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Cavatina said nothing.

"You're different from the other priestesses-in a way that's much more fundamental than where you were born and what deities they were taught to praise before they turned to Eilistraee's faith." He sniffed. "I can smell it on you."

Behind him, Halisstra's eyes widened.

Cavatina could see that what the demon had just said meant something to Halisstra. But Cavatina couldn't allow herself to become distracted by that. Not just then.

She glared up at Wendonai. "Your tricks won't work on me, demon."

"Tricks?" He chuckled, puffing the stench of sulfur into her face. "No trick, this. You…" he took a long, slow sniff of her body, moving his blunted muzzle from ankles to neck, lingering here and there, "… bear my taint."

Cavatina laughed. "Of course I do." She lifted a shoulder and used it to rub at the smear of tar Wendonai had left on her face earlier, with his tongue. "But a little holy water will take care of that."

"Very amusing," the demon replied. "But that wasn't what I was referring to." He rocked back on his heels. A fresh gout of blood slurped from his wound, and the bulging entrails shifted. With grimy fingers, he prodded them back inside the wound. Absently, as if it were a mere inconvenience. "How familiar are you with the history of your race?"

That took Cavatina by surprise. "What are you talking about?"

"The dark elves. Do you know how it was that they became dhaerow?"

He'd used the old word for it. The one that meant "traitor" in the language of the surface elves.

"You mean the Descent?"

Wendonai nodded.

"High magic, worked by the mages and clerics of the elves of Keltormir, Aryvandaar, and other elven enclaves, against the dark elves of ancient Ilythiir and their allies."

"Yes, but why?"

Cavatina knew her history well. She'd taught it to novices many times when explaining why the drow were meant to return to the surface realms. "It was in retaliation for the destruction of Shantel Othreier-which the Ilythiiri attacked only because the empire had laid waste to Miyeritar. The Dark Disaster was brutal, and it had to be answered in kind."

Wendonai's eyes gleamed. "Spoken like a true drow!" he exclaimed. "But there is a portion of the story you don't know, the reason Corellon Larethian consented to driving the dark elves below. The Ilythiiri, you see, were becoming a little too powerful. They had a divine ally. Lolth."

Cavatina snorted. "The Ilythiiri's worship of the Spider Queen is well documented, demon. Tell me something I don't already know."

Wendonai gave her a sly smile. "I was hoping you'd ask me to do that. Let me tell you this, then, priestess. Did you know who Lolth sent among the Ilythiiri to corrupt them?"

Cavatina didn't, but she could guess.

"You are correct. Me. Slowly, over millennia, both before and after the Descent, I had my way with the Ilythiiri. It was…" he ran a black, sore-crusted tongue over his lips. "… delicious. And with each succeeding generation, with each new squalling dhaerow babe born in the thirteen millennia between then and now, my taint spread."

Cavatina could see where the demon was headed. Wendonai was trying to convince her that she bore his taint, that it was the source of all of her faults. But it wasn't. The odd angry outburst and a little-inflexibility, as he'd called it-didn't add up to demonic taint.

"Oh, doesn't it?" Wendonai said. "In your case, unfortunately for you, it does. I can smell it on you, remember?"

Halisstra had been listening intently the whole time, and as if she'd forgotten whom she was addressing, she said. "But you couldn't smell it on me."

"No," Wendonai said flatly over his shoulder. "I couldn't. You're Miyeritari. Not a drop of Ilythiiri blood in you. Do you know what that makes you?"

Hope flickered tentatively to life in Halisstra's eyes. Wendonai crushed it with a word: "Weak."

He laughed-great, gobbling fits of mirth. Halisstra visibly crumpled under the onslaught.

Cavatina, for her part, had to agree with the demon. Halisstra