Ascendancy of the Last - Lisa Smedman [59]
I make the decisions, demon. Not you.
Poor decisions. She'll tell the others-if she hasn't already.
No point in killing her, then, is there?
They'll banish me-destroy the Crescent Blade.
Qiluй almost wished someone would banish Wendonai. The cut on her wrist burned. The Crescent Blade felt heavy in her hand. She longed to have someone relieve her of this burden, yet she had to see this dance through to the end. The fate of hundreds of thousands of souls hung in the balance.
You might as well have killed those two priestesses, the demon continued. Sealed inside the shrine, they'll die of thirst-a slow, lingering death, rather than a quick one. He paused, and she could imagine his sly grin. How very dhaerrow of you-something your ancestors would have appreciated.
Qiluй made no comment. The two priestesses wouldn't starve. Eilistraee would answer their prayers for sustenance.
What mattered was to contain the problem before it spread. Horaldin had been easy enough to silence, but Rylla would be more difficult. The battle-mistress either knew about Wendonai or suspected, judging by the way she'd been acting. It was unlikely she'd told anyone yet-she would have realized this would start a panic. More likely, she'd be preparing a banishment spell of her own.
If she succeeded, it would ruin everything.
Where was Rylla? Qiluй had to find her. She realized that she should have kept the battle-mistress near her, instead of sending her away. She should have trusted her instincts.
Are you sure you didn't already bear my taint? Wendonai asked mockingly, continuing their previous conversation. You certainly think like an Ilythiiri.
Watch your tongue, demon, or I'll banish you myself.
And destroy the weapon that will kill Lolth? Without my essence sustaining it, the Crescent Blade will crumble to dust.
Be silent! She grasped her sheath and tried to shove the Crescent Blade into it, but felt the familiar resistance, like two lodestones pushing each other apart. She struggled against it, but the sword proved stronger. It sprang out of the sheath.
"Abyss take me!" Qiluй swore-an oath she hadn't used since her childhood.
The demon chuckled. Perhaps it will.
Qiluй stalked on through the cavern. She could have sheathed the sword if she'd tried harder, but she needed Wendonai to think he was in control-and that she feared the weapon would fall apart, were he not within it. That wouldn't happen, of course. Eilistraee's blessings would sustain it, just as they always had.
Her statue was just ahead, tucked into an alcove in the Cavern of Song. Carved from black marble, it showed a youthful Qiluй with singing sword held high, exulting in the defeat of Ghaunadaur's avatar. The statue looked heavy and immovable-a false impression. In fact, it concealed the winding staircase that led down to the sealed Pit.
Qiluй strode up to the halfling Protector who guarded it and stared down at her. "Is Battle-mistress Rylla below?"
Brindell shook her head.
"Has she passed this way recently?"
"No, Lady. Not since I took up station here."
"Where is she?" Silver fire crackled through Qiluй's hair as her irritation flared.
Brindell took a step back. "Lady Qiluй. What's wrong? Is the Promenade under attack?"
"What are you talking about?" Qiluй spat. She'd never realized, until just this moment, how ridiculous the halfling looked, with her ink-stained face and mop of copper-colored hair.
Brindell pointed a pudgy finger at the Crescent Blade. "There's blood on your sword, Lady Qiluй."
"There is?" Qiluй lifted the weapon. A thin line of red trickled down the blade. The cut on her wrist must have been bleeding; the bracer that served as sheath for her silver dagger must have rubbed it open again. "It's nothing. Just a scratch." She glared down at Brindell. "Hold your post. Contact me-immediately-if you see Rylla."
Brindell gulped. "Yes, Lady."
Qiluй strode away. She realized she'd been sharp with Brindell, but it was all part of the act. And it was drawing Wendonai