by Лиза Смедман
At the bottom of the stairs, away from the chilling wind of the open bluff, Halisstra paused to finger a crescent shape that had been carved into the rock.
"This was a holy place, once," she said, looking over the scatter of broken columns that lay among the snow-shrouded trees.
Ryld scowled. In the World Above, vegetation covered everything like an enormous mold. He missed the clean rock walls of the caverns, empty of the smells of wet loam and leaf that choked his nose. He scuffed at the snow with his boot, uncovering a cracked marble floor.
"How can you tell?" he asked.
"The crescent moon?it's the symbol of Corellon Larethia. The elves who once lived in these woods must have worshiped here. Their priests probably climbed these stairs to work their magic under the moon."
Ryld squinted up at the ball of fire that hung in the sky.
"The moon's not as bright as the sun," he said, "at least."
"It casts a softer light," Halisstra replied. "I've heard that this is because the gods who claim it as their symbol are kinder to those who worship them?but I don't know if that's true."
Ryld stared for a while at the ruined masonry then said, "The gods of the surface elves can't be very strong. Corellon let this temple fall into disrepair, and Seyll's goddess was powerless to save her from you."
Halisstra nodded and replied, "That's true. Yet when Lolth tried to overthrow Corellon and establish a new coronal in his place all those millennia ago, she was defeated and forced to flee to the Abyss."
"The Academy teaches that the goddess left Arvandor willingly," Ryld said. Then he shrugged. "More of a strategic retreat."
"Perhaps," Halisstra mused. "Still, I can't help but think that what we saw in the Demonweb Pits?that black stone in the frozen image of Lolth's face?was a lock, a seal that made Lolth's own temple a prison. A prison fashioned by some other god's hand. Will Lolth eventually emerge from behind it?or will she remain trapped for eternity, her magic forever stilled?"
"That's what Quenthel means to discover," Ryld said.
"As do I," Halisstra answered. "But for different reasons. If Lolth is dead, or trapped in eternal Reverie, what point is there in following Quenthel's orders?"
"What point?" Ryld exclaimed. He was beginning to see the dangerous fork in the road down which Halisstra's musings had taken her. "Only this: spells or no spells, Quenthel Baenre is both Mistress of Arach-Tinilith and First Sister to the Matron Mother of House Baenre. Were I to defy Quenthel, I'd lose my position as Master of Melee-Magthere. The moment Menzoberranzan learned of my treachery, everyone in the Academy would have their daggers out and be thirsting for my blood."
Halisstra sighed and said, "That's true. But perhaps in another city?"
"I have no desire to beg for scraps at someone else's table," Ryld said bluntly. "And the only city in which I might have made a home for myself?with the sponsorship of your House?has been destroyed. With Ched Nasad gone, you have no home to return to. All the more reason to get in Quenthel's good favor, so that when we return to the Underdark you can find a new home in Menzoberranzan."
After a long moment of silence, Halisstra said, "What if I don't?"
"What?" Ryld said.
"What if I don't return to the Underdark?"
Ryld glanced at the forest that hemmed them in on every side. Unlike the solid, silent tunnels he was used to, the wall of trees and underbrush was porous, filled with rustling and creaking, and the quick, tiny movements of animals flitting from branch to branch. Ryld couldn't decide which was worse: the shrinking feeling he'd experienced under the empty expanse of the sky; or the feeling he had then?as though the woods were watching them.
"You're mad," he told Halisstra. "You'd never survive out here alone. Especially without spells to?"
As anger blazed in Halisstra's eyes, Ryld suddenly regretted his rash words. With all Halisstra's talk of surface gods, he'd forgotten, for a moment, that she was also a priestess of Lolth and a female of a noble House, He started to bow deeply and beg her pardon, but she surprised him by laying a hand on his arm.
Then she said something, in a low murmur he had to strain to hear: "Together we'd survive."
He stared at her, wondering if his ears were playing tricks on him. All the while, he was overwhelmingly aware of her hand upon his arm. The touch of her fingers was light, but it seemed to burn his skin, flushing him with warmth.
"We might survive up here," he admitted, then wished he hadn't spoken when he saw the gleam in Halisstra's eyes.
