by Lisa Smedman
Cavatina winced. Before Eilistraee subsumed Vhaeraun's worshipers, Qilue would have said "up into the light," not, "to the World Above." Cavatina resisted the urge to rub her temples. The thought of what the goddess had become pained her.
You and Karas must work together, Qilue continued.
Cavatina's jaw clenched. If that is your command, Lady Qilue, she answered, I will obey it.
It is.
The fact remains that males are not permitted to sing in the Cavern of Song, Cavatina shot back, still glaring at Karas.
That, too, is something that must change. I will remedy it at once.
Cavatina was furious-but she was smart enough to know she needed to salvage the situation, and quickly. She spoke to Karas in sign. I have spoken to Lady Qilue. You may sing with us. Stay or leave the cavern, as you please.
A moment later, several other priestesses cocked their heads slightly, listening. Cavatina heard the proclamation herself. Qilue told the faithful that Vhaeraun's former clerics-those who had embraced their god in his new aspect of the Masked Lady-were welcome to join the holy chorus in the Cavern of Song.
Karas slid his dagger back into its forearm sheath and inclined his head. Slightly. "I look forward to working with you on our expedition to the Acropolis, Lady Cavatina."
Cavatina's eyes narrowed. Two could play at this match. "As do I," she parried, her voice cold as steel, "with you."
CHAPTER 5
Q'arlynd watched as the slaves manacled the chitine to the experimentation chamber's wall. Though the chitine wore the slave ring, it had a strong mind, highly resistant to enchantments. That might allow it to last a little longer than the other subjects, but strength of will made it difficult to handle; it kept shaking off Q'arlynd's mental control.
The chitine was thin and barely as tall as Q'arlynd's shoulder. In contrast, the gray-skinned grimlock slaves were taller than humans and powerfully muscled. Yet even they had a hard time forcing the chitine's fourth arm into a manacle. The chitine's oily skin made it difficult to grapple. Wrenching its arm free, it sank the hook in its palm into the shoulder of the larger grimlock, tearing a bloody gash. The grimlock yelped and slammed a fist into the chitine's face, knocking its head back against the wall. The chitine sagged at the knees and slowly shook its head, its multifaceted eyes unfocused.
Q'arlynd clenched his fist around his master ring. "No more of that!" he snapped at the grimlocks. "I need it awake and undamaged."
He forced the chitine to stand upright, and held its body still while the grimlocks completed their task. They were sightless creatures with only vestigial eyes. Though they couldn't see Q'arlynd standing with his arms folded, they could hear his impatient foot tap and smell his irritation. Q'arlynd knew this would be his last chance to experiment on the kiira before being sent away.
The chitine at last secure, the grimlocks turned and bowed to their master. Each cocked an oversized ear in his direction, awaiting his command. Blood dribbled down the injured one's arm and puddled on the floor.
"Go to the kitchen," Q'arlynd ordered. "Have the cook wash out that wound and bind it. Then eat; there's fresh meat for both of you."
The grimlocks broke into wide grins. They bobbed their heads and hurried from the room, heads tipping this way and that as they listened for the sounds of their footsteps echoing back off the walls.
Eldrinn sat in a corner of the room, watching, his spell-book lying open across his lap. Despite its ornately tooled leather cover and pages edged with gold, it held only a handful of minor spells. Eldrinn's clothes were equally decorative. He wore an embroidered purple piwafwi over a white shirt and trousers that helped make his brownish skin seem darker than it was. His waist-length hair was neatly combed straight back from his high forehead and was bound in a silver clip that rested against the small of his back.
He shook his head. "Wash and bind the wound? You're coddling those grimlocks. That wound will heal by itself."
Q'arlynd gestured at their captive. "Look at the chitine's hands; they're filthy. The wound could fester. No sense in wasting a good slave."
Eldrinn closed his spellbook and laid it on the table beside him, next to a wooden box. "There's plenty more where they came from."
"Slaves are expensive."
"So what? We can afford a dozen of them."
Q'arlynd sighed. The younger wizard had an intuitive grasp of magic that was well beyond his training and years, but what he knew about handling slaves wouldn't have filled a bunghole. Loyalty had to be built, one brick at a time. It couldn't be beaten into a slave. Whippings only produced fear and resentment-and a smoldering desire for revenge. Something Q'arlynd had learned early in life, as a boy in House Melarn.
