Out of the corner of his eye, Q'arlynd saw a slight motion farther down the tunnel. A patch of wall dimmed and brightened again, as if the Faerzress had momentarily been blocked. Something was slowly creeping away from the spot where Q'arlynd and Leliana stood-something with an outline so blurred it was almost impossible to make out. It was the size and shape of a child.
We're being watched, Q'arlynd warned. He raised his chin slightly, indicating the tunnel behind Leliana. By a svirfneblin.
Our guide?
I'm not sure.
Leliana turned and spoke aloud. "There's no need to fear us. We're the ones you came to meet. If we'd meant you harm, we'd already have-"
She suddenly reeled back and groped for the wall. "Mother's blood," she cursed, her voice overly loud. "What did you do that for?"
Q'arlynd understood at once what had happened. He too knew magic that could render someone blind and deaf. He shouted a word and flicked his fingers, triggering a ripple of energy that radiated from him, dispelling the effect. His spell revealed two svirfneblin standing only a pace or two away. One cradled a strongbox; the second held a hooked hammer in one hand, an egg-sized, blood-red gemstone in the other. The instant this fellow was revealed, he hurled the stone. It thudded into Q'arlynd's chest. Q'arlynd jumped back and tried to raise a hand, but couldn't. His arms felt weak, soft. He watched, horrified, as the skin shriveled on his hands and his fingers curled like dead leaves. He tried to cast a spell, but his fingers wouldn't move. His arms hung limp and lifeless at his sides.
He felt his eyes widen. Death magic! How in all that was unholy had the svirfneblin gotten hold of that?
He could think of only one answer.
Leliana, able to see again thanks to Q'arlynd's dispelling, touched the holy symbol that hung against her chest and sang out a word. The svirfneblin who'd thrown the gemstone froze in place, held fast by her prayer. She whirled and began singing a second prayer-still not drawing her sword.
"Leliana!" Q'arlynd shouted. "These aren't the-"
Though he spoke the word "guides," he never heard it. Suddenly blinded and deafened, he stumbled about, desperately trying to cast a spell-one that didn't require gestures, a touch, or the tossing of spell components. That left precious little.
He felt someone jostle him-Leliana, at last come to her senses and skewering the deep gnomes with her sword? He hoped so. If it weren't for the damned Faerzress, he might have conjured an arcane eye to see what was going on. Instead he did the only thing he could that would put him in the clear. He shouted the word that activated his House insignia, still not hearing his own voice, and felt himself rise.
A hand yanked him down again. The instant it touched him, he shouted out a spell. Whichever of the deep gnomes had just grabbed him would be blind and deaf, too. That should even the odds a little.
Suddenly he could see and hear again. Leliana lay on the floor, unconscious or dead from a wound that had bloodied her scalp. Her sword lay nearby. The deep gnome she'd immobilized a moment ago stood over her, his hammer dark with blood. A second deep gnome stood just behind him, glaring at Q'arlynd.
Q'arlynd tried to draw his ice wand from the sheath on his belt-if his useless hands could just lift it, he might be able to blast the svirfneblin-but his limbs wouldn't cooperate. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a blur to his right and behind him: the third svirfneblin moving in. Q'arlynd at last fumbled the wand out of its sheath and turned. He struggled to point it at the blurred gnome.
The two svirfneblin behind Q'arlynd moved right and left, flanking him. Backing him against a wall. Q'arlynd shifted his arms, trying to menace them with his wand. It fell from his withered hands and clattered to the floor. The svirfneblin who'd felled Leliana raised his hooked hammer, but the blurred gnome raised a hand.
"Hold," he told them.
Q'arlynd stared at the blurred gnome but could make out no details. He was like every other svirfneblin Q'arlynd had ever seen: mottled gray skin, bald head, just over half Q'arlynd's height, and wearing clothes the color of stone. Why had he just called off the attack?
"Flinderspeld? Is that you?"
The svirfneblin dropped his blur, revealing himself. It wasn't Flinderspeld. He had a wider forehead, one ear that cocked at an odd angle, and his hands were more heavily mottled than those of Q'arlynd's former slave. The deep gnome glanced at his two companions and said something in the svirfneblin tongue. They nodded and visibly relaxed.
"I not Flinderspeld," he told Q'arlynd, speaking in the pidgin language the races of the Underdark shared. "But I know him."
"Who are you?"
"Name's Durth."
"How do you know Flinderspeld?"
"Do business with him."
"Gems?" Q'arlynd guessed. Flinderspeld must have reentered the gem business after settling in Silverymoon. Q'arlynd wondered if the gem that had withered his arms had been destined for him. He shook his head, not quite believing the odds against this most unlikely of meetings. It made him wonder if Eilistraee really did watch over him. Or maybe she was just watching over her priestesses, he thought, glancing down at Leliana. Either way, Q'arlynd was thankful for Eilistraee's mercies. He shrugged his arms and nodded down at them for Durth's benefit. "Can you heal these?"
"No." Durth shrugged. "Maybe priestess can, if she wakes up. But she be mad at you for blinding her, I think."
The other svirfneblin laughed.
Q'arlynd silently cursed as he realized it had been Leliana who had yanked him down after he levitated. He added a silent prayer that Leliana would wake up-and not just because he needed healing. To his surprise, he found he actually cared whether she lived or died.
Durth turned to his companions and motioned for them to get the strongbox, which lay on the floor not far from Leliana. The lid hung from a single hinge and was split nearly in two-probably the result of one of Leliana's sword blows. Inside the box, Q'arlynd could see a fist-sized lump of utter blackness that made his eyes ache whenever he looked directly at it. The thing hovered at the exact center of the strongbox, not touching any of its interior surfaces.
Q'arlynd had seen something similar years before the fall of Ched Nasad. It had been housed in the Arcane Conservatory in a room with walls several paces thick. Great care had been taken so that, like the object in the strongbox, it touched neither walls, nor ceiling, nor floor: a levitation spell, made permanent and backed up by contingencies.
One of the svirfneblin picked up the strongbox and tried to force the lid shut. Q'arlynd took an involuntary step back.
"What?" Durth asked.
"That's voidstone," Q'arlynd croaked.
Even without eyebrows, Durth could still frown. "So?"
Q'arlynd was horrified. The deep gnomes obviously had no idea what they were carrying. "It's a solidified chunk of the negative energy plane," he told them, trying to quiet the inner voice that demanded he run screaming from the deep gnome who so casually held the box. "Anything that touches voidstone is instantly destroyed. If that 'rock' falls out of the box, it won't be pretty."
The deep gnome holding the strong box looked uncomfortable. He stopped fiddling with the lid.
Durth glared at his companion. "We not afraid to die," he told Q'arlynd. "Callarduran Smoothhands will-"
"No he won't," Q'arlynd interrupted. "Voidstone destroys both matter and spirit. If that chunk spills from the box, there won't be any souls left for your god to claim."
The deep gnome holding the box turned a lighter shade of gray.
Durth glared at him. "We are paid for the risk."
"By Flinderspeld?" Q'arlynd asked. His former slave should have had more sense than to handle the stuff. "I hope, for your sake, it's some serious coin he's promised you."