Ascendancy of the Last - Lisa Smedman [100]
"Keep silent!" Flinderspeld shouted-a passable imitation of a drow master's command, an order Q'arlynd had used many times. A bolt of magical energy streaked out of Q'arlynd's fingertip and bored into his forehead, hot and painful. Q'arlynd's eyes watered. He groaned.
Suddenly, his body was his own again.
"We're even, now." Flinderspeld said. He tugged the master ring off and held it out to Q'arlynd. "And I don't want your ring. Controlling someone else's body was… interesting, but I didn't like the place it led me to. It felt…" He paused, searching for the word. "Wrong."
Q'arlynd yanked off the slave ring. "You won't help me, then."
Flinderspeld lifted an eyebrow. "I didn't say that."
Q'arlynd squatted down to Flinderspeld's level, not quite believing what he had heard. "You'll lead me to the Fountains of Memory?" he asked eagerly.
"Not only that. I'll let you remember it afterward."
Q'arlynd's eyebrows rose.
Flinderspeld smiled. "Your ancestors have promised me they'll erase your memory of the pools, if you try to tell anyone where they are. I'm not sure if I believe them, but I'm willing to gamble that you'll keep your mouth shut, once the spell you hope to cast at the ruined temple is complete."
"My ancestors told you… what I'm planning?"
Flinderspeld's smile widened to a grin. "You'll have to trust me to keep quiet about that."
Q'arlynd nodded to himself. Flinderspeld was better at striking a bargain than he'd thought. No wonder he was prospering. "Well played."
"For anyone else, the answer would have been no. But you weren't all that bad, as drow go. You did set me free, regardless of what your motive was at the time. I owe you one, for that."
Q'arlynd smiled-a genuine smile of friendship, not the false one he'd practiced in the mirror before coming here. He clasped Flinderspeld's arms and said a word he never thought he'd utter, except in jest. "Friends?"
Flinderspeld returned the arm clasp and spoke in Low Drow. "Allies."
Q'arlynd's eyebrows lifted.
Flinderspeld burst into laugher. "Friends."
* * * * *
T'lar rolled a spike-spider back and forth between her palms, savoring the harsh pricks as its needles drove into her flesh. The metal throwing ball wasn't loaded, and its needles held no poison. She did it for the sensation alone. Each jab, each welling of blood was a penance for letting her target slip away. She'd learned that he'd departed for the World Above, but hadn't been able to find out where, or why.
In another moment, however, that little problem would be rectified.
She stood, together with the new high priestess, next to a black iron barrel hoop that hung from a chain by the ceiling. Inside the hoop, a spider descended on a thread of silk. The high priestess coaxed it in the direction she wanted with a morsel of raw meat, her free hand slowly guiding the hoop. The metal grated softly against the chain as it turned. She caught the spider and deftly moved it to the side, adhering the strand to the hoop. The final strand in place, she transferred the spider to her shoulder, and inspected its handiwork. Within the hoop was a five-pointed star, made entirely from web.
"We can begin."
T'lar nodded. She slipped the spike-spider into her belt pouch and wiped her bloody palms against the thighs of her skin-tight tunic. "Summon him."
The high priestess flicked the iron hoop, setting it spinning. Then she picked up a candle. She held it a moment near her face and invoked Lolth's name. As she did so, the flickering light illuminated her elaborately coiffed hair, obsidian blood-drop earrings, and silver crown. Only a short time ago, that crown had graced the head of Laele Zauviir, but the Spider Queen's temple in Sshamath had a new high priestess, now. Streea'Valsharess Zolond was much stronger than Zauviir had been-ready to grasp power in her own two hands, instead of licking up the crumbs the Conclave offered.
Streea'Valsharess Zolond touched the candle to the web inside the hoop. The strands of spider silk ignited. Sustained by magic, they continued