“Why?” The scream burst from Zollgarza’s soul. He was unable to contain it. Let the handmaiden damn him. Do what she will. He needed answers, or he truly would go mad. “Why won’t the goddess accept my offering? Why am I not worthy?”
“Because you are still becoming.” The yochlol knelt before him and put her hand on his stomach. She let her fingers explore his flesh, drifting below his belt, nails digging in, penetrating his armor as if it were silk. Zollgarza closed his eyes and moaned as the pain and pleasure crashed over him. “You are a child, unable to comprehend what lies ahead.” She grabbed his flesh and twisted savagely.
This time the pain was so blinding, Zollgarza could not find it in himself to scream. He stared at the demon servant of Lolth, begging with his eyes, pleading for answers or for an end to it all.
“Don’t worry,” the handmaiden purred as Zollgarza’s awareness slipped in and out. “You’re almost there. You’re standing at the edge of the gulf. Remember the sphere, Zollgarza. The sphere is the key to finding what you seek. I will make sure you do not forget this.”
The pain came again.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
ILTKAZAR, THE UNDERDARK
25 UKTAR
Icelin reentered the library just as a piercing scream filled the air. The cry of pain and anguish ripped from Zollgarza’s throat. He stood up on his knees, his back to the fire, arms raised in supplication. He appeared to be staring at-or through-Icelin.
Beside him, the seneschal watched the drow with an impassive expression. When Icelin came into the room, she looked up.
“He is in the grip of The Black Tome,” she explained.
A chill passed through Icelin. “It’s driving him mad.”
“I warned him what the outcome could be,” the seneschal said. “Whether he comes back or not is up to him.”
Zollgarza’s anguished expression as he reached out to clasp the empty air pulled at Icelin’s heart. She took an involuntary step toward the drow.
“Can he hear me?” Icelin asked. “Zollgarza, can you look at me?”
“He won’t regard you,” the seneschal said. “His mind-”
Just then, Icelin stepped closer-too close. Zollgarza swung toward her and snatched her by the wrists.
Icelin gasped and tried to pull away, but the drow, small as he was, was much stronger. He yanked her down until she, too, was on her knees, at eye level with him.
“Tell me why,” Zollgarza said. “Beloved servant, demon-” his voice broke. “Tell me who I am!”
“Zollgarza, it’s me-Icelin.” Icelin’s wrists ached where he held her. They’d be bruised later. Behind her, she heard the clank of armor and weapons bursting free from their scabbards. The guards were coming. “Wait!” Icelin cried as they flanked Zollgarza and pressed their blade tips against his throat. “He doesn’t know what he’s doing.”
“Our orders were clear,” said the guard closest to Icelin. “If he harms you, he dies.”
Satisfaction gleamed in his eyes. He’s been waiting for this, Icelin realized, maybe praying for it, for Zollgarza to give him a reason to cut him down.
“He’s done nothing yet,” Icelin said. “Stand down.”
Zollgarza, for his part, ignored the deadly steel pressed against his throat. His entire being focused on Icelin’s face. What did he see when he looked at her? Love and hate warred on his features. Was he seeing another drow, a woman he’d once loved? It didn’t fit with what she knew of the race or of Zollgarza himself. The drow trusted no one, loved nothing so deeply, except perhaps their Spider Queen. Their faith in Lolth was the driving force behind their society.
“Hear me, Zollgarza,” Icelin said. She bit her lip, hesitating. Did she dare try to reach him? If something didn’t happen soon, it was clear the guards would act. Icelin had no love for Zollgarza, but she also had no desire to see him slaughtered right in front of her.
Or maybe you’re just afraid he’ll die before you’re able to fulfill Mith Barak’s request, a small, spiteful voice inside her whispered.
Steeling herself, Icelin leaned closer to the drow. “Hear your goddess, Zollgarza,” she whispered.
Zollgarza sucked in a breath. Tears rolled down his cheeks. Icelin didn’t know whether he’d heard her or if the hallucination still trapped him. The dwarves exchanged tense glances, and the seneschal looked on with something that might have been approval in her fathomless eyes.
“Zollgarza, you must free yourself from this,” Icelin said. “It’s not real. Your goddess calls you. Come back.”
“I have killed for you-in your name, always,” Zollgarza sobbed. Icelin quelled a wave of revulsion. “But all I want … I want-”
“To know yourself,” Icelin whispered. “Yes.” Gods give her strength. “It’s all right. Come back now. Come back.”
Zollgarza uttered a choked, inarticulate cry and pulled Icelin against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her. Dwarven sword tips hovered in the air next to Icelin’s head, but the guards seemed at a loss as to what to do. They’d clearly never expected this reaction.
They weren’t the only ones, Icelin thought. She crouched awkwardly on the floor as Zollgarza crushed her against him and cried into her hair.
“He seeks the truth of his own identity,” the seneschal murmured. “But it is that very identity that Lolth requires him to sacrifice. Will he choose his goddess or himself?” She raised her hands, and The Black Tome appeared between them. The onyx jewel in the center of the cover winked in the firelight.
Icelin didn’t have time to wonder at the meaning of the seneschal’s pronouncement. A change swept over Zollgarza’s body all at once. His muscles went rigid, and his sobs cut off abruptly. He’s come out of his hallucination. The thought passed through Icelin’s mind an instant before Zollgarza shoved her violently away from him.
She landed on her backside on the rug. The cushion softened the impact, but the breath rushed out of her, and Icelin sat, dazed, trying to regain her composure.
She might have been nonplussed, but Zollgarza was a wreck. Chest heaving, he tried to scramble away-from Icelin, from the dwarves, or from his hallucination, Icelin couldn’t be sure, but he had nowhere to run. The fire blazed hot at his back. Dwarven steel pressed in on him right and left. In the end he simply crouched in their midst like a trapped animal, hatred and defiance radiating from his tear-stained face.
Icelin rose shakily to her feet. She turned away from the scene and went to the long table. She laid her hands on its surface and breathed in and out to clear her head. “We won’t be needing you now,” she told the guards. “You have my thanks, but please, return to your places.”
“Aye,” said one of the guards. “We’ll need to tell the king what happened here,” he told his partner as they sheathed their weapons.
“No need,” said a voice from across the room.
Icelin looked up sharply to see the king standing in the doorway. Mith Barak stared at them all, his face a stone mask, unreadable. Icelin wondered how much of the scene he had witnessed.
“Are you all right?” the king asked, gazing at Icelin.
“I’m fine,” Icelin replied.
Mith Barak nodded curtly and backed out of the doorway.
He’s going to leave, Icelin thought. The king of Iltkazar would retreat to his hall to do … what? Hide from the world and ignore the war that descended upon them all? His people were dying. Ruen was …
Something snapped inside Icelin. “Coward!” she yelled.
Mith Barak froze in the doorway. Dead silence took over the room, broken only by the shifting logs in the fireplace.
Ruen was right, Icelin thought. My tongue will be the death of me. So be it. “Why do you retreat?” she demanded. “Do you know how many folk are counting on you? Do you care? Where is the king of Iltkazar? What happened to him?”