Ascendancy of the Last - By Lisa Smedman Page 0,104

whirled to grab a corked vial from a shelf behind her. “Hold spell!” she shouted. “While her mouth is open, if possible.”

Laeral barked an enchantment that rendered Cavatina rigid, her mouth gaping in mid-shout. When the Darksong Knight toppled, Laeral caught her and eased her statue-stiff body to the ground. Kaitlyn uncorked the vial and poured the potion into Cavatina’s mouth. “Quickly now,” she said. “Dispel the hold, or she’ll choke.”

Laeral did. She took a quick pace back as Cavatina’s body slackened, but the expected outburst didn’t come. Instead of raving and nailing, Cavatina held her head in her hands. “I failed,” she said in an anguished voice. “The Promenade is lost.”

Laeral kneeled beside Cavatina and placed a hand on her shoulder. “What’s happened? Tell me.”

As Cavatina spoke, Laeral’s heart sank. The Promenade, fallen to Ghaunadaur’s fanatics? His avatar, released from the Pit? “Oh, Qilué,” she said softly. “It’s worse even than you thought, sister.”

Cavatina wrenched around to stare at Laeral. “Where is she? Where’s Qilué?”

“In trouble,” Laeral said. “She needs your help.” As conŹcisely as she could, she told the Darksong Knight what Qilué had done to herself. Cavatina’s face paled at the news, but as she continued listening, she climbed to her feet and took a deep breath.

“We’re going to need Qilué to rally the priestesses and retake the Promenade,” Cavatina said, her voice firmer now. She reached for her scabbard, realized it was empty, and looked around the shop. “Where am I? Is there a sword to be had?”

Laeral glanced at Kaitlyn. The shopkeeper started to shake her head, then shrugged. “There’s my sword of mercy. Hardly a suitable weapon for slaying a demon. It’s ensorcelled so that it will not kill.”

Cavatina held out a hand. “I’ll take it.”

Laeral nodded to herself. With Qilué’s body housing the demon, they needed something that could subdue, rather than kill. She pulled a gem from her belt pouch. “This should pay for the sword,” she told Kaitlyn. She pressed the gem into the shopkeeper’s hands.

Kaitlyn glanced down at it. “Too much,” she said. Then she smiled. “But I’ll keep it on deposit. Return the sword to me when you’re done.”

She pulled the weapon from behind the counter. To Laeral’s surprise, the sword was made of wood. Judging by the way Cavatina hefted it, however, the weapon seemed to have the weight of a normal sword. Its magic shaped it exactly to the Darksong Knight’s scabbard as she sheathed it.

Laeral caught Kaitlyn’s eye. “Not a word of what you just heard. To anyone.”

Kaitlyn touched one of the clumps of fragrant herbs that hung from the rafters. “I swear it, by the Mother.”

Laeral glanced outside, through a slit in the window shutŹter. The crowd that had followed them to the shop lingered, talking with animated gestures. “We’ll use the other exit, if you don’t mind, Kaitlyn.”

The shopkeeper moved aside the curtain that separated the front and rear of her shop. “This way.”

She led them down a hidden staircase, through a short tunnel, and up a ladder that led to the back room of a nearby shop. Laeral and Cavatina exited, and hurried through the streets to the portal that would return them to Waterdeep. On the way, they conferred in hushed voices about what was to be done.

The first thing to do, they agreed, would be to force Wendonai back into the Crescent Blade. That would require an exorcism. “It will have to be a powerful one,” Cavatina said. “We’ll need as many priestesses as we can gather. We’ll remove Qilué to hallowed ground—to the Dancing Dell in the Ardeep Forest. We’ll channel the power of the Ladystone.”

Laeral nodded. “But what of the binding? How can we remove Qilué from the throne?”

“Describe again what you saw in the vision.”

Laeral did.

Cavatina shook her head. “I don’t think Wendonai was bound. If he had been, he wouldn’t have been able to break the octogram with his hoof.”

“Then why did the demon submit?”

“Because Lolth ordered him to. She hoped he’d seed my ancestors with his taint. The coronal didn’t summon him. Lolth sent him.”

“But that would mean …” Laeral felt the blood drain from her cheeks.

Cavatina completed her thought. “That it wasn’t a binding rooting Qilué to the throne, but something else: Lolth’s invisŹible webs.” She shuddered, and glanced at Laeral. “Which goddess do you honor?”

“Mystra.”

“Pray to her,” Cavatina said grimly. “Pray that it isn’t too late—that Lolth hasn’t already claimed Qilué.”

Q’arlynd paced across the cavern where the teleportation circle was being drawn, fighting off