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“So do I,” Leliana said sarcastically. “The first clue is that square of black cloth they’re so fond of wearing.”

Q’arlynd smiled. “That’s true, but a Nightshadow can still work his magic, even when his mask is thousands of paces distant.” He waved a hand. “But you knew that already, of course. Just as, no doubt, you already know that a Nightshadow’s deception spell can mask his alignment, his true faith—even his very thoughts, but what you don’t know, I’m willing to wager, is how to counter this deception.”

“And you do?”

“Yes.”

Leliana’s expression was openly skeptical, but she hadn’t thrown him out yet. She wanted to hear more.

“Let me explain. Many years ago, back when I was a novice wizard, a …” he searched for the right word—it wasn’t one the drow frequently used. “A friend of mine came to me for help. A Nightshadow. He had a problem he thought my magic could solve.”

“What problem was that?”

“He’d been cursed.” Q’arlynd walked to the center of the room, deliberately testing her willingness to let him invade her private space. When she made no move to block him, he leaned back against the table, stretching himself out. Showing off his body. He smiled, inwardly, as he saw her eyes linger on it.

“You’re familiar with Vhaeraun’s avatar?” he asked.

“Not personally—we’ve never met. Eilistraee willing, I’ll never have that pleasure.”

Q’arlynd chuckled. “Nor have I, but my friend enlightened me. The Masked Lord’s avatar, he said, looks just like a regular drow, except for his eyes. They change color, you see, to reflect his moods. Red when the god is angry, blue when he’s pleased, green when—”

“Let me guess—when he’s envious.”

“When he’s puzzled, actually.” Q’arlynd waved a hand. “But that’s neither blood nor water. What’s important to the story is that this Nightshadow had transgressed against his faith. He’d cast an illusion upon himself that made his eyes change color and tried to pass himself off as Vhaeraun’s avatar. It was a stupid thing to do, and he paid the price for his temerity. Vhaeraun cursed the Nightshadow so that his eyes would forever betray him. They continued to change color, even after his illusion ended, marking him as a cleric of Vhaeraun, and in Ched Nasad, that wasn’t a healthy thing to be.”

“So he asked you to remove the curse?”

“Exactly.” Q’arlynd sighed. “But that spell, unfortunately for him, was beyond my abilities. I was still just a novice, capable of no more than a few cantrips and simple spells.”

Leliana frowned. “Then why did he come to you for help?”

Q’arlynd shrugged and looked away. “He had his reasons.”

“Why? Because you were a Nightshadow, too?”

Q’arlynd stared up into her eyes unflinchingly. “No. For a time, I considered becoming a petitioner—my friend took me into his confidence and told me a great deal about the Nightshadows. I even attended one of their secret meetings, but I never did take up the mask.”

“So were you able to help your friend?”

Q’arlynd sighed. “In the course of telling him I couldn’t help him, it slipped out that I was studying how to render living creatures invisible. He begged me to cast this spell on him, so he could escape the city.”

She nodded. “Did he escape?”

Q’arlynd’s expression hardened. “No. Instead of invisibility, I cast a spell that rendered him unconscious. Then I handed him over to the matron mother of our House.”

That last “slip” had been deliberate. It took less time than he expected for it to sink in. Leliana’s eyes widened almost immediately. “You and this ‘friend’ were blood relatives?”

Q’arlynd nodded. “He was my younger brother.” He glanced away, letting the silence stretch for a moment. “I was ‘rewarded’ for turning him in by being allowed to watch when our mother sacrificed him. She cut his body apart, piece by piece, and offered it up to Lolth. It took …” he deliberately let his voice catch. “It took a very long time for him to die.”

Leliana looked ill. “You betrayed your own brother.”

“I had to. If I helped him, I’d have been marked for sacrifice myself.”