Eldrinn, however, had grown up in Sshamath, the pampered and indulged son of the master of the city's College of Divination. The closest he'd ever come to anything resembling a matron mother's wrath was when he'd been teleported home by Q'arlynd a year and a half ago, mind-damaged and dragging behind him the powerful staff he'd "borrowed" from the master's private study.
Seldszar Elpragh had paid for the expensive spell that had cured his son, then raged at the boy for going off, with only one soldier accompanying him, to indulge in "pointless poking about" in the ruins of the High Moor. He'd cut off Eldrinn's stipend for a month-no real punishment. His son, he later admitted to Q'arlynd, was more valuable than any staff.
Q'arlynd had to agree, but for different reasons. Eldrinn not only had access to Master Seldszar's deep coin purse, but also a residence of his own that was perfect for secluded experimentation. And his thirst for arcane knowledge and the power that came with it equaled Q'arlynd's own. The boy acknowledged Q'arlynd as his superior in the Art and was keen to make good on the debt that he owed the older wizard for his rescue. He was almost pathetically grateful to Q'arlynd for being invited to participate in the experiments on the kiira Q'arlynd had "found" on the High Moor. Best of all, he had absolutely no recollection of ever having possessed the stone himself. All memories of his trip to the High Moor had been wiped from his mind, except for the odd muddled flash.
Which was precisely why Q'arlynd had encouraged the boy to participate in his experiments on the kiira, and why he kept Eldrinn by his side as much as possible. If Eldrinn suddenly remembered something about his expedition to the High Moor, Q'arlynd wanted to be the first to hear about it.
All he had to put up with in return were Eldrinn's incessant comments on how he should discipline the slaves.
Q'arlynd walked over to the chitine and grabbed the creature by the hair. It opened its eyes and strained at its manacles, hissing. Baring its teeth and clicking its curved mandibles, it attempted, futilely, to bite Q'arlynd's arm.
Q'arlynd examined the back of the creature's head. "No real damage done." He released the hair and stepped back.
"You should have whipped the grimlocks, just the same. Both of them."
Q'arlynd ignored the younger male's comment. He didn't want to get caught up in another lengthy debate. Too much rested on this experiment. "What about the others? Are they on their way?"
Eldrinn closed his eyes and toyed with the copper ring Q'arlynd had given him. Faerie fire danced across his closed eyelids as he used the ring to view the others from afar. "Piri's driftdisc is just passing the Web. Zarifar and Baltak are en route from the Quillspires; they should be right behind him."
"Good."
Eldrinn opened his eyes. "Could Alexa-?"
"No."
"But she's one of the most promising apprentices the College of Conjuration has. She created a sigil that-"
"We've been through this before," Q'arlynd said. "No." He knew why the boy wanted him to invite the female wizard to join their fledgling school: he was her consort. Which was exactly the reason Q'arlynd didn't want her. He didn't need her bedding any of the others, stirring up petty jealousies.
Eldrinn pouted but didn't protest further.
Q'arlynd tapped his foot impatiently. As they waited fo
r the others, he performed an exploratory thrust into the mind of the chitine, ignoring the faerie fire that sparked from his temples as he did so. The chitine's mind was difficult to penetrate-and brutal to remain in, once he was inside.
Hate you, the creature raged back at him. Kill you, filthy drows. Hook open stomach, spill your feces. Kill-
Enough. Satisfied that he would be able to retain contact, Q'arlynd withdrew.
He stared at the creature, wondering why the wizards of Ched Nasad had ever bothered to create such a loathsome race. When Q'arlynd was a novice, chitines had been plentiful; the breeding pits of the Conservatory had been full of them. The masters used to set dozens free each year, to provide sport for the hunt. But now that Ched Nasad lay in ruins, chitines weren't being bred any more. And those that had escaped were hunting drow.
The chitine was a living reminder of Ched Nasad's former prowess at magic. As for Q'arlynd's former home, it had fallen during Lolth's Silence. Literally fallen to pieces, leaving only a rubble-choked cavern where a city of thirty thousand drow had once stood. The survivors were doing what they could to resurrect the city from the rubble, but even if they rebuilt everything from the rudest slave hovel to the grandest noble House, it would never be the same.
