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Q’arlynd decided that Rowaan was more cunning than he’d given her credit for. She must have spied on him, on an earlier occasion, as he’d replenished his magic.

Leliana let the vest fall. “The glyph was triggered by whatever spell you just tried to cast on your former slave,” she told Q’arlynd. Her eyes were gleaming, triumphant. She took great pleasure in having outwitted him.

Eilistraee’s priestesses, he decided, were no different from any other females. He’d been stupid to let down his guard around them.

“Now you’re going to tell us who you really are,” Leliana continued, “and why you’re so keen on meeting Qilué.”

With that, Leliana spun her sword around her head, repeating the prayer she’d used earlier, casting a truth spell. Inwardly, Q’arlynd smiled. She would no doubt remove the magical hold only from his mouth and leave the rest of his body enspelled, and when she did, a word would suffice. He’d strike both priestesses blind, dispel the magic that held him rigid, and teleport away with Flinderspeld.

Leliana touched his lips, freeing them, then held the sword over his head.

Q’arlynd tried to cast his spell. His mouth, however, refused to cooperate. Concentrate as he might, he couldn’t speak the arcane word that would trigger his spell. Instead, he found himself meekly answering Leliana’s questions, while the rest of his body remained stiff and uncooperative. He told her about finding the sword-tokens on the priestess’s body, about taking the magical boots and rings for himself, about the rock that had struck her dead.

At this, Rowaan gasped then exchanged a pained look with Leliana.

“Where is her body?” Leliana asked.

“In Ched Nasad. I rendered it invisible then left it where it was.”

“And her pendant?”

“Taken by Prellyn.”

“Who’s Prellyn?”

“Weapons mistress of House Teh’Kinrellz, the House I was serving.”

She let that go without further explanation. “Where are the other sword-tokens she was carrying?”

“Hidden, together with the boots and rings, except …” Q’arlynd tried to choke back the rest but couldn’t. “Except for the one that’s sewn into the collar of Flinderspeld’s new cloak.”

Leliana signaled to Rowaan. The other priestess ran her hands along the deep gnome’s collar, located the sword-token within then cut the seam, removing it. Q’arlynd was relieved when she didn’t search the cloak further. Inside the hem were things he’d prefer to keep.

Q’arlynd continued babbling as Leliana questioned him some more. He confirmed that he was, indeed, a Melarn, and Halisstra’s brother, that he had used the portal because he was curious about his sister’s fate, that he had no intention of converting to Eilistraee’s faith but wanted to meet Qilué so he could offer his services to her as a battle mage.

By the end of it, when Leliana at last touched his lips again, stilling them, he was sweating. The priestess stared down at him, her expression grim. She was thinking, no doubt, about the priestess who had died in Ched Nasad. She obviously intended to execute him, but not swiftly—she wasn’t nearly enraged enough. She was probably trying to decide which bits of him to slice off first. She was a female, after all, and drow females delighted in nothing so much as torture.

If Q’arlynd had been capable of it, he would have cupped his hands protectively over his groin. That was usually the spot the blade sliced first. It always, the females agreed, produced the most amusing screams.

Leliana glanced at Rowaan. She said something to her in the drow’s silent speech—holding her hand where Q’arlynd couldn’t see it. Rowaan glanced briefly down at Q’arlynd then shook her head.

Leliana sheathed her sword and drew a dagger. She bent down and grabbed Q’arlynd’s piwafwi and lifted him slightly from the ground. Behind her, Flinderspeld leaned forward, struggling to speak. His lips struggled to form a word.

Q’arlynd barely managed to prevent his eyes from widening in surprise. The hold spell Leliana had cast on Flinderspeld was wearing off. The deep gnome