"Oh, doesn't it?" Wendonai said. "In your case, unfortunately for you, it does. I can smell it on you, remember?"
Halisstra had been listening intently the whole time, and as if she'd forgotten whom she was addressing, she said. "But you couldn't smell it on me."
"No," Wendonai said flatly over his shoulder. "I couldn't. You're Miyeritari. Not a drop of Ilythiiri blood in you. Do you know what that makes you?"
Hope flickered tentatively to life in Halisstra's eyes. Wendonai crushed it with a word: "Weak."
He laughed-great, gobbling fits of mirth. Halisstra visibly crumpled under the onslaught.
Cavatina, for her part, had to agree with the demon. Halisstra was weak. If she hadn't-
"Yes," Wendonai breathed, his attention suddenly riveted on Cavatina. "That's right. If she hadn't been so weak, it wouldn't have come to… this." He plucked at the bonds around her wrists, lifting her hands slightly, then letting them fall. "But you're not weak, Cavatina. You're strong. Demonic blood flows in your veins. Embrace it."
Cavatina shook her head, refusing to believe. The demon was lying. Twisting things around and trying to trick her.
"Eilistraee," she whispered. "Help me to see the light."
Wendonai shook his massive, horned head. "You just don't give up, do you?" He feigned a sigh. "But think about this. Why is it that only some dhaerow can be redeemed? You've seen as much, with your own two eyes."
He paused, and Cavatina could feel filthy mental fingers sifting through her mind. She tried to shove them out, but couldn't.
"That Nightshadow in Cormanthor, for example," Wendonai continued. "The one Halisstra cocooned in her web. You offered him a chance at redemption, and he just wouldn't take it."
No, he wouldn't, Cavatina thought. And no matter what you say, I won't apologize for sending him to his god.
"And there's the irony," Wendonai continued as if she'd spoken aloud. "Had you let him live, the pair of you might have been worshiping side by side today." He tapped a claw against his chin, as if thinking. "Then again, perhaps not. Perhaps that male was a descendant of the Ilythiiri, after all. That would explain his reluctance to convert. My taint has spread far and wide, after all. There were so few Miyeritari, after the Dark Disaster, and so very many Ilythiiri." He smiled. "Which explains all of the difficulties Eilistraee has faced in acquiring converts, these past few millennia. Why so few petitioners have come forward, despite the long and tireless efforts of her priestesses. It's so hard, these days, to find someone who can truly repent. To find a dhaerow who doesn't bear my taint."
"Lies," Cavatina gritted.
"Are they?" Wendonai breathed. "Look deep into your own soul, Cavatina. Can you honestly say you are without malice, without anger? Where does your unquenchable thirst for vengeance come from? You sublimate it by hunting demons. But if there were no demons to slay, would you turn your anger on your fellow drow? Can you truthfully say you haven't done so already? That fellow in the forest of Cormanthor, for one. The other Nightshadows-the ones who are now part of the faith. You hate them because they've truly embraced Eilistraee. Because they're something you can never be. Redeemed. Pure. Without taint."
Cavatina squeezed her fists so tight that fingernails dug into her palms. Her body was knotted tighter than the whip ends that bound her. It isn't true, she thought. None of it. She was a priestess of Eilistraee. A Darksong Knight. As good, as loyal, as pure as any one of them.
"Then why," Wendonai breathed into her ear, "has your goddess turned her face from you? Where is the miracle you were just praying for?"
Cavatina squeezed her eyes shut to hold back the tears. A miracle would come. It had to. Eilistraee would answer. Yet a tiny voice, deep within, whimpered that she wouldn't. That Wendonai was right. That a seed of taint lay deep in Cavatina's core, waiting to spread its tendrils through her like a weed. She'd succumbed to it, that time in the Darkwatch, when she'd hacked the dog to pieces. She'd shoved the evil back, forced it back into dormancy, but it lingered there still. Waiting to sprout up anew. And because of it, Eilistraee had abandoned her, just as she'd abandoned Halisstra. For all Cavatina's attempts to conform to the tenets of her faith, she would never be worthy of Eilistraee.
"That's right," the demon panted, his breath hot in her ear. "You can never be redeemed. Never."
Tears squeezed from Cavatina's closed eyes and trickled down her salt-encrusted cheeks. "I can never be-"
Suddenly, she realized the flaw in the demon's logic. If descendants of the Miyeritari were free of demonic taint, they didn't need to be redeemed. Yet redemption existed. The ritual had to have been created for a reason, and the ritual itself gave the answer. Redemption required the penitent to look deep into herself, to confront the evil that lay within her very soul. To pry that evil-that taint-out of the darkness that enshrouded it and expose it to Eilistraee's merciful light and-
Yes, daughter. Yes!
Cavatina couldn't have said, in that moment, if it was the single voice of Eilistraee herself speaking or a chorus of voices. Thousands of souls, speaking with one heart. Priestess and lay worshiper, female and male, Dark Maiden and…
Nightshadow.
Cavatina blinked. If a Nightshadow could be among the redeemed, why couldn't she?
Yes, the voice said again.
Cavatina could hear the deeper tones that underlay the word. Bass, baritone, soprano, and alto, all blended into the single voice that was the Masked Lady.
Cavatina wept openly. Relief flooded her. She no longer feared Wendonai's taunting, or any physical cruelties he might inflict. In that moment, nothing but one simple fact mattered.
"I am redeemed!" she cried.
The demon reared back, his eyes blazing with fury. Then he threw back his head and howled.
In that instant, Halisstra lunged.
Q'arlynd, Eldrinn, Daffir, and Gilkriz followed the priestesses along the abandoned mineshaft. Leliana had ordered one priestess to wait at the spot where Cavatina had last been seen. Q'arlynd was thankful she'd stopped insisting that he go. That left four priestesses under her command. Each took a turn at scouting, ranging ahead of the others and returning to report their findings to Leliana with quick, concise hand signals. Leliana replied with the briefest of gestures, constantly cautioning silence. Each faint grunt, scuff of a foot, or creak of a leather pack brought a warning glare. The Faerzress probably wasn't helping. Its sparkling blue glow threw everyone into silhouette.
Gilkriz walked just ahead of Q'arlynd and Eldrinn; Daffir trailed behind. Every few hundred paces, the diviner paused to close his eyes. Whenever he did, he leaned on his staff, bending forward until the wood touched his forehead.
What's he doing? Q'arlynd signed.
Eldrinn glanced ahead at Gilkriz, making sure the conjurer wasn't "listening" in. Making sure we don't encounter any surprises, I guess.
Q'arlynd nodded. He'd made discreet enquiries about the staff after returning the feebleminded Eldrinn to Sshamath. He knew everything a staff of divination could do. If there were secret passageways, concealed by magic or mundane means, Daffir would spot them. He'd also be able to see, even with those weak human eyes of his, anything that was invisible or otherwise hidden by magic.
Q'arlynd might have been using his crystal to do the same, had he not been drow. Have you noticed'? he signed to Eldrinn. Daffir keeps looking up at the ceiling.
I noticed. Eldrinn clambered over a fallen beam and waited while Q'arlynd did the same. The boy nodded down at the rotten timber. Maybe he expects another of these to fall. Let's hope, when it does, it lands on Gilkriz. He shrugged. Though Daffir was wrong about the direction the threat came from, last time. Remember he said it was going to rise out of the lake?