Storm of the Dead - Lisa Smedman [33]
Q'arlynd waited as expectantly as Miverra for the master's reply. He could guess what must be going through Seldszar's mind. Though Q'arlynd had lived in Sshamath for only a short time, he knew how the pieces would line up. All of the colleges would be affected by the loss of divination magic, but their wizards relied on it to a lesser degree. If they needed a divination, they could always find a human wizard to cast one for them. The spells they specialized in would be unaffected; the crisis would leave them largely untouched. They might, in fact, be just as happy to see the College of Divination fall. Power sliced nine ways, instead of ten, would give each a larger piece of the pie that was Sshamath.
What's more, the other Masters would be loath to participate in a campaign that might cost them a number of the city's soldiers and battle mages. Lolth's temple in Sshamath was small, but since the upheaval that had thinned the ranks of Vhaeraun's clergy, the Spider Queen's priestesses controlled most of the healing magic. A crusade led by their hated rivals would be the last thing they would agree to. And without healing magic, any expeditionary force's losses would be unacceptably high.
Yet there might yet be a way to salvage things.
"Master, might I confer with you about something?" Q'arlynd asked.
Miverra shot him a glance. Q'arlynd gave her his best "trust me" look.
Master Seldszar gestured toward the door. "Please step outside for a moment, Lady Miverra."
The priestess straightened her shoulders indignantly. A moment later, however, she bowed. "I'll await your reply." She strode out of the room.
When she was gone, Q'arlynd took a deep breath. "Master, forgive my brashness, but I know a thing or two about Eilistraee's priestesses. My sister was one of them, after all. I understand how they think. Much of what they do is based on trust." he said, using the surface elves' word for the term that had, in High Drowic, no true equivalent. "If we tell Miverra a little of the truth, give her a hint of the complexity of what she's asking, we'll convince her that a small force is all that could possibly be mustered."
The master stared down at Q'arlynd. "Go on."
"The Conclave hasn't heard Miverra's petition yet. The other masters will know that a priestess of Eilistraee wished to speak to them, but not why. If she can be convinced to leave quietly with a small force of wizards drawn entirely from our college, we could secretly participate in the scouting expedition. Judging by the way she worded it, her 'advance party' hasn't departed yet. If the source of the problem does indeed turn out to be Kiaransalee's temple, and if its spread can be halted or even reversed by our wizards, then you, Master, could claim credit for 'solving' the problem. No one from the Conclave need know about the crisis our college is facing-or that we participated in an expedition headed by Eilistraee's priestesses. And if the other Masters do find out, well…" Q'arlynd shrugged. "It's always been my experience that asking permission after the fact is easier."
Master Seldszar's eyes closed. His lips worked silently as he gestured. Motes of pale green faerie fire sparkled momentarily on his closed eyelids. For a moment, his face was gray and taut. But when his eyes opened again, they held a look of resolve. "We will do as you suggest. Send a small force of wizards. Not an army."
Q'arlynd frowned slightly. Who'd said anything about an army? Nevertheless, he was pleased. Once again, he'd proved his worth. The problem would be dealt with-and he could get back to his experiments.
He inclined his head toward the door. "Shall I call Miverra back in?"
Master Seldszar's eyebrows rose. "'Miverra?' Not, 'Lady Miverra?'"
Q'arlynd swallowed. He resisted the urge to close his fingers over the scar in his palm that marked him as having taken Eilistraee's sword oath. "I-"
"Just as well. She trusts you. That should prove useful."
" 'Useful?'"