Выбрать главу

"We raise our dead and rebuild our defenses," Qilue answered. "The Promenade must be protected, and we must maintain our vigilance against the enemies that remain: Ghaunadaur and Kiaransalee." She cradled the Crescent Blade against her chest. "And we must prepare for the ultimate battle against Lolth."

Again, Cavatina felt a stab of jealousy. She stared down at the dead Selvetargtlin. "With their god dead, I suppose the Selvetargtlin will turn to Lolth-but what of the Nightshadows?"

"Eilistraee has stolen Vhaeraun's portfolio. His clerics draw their power from her, now-though," and Qilue smiled, "it may take some of them a while to realize it. When they do, they'll be ripe for redemption and ready to be drawn into the dance. Our priestesses have a lot of work ahead of them."

Cavatina gave the high priestess a sharp glance. "Nightshadows will join our ranks?"

Qilue nodded. "They already have, albeit unwittingly." She stared across the cavern, as if trying to see into the future. "There is a lot to be worked out yet."

Cavatina shook her head. If ever there was an understatement, that was it. The thought of clerics of Vhaeraun defiling Eilistraee's holy shrines with their black masks and evil deeds-especially after all that had just happened-made her flesh crawl.

"I don't like it," Cavatina said. Blunt, as usual, but it had to be said. "The Nightshadows are cowards and thieves and traitors, slinking about like-"

"People change. Even Lolth's vassals have been redeemed, including, it would seem, the Lady Penitent."

"What if they refuse redemption? What if they reject Eilistraee and choose Lolth instead? What you've done may have just made our enemy stronger."

Qilue's eyes blazed. "What I've done was necessary and inevitable."

"Even so, it worries me," Cavatina continued. "I'm sure I don't need to remind you, Lady Qilue, of the sacred teachings. Just as Selvetarm was corrupted after he destroyed Zanassu and assumed the Spider Demon's divine power, so might our worshipers be, if we accept Vhaeraun's clerics into our ranks." She paused, suddenly realizing the ramifications. "So might Eilistraee be, if Vhaeraun's evil seeps into her-"

"Enough!" Qilue's voice was sharp. "It is done. Eilistraee has slain Vhaeraun. There is no going back from that now." Her eyes bored into Cavatina's. "Do you really think, Darksong Knight, that I had not considered this before sending Q'arlynd on his mission?"

Cavatina hung her head. "Of course not, Lady." But secretly she wondered. She didn't know Qilue well, but according to reputation, the high priestess wasn't one to display anger. Cavatina's blunt words must have disturbed her. Deeply.

Then again, Cavatina realized, perhaps Qilue had been offered no choice. The high priestess must have realized what a gamble Q'arlynd's mission had been and known that it would likely fail. Without Qilue's warning, Vhaeraun might have surprised Eilistraee, even killed her. Cavatina tried to imagine Eilistraee's holy light, corrupted with creeping tendrils of shadow-to imagine herself, slowly corrupted-and shuddered.

"For now," Qilue said, "I would like you to keep secret everything Q'arlynd just told us. I would prefer the Nightshadows to think that Vhaeraun's destruction was entirely of our own devising. Remember, good will come of this. The Nightshadows will be brought into the light. Willingly or not, the drow will be brought into the light."

Cavatina bowed her head. "Praise Eilistraee," she murmured.

Her heart, however, remained shadowed with doubt.

*****

As Q'arlynd walked away he ground his teeth at the high priestess's lack of response. He'd expected gratitude from Qilue, even praise, but she hadn't thrown him so much as the smallest scrap. Instead she'd listened to his report as if it bored her then dismissed him like a commoner. Obviously, whatever boastful report the Darksong Knight was making was more important to the high priestess.

He walked slowly, concentrating on his spell and not bothering to keep up with the two lay worshipers he was supposed to be following. He had no interest, really, in talking to Rowaan. He'd rather listen in on Cavatina and Qilue.

He walked through the temple, pretending to be on an important errand and found himself on a bridge above the river. By then, he was already almost at the limit of the spell's range. No matter, he thought. The report the high priestess hadn't wanted him to overhear was astonishing, but it was true-the death of the demigod Selvetarm, at Cavatina's hand. Still, it was of little more than passing interest to Q'arlynd. He'd learned everything he needed to…

Just a moment. What was that the Darksong Knight had just said? Had she really just uttered the name, "Halisstra"?

He jerked to a halt, listening intently.

She had.

Q'arlynd stood, utterly still, oblivious to the rush of the river below.

Halisstra. Alive.

She had been with the Darksong Knight in the Demonweb Pits when Selvetarm was slain. She'd come to Cavatina's aid when all seemed lost, but then Halisstra herself was lost, perhaps left behind in the Demonweb Pits. But-Qilue promised-Halisstra would be found again.

Elation surged through Q'arlynd. There, at last, was something he knew his way around, something he could work with. With Halisstra alive, House Melarn could be reforged. Halisstra would be its matron mother and Q'arlynd, her oh-so-obedient brother, would be the true power behind the throne. When the time was right, the pair of them would return to Ched Nasad and claim their rightful place as its ruling House. They would rebuild the city to its former glory. They would…

Q'arlynd's imaginings slammed back to earth again as he realized what he'd been overlooking. Halisstra was one of Eilistraee's faithful. If Q'arlynd did manage to talk her into returning to Ched Nasad, she'd probably insist on trying to "redeem" everyone she met. She'd last about as long as fungus wine in the tankard of a thirsty orc. Then Q'arlynd would be on his own once more-and in an even worse position than before. He'd wind up reviled. Hunted. Maybe even dead.

He ended his spell. He'd heard enough.

He stood, drumming his fingers on the rail of the bridge and thought, What now?

A pair of lay worshipers hurried across the bridge, carrying a body toward the temple. Q'arlynd pressed himself against the rail, letting them pass. In the distance, faintly, he could hear the voices that emanated from the Cavern of Song; they rose and fell in rhythmic waves. The song was sweet, seductive-but it didn't call to Q'arlynd. Not any more.

From below came the sound of rushing water. One hand on the smooth rail of the bridge, Q'arlynd contemplated the cold, dark river that came from some distant place, briefly intersected Eilistraee's temple, then moved on.

Perhaps it was time for him to move on, too, but where? And to what?

He sighed, wishing the brief bond he'd experienced with Malvag and Valdar in the darkstone cavern had lasted just a little longer, but it was gone-dead as Vhaeraun, thanks to Eilistraee.

Q'arlynd shook his head, still not able to believe it-a bond like that, forged with clerics of Vhaeraun, the most mistrustful, backstabbing males on all of Toril. Who would have ever thought…

A realization came to Q'arlynd then, sudden as a bolt of darkfire. If such a bond could be forged with Nightshadows, then surely it could also be created among wizards. Perhaps Q'arlynd could build his own power base around a cabal of like-minded males. He knew where he was most likely to recruit them-in Sshamath, a city ruled by a conclave of wizards rather than by a council of matron mothers-by male wizards, rather than female priestesses.