Sacrifice of the Widow_ Lady Penitent - Lisa Smedman [80]
“An invisibility spell wouldn’t have helped. It would have worn off long before he escaped the city, and his eyes would have given him away. He’d have revealed who aided him. Lolth’s priestesses, just like Eilistraee’s, have ways of wringing the truth out of a person.”
He sighed. “What I should have done was given Tellik a swift, clean death, but I wasn’t strong enough to do that.” He glanced up at her. “You grew up in the Underdark. You understand what’s necessary. To survive. You must have … done things, things you later regretted.”
Leliana’s eyes narrowed. “I left all that behind.”
“So have I. I’ve taken Eilistraee’s vows. I’ve come into the light.”
Leliana cocked an eyebrow. “Have you?”
“Yes. That’s why I shared this story with you, painful though it was to relate. I wanted to give you a weapon you could use against any Nightshadows who try to sneak into your shrine in disguise.” He smiled. “This is what I came to tell you. If you word a curse carefully, you can create the same effect, cause a Nightshadow’s eyes to mirror his avatar’s. No matter what disguise he’s wearing, it will give him away.”
Leliana considered this for several moments. “An interesting story,” she said at last.
Q’arlynd felt his face grow warm. “You don’t believe me?” He pointed at her sword. “Then wave that around and cast your truth spell. Make me repeat my ‘story,’ and see if I’m telling the truth.”
Leliana’s mouth quirked in a smile. “No need,” she said. “Before inviting you in, I said a prayer that would cause me to hear a ringing sound, whenever you spoke a lie. It’s much more subtle than the truth-compelling spell I used on you earlier, don’t you think?”
Q’arlynd laughed, his anger having evaporated. Leliana was a drow female to the core. “Nicely done,” he said, tipping his head.
“And you,” she replied. “You told a heart-wrenching tale, complete with confessions and self-recriminations that should have earned my sympathy, and you’ve offered a possible method to reveal our enemies.”
“The method will work,” Q’arlynd said. “I’ve seen it tested.”
“I’m sure you have,” Leliana said, “but there’s just one small problem. None of us knows how to bestow a curse.”
Q’arlynd felt a rush of relief. Things were back on track again. “I realize that,” he said solemnly. “Vlashiri’s dead, but I overheard one of the priestesses saying that there are others at the Promenade who are familiar with curses. Send me there, and I’ll teach them how to word a curse to reveal a Nightshadow in disguise.”
Leliana laughed.
“What’s so funny?” Q’arlynd asked.
“They know how to remove curses, not bestow them. Eilistraee won’t permit anything else.”
Q’arlynd’s had to struggle to keep his emotions from showing. “I see.”
Leliana moved to the door. “You’re not ready to visit the Promenade yet.”
“Meaning you don’t trust me.”
“Not fully, no.” She opened the door, made ready to usher him out. “But I will send a message on your behalf to Qilué, if only to—”
The rest of her words were lost in a metallic crashing noise that came from below. It sounded like swords clanging together, but faster than any mortal hand could wield them. Doors banged open above and below Leliana’s room.
“The barrier!” a priestess shouted. “Something’s triggered it!”
Leliana sprang for her sword and armor. She shrugged on her chain mail as quickly as someone donning a shirt then ran for the open door. “Come on,” she shouted as she rushed past him. “If it’s the judicator again, we could use you.”
Q’arlynd didn’t wait for a second invitation. It was a chance to fight at Leliana’s side—to at last prove himself to her. He yanked his wand out of its sheath and followed her to the door. Glancing outside as she hurried down the ladder, he saw magically animated blades whistling by several paces away from the tree, forming a circle around it. He wondered, briefly, why the magical trap hadn’t sprung earlier, when he himself had crossed whatever invisible boundary encircled the tree. Perhaps because he was one of the “faithful” now. Shrugging, he cast a protective spell on himself.