The boy had that wrong, Q'arlynd thought. Daffir had said no such thing. The human had warned that something was approaching. Something big. And it had. He'd predicted not where it had come from, but where it would end up: in the lake. Dissolved to a slurry and washed away.
He'd seen into the future. A common enough accomplishment for a wizard who specialized in divination, but Q'arlynd was starting to wonder if it had been a spell that had been used. Daffir, he recalled, had pressed the staffs diamond to his forehead in just the same way before making his prediction.
They ducked under a sagging beam. Q'arlynd brushed away the cobweb that snagged his hair and flicked a hand to get Eldrinn's attention again. Your father's staff. Does it hold magic that will reveal the future?
That wouldn't surprise me. It would explain why the diamond is shaped like an hourglass.
Q'arlynd thought back to when he'd first met Eldrinn, out on the High Moor. Even feeblewitted, the boy had held on to the staff, rather than dropping it in the dust. Part of his spell-blasted mind had recognized it as valuable. As being important to his quest.
Q'arlynd caught the boy's eye. Could the staff also reveal the past?
I… An odd expression contorted Eldrinn's face-as if he had been about speak aloud but had suddenly forgotten what he was going to say, I suppose so, he signed at last.
Q'arlynd laughed aloud. Could the answer to the riddle of Kraanfhaor's Door really be that simple?
Gilkriz glanced back at them.
So did the priestess just ahead of them, who flicked a warning. Quiet!
Q'arlynd signed a quick apology. Its insincerity was betrayed by his grin, but he didn't care. Hundreds of kiira shimmered in his imagination. Thousands of them. He knew how Eldrinn had opened Kraanfhaor's Door: by using his father's staff to look back thousands of years to the time of ancient Miyeritar. The boy had watched one of the original dark elves open it.
Q'arlynd could do the same-all he needed was that staff.
What is it? Eldrinn asked.
Q'arlynd forced the grin from his face. I'll tell you later.
A few moments later, he sneaked a glance behind him. The dark lenses that hid Daffir's eyes made it almost impossible to read the human's expression. What's more, Daffir seemed as capable as any drow of hiding his thoughts. If he used his divinations to foresee Q'arlynd's treachery and decided to pre-empt it, there would be little warning.
Q'arlynd would have to be careful when he made his move.
Very careful indeed.
CHAPTER 11
Halisstra watched as the demon worked its torments. Cavatina lay on her back, helpless and weeping, the antithesis of the proud Darksong Knight she'd once been. Wendonai was deep inside her mind, teasing out jagged scraps of shame and loathing. Flaying her, body and soul, until she lay weak and trembling before him.
Halisstra knew just how that felt.
The massive wound the demon had inflicted upon Halisstra earlier had healed itself, bones knitting and organs and flesh growing back until only a shadow of pain remained. She could breathe without the sharp lance of agony that had blotted out all else. Even the callus was gone from her hand; only a faint pucker remained.
She stared at Wendonai's broad back, her eyes spitting hatred. She'd given him what he wanted: a plaything. She hadn't been stupid enough to expect the demon to keep his promise-freedom would be denied her-but she had expected him to return her to Lolth. Wendonai had no further use for Halisstra, after all. Now that she had delivered the Darksong Knight to him, she was insignificant, a creature to be ignored.
That burned.
Still, it might be to her advantage. With Wendonai's attention wholly focused on Cavatina, Halisstra might escape. She would use her bae'qeshel magic to render herself invisible and…
As soon as she thought that, she cringed. The demon would hear her thoughts!
She waited, wincing in anticipation of his blow. He couldn't kill her. Not without Lolth's complicity. But he could hurt her. Hurt her badly.
Wendonai did nothing. Still bending over the prostrate Cavatina, he continued to torment her, savoring her anguish.
Halisstra straightened from her crouch. It took her several moments to work up her courage, but at last she dared try something. A song, whispered so faintly it was nearly lost amid the wind that eternally scoured this vast, empty plain. She didn't expect her charm to work-Wendonai was a powerful demon, his mind strong as a fortress wall-but she did expect a reaction. Rage, that she would even dare try. Retribution, for her insolence.
Wendonai ignored her.
Or… did he?
He'd told Cavatina he could hear her thoughts. Halisstra had assumed the same held true for her. But if that was so, the demon must have known, when Halisstra first suggested Cavatina as a substitute, that the Darksong Knight had killed a demigod. Either Wendonai had been arrogant enough not to care or…
He'd lied.
Halisstra smiled. He couldn't hear her thoughts, and stupidly, he'd told her why. Her ancestors had been Miyeritari. She didn't bear his taint. That didn't make her weak. It made her strong.
Strong enough to resist him.
Tingling with hope, she glanced around, looking for a way out. The pile of skulls Wendonai used as his throne had burned down to blackened lumps. The wind blew past the skulls, teasing a wisp of ash from the pile.
No, not ash. The streamer of black was coming out of a single eye socket.
Keeping a wary eye on Wendonai, Halisstra eased toward the twisting spiral of ash and touched it with a fingertip. Her flesh paled to gray. The fingertip felt not just cold, but drained of all sensation, all life. The part that was within the tendril of black seemed to shrink, as if Halisstra was viewing it through the wrong side of a lens. The blackness pulled at it, stretching it thinner and thinner and…
Halisstra yanked her finger out. Had she not, the darkness would have drawn her irrevocably into itself. Into the void that was the skull's empty eye socket. She knew what the tendril of darkness was: raw negative energy. Seeping out of… nowhere. Drawing everything it touched into oblivion.
What bliss that would be.
The wind shifted. In order to reach the tendril of ash, Halisstra would have to move to a spot where Wendonai might see her. At the moment, his attention was wholly focused on Cavatina. He crouched over her, his quivering nostrils savoring her weakness. Demons, however, weren't stupid. Not always. The moment he spotted movement behind him, Halisstra's chance at escape would be extinguished.
She'd have to make sure he didn't spot her, then.
Softly, she began to sing. When her song ended, she was as invisible as the wind. Then she began a second song, one that would provide a distraction.
Before she could complete it, a voice pealed out. It was Cavatina, her voice raised in joyous song, "I… am… redeemed!"
Wendonai rocked back, astonished. An anguished howl tore itself from his throat.
Snarling out the final word of her song, Halisstra conjured up an image of herself and sent it hurtling toward Wendonai. The illusionary attack would buy her only an instant, but an instant was all she needed. As the false image hurled itself at Wendonai, claws raking and teeth bared, Halisstra dived for the stream of black and plunged both hands into it. The darkness seized them in its icy grip and wrenched her body inside.
Utter cold gripped Halisstra. Her body felt thin and fragile as paper as the negative energy teased it into an impossible length. Thinner, thinner, until it was a ragged flutter. Nothingness loomed, a vacant eye socket that led down into still, cold darkness.
Then oblivion claimed her.
Cavatina's eyes widened in surprise as Halisstra hurled herself at Wendonai. The demon snarled, but made no move to battle Halisstra. Instead he twisted around, staring intently at the pile of skulls.