Sacrifice of the Widow_ Lady Penitent - Lisa Smedman [82]
Leliana moaned.
“Tell me about the attack,” Qilué prompted.
“It happened late last night,” one of the priestesses holding the blanket answered. “The Nightshadow who did it got away. So did the one who aided him.”
Leliana’s face twisted with anguish. “It’s my fault,” she blurted. “I was stupid. I trusted him.”
Qilué frowned, not quite understanding. “This second Nightshadow—you knew him?”
Leliana nodded. “He posed as a petitioner.” A bitter laugh burst from her lips. “He even took the sword-oath, but he betrayed us in the end. He dispelled the glyph on Rowaan’s door then kept me talking while the other Nightshadow went into her room and …” Her voice faltered, and her eyes strayed to the priestesses who were gently laying her daughter’s body on the floor. “Stole her soul.”
Leliana tore her eyes away from the body of her daughter. She took a deep breath then spoke again, shaking her head all the while. “I still can’t understand it. I questioned him under a truth spell, and he gave his name and the details of his coming to the surface readily enough. He wasn’t truly a petitioner—he only sought us out in order to find his sister—but he fought beside us when the judicator attacked, and later, when he took the sword-oath, I thought that perhaps he had—”
“Leliana,” Qilué said, cutting the other priestess off in mid-flow with a touch on the arm. “You’re getting ahead of yourself. One piece of the story at a time, please. What name did this male give?”
“Q’arlynd Melarn.”
Qilué gasped. Moonfire danced on her skin, washing the cavern with light. There was the second coin, dropped at her feet. It had landed, as Eilistraee had foretold, on the side that was betrayal. “Tell me everything about this male—and swiftly, but start at the beginning this time.”
Qilué listened as Leliana’s tale unfolded, occasionally interrupting with a question. When it was done, she stood in thought for several moments. “It seems odd that he confessed his knowledge of Vhaeraun to you on the very night the Nightshadow struck.”
“Q’arlynd must be a Nightshadow,” Leliana insisted. “He even admitted attending their meetings.”
“Did he really?” Qilué said softly. An idea was beginning to take shape. “And now he’s promised himself to Eilistraee.” She paused. “Perhaps he’s the one that will aid her.”
“Aid who, Lady Qilué?” one of the other priestesses asked.
Qilué, lost in thought, didn’t answer. If Q’arlynd was the Melarn who would aid Eilistraee, that meant Halisstra would betray the goddess. Cavatina knew how to take care of herself—she was skilled in hunting demons, and used to trickery—but even so, Qilué worried that she might have sent the Darksong Knight to her death. She steeled herself, telling herself it had to be done. Such sacrifices were necessary, if the drow were to be brought into Eilistraee’s light. In the meantime, the new development had to be dealt with.
She stared down at the faint square of black that shrouded Rowaan’s face. “Q’arlynd came directly from Ched Nasad, you say?”
Leliana nodded. “Through the portal in the ruins of Hlaungadath.”
“Let’s hope he tries to return the same way.”
Q’arlynd squatted in the tiny patch of shadow cast by the wall, squinting at the portal. An entire night he’d tried to activate it, and nothing had happened. He’d thought it would be a simple matter—a repetition of the phrase that had triggered its magic from the other side back in Ched Nasad, but though he’d read the Draconic characters precisely as written, the space inside the arch remained a blank stone wall. He might as well have knocked on it with his head, for all the good it had done.
In full daylight, the sun beating down overhead, the glare rendered him almost blind. He wondered, for the hundredth time, if he should just give up on the portal and make his way to the closest Underdark city instead. Eryndlyn lay somewhere beneath ancient Miyeritar. Perhaps one of its merchant Houses could use a battle mage to accompany their trading missions. It would be a big step down from his hopes, but it would at least be something.
A sudden