The alliance he'd just unintentionally committed to would probably be no more solid than his friendship with Pharaun. Halisstra would maintain it as long as it furthered her goals, then would drop it the instant it became inconvenient. Just as Pharaun had abandoned Ryld, leaving him to face impossible odds, when the pair of them were trying to escape from Syrzan's stalactite fortress.
Ryld's meditative skills had saved his life then and allowed him to fight his way free. Later, when he'd met up with Pharaun again, the mage had clapped him on the back and pretended that he'd fully anticipated, all along, that Ryld would survive. Why else would he have abandoned his "dearest friend?"
Halisstra gave Ryld a smile that made her look both cunning and beautiful in one. "Here's what we'll do. ." she began.
Inwardly, Ryld winced at the word "we," but he kept his face neutral as he listened.
Danifae watched from behind a tree as Halisstra and Ryld stood in the ruined temple, talking. It was clear they were plotting something. Their voices were pitched too low for Danifae to hear, and they leaned in toward one another like conspirators. I was also clear, from the quick kiss Ryld gave Halisstra as the conversation ended, that they had become, or would soon become, lovers.
Watching them, Danifae felt a cold, still anger. Not jealousy?she cared nothing for either Ryld or Halisstra?but frustration born of the fact that she had not seduced Ryld first.
Danifae was more beautiful than her former mistress by far. Where Halisstra was lean, with small breasts and slim hips, Danifae was sensuously curvaceous. Halisstra's hair was merely white, whereas Danifae's had lustrous silver tones.
As for Halisstra's face, well, it was pretty enough, with its slightly snubbed nose and common, coal-red eyes, but Danifae had the advantage of skin softer than the blackest velvet, lips that curled in a perpetual pout, and eyebrows that formed a perfect white arch over each of her strikingly colored, pale gray eyes. An advantage she should have used earlier, judging by the display of mawkish sentimentality Danifae had stumbled upon.
Quenthel was already in play, though the older, more experienced priestess was not wholly unaware of Danifae's immediate desires. It didn't take a genius to see why Danifae had seduced the Mistress of Arach-Tinilith. It was almost to be expected.
Danifae anticipated a more complicated time of it when she'd have to take on Pharaun and Valas. The Master of Sorcere was wily. He would surely be difficult to fool once things began to turn, but his open dislike of Quenthel gave her something to use. Valas was bought and paid for by House Baenre, and that kind of gold was something Danifae wouldn't likely happen upon anytime soon. That would be delicate. And Jeggred, well. .
But Ryld, with this strange infatuation with her soon-to-be-former mistress, would be a tougher nut to crack.
What good was playing sava, she thought, if you don't control all of the game pieces?
Valas strode into the ruins, followed by Pharaun and Quenthel, and, a moment later, by the loping Jeggred. The false smile Halisstra gave Quenthel and the way Ryld deliberately met Pharaun's eyes, confirmed Danifae's suspicions. Halisstra was preparing to betray her fellow priestess and Ryld his former friend.
Danifae smiled. She didn't know what they were up to?yet?but whatever it was, she was certain it could be turned to her advantage. She walked out into the clearing, joining them.
With a quick snap of her whip, Quenthel motioned for the others to gather around her.
"Valas has found an entrance to the Un
derdark," she announced. "Once we're safely below, Pharaun will cast a spell. We're going back to the Demonweb Pits. But not all of us. One of you will carry a message back to Menzoberranzan, to the matron mother."
As Quenthel's eyes ranged over the group, Danifae noted the indecision they held. Quenthel was obviously uncertain whom she could spare?or trust. Seizing her chance, Danifae prostrated herself before the high priestess.
"Let me do your bidding, Mistress," she said. "I will serve you as faithfully as I have served Lolth."
As she spoke, she cast a baleful eye on Halisstra, hoping Quenthel would take her point. Halisstra had acted blasphemously during their recent journey to the Demonweb Pits and was not to be trusted.
Or course, neither was Danifae. She had no intention or going to Menzoberranzan if she was chosen. Not when there was a wizard in Sschindylryn who might be able to help her to free herself, once and for all, from the odious Binding that tied her to Halisstra.
Danifae felt Quenthel touch her hair, and she looked up expectantly.