Q'arlynd's House-House Melarn-was gone for good.
The college he was creating would fill that void, but unless today's experiment succeeded, Q'arlynd's dream might never come to fruition.
The hiss of a driftdisc halting in the hallway announced Piri's arrival.
Piri entered the experimentation chamber with a quick sideways step, his back against the wall. His eyes darted around the room, as if searching for hidden threats. No matter how safe the venue, Piri always seemed overly cautious. How much of this was his own nature and how much was the result of the quasit demon he'd bonded with was hard to say.
The demon's skin had replaced Piri's own, giving his face and hands an oily, greenish tinge. The bonding made Piri quicker and tougher, and resistant to both fire and ice, but it gave his eyes-already too close together above a beakish nose-an unsettling glint. His hair, cut close, stood up in white tufts that would eventually fuse into spikes.
Piri claimed to have complete mastery over the demon he'd bonded with-quasits were among the lowliest of demonic creatures-but Q'arlynd wondered if the wizard wasn't already regretting the bonding. Piri had been all too quick to abandon the College of Mages for Q'arlynd's as-yet unproven school.
Perhaps Piri hadn't been welcome at his former college, despite his skill in piecing together arcane texts. Q'arlynd, however, recognized his worth. From imperfect copies of the original spell, Piri had cobbled together a Ritual of Bonding-and made it work. That was proof enough of his skill.
Piri nodded without speaking at Q'arlynd and Eldrinn: two quick jerks of his head. Sparkles of purple crackled at his temples. Q'arlynd felt the brush of the other mage's mind. To show he held no threats, he permitted Piri a quick glimpse of his surface thoughts.
Eldrinn stiffened and clenched the hand that wore the copper ring. He locked eyes with Piri, and faerie fire sparkled on both male's foreheads: dark purple from Piri's; blue-green from Eldrinn's.
"Satisfied?" Eldrinn asked.
Relaxing only slightly, Piri retreated to a spot at the back of the chamber and folded his arms.
A moment later, Zarifar and Baltak arrived.
Zarifar was tall and thin, with tightly kinked hair-a rarity among the drow. It surrounded his head in a white fuzz that he never combed; tufts of it stood out like bits of coiled wire. Perpetually dreamy and unfocused, he bumped into the doorjamb as he entered the room, and blinked as though he'd just noticed where he was. When greeted, he nodded and mumbled a vague hello.
Q'arlynd didn't need to dip into Zarifar's mind to know what it would be filled with: intricate geometric designs, expressed in complex mathematical formulae that made Q'arlynd feel as simpleminded as a goblin struggling with the grammatical complexities of High Drowic.
Zarifar was a brilliant geometer mage, no doubt about it. Yet he wandered through daily life like a child. He hadn't joined Q'arlynd's school on his own. He had to be led by the hand into it.
The wizard who had done that was as different from Zarifar as light from shadow. Baltak lived entirely for his body; the transmogrifist was continually sculpting it in an effort to attain the perfect form. He wore tight-fitting pants that hugged his muscular legs, and a shirt he left unbuttoned to show off the exquisitely honed muscles of his chest and abdomen. Currently his "hair" consisted of yellowish feathers, lying flat against his head and neck and sprouting from the points of his ears. His bare feet were wide and flat, with curved black claws on the toes that clicked against the stone floor as he walked-another hallmark of the owlbear that was currently his favorite creature to transform into.
Baltak strode into the room, his presence immediately filling it. He punched Piri lightly on the shoulder, ignored the withering glare he got in return, and flipped shut Eldrinn's spellbook. Fists on hips, he grinned at Q'arlynd with perfect white teeth. His deep voice boomed. "Well, looks like we're all here. Let's get this experiment rolling."
Q'arlynd pointed at a spot across the room from Eldrinn. "Stand over there, Baltak," he said. "You're blocking my view of the chitine."
"Whatever you say, Q'arlynd," Baltak answered with a half-chuckle. He snapped his fingers in front of Zarifar's nose, startling the geometer mage. "Come on, Zarifar. You heard him. Move!"
As the pair took their places, Eldrinn set his spellbook on the table beside him and rose from his seat. He closed the door and sealed it with a sprinkle of gold dust and a spoken word. The experimentation chamber had been magically screened to prevent scrying. Even so, Q'arlynd had taken additional precautions.
