Storm of the Dead - Lisa Smedman [73]
Q'arlynd did. When he was done, Leliana looked as though she wanted to spit. She glanced back at the other priestess, who was still keeping an eye on the Moondeep. "That explains the delay in opening the portal. And the water's brackish taste."
Chizra called up from below. "I thought it tasted tainted."
Q'arlynd glanced at the web. "Was it one of Lolth's minions who…"
He didn't bother finishing his question; Leliana wasn't listening. She stared into the distance and spoke Qiluй's name. A moment later, she cocked her head, as if listening, then repeated, swiftly and in an urgent tone, what Q'arlynd had just told her, describing the demon-thing.
That done, Leliana listened again. She blinked rapidly, as if surprised by what she heard.
"What is it?" Q'arlynd asked. "Bad news?"
Leliana gave him the strangest look, an odd mix of reluctance and pity. There was something she wanted to tell him-something important. Had the demon-thing somehow marked or tainted him? He resisted the urge to inspect his body, to see if there were visible signs of corruption. "What? Tell me."
Leliana pressed her lips together. "I can't," she said at last. "Qiluй's orders. She said it's better if you don't know."
Q'arlynd's eyes narrowed. "It's my body, my soul. If either has been corrupted, then I have a right to-"
"It's nothing like that," Leliana said. "It's something that happened long ago, to someone else. But that's enough said. Let's just leave it at that."
Q'arlynd stared at her. Leliana was trying to tell him something, in an oblique way. He wondered what it might be.
Whatever it was, no hints were forthcoming. Leliana, obviously the senior priestess there, turned to Chizra. "Wait here. Conceal yourself well, and warn me if anything else comes through the portal. The wizard and I will try to catch up with the others."
Q'arlynd took a deep breath. "The wizard" was he? Well so be it. "As you command, Lady," he said, giving Leliana an exaggerated bow. Then he followed her into the tunnel.
* * * * *
"What's wrong, Qiluй?"
Laeral touched her sister's arm. A moment ago, they had been conversing together on the balcony of the tower. Then Qiluй had abruptly broken off in mid-sentence with a faraway look in her eye-a look Laeral knew well. Her sister had been called by someone. An urgent summons, judging by the crease of Qiluй's brow.
Qiluй didn't answer. Her lips pursed together as she composed a mental reply. She spoke a name aloud: "Cavatina." More silent communication followed.
The summons must have been urgent, indeed.
Laeral waited patiently for her sister to finish. As she waited, she stared at the buildings below. The City of Hope had been raised nearly three years ago by the same high magic that had scoured away ancient Miyeritar. The walled city was laid out like a wheel within a circular wall. Nine roads led from its central plaza to sentinel towers that stood watch over the High Moor. The tower on whose balcony they stood-an exact replica of Blackstaff Tower in Waterdeep-was one of several wizard's towers that had been raised on the night the city was forged. It was one of the most distinctive. Utterly black, forbiddingly stark, it had neither window nor door. Those who knew the passwords could slip through its walls like ghosts; all others were barred by its powerful wards.
Qiluй had come to speak to Laeral about something that was troubling her: some fell magic that was originating from the area of Kiaransalee's chief temple. Laeral was no expert in the Dark Seldarine. She was only part-elf, "sister" to Qiluй through the grace of Mystra alone, whereas Qiluй was wholly drow. They were as different, each from the other, as day and night, Laeral with fair skin and emerald-green eyes, clad in an elegant gown, Qiluй head and shoulders taller, with ankle-length white hair and skin the color of midnight, protected by a warrior-priestess's armor. Yet both were Chosen of Mystra, bound from their birth to serve the goddess of magic.
At last, Qiluй turned. "One of our priestesses, missing these past two years,