Sacrifice of the Widow_ Lady Penitent - Lisa Smedman [43]
Q’arlynd spoke a word and rendered himself invisible. He removed his belt, laid it across his knees by feel, and placed the magical crystal on the inside of the broad strip of leather close by the buckle. Though the rest of the belt remained invisible, the section of it that was immediately under the crystal became visible. On it were words written in tiny glyphs: Q’arlynd’s spells. Holding the belt close to his eyes so he could read the script, he moved the crystal slowly across the belt, committing his “spellbook” to memory again.
Halfway through, he paused and looked up. Flinderspeld had been talking with the two priestesses as they waited for their end-of-night meal to cook, but he had gone to lean toward Leliana in a conspiratorial pose, one shoulder twisted slightly forward.
Q’arlynd attempted to listen in on Flinderspeld’s thoughts, but the link wouldn’t come. His eyes narrowed. The deep gnome was certainly close enough for Q’arlynd’s rings to have worked their magic upon him. The priestesses must have done something to block the link. That was something Q’arlynd would have to deal with in future, but for the time being he let them think they had their privacy. He had other means, honed over a lifetime of peering around corners and into locked rooms. He cast a spell that would allow him to observe and listen from a distance.
Flinderspeld had removed his gloves. Leliana held his hand and studied the slave ring on his finger.
“… remove it,” she was saying. “When we reach the shrine, I’ll ask Vlashiri to do it. She knows the prayer you need.”
Q’arlynd nodded to himself. Such treachery was to be expected, especially of slaves. Nevertheless, it irritated him. The ring on Flinderspeld’s finger was the last of Q’arlynd’s slave rings. The other four that had formed a set with his master ring had been buried—together with the bodies of the slaves who had worn them—when Ched Nasad collapsed. Q’arlynd would not let the last slave ring be taken from him as well.
Leliana dropped Flinderspeld’s hand and leaned closer to the other priestess. Her voice dropped to a low whisper that Flinderspeld wouldn’t be able to hear but that Q’arlynd’s magic conveyed quite nicely.
“I’m going to have a word with this ‘master’ of his. He’s not acting much like a petitioner, if you ask me.”
Rowaan looked startled. “But he bears a sword-token,” she whispered back.
Leliana looked unimpressed. “So what?” she hissed. “Our tokens have fallen into the wrong hands before. You heard him when I said the name of the priestess who went to Ched Nasad was Milass’ni—he didn’t correct me.”
Rowaan shrugged. “Some people simply aren’t good with names.”
“He’s not that stupid. He’s a wizard, and the academies don’t accept dullards.”
Flinderspeld had risen to his feet as the priestesses whispered together. He backed out of the circle of firelight slowly, trying not to draw attention to himself. He eased down into a crouch and started to blur …
Leliana whirled to face him. “Hold it right there!” She’d drawn her sword, and it was in her fist. Ready.
Q’arlynd scrambled to his feet, one hand darting to his pocket for a spell component.
Flinderspeld halted. He returned to normal again, paler by several shades.
“You’re going to answer some questions, too,” Leliana told him.
Q’arlynd paused, component in hand. It looked as though Leliana wasn’t about to hack his slave in two after all. She just wanted some answers, and if all went well, Flinderspeld would tell her exactly what she hoped to hear. Q’arlynd put the spell component away.
Instead of questioning the deep gnome, however, Leliana did the unexpected. She spun her sword above her head it in a tight circle until it hummed through the air. Then she halted the blade over Flinderspeld’s head.
“Tell me how your master came to have Eilistraee’s token,” she demanded.
Q’arlynd cursed. Leliana had