He gestured for Eldrinn to bring him the wooden box that lay on the table. With its crude decorations and sloppy construction, it looked like something an orc might have banged together. Yet only the correct combination of touches to its sides would open it. Inside it was the kiira, nested in a lining of ensorcelled chameleon skin. Any wizard scrying the box would perceive its contents to be a commonplace magical item that only the most unschooled novice would covet. Certainly unworthy of opening.
At Q'arlynd's touch, the puzzle box sprang open, revealing the kiira. He hid his smile at Eldrinn's slight intake of breath. The boy was always awed by the sight of the magical crystal, no matter how many times he saw it. Zarifar seemed oblivious to the magical treasure, but Baltak moved closer to stare down at the lorestone as if it were a delicious morsel waiting to be devoured. Piri kept his distance, eyeing the kiira with equal parts curiosity and caution.
Baltak reached for the kiira. Q'arlynd jerked the box aside. "Eldrinn will do it, this time."
Baltak's feathers lifted slightly from his scalp, but he otherwise hid his irritation well. "As you say," he rumbled.
Carefully, Eldrinn lifted the kiira from the box. Q'arlynd had never allowed him to touch the lorestone before; he'd been worried that it might trigger memories. But given their imminent departure, that was a risk Q'arlynd was willing to take. If the boy did remember something, it might even prove helpful.
He watched Eldrinn closely, but the boy's expression didn't change.
"Press it to the chitine's forehead," Q'arlynd instructed. "But not until my signal. I want to make certain I'm deep inside its mind before we begin."
Eldrinn nodded. He walked to the chitine and stood, the lorestone carefully cupped in his hands.
Q'arlynd raised his hand. "Link your minds with mine."
One by one, the other wizards activated their rings. Faerie fire sparked from their foreheads, the varied hues blending as they drifted through the room. Q'arlynd felt Baltak shoulder into his mind like a bear. A heartbeat later, Eldrinn stepped in. Piri lightly touched Q'arlynd's mind with his own, hesitated, then slid in partway. Zarifar drifted in last. His mind traced an imaginary pattern between the bodies of the five wizards, a complex spiral of ove
rlapping ovals.
Q'arlynd closed his eyes and thrust his awareness deep into the chitine's mind. For several moments, the creature's rage held him at bay. Then he pushed past it. Viewed through its multifaceted eyes, Q'arlynd and the other wizards appeared as looming giants-a multitude of them.
Q'arlynd flicked his raised hand: the word now in silent speech.
Through the chitine's eyes, he saw Eldrinn reach forward. He saw-and felt-the kiira briefly touch the chitine's forehead, but then the lorestone fell away. Q'arlynd's eyes opened just in time for him to see the precious crystal clatter to the floor. Eldrinn scrambled to recover it, a horrified expression on his face. Q'arlynd felt Piri tense and heard Baltak's derisive snort and his mental sneer-fumblehands-overlaid by the chitine's cackle of wild laughter.
Q'arlynd choked the laughter off by mentally slamming the creature's jaw shut. That, at least, he could control.
Eldrinn rose, the kiira in his hands. "It's not broken," he said in a relieved voice. He glanced at the chitine. "It's the greasy skin. The kiira wouldn't stick to the chitine's…" Suddenly, his eyes grew as distant as Zarifar's. "Grease," he said slowly. "On its head." One hand drifted up to touch his own forehead.
Q'arlynd broke his mental connection with the other wizards. He knew that look: Eldrinn was struggling to remember the events that had transpired on the High Moor. Q'arlynd let a hand drift behind his back, where the preliminary motions of his spell wouldn't be seen by the others.
"What is it, Eldrinn?" he asked softly.
An intense frown creased Eldrinn's forehead. "It's… I feel as if…" Then he gave a frustrated grimace. "I can't remember."
Q'arlynd watched him a moment more, decided the boy wasn't lying, and let his spell dissipate. He plucked the kiira from Eldrinn's hand and gestured at the chair in the corner. "Sit down, Eldrinn," he suggested. "You don't look well."
Eldrinn nodded. He sat down, picked up his spellbook, and began leafing through it, as if hoping to find the answer there.
