Q'arlynd gestured at their most senior member. "Khorl Krissellian, sorcerer and farseer."
Khorl was a sun elf with pale skin and off-white hair. As he stepped forward and returned Qilue's bow, his age-seamed face betrayed just a hint of haughtiness. He was nearly four centuries old and had lived the bulk of his life in Sshamath. Long enough to dress like a drow and be just as scheming, yet he still ranked drow one notch below the "true" elven race.
His greeting, slow and deep, was entirely cordial, however. "Lady Qilue, Chosen of Mystra. It is indeed an honor to meet the one about whom I have heard so many wondrous tales." The magical amulets on the fringes of his piwafwi tinkled as he rose.
Q'arlynd introduced the second mage. "Daffir the Prescient."
"Madam," Daffir said, bowing. He was a human from the south, his skin nearly as dark as a drow's. He was bald, whip-thin, and as tall as Qilue. Dark oval lenses hovered just in front of his eyes, hiding them. He leaned on the staff Eldrinn had been holding when Q'arlynd found him on the High Moor. The fact that another wizard had been allowed to carry it out of the city proved just how seriously Master Seldszar took their mission; the staff was one of his most treasured possessions. Next to his son, of course.
"A human and a sun elf," Qilue' said. "Wise choices for where you're headed."
Q'arlynd nodded. "Our third member is Eldrinn Elpragh, also of the College of Divination."
Eldrinn bowed. "Will you lead the expedition, Lady Qilue?"
The high priestess shook her head. "I have pressing business that requires my presence here in the Promenade." As she spoke, her right hand drifted toward her hip to the place where a sword would normally hang, then halted as if she'd just realized she was unarmed. A curious gesture.
"I wanted to meet you all in person, and to thank you for joining our expedition," Qilue continued. "Please come with me. I wish to speak to all of its members before you depart."
Q'arlynd and the others followed her through the door. She led them deeper into the building, which turned out to be a barracks. They passed several closed doors. The sound of voices raised in song filled the area-predominantly female voices, underscored by a handful of deeper male voices.
Eventually the corridor ended at massive double doors that opened onto a large, rectangular marshalling hall. Shields hung on the longer walls, while crossed swords were mounted above each doorway. The vaulted ceiling's carved central beam resembled a crescent moon resting on its points. Yet it wasn't the architecture that caught Q'arlynd's eye. Three drow stood at the center of the hall, glancing around as if they too had just arrived there.
Two were male, one female. One of them, Q'arlynd immediately recognized: Gilkriz, one of the senior wizards of Sshamath's College of Conjuration and Summoning. Beak-nosed, Gilkriz stood with arms folded, his ring-bedecked fingers restlessly drumming against his cloth-of-gold sleeves. A gold skullcap adorned his shaven head.
Q'arlynd tucked a hand under one arm, nudged Eldrinn with his elbow and spoke in sign with his hidden hand. What's he doing here? And who are the other two?
Eldrinn answered in kind. Don't worry. Father warned me about this. They'll be working with us.
Q'arlynd had to damp down his irritation. Eldrinn should have told him this before now.
Khorl glanced sidelong at Eldrinn, as if looking for a cue to hang his reaction on. Daffir only nodded to himself, as if he'd been expecting this.
Eldrinn squared his shoulders and strode to where the other wizards stood. "Gilkriz," he said with a polite nod. "Glad to see you here. Urlryn chose wisely." He turned to the others, nodding at each in turn. "Jyzrill. Mazeer. Good to have you along, also."
Q'arlynd hid his wince. The boy was trying to take charge but doing a less than convincing job of it. He was too young, his movements too uncertain.
Jyzrill, an unusually short male with a pointed chin and a deep scowl that would have been more in place on a dwarf, muttered a greeting. The other mage, Mazeer, stood with hands on hips, forearms bristling with wands that were shoved into a two specially designed bracers. Her voice was silky as she returned Eldrinn's greeting, but her eyes remained cold as steel.
Gilkriz ignored Eldrinn. He turned to the other diviners and smiled, revealing gold-capped teeth. "Khorl. Daffir. So glad you'll be helping out with this one." He turned to Q'arlynd. "And…"
Eldrinn answered before Q'arlynd could. "Q'arlynd Melarn, originally of Ched Nasad. A prominent battle mage from that city who joined our college more than a year ago-an addition which obviously escaped your notice."
Q'arlynd gave a slight nod-just enough to be polite.
"Ah yes," Gilkriz said. "I remember now. Isn't this the wizard who rescued you after your disastrous journey to the surface? The trip that left you a feeblewit?" His derisive chuckle was echoed by the slight twist of Jyzrill's and Mazeer's lips.
Eldrinn's nostrils flared. "I-"
"Say nothing, Eldrinn," Q'arlynd interrupted. "They're trying to learn now what their spies failed to uncover earlier. One of their wizards probably faces a similar problem, himself-and they don't know what to do about it."
Eldrinn had the good sense to smile knowingly.
Voices filled the space behind them. Q'arlynd glanced back at the double doors where Qilue still stood. Striding through them was a statuesque female Q'arlynd recognized at once: Cavatina, slayer of Selvetarm. Six females followed her: five drow and surprisingly, a halfling who wore the full vestments of Eilistraee's faith. The priestesses deferred to Cavatina with every gesture, their expressions filled with awe.
Mixed into the priestesses' ranks were an equal number of Nightshadows: six in all. Though the males walked with the priestesses, they conveyed the impression of being separate from them. They kept sneaking glances at Cavatina-their expressions wary rather than worshipful.
Q'arlynd was instantly on alert. He scanned the Nightshadows' faces, looking for signs that any had recognized him, but the glances they gave him were bland. They paid no more attention to him than they did to any of the other mages.
The thin, muscular male was obviously the Nightshadows' leader. He was dressed all in black. A mask covered much of his face. An old scar puckered his left eye. His long stride compelled Cavatina to speed up in order to keep ahead of him.
Q'arlynd gave a mental head shake. Just like the wizards, the clerics and priestesses were trying to one-up each other. Factions within factions.
He glanced at Qilue. As always, her expression was impassive. She watched the newcomers sort themselves out. Then she shut the double doors and strode to the front of the hall.
Aside from Cavatina-and Daffir, whose height made him tower above the drow males-Qilue was the tallest in the room. When she held her hands above her head, the murmurs fell away.
"A song of welcome," she ordered, "for the mages of Sshamath."
The females broke into song. The male clerics joined in a heartbeat later. They sang in low voices, as if unused to talking above a whisper. Their leader studied the wizards as he sang. He actually met their eyes-a rarity, for a Nightshadow.
When the song ended, Qilue nodded at Cavatina. "For most of you, the priestess who will lead this expedition needs no introduction. But those from Sshamath may not know her." She waved Cavatina forward. "The Darksong Knight Cavatina, slayer of Selvetarm."
Q'arlynd glanced at his fellow mages. Their lips parted slightly, their eyes widened. Only Khorl remained unmoved. Eldrinn stared like a smitten house boy until Q'arlynd nudged him.
Cavatina, poised as a statue, glanced down her nose at the group. Her eyes briefly lingered on Q'arlynd-she obviously recognized him-but she made no move to acknowledge him.