Sacrifice of the Widow_ Lady Penitent - Lisa Smedman [28]
What hubris! A mortal slaying a god! Even so, Leliana and Rowaan assured him that not only was it possible, but that it had almost come to pass. Halisstra, however, had been slain on the very doorstep of the Demonweb Pits by one of Lolth’s faithful. Shortly afterward, Lolth’s Silence had ended. Halisstra had failed in her quest.
Q’arlynd recognized his sister’s killer at once from her description. “Danifae,” he said.
Leliana paused. “You knew her?”
Q’arlynd nodded. “She was my sister’s battle-captive. What you’ve just told me doesn’t surprise me. Danifae was … treacherous.”
An understatement, that. Treachery was something all drow expected of one another, especially of their battle-captives. Danifae, however, took the word to new levels. A seductress whose talents in that regard were near legendary, Danifae combined her exquisite beauty with utter ruthlessness. For years, Q’arlynd had observed the resentment that smoldered in Danifae’s eyes each time his sister’s back was turned, yet the battle-captive had actually succeeded in convincing Halisstra that she was a friend. All the while, Danifae had been working her way through the males—and females—of House Melarn, trying to seduce one of them into killing Halisstra. Danifae had eventually turned her lascivious attentions to Q’arlynd, hoping to enlist his aid in removing the magical Binding that compelled her loyalty to Halisstra, so she could kill her mistress herself.
Thinking back to that time, Q’arlynd shook his head. Of all of the children of Drisinil Melarn, he would have been the last one to slide a dagger into Halisstra’s back. Not because he cared for her, but because of what she’d done.
He resisted the urge to touch a finger to his nose, to hide the smile that threatened. As a boy, he’d been injured in a riding accident. He’d tumbled from his lizard and fallen only a short distance to the street below—no more than a dozen paces—but it had happened so quickly there hadn’t been time to activate his House insignia. He’d landed face-first, smashing his face against stone. He’d been only a novice wizard then—a clumsy oaf who wasn’t worth wasting magical healing on, in the opinion of Matron Melarn, but Halisstra had secretly healed him. She’d had to do it without leaving any evidence, so she’d cast her spell selectively, leaving his black eyes and broken nose untouched. Afterward, Q’arlynd had expected his sister to demand something of him in return. He’d prepared himself for a lifetime spent in thrall to her, but Halisstra had demanded nothing.
She’d healed him, he later realized, out of simple pity and something more. Affection. Something that was as rare among drow siblings as a spider that didn’t bite.
It had been a startling revelation. Q’arlynd had never realized that a female could be soft, especially one sworn to serve Lolth.
From that point on, he’d done everything he could to ensure that Halisstra would survive long enough to become House Melarn’s next matron mother. He’d arranged for her introduction to the bard who had taught her bae’qeshel magic, and he had eliminated her rivals. Through his careful planning, he had all but ensured that Halisstra would be the next in succession to House Melarn’s highest post—thus ensuring himself a position as her House wizard, the power behind that throne.
Then the Silence came, and it had all fallen apart.—literally—when the city fell.
With a mental wrench, he brought himself back to the present. “Were you the two who accompanied my sister into the Abyss?” he asked. “Did you see her die?”
Leliana shook her head. “She was accompanied by Feliane and Uluyara—two priestesses who also died on that quest. I did see your sister’s death. I aided Lady Qilué with her scrying. I could see, over her shoulder, the events as they unfolded in the font.”
Q’arlynd carefully noted the name and title, Lady Qilué—probably a high priestess, if she was capable of getting clear images out