"No, Danifae," Quenthel said, the touch turning into a gentle stroke. "You will stay with me."
Danifae ground her teeth. Apparently, she'd done too good a job of seducing Quenthel.
Halisstra stepped forward?and, to Danifae's astonishment, also fell to her knees in front of Quenthel.
"Mistress," Halisstra said. "Let me carry the message for you. I know that I failed you earlier, in the shadow of the goddess's own temple. I beg of you now. Please let me. . redeem myself."
"No!" Danifae spat. "She's up to something. She has no intention of going to Menzoberranzan. She?"
Halisstra laughed.
"And just where would I go, Danifae?" she asked. "Ched Nasad lies in ruins. I no longer have a House to return to. I need to make a new home for myself?in Menzoberranzan. And what better way to start than by braving the dangers of the World Above to carry a vital message to the First House?"
Danifae's eyes narrowed. She could sense that Halisstra was up to something.
"You'd travel to Menzoberranzan on the surface?" she asked, spitting out the word. "Alone? Through woods crawling with House Jaelre? You'd be captured again before night fell."
Danifae was pleased to see Quenthel nodding?she was obviously about to reject Halisstra's foolish notion and send Danifae, instead. Then Halisstra's lips quirked into a smile?and Danifae realized that, somehow, unwittingly, she'd just played right into Halisstra's hands.
"This will see me through," said Halisstra, patting the leather case that held her lyre. "I know a bae'qeshel song that will allow me to walk on wind. Using it, I could reach Menzoberranzan in a tenday, at most."
Danifae's eyes narrowed and she said, "I've never seen you use a spell like that."
"What use would it have been in the Underdark?" Halisstra said with a shrug. "There's no wind?and if there were, I'd only walk straight into a cavern wall. Regardless, I have not been, nor am I now, in the habit of justifying myself to a battle-captive. Our situation has changed some, Danifae, but not entirely."
Not yet, Danifae thought, then she grasped Quenthel's knee and pleaded, "Don't send her. Send me. If Halisstra dies, I?"
"You'd be very, very sorry, wouldn't you?" Quenthel said with a smirk. She was well aware of the particulars of the Binding. "Halisstra will go. With you here, we will be able to trace her, and at least know that she still lives. And the two of you Houseless wretches are the most expendable."
Danifae lowered her eyes in acquiescence, even though inwardly she burned with impotent anger. Halisstra, on her own in the World Above, would almost certainly be killed. It would only be a matter of time.
And when she died, the magic of the Binding would see to it that Danifae died, too.
Chapter Three
Valas felt the knot of tension between his shoulders relax?just a little?as familiar darkness enveloped him. The harsh sunlight had been left behind after the third bend in the tunnel. He could still smell the earthy tang of wet leaves that told him the Surface Realms were just above their heads, but the air around him already felt cleaner. As they descended the twisting fissure that led ever downward through the stone, he felt his eyes adjusting to the darkness. Gone was the itching glare of sunlight, allowing him to fully open his eyes and use his darkvision for the first time in too many days.
Behind Valas, Quenthel and the others followed in a line. They'd fallen quiet instinctively as soon as they'd left the sunlight behind. Even the upper Underdark could be a dangerous place for the unwary, and that particular tunnel was unknown territory. Yet compared to Valas, they hardly moved in silence. He could hear the scrape of armor against stone as someone behind him squeezed through a spot where the tunnel had narrowed, forcing them to turn sideways to slip through. A moment later he heard the scuff of a boot and a faint intake of breath as one of the females missed her footing. He turned and angrily started to sign Move more quietly to her, but dropped his hands when he realized it was Quenthel and not Danifae who had slipped. Danifae had once again positioned herself near the back of the group, just ahead of Ryld?not because of the potential dangers ahead, Valas was sure, but, with Halisstra gone, to keep a wary eye on her companions.
What have you stopped for? Quenthel signed from behind Pharaun. Keep moving.
One of the vipers in the whip tucked into her belt gave a slight hiss.
Nodding his head, Valas led the way through the tunnel once more. As before, Pharaun was close behind him, continually peering over Valas's shoulder as if he was searching for something. Ryld, on the other hand, was constantly looking back the way they had come. Whenever Valas caught his eye, the weapons master would signal that he thought someone was following them. Valas had never seen him so jumpy before.
