Sacrifice of the Widow_ Lady Penitent - Lisa Smedman [125]
Gently, Qilué pried Cavatina’s fingers from the hilt of the Crescent Blade.
Cavatina at last let go. Strangely, her feelings were mixed. Parting with the weapon was, in some small way, a relief—and a disappointment. It would be Qilué wielding the Crescent Blade when the time came to take Lolth’s life. Cavatina told herself that the high priestess was the logical choice—a Chosen of Eilistraee—but the thought made Cavatina’s entire body ache. Just for a moment, she understood the envy that unredeemed females could feel for one another. For just an instant, she hated Qilué. She stuffed the emotion down, smothering it, and asked,
“What now?”
The high priestess glanced wearily around. Her eye settled on two lay worshipers—a drow female and a human male—who were removing the dead. They bowed in acknowledgement before lifting a body onto a blanket and carrying it away.
“We raise our dead and rebuild our defenses,” Qilué answered. “The Promenade must be protected, and we must maintain our vigilance against the enemies that remain: Ghaunadaur and Kiaransalee.” She cradled the Crescent Blade against her chest. “And we must prepare for the ultimate battle against Lolth.”
Again, Cavatina felt a stab of jealousy. She stared down at the dead Selvetargtlin. “With their god dead, I suppose the Selvetargtlin will turn to Lolth—but what of the Nightshadows?”
“Eilistraee has stolen Vhaeraun’s portfolio. His clerics draw their power from her, now—though,” and Qilué smiled, “it may take some of them a while to realize it. When they do, they’ll be ripe for redemption and ready to be drawn into the dance. Our priestesses have a lot of work ahead of them.”
Cavatina gave the high priestess a sharp glance. “Nightshadows will join our ranks?”
Qilué nodded. “They already have, albeit unwittingly.” She stared across the cavern, as if trying to see into the future. “There is a lot to be worked out yet.”
Cavatina shook her head. If ever there was an understatement, that was it. The thought of clerics of Vhaeraun defiling Eilistraee’s holy shrines with their black masks and evil deeds—especially after all that had just happened—made her flesh crawl.
“I don’t like it,” Cavatina said. Blunt, as usual, but it had to be said. “The Nightshadows are cowards and thieves and traitors, slinking about like—”
“People change. Even Lolth’s vassals have been redeemed, including, it would seem, the Lady Penitent.”
“What if they refuse redemption? What if they reject Eilistraee and choose Lolth instead? What you’ve done may have just made our enemy stronger.”
Qilué’s eyes blazed. “What I’ve done was necessary and inevitable.”
“Even so, it worries me,” Cavatina continued. “I’m sure I don’t need to remind you, Lady Qilué, of the sacred teachings. Just as Selvetarm was corrupted after he destroyed Zanassu and assumed the Spider Demon’s divine power, so might our worshipers be, if we accept Vhaeraun’s clerics into our ranks.” She paused, suddenly realizing the ramifications. “So might Eilistraee be, if Vhaeraun’s evil seeps into her—”
“Enough!” Qilué’s voice was sharp. “It is done. Eilistraee has slain Vhaeraun. There is no going back from that now.” Her eyes bored into Cavatina’s. “Do you really think, Darksong Knight, that I had not considered this before sending Q’arlynd on his mission?”
Cavatina hung her head. “Of course not, Lady.” But secretly she wondered. She didn’t know Qilué well, but according to reputation, the high priestess wasn’t one to display anger. Cavatina’s blunt words must have disturbed her. Deeply.
Then again, Cavatina realized, perhaps Qilué had been offered no choice. The high priestess must have realized what a gamble Q’arlynd’s mission had been and known that it would likely fail. Without Qilué’s warning, Vhaeraun might have surprised Eilistraee, even killed her. Cavatina tried to imagine Eilistraee’s holy light, corrupted with creeping tendrils of shadow—to imagine herself, slowly corrupted—and shuddered.