my keeping."
Yes, the blade whispered. It quivered, slightly, leaning toward the high priestess.
Cavatina realized that Qilue' was holding out her hand, but she didn't want to give up the sword, not just then. The Crescent Blade felt so right in her grip. Her fingers seemed loath to uncurl from it.
She glanced down at the singing sword sheathed at her hip, a holy weapon of the Promenade. It was a magical weapon, yet it seemed like a novice's wooden practice sword in comparison to the Crescent Blade-in comparison to a weapon forged for slaying deities.
A sudden realization came to her then. No matter what she hunted next-no matter how powerful a demon she faced-the kill would be anticlimactic. The knowledge filled her with great sorrow.
Gently, Qilue pried Cavatina's fingers from the hilt of the Crescent Blade.
Cavatina at last let go. Strangely, her feelings were mixed. Parting with the weapon was, in some small way, a relief-and a disappointment. It would be Qilue wielding the Crescent Blade when the time came to take Lolth's life. Cavatina told herself that the high priestess was the logical choice-a Chosen of Eilistraee-but the thought made Cavatina's entire body ache. Just for a moment, she understood the envy that unredeemed females could feel for one another. For just an instant, she hated Qilue.
She stuffed the emotion down, smothering it, and asked, "What now?"
The high priestess glanced wearily around. Her eye settled on two lay worshipers-a drow female and a human male-who were removing the dead. They bowed in acknowledgement before lifting a body onto a blanket and carrying it away.