Pool of Radiance_ Ruins of Myth Drannor - Carrie Bebris [91]
Jarial and Ghleanna exchanged glances. The half-elf shrugged helplessly. “I have no idea.”
The party erupted in debate over how to proceed from here. Corran wanted to infiltrate Castle Cormanthor in search of the pool cavern. Jarial suggested returning to Caalenfaire to see whether the diviner could learn more through scrying. Ghleanna thought a good night’s sleep at Beriand’s shelter would help them clear their heads and gain some perspective. Faeril was too beside herself over Anorrweyn’s demise to voice an opinion.
Kestrel just wanted to get off the top of this building. There was no sign of the protective force field that had surrounded them during the ceremony, and she preferred to argue in a less exposed location. As she stood in the center of the circle, a faint fragrance caught her nostrils. A new calm washed over her. She inhaled deeply. Gardenias.
A moment later, Anorrweyn materialized before them. Her “body” appeared to have survived the ordeal unharmed, but her eyes bore a haunted look they hadn’t held previously.
“Priestess!” Faeril cried. “Are you all right? What happened?”
Anorrweyn met each of their gazes. Her visage held the expression of one who has dire news to impart. “I could not commune with the Mythal. The Weave rejected my attempt.”
Corran, whose face had become hopeful upon the ghost’s reappearance, now addressed her with grim resignation. “The Mythal’s corruption is too great to save it?”
The spirit shook her head sadly. “Worse. Another Gem of the Weave is already in use.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Another gem?” Faeril exclaimed. “How is that possible?”
“Harldain gave us the only suitable replacement stone,” Corran added. “At least, that’s what he told us.”
Anorrweyn’s face clouded with disgust. “I doubt not the dwarven lord’s word. It is the Protector who, I fear, plays a dangerous game with the truth.”
Though the others looked at the priestess in confusion, a spark of understanding ignited in Kestrel. Anorrweyn did not speak of another replacement stone. “The baelnorn told us he destroyed the original gem-”
“We will see about that.” With a sweep of the ghost’s arm, a gate opened in the night air.
Beyond lay the torchlit lair of the Protector. “Come. Let us talk with Miroden Silverblade!”
The baelnorn appeared only mildly surprised by the party’s abrupt arrival in his chamber. He set aside the book he’d been reading and rose to greet them. “Good eve, my friends.” He looked each of them in the eye but could not meet Anorrweyn’s gaze. “Priestess Evensong.”
“I have known you many, many centuries, Miroden Silverblade,” the priestess began. Though her tone was harsh, it softened. “In life and in death, our paths intertwined as we struggled to save the City of Song from evils mundane and arcane. Through the Opening, the Weeping War, the occupation by creatures of the Abyss-always have we been on the same side.”
The Protector bowed his head as Anorrweyn continued. “Now that Myth Drannor faces its greatest threat yet, I fear our paths diverge. You have told these brave adventurers, who fight to save a city not their own, that you destroyed the Sapphire of the Weave. Miroden, I was present at the creation of the gem. I witnessed the Moment of Binding. I know that as you stand before me, the sapphire yet exists in this world.”
The priestess touched her hand to the baelnorn’s withered cheek. A tear wet her fingers. “You love this city more deeply than most of the People love their lifemates. What happened, Miroden, to make you betray your sacred duty as communicant? Where is the sapphire? Open your heart to me, old friend.”
The Protector closed his eyes and pressed Anorrweyn’s palm against his cheek. He sighed heavily-an anguished, heartrending moan-then tore his face away from her gentle touch. He crossed to the empty gem case