up. Fortunately, there was a way to figure this out. She chose a direction at random and moved until the rubble ended. Beyond it was a wall of stone that had been fused to a glassy sheen by the outpouring of silver fire Qilué had used to drive Ghaunadaur’s avatar down the Pