Ascendancy of the Last - By Lisa Smedman Page 0,18

across the face of the portal that joined the ancient mine tunnel to the Hall of Empty Arches. She shook her head. “It’s not active at the moment.”

One arch remained to be checked: the one next to it. Rylla halted in front of this arch, holding her palm above it for sevŹeral moments. Concentrating. Her eyebrows rose. “This one’s active. In one direction only: away from here.”

Cavatina leaned forward expectantly. Her sword hummed. A moment more, and the hunt would resume. “Where does it lead?”

“Nowhere. And—everywhere.” Rylla lowered her hand. “My prayer revealed a maze of tunnels that were constantly shifting. Opening to infinity, then closing in again. I think it may lead to the Deep Caverns.” She stared at the blank stone within the arch. “If the dretch went through here, it will be impossible to track.”

“I can do it,” Cavatina assured her. “The dretch must be captured and questioned. We need to learn who summoned it, and what they hoped to accomplish.”

Rylla blocked her way. “Not so fast. It could take you a lifetime to track it down in there, and we need you here.”

“I can find my way back from any—”

“You’re staying here, in the Promenade. That’s an order.”

Cavatina was about to protest, but something about the look in Rylla’s eyes halted her. The battle-mistress nodded at the arch. “The dretch didn’t get in this way—that’s a oneŹway portal.” She turned. “How else might it have gotten into the Promenade?”

Cavatina fumed, but answered the question. “Dretches are weak. This one wouldn’t have been able to breach the Promenade’s defenses on its own. The dretch must have been summoned here—summoned by someone already inside the Promenade.”

Rylla gave a tight nod. She’d already realized this much.

“Or perhaps it came here by means of a wish spell,” Cavatina concluded, still thinking of the Selvetargtlin who had carried teleportation gems into the Promenade nearly four years ago.

Rylla’s expression was grave. “I’ve ordered a full sweep of the temple, from the High House on down.”

“Remind them to report any suspicious-looking gems.”

“Already done.”

“Have the Protectors located Meryl yet?”

“Yes, praise Eilistraee. She’s unharmed.”

Cavatina sheathed her sword. “Since you won’t let me pursue the dretch, you might as well tell me why you summoned me to the Promenade. Did you have a premonition that a demon would show up here?”

“Yes, I did.” Rylla’s sending came a heartbeat later. I need to talk to you about Lady Qilué. That’s why I sent for you. Something’s … wrong with her.

Cavatina felt her eyes widen slightly. She opened her mouth to ask a question, and shut it again. She suddenly realized the dretch might be a symptom of a larger problem. It should have been impossible for it to enter the High House. Qilué’s personal wards should have banished any creature of the Abyss back to the place it came from, the instant it tried to enter her residence—especially a minor demon like a dretch. If something was interfering with Qilué’s ability to ward herŹself from a comparatively weak foe, Rylla had every right to be worried.

Cavatina nodded slightly, her eyes on the other priestesses. Rylla obviously hadn’t shared her concerns with them. Is someŹthing eclipsing Lady Qilué’s magic? Is that why the dretch—?

Later. In private.

Rylla turned to Chizra. “Guard this portal. Don’t let anything—or anyone—near it. If we manage to flush another demon out of hiding, it may head this way. It may disguise itself, as the dretch did.”

The Protector nodded grimly.

“Keep watch on each of the other portals as well,” Rylla continued. “Even the inactive ones. We can’t be certain of the status of any of them, any more. Give each guard a scroll that will enable her to seal the portal, if necessary.”

Orders given, Rylla asked Cavatina to follow her. They made their way to the battle-mistress’s residence, not pausŹing until they reached a sitting room furnished with three crescent-shaped benches that surrounded a scrying font. Tapestries on the walls showed ebon-skinned priestesses on the hunt, swords and horns in hand. Rylla’s empty scabbard lay on a bench, next to her lute..

Cavatina spoke first. “What’s wrong with Lady Qilué?”

Rylla turned—sharply—and raised a finger to her lips. No names, she signed.

The battle-mistress obviously didn’t want Qilué eavesŹdropping on whatever it was she was about to say. Very well; Cavatina would play along. For now. “Battle-mistress, I report as summoned. You said you wanted my assistance in organizŹing the patrols of the Promenade. I’m happy to advise you on how the Protectors can best be—”

“That’s enough,” Rylla