Ascendancy of the Last - Lisa Smedman [26]
Cavatina frowned. "I've patrolled every cavern, hallway, and chamber of the Promenade. Including this one. There wasn't a portal here before."
"No. The high priestess must have opened it."
"I wonder why."
Horaldin shook his head. "I have no idea. I was hoping you might know. And that you'd tell me…" He hesitated, a pained look in his eyes. "Tell me what it all means."
Cavatina hesitated, trying to decide how much she should say. Horaldin was worthy of her trust. He'd gone against the direct orders of the high priestess by showing her this. He deserved a partial answer, at least.
"Something's… clouding the high priestess's judgment. That's why the battle-mistress summoned me to the Promenade. We think…" She swallowed hard. Should she be saying this? The answer to that question was clearly no, but Cavatina was inclined to listen to her gut. She might be drow, but she'd been born and raised in the World Above. She hadn't been weaned on secrecy and subterfuge, but on blunt honesty.
"We think it may be demonic-and that powerful magic will be needed to remedy the situation. When the time comes to act, we may need your help."
Horaldin nodded. "I see. Thank you. It's the Crescent Blade, isn't it?"
Cavatina nodded. If it was obvious even to the druid, it wasn't going to stay a secret very long. "Say nothing of this. We don't want to start any rumors. It would-"
"Yes. I see that too." He glanced at the hole he'd made in the middle of the obsidian door. "We should be getting back, before anyone notices what we've done. I need to smooth the door over and hide any trace we've come this way."
"You go," Cavatina said. She nodded at the wall. "I need to see where this portal leads."
"Wouldn't you rather I wait for you?"
"No. Go to Rylla and tell her about this. Tell her where I've gone-and that I'll report back the moment I discover anything."
"If I seal the door, how will you escape this room?"
Cavatina smiled. "Eilistraee's blessings will see me safely home."
Horaldin nodded at last. "May she guide your steps," he intoned. He hurried across the room and squeezed through the hole in the door. Cavatina heard him repeat his spell, and the door sealed itself shut.
Cavatina prayed. "Eilistraee," she sang softly. "Is this the path you wish me to follow?"
A moment later, the goddess's reply came. Not in words, but in a gentle yet firm tug on Cavatina's hand-like a partner, inviting her to dance.
Cavatina drew her singing sword, took a deep breath, and stepped through the portal.
CHAPTER 4
Q'arlynd adjusted the hang of his piwafwi and gave himself a final inspection. Directing the palm-sized mirror in its orbit with one finger, he checked to make sure his shoulder-length hair was tucked into the clip at the back of his neck and that the hood of his piwafwi draped neatly over his shoulders.
The piwafwi, made from the blue-black fur of a displacer beast, shimmered slightly, hinting at the magic it contained. Atop it, hanging by a silver chain, was a pendant made from a clear crystal.
A flick of his hand brought the mirror up to eye level. He peered into it as he inserted an earring into his pierced lobe. Carved from the egg tooth of an unhatched spider, the earring was insurance against assassination attempts. Not that anyone was likely to try poisoning him in the middle of a formal meeting, but it never hurt to be prepared.
In the mirror, his forehead appeared unadorned. Yet the selu'kiira he'd wrested from Kraanfhaor's Door was there. Its constant pressure was similar to the pressing of a cool thumb against his skin. As a precaution, he kept the lorestone invisible. None but a Melarn could utilize its magic-anyone else who tried to wear it would wind up a feeblewit-but there might always be someone foolish or desperate enough to try.
Much had changed in the seven years since the fall of Ched Nasad. He'd come a long way indeed from his days of grubbing in the ruins of that fallen city, little better than the slave of a rival House.
Q'arlynd was master of his own school of wizardry now-a school