Ascendancy of the Last - Lisa Smedman [61]
"No, Lady."
She's lying.
Qiluй whirled. "Liar! She used the portal, didn't she?"
The Protector's face paled to gray. Her mouth opened, but no words came out.
Qiluй felt the blood drain from her own face. She hadn't meant to say that aloud. "My apologies, priestess. I was answering a sending from someone else."
It wasn't much of an excuse, but it seemed to satisfy the Protector, who nodded and stiffly resumed her post.
Qiluй kneeled and sang a scrying, passing her hand over the pool. She smiled as it revealed Rylla. Qiluй's smile vanished abruptly as she recognized the chamber Rylla was standing in. The battle-mistress hadn't used the Moonspring Portal, after all. She was still within the Promenade-in the last place Qiluй had expected to find her: the chamber that contained the trap for Ghaunadaur's cultists!
Even as Qiluй watched, the battle-mistress dispelled the symbol Horaldin had inscribed. Now she began a prayer-one that would seal the portal Qiluй had so painstakingly created!
"No!" Qiluй cried. She couldn't let that happen. Not now, with the first wave of Ghaunadaur's minions about to come through.
She sang a hymn that instantly conveyed her to the chamber along a beam of moonlight. Her boots slipped as she landed; the floor was ankle-deep in water. Rylla whirled, her prayer interrupted. "Qiluй!" Is it you? she sent.
It would have been a clever ploy-had Wendonai not been able to listen in on Qiluй's private conversations.
She thinks I'm controlling you.
You're not.
Not yet.
Be silent! Qiluй shook her head. Rylla. She needed to concentrate on the battle-mistress. "Of course it's me. What are you doing?" Rylla hadn't tried to banish Wendonai yet. Perhaps she didn't know.
"Making sure everything's sealed up tight-as you ordered. There's a portal in this room that shouldn't be here." She began her prayer anew.
"Stop that!" Qiluй cried. She sang a note into the shout that fused Rylla's fingers together, preventing her from completing the gesture that would seal the portal. "I created that portal. It leads to a trap. One that's about to be sprung. Go and find Horaldin-I need him to recast his enchantment! Now!"
Rylla turned. She was terrified-Qiluй could smell the other female's fear-and her voice quavered. "Horaldin's dead."
She's lying. Trying to confuse you.
"What?" Qiluй rubbed her wrist. "No, he's not. I just spoke to him." In fact, she'd just placed a geas on him: one that would compel him not to communicate with anyone-not by speech, nor spell, nor written word-until she gave him leave. She'd sealed the geas by drawing a line across his throat. The instant he tried to speak, he'd be wracked by a fit of violent coughing.
Coughing blood.
Qiluй blinked, startled. Where had that thought come from?
"You cut his throat," Rylla said. "Decapitated him." She glanced, pointedly, at the Crescent Blade.
Qiluй's eyes were drawn to the sword. To the blood on it.
She's trying to trick you. That's your blood. Your cut is leaking again.
Qiluй lifted her arm.
Rylla tensed, her fused fingers gripping her holy symbol.
Qiluй yanked her bracer up. She stared at the cut on her wrist. No-not a cut. A scar. Old and gray.
It wasn't her blood on the blade.
You had to do it. You had no choice. He would have ruined everything!
"He would have ruined everything," Qiluй whispered. Her head was pounding. She felt a slight pressure against her calves and realized the water in the room was rising. Was the river overflowing? She glanced over her shoulder. No, the door behind her was shut. The water inside the chamber was expanding. And swiftly. As it topped her boots and spilled inside them, she felt sensation return to her feet. She hadn't realized, until this moment, that they'd been numb, nearly dead. They'd felt heavy, lumpish, hard…
The water rose to Qiluй's knees. Her legs tingled.
Rylla moved closer, her feet swishing in the water. The battle-mistress's eyes locked on Qiluй's. "Fight it," she whispered. "Pray. Drive Wendonai out." She sang out a word that filled the air with moonlight and lunged forward, slamming