Sacrifice of the Widow_ Lady Penitent - Lisa Smedman [102]
Malvag moved his index finger above them, silently reading with the aid of the darkfire. When the time came, he and whichever of the Nightshadows had been successful in their soulthefts would read them aloud, activating the scroll’s magic.
Malvag savored the irony of what was to come. The scroll had been intended to open a gate between Lolth’s domain and Arvandor, so the Spider Queen could mount a second attack on the Seldarine. It had never been used, however—probably because it had been created in the final years of the Fourth Crown War, just before the ssri Tel’Quessir had been transformed into drow and driven below.
Instead it would be used by Lolth’s enemies to make their god stronger. After killing Eilistraee, Vhaeraun would secretly assume that goddess’s portfolio and add her worshipers to his ranks. All of the drow in the Night Above—male and female—would come under one god. Strengthened by their worship, Vhaeraun would mount an attack on Lolth herself, and the reign of the Spider Queen would, at long last, be at an end.
The thought sent a thrill through Malvag.
It was tempered by the memory of the demonic creature that had first bound him then revived him. He shuddered. When the demon-thing had attacked him, he’d assumed it had been sent by Lolth, but after it had revived him, he hadn’t been so sure. He’d later decided that it must be a thing of Selvetarm, but the Selvetargtlin had denied that, which left him wondering if the creature was Lolth’s after all. The Spider Queen could certainly want Malvag to live so that his work could continue and Eilistraee be killed, no doubt about that, but the thought of Lolth meddling in what should have been purely Vhaeraun’s vengeance made Malvag uneasy.
He pushed the thought aside. He couldn’t allow himself to be distracted, not when so much rested on his shoulders. He would need all of his concentration to invoke the scroll’s powers.
He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, drinking in the invisible energies that rippled back and forth in the enclosed space. The cavern couldn’t sustain life for long. The air already smelled slightly stale. For one night, at least, it would suffice, and that one night was all that mattered.
A whisper of air announced the arrival of another cleric. Malvag turned and saw Urz, his red eyes glittering above his mask. The other cleric’s posture was eager and his close-cropped hair stood on end, as if a shiver had just passed through him. He wore a single, wide-bladed dagger at his hip and a homespun black shirt and trousers with frayed cuffs and worn knees. He looked more like a laborer than an assassin, but that natural camouflage served him well. Urz had won Vhaeraun’s favor many times over with his bold attacks on Lolth’s clergy.
“Dark deeds,” Malvag murmured.
Urz inclined his head, paying Malvag the respect due a higher ranking cleric.
“Were you successful?” Malvag asked.
Urz touched his mask then gave the sign for a job completed. “She put up a good fight, though,” he said, “broke two of my ribs and nearly cut off my hand.” He turned his right hand over, showing Malvag the fresh gray scar across his wrist just below the older burn mark. Then he waggled his fingers. “Good as new now, praise Vhaeraun, but I had to stab her, sop up the soul and get away quick. The Gray Forest was like an overturned beehive after all the noise she made.”
Malvag barely listened to the details. Urz had arrived and his mask held a soul. That was all that mattered.
The Jaelre strode toward the drift disc, his hard-soled boots crunching across the crystal-studded floor. “I’m the first one here?”
“As always. I knew I could count on you.”
The two males clasped