The first two times Ryld had done that, Valas had doubled back to check for himself, but there had been nothing: no sounds, no signs of pursuit. Thereafter he ignored Ryld's anxious glances behind them.
Since Halisstra had been sent back to Menzoberranzan there were only six of them left. Personally, Valas thought that was a foolish decision on Quenthel's part. He doubted that Halisstra would make it without Lolth's magic to protect her. But no doubt Quenthel thought the same. She probably hoped to eliminate a rival priestess who might claim credit for discovering what had happened to Lolth?assuming that a return to the Demonweb Pits was even possible.
For the hundredth time since Quenthel had announced her plan to have Pharaun summon a demon, Valas wondered how that was going to help. In all likelihood, the demon would turn on them and swallow them whole without guiding them a single step of the way.
He reminded himself that the lot of a mercenary was not to question how, but to do?and bow. And so he led them on. As he moved cautiously ahead into the unknown darkness. Pharaun still crowding close behind him, Valas fingered one of the magical amulets pinned to his shirt?his lucky, double-headed coin?and hoped it would give him the edge he'd need when the demon eventually turned on them, as he was certain it would.
Halisstra stood on the bluff that overlooked the ruined temple, staring out at the horizon. The others had descended into the Underdark some time before, and the sun was slowly sinking below the horizon, painting the clouds shades of pink and gold. Though it made her eyes water to look at the sunset, Halisstra stared in fascination, watching the colors shift into ever darker shades of orange, then red, then purple, gazing as new patterns formed each time the sun's slanting rays struck the clouds at a different angle. She was beginning to understand why the surface dwellers spoke in such rapturous tones about sunsets.
As the forest below darkened, her sight began to shift toward darkvision. She could see birds flitting through the branches below and could hear the thrumming of numerous wings as a flock of birds moved through the trees toward the bluff. She'd heard that surface-dwelling creatures followed the cycles of day and night, and it struck her that Ched Nasad's magic-controlled lighting and Menzoberranzan's famous pillar Narbondel?used for marking the passage of «d
ay» and "night"?must have been holdovers from a distant time when drow still dwelt upon the surface. Had House Jaelre simply been following a call that other drow had not yet heard when they returned to the surface, forsaking the worship of Lolth?
The flock of birds had come closer, filling the treetops just below the bluff with strange whistling cries. One of them rose above the treetops, its wings beating so quickly they were a blur. Only when it was within a few paces of her did Halisstra recognize the «bird» for what it truly was. The furry body, the eight legs, the long, needle-shaped proboscis?all added up to a creature she hadn't realized was also a danger on the surface. Especially when there was not just one of the creatures flying toward her at the speed of an arrow, but dozens: an entire flock.
"Lolth help me," Halisstra whispered. "Stirges."
They were too close for a crossbow shot. Whipping out Seyll's long sword, Halisstra braced herself to meet the threat. Grimly, she realized her chain mail wouldn't be any help; the stirges' needle-thin noses would slip between its links.
As the first surge dived in to attack, Halisstra swung the long sword. It was still awkward in her grip, heavier than the blade she'd been used to. Even so, her blow connected, slicing the stirge cleanly
Then half a dozen of the creatures were on her.
For several frantic moments, Halisstra fended them off, killing two more with the sword and crumpling the proboscis of a third with a blow from the small steel shield she wore on her left arm.
She felt a piercing pain in her right shoulder as a stirge struck. A moment later, another plunged its proboscis into the back of her left leg, just behind the knee. The force of it caused her to stagger. Only by ducking frantically was she able to avoid the stirge lancing in at her neck. Whirling, she struck it with the sword as it flew past.
As still more of the creatures dived at her?nearly two dozen of them?Halisstra reached down with her shield hand and grabbed the stirge that had plunged into the back of her knee. She squeezed?and heard a satisfying pop as the creature's bloated midriff burst. Yanking it from her, she threw its body away, dimly noticing the spray of blood that had soaked her gloved hand. Meanwhile, the stirge in her shoulder continued draining her of blood.
