Storm of the Dead - Lisa Smedman [42]
Q'arlynd felt frustration build inside him. We can't wait! he wanted to shout. By then it might be too late! Yet he could hardly tell the others that. Only Eldrinn knew the extent of the looming crisis. He and Q'arlynd had been careful to keep it from the others, even when they were linked mind to mind. The boy wasn't stupid; if word got out that the College of Divination was teetering on the brink, someone just might be willing to give it an extra nudge.
Eldrinn stared at the dead chitine. "We're wasting our time with these lesser races. We need to try it on a drow instead."
"Good idea!" Baltak cried. "What about a battle-captive- someone no one really cares about?"
"What about the body?" Piri whispered from the back of the room. He pointed at Zarifar, who had wandered over to the chitine and was busy scuffing the toe of his boot through the ash at the chitine's feet, drawing in it. "Anyone who sees the corpse is going to wonder which spell burned its brains out so precisely."
"We'll disintegrate the body," Baltak said. "Or use quicklime."
"You're overlooking something," Q'arlynd said. "If the experiment succeeded, the battle-captive would learn the contents of the kiira at the same time we did-including, perhaps, a spell that might allow him to escape." He stared at the others. "We don't want to share our lorestone with anyone else just yet, do we?"
"I suppose you're right," Baltak grudgingly admitted.
"You completely missed my point," Eldrinn said.
Q'arlynd turned to him.
"I wasn't talking about battle-captives-I was talking about me. / could wear the kiira."
Q'arlynd's response was immediate. "No."
"It won't kill me. I know it. I have a… feeling about it. It's almost like…" Eldrinn stared at the lorestone. "A divination, or… something."
"Feeling or not," Q'arlynd said, "my answer is still no. It's too risky."
Eldrinn stood, fists on hips. "Why won't you let me try it, Q'arlynd? Are you worried that Father will find out?"
Q'arlynd nearly laughed. Eldrinn had, unwittingly, put his finger precisely on the problem. Q'arlynd already knew the lorestone wouldn't kill the boy. He had a pretty clear picture of what must have happened, that night on the High Moor. Eldrinn had run off when the monster had attacked the soldier he'd taken along as a bodyguard. Knowing that his own spells were too limited to deal with the monster, Eldrinn must have turned in desperation to the kiira and been unable to handle it. For some reason the lorestone hadn't blasted his brain to ash-Q'arlynd was still trying to figure that part out-but it had left the boy a feeblewit.
If Eldrinn tried the kiira a second time and was once again reduced to a drooling shell, Q'arlynd would be forced to explain how it had happened. Master Seldszar wasn't stupid; he'd guess that something other than the "magical predators" of the High Moor had scrambled the boy's mind, the first time around. He'd leave no mind unsifted until he found out what had really happened. The moment he learned of the kiira he'd claim it for his college, justifying its seizure as compensation for the coin it had cost him to cure the boy. Not once, but twice. And the foundation stone upon which Q'arlynd hoped to build his school would be gone.
"Well," Eldrinn prompted. "Is it Father you're worried about?"
Q'arlynd sighed. "Father" was a term he'd never get used to. It was a word borrowed from the surface elves; the drow of Ched Nasad never had a use for it. Descent was, and always had been, through the female line. The idea of a consort claiming children as his own was ludicrous.
"My answer is still no," Q'arlynd said. He pointed at the dead chitine. "I won't let you be reduced to that."
"I won't be," Eldrinn protested. "I've got an idea. A fool-proof idea." Grinning, he pulled the silver clip from his hair and held it up for the others to see. "This is a contingency clip," he told them.
"What's that?" Baltak asked.
Eldrinn smiled. "Something our college's crafters created. It holds whatever spell