Lisa Smedman - Sacrifice of the Widow

Yes, the blade whispered. It quivered, slightly, leaning toward the high priestess.

Cavatina realized that Qilue' was holding out her hand, but she didn't want to give up the sword, not just then. The Crescent Blade felt so right in her grip. Her fingers seemed loath to uncurl from it.

She glanced down at the singing sword sheathed at her hip, a holy weapon of the Promenade. It was a magical weapon, yet it seemed like a novice's wooden practice sword in comparison to the Crescent Blade-in comparison to a weapon forged for slaying deities.

A sudden realization came to her then. No matter what she hunted next-no matter how powerful a demon she faced-the kill would be anticlimactic. The knowledge filled her with great sorrow.

Gently, Qilue pried Cavatina's fingers from the hilt of the Crescent Blade.

Cavatina at last let go. Strangely, her feelings were mixed. Parting with the weapon was, in some small way, a relief-and a disappointment. It would be Qilue wielding the Crescent Blade when the time came to take Lolth's life. Cavatina told herself that the high priestess was the logical choice-a Chosen of Eilistraee-but the thought made Cavatina's entire body ache. Just for a moment, she understood the envy that unredeemed females could feel for one another. For just an instant, she hated Qilue.

She stuffed the emotion down, smothering it, and asked, "What now?"

The high priestess glanced wearily around. Her eye settled on two lay worshipers-a drow female and a human male-who were removing the dead. They bowed in acknowledgement before lifting a body onto a blanket and carrying it away.

"We raise our dead and rebuild our defenses," Qilue answered. "The Promenade must be protected, and we must maintain our vigilance against the enemies that remain: Ghaunadaur and Kiaransalee." She cradled the Crescent Blade against her chest. "And we must prepare for the ultimate battle against Lolth."

Again, Cavatina felt a stab of jealousy. She stared down at the dead Selvetargtlin. "With their god dead, I suppose the Selvetargtlin will turn to Lolth-but what of the Nightshadows?"

"Eilistraee has stolen Vhaeraun's portfolio. His clerics draw their power from her, now-though," and Qilue smiled, "it may take some of them a while to realize it. When they do, they'll be ripe for redemption and ready to be drawn into the dance. Our priestesses have a lot of work ahead of them."

Cavatina gave the high priestess a sharp glance. "Nightshadows will join our ranks?"

Qilue nodded. "They already have, albeit unwittingly." She stared across the cavern, as if trying to see into the future. "There is a lot to be worked out yet."

Cavatina shook her head. If ever there was an understatement, that was it. The thought of clerics of Vhaeraun defiling Eilistraee's holy shrines with their black masks and evil deeds-especially after all that had just happened-made her flesh crawl.

"I don't like it," Cavatina said. Blunt, as usual, but it had to be said. "The Nightshadows are cowards and thieves and traitors, slinking about like-"

"People change. Even Lolth's vassals have been redeemed, including, it would seem, the Lady Penitent."

"What if they refuse redemption? What if they reject Eilistraee and choose Lolth instead? What you've done may have just made our enemy stronger."

Qilue's eyes blazed. "What I've done was necessary and inevitable."

"Even so, it worries me," Cavatina continued. "I'm sure I don't need to remind you, Lady Qilue, of the sacred teachings. Just as Selvetarm was corrupted after he destroyed Zanassu and assumed the Spider Demon's divine power, so might our worshipers be, if we accept Vhaeraun's clerics into our ranks." She paused, suddenly realizing the ramifications. "So might Eilistraee be, if Vhaeraun's evil seeps into her-"

"Enough!" Qilue's voice was sharp. "It is done. Eilistraee has slain Vhaeraun. There is no going back from that now." Her eyes bored into Cavatina's. "Do you really think, Darksong Knight, that I had not considered this before sending Q'arlynd on his mission?"

Cavatina hung her head. "Of course not, Lady." But secretly she wondered. She didn't know Qilue well, but according to reputation, the high priestess wasn't one to display anger. Cavatina's blunt words must have disturbed her. Deeply.

Then again, Cavatina realized, perhaps Qilue had been offered no choice. The high priestess must have realized what a gamble Q'arlynd's mission had been and known that it would likely fail. Without Qilue's warning, Vhaeraun might have surprised Eilistraee, even killed her. Cavatina tried to imagine Eilistraee's holy light, corrupted with creeping tendrils of shadow-to imagine herself, slowly corrupted-and shuddered.

"For now," Qilue said, "I would like you to keep secret everything Q'arlynd just told us. I would prefer the Nightshadows to think that Vhaeraun's destruction was entirely of our own devising. Remember, good will come of this. The Nightshadows will be brought into the light. Willingly or not, the drow will be brought into the light."

Cavatina bowed her head. "Praise Eilistraee," she murmured.

Her heart, however, remained shadowed with doubt.

As Q'arlynd walked away he ground his teeth at the high priestess's lack of response. He'd expected gratitude from Qilue, even praise, but she hadn't thrown him so much as the smallest scrap. Instead she'd listened to his report as if it bored her then dismissed him like a commoner. Obviously, whatever boastful report the Darksong Knight was making was more important to the high priestess.

He walked slowly, concentrating on his spell and not bothering to keep up with the two lay worshipers he was supposed to be following. He had no interest, really, in talking to Rowaan. He'd rather listen in on Cavatina and Qilue.

He walked through the temple, pretending to be on an important errand and found himself on a bridge above the river. By then, he was already almost at the limit of the spell's range. No matter, he thought. The report the high priestess hadn't wanted him to overhear was astonishing, but it was true-the death of the demigod Selvetarm, at Cavatina's hand. Still, it was of little more than passing interest to Q'arlynd. He'd learned everything he needed to…

Just a moment. What was that the Darksong Knight had just said? Had she really just uttered the name, "Halisstra"?

He jerked to a halt, listening intently.

She had.

Q'arlynd stood, utterly still, oblivious to the rush of the river below.

Halisstra. Alive.

She had been with the Darksong Knight in the Demonweb Pits when Selvetarm was slain. She'd come to Cavatina's aid when all seemed lost, but then Halisstra herself was lost, perhaps left behind in the Demonweb Pits. But-Qilue promised-Halisstra would be found again.

Elation surged through Q'arlynd. There, at last, was something he knew his way around, something he could work with. With Halisstra alive, House Melarn could be reforged. Halisstra would be its matron mother and Q'arlynd, her oh-so-obedient brother, would be the true power behind the throne. When the time was right, the pair of them would return to Ched Nasad and claim their rightful place as its ruling House. They would rebuild the city to its former glory. They would…

Q'arlynd's imaginings slammed back to earth again as he realized what he'd been overlooking. Halisstra was one of Eilistraee's faithful. If Q'arlynd did manage to talk her into returning to Ched Nasad, she'd probably insist on trying to "redeem" everyone she met. She'd last about as long as fungus wine in the tankard of a thirsty orc. Then Q'arlynd would be on his own once more-and in an even worse position than before. He'd wind up reviled. Hunted. Maybe even dead.

He ended his spell. He'd heard enough.

He stood, drumming his fingers on the rail of the bridge and thought, What now?