Daughter of the Drow - Elaine Cunningham [151]
At last Fyodor looked back over his shoulder. "You shouldn't make so much noise," he cautioned her. "No telling what we might run into down here."
Liriel set her jaw and leaped back into the water. As she sloshed along in Fyodor's wake, she entertained herself with thoughts of wrapping the severed tentacle around his neck.
Moonlight, as beautiful as it was improbable, appeared suddenly before them, spilling in a sheet of silver over the murky waters of the sewer. Fyodor pulled up short at the unexpected sight, but the drow, who was more learned in magical matters, shoved him unceremoniously through the shimmering portal.
They emerged from the gate to find themselves on the banks of a vast subterranean river. The faint light of luminescent fungi lit the cavern beyond, in which was a city carved from stone. The city was unmistakably drow, smaller than Menzoberranzan and lacking the wondrous light of faerie fire, but to Liriel's eyes it was no less beautiful.
"What is this place?" Fyodor murmured.
"This is Eilistraee's Promenade," said a low, musical voice behind them, "and we have been expecting you."
The companions spun. There stood a beautiful drow female, taller even than the Rashemi, with silver eyes and hair of spun moonlight. She was flanked by dark-elven guards wearing fine chain mail and armed with swords and longbows.
Fyodor's hand went instinctively to the hilt of his sword. To his surprise, Liriel gave a cry of delight and threw herself into the female's arms. Heedless of her own finery, the elfwoman enfolded the bedraggled girl in a sisterly embrace.
"Qilu6! How did you hear of us so soon?"
"Word of your arrival was passed to us by the Harpers."
Liriel drew back, her brow furrowed in puzzlement. She'd suspected the fair-haired man with the laughing gray eyes and the devious mind would somehow send word of her arrival to Eilistraee's followers. He'd more or less hinted at this, with his oblique reference to the Dark Maiden, but Qilue's reference to musicians made little sense.
"Harpers?" Liriel echoed. "Why should harp players bother themselves with such matters?"
"There are many who share that sentiment," the older female said dryly. "But it was a tale strange enough to pass along. It is not every day a drow female enters Waterdeep looking for a path to Skullport, accompanied by a human male who carries a flask ofjhuild firewine and speaks with the accents of Rashemen. You, then, must be Fyodor. Liriel has spoken of you. I am Qilue Veladorn, priestess of Eilistraee. We serve the Dark Maiden, goddess of song and moonlight, and in her name give aid to all who need it."
The young man dropped to one knee before the regal drow. "The Dark Maiden is not unknown in Rashemen. And I think I have seen you before, Lady," he said slowly; then, remembering the unnatural height of the shadowy elf, he added, "or someone who bears your close likeness. Several days past, I watched unseen as Liriel danced in the moonlight. Another danced with her. I was far away, but I would not soon forget that face."
The elfwoman lifted one snowy brow. "Is it so? What you saw could only have been the Dark Maiden's shadow. The task ahead of you must be of great importance to earn so plain a sign of Eilistraee's favor."
"Will someone please tell me what all this is about?" demanded Liriel.
"Later, child," Qilue admonished. 'Tell me how can we aid you."
Liriel hesitated. The Chosen of Eilistraee could travel as they wished and take with them the magical blessings of their goddess-the Windwalker was of little use to them. Perhaps she could trust QiluЈ and her people. She glanced at Fyodor. He gave her a barely perceptible nod of encouragement.
"Fyodor and I both need the Windwalker amulet: he, to tame battle rages gone out of control; I to carry dark-elven magic with me wherever I go. I believe I've discovered a way to make these powers permanent. For us both," she added, meeting Fyodor's puzzled stare