Sacrifice of the Widow_ Lady Penitent - Lisa Smedman [27]
CHAPTER FOUR
Q’arlynd glanced around at the place the priestess had teleported him to. The ground was a flat, rocky expanse that stretched as far as the eye could see. The place was vast, bigger than any cavern he’d had ever been in. Above was a black dome, studded with twinkling points of light—the night sky.
“Where are we?” he asked.
“The High Moor,” the priestess who had teleported him answered.
The other priestess kneeled beside Flinderspeld and shook him awake. The gnome groaned, then groggily rose to his feet, the priestess helping him.
Q’arlynd gave the deep gnome a cursory glance, assuring himself his slave was undamaged. Then he returned his attention to the priestesses.
The two females were very similar in appearance. Both had lean, muscular bodies and red eyes, and they walked with light, precise footsteps, as if moving through the steps of a dance. They were dressed alike and shared several of the same gestures and expressions. The major difference that Q’arlynd could see was that the one who had teleported him was older, with ice-white hair, whereas the younger one, Rowaan, had hair that was shaded with hints of yellow.
Each, he noted, wore a ring on the index finger of her right hand: a plain band of platinum. A discreetly whispered divination revealed that the rings were magical. Q’arlynd wondered if they were the equivalent of his own master-and-slave rings. Rowaan deferred to the older priestess, but Q’arlynd could see no overt signs that the other priestess was controlling her.
“Mistress,” he said, bowing before the one in charge.
“It’s ‘Lady,’” she answered, “not ‘Mistress.’”
Q’arlynd bowed still deeper. “Lady.”
“I’d prefer you called me by name: Leliana.”
“Leliana,” Q’arlynd dutifully murmured.
A testy note crept into Leliana’s voice. “And look me in the eye, will you? I told you before, we do things differently here. You don’t have to grovel, just because you’re male.”
Q’arlynd straightened. “As you—” He’d been about to say “command” but quickly amended that. “As you wish.” He grinned. “Old habits….” he added with a shrug. Then he turned his expression serious again. “You said you knew my sister Halisstra. Knew,” he repeated. He braced himself for bad news. “Is she dead?”
Rowaan’s eyes widened. “This is Halisstra’s brother?”
Q’arlynd noted her tone. Halisstra had achieved some status up on the surface, it seemed.
Leliana glanced away. She seemed to be carefully composing her reply. “There’s a slim chance your sister is alive,” she said at last.
“But you don’t think so,” Q’arlynd finished for her.
“No.”
“There’s always hope,” Rowaan insisted. “Slim as the new moon, maybe, but …” her voice trailed off.
Leliana made no comment.
“What happened to her?” Q’arlynd asked.
“You weren’t told?”
Q’arlynd realized that Leliana must have been wondering why the priestess who “gave” him the sword-token hadn’t already answered any questions he might have about Halisstra.
He shrugged and said, “Things were … a bit rushed in Ched Nasad. There wasn’t much time for talk.”
Flinderspeld, thankfully, kept his expression neutral. The deep gnome had been schooled well. He carefully noted—but didn’t react to—his master’s odd remarks.
Q’arlynd gave the priestesses his best mournful look and continued, “It’s been three years since I’ve seen Halisstra. She disappeared when our city fell, during Lolth’s Silence. All this time, I’ve been wondering if my sister still lived, or …” He made a small, choked sound, as if struggling to contain his emotions.
Leliana’s expression at last softened.
“Tell me what happened to her,” Q’arlynd begged the two priestesses. “Don’t hold anything back—tell me everything.”
They did.
Halisstra, it seemed, had indeed converted to Eilistraee’s faith. Not only that, but she’d made quite a name for herself. Shortly after her “redemption,” as the priestesses called it, Halisstra had undertaken a pilgrimage to recover an artifact sacred to Eilistraee—a sword known as the Crescent Blade. That weapon in hand, she’d set out for the Abyss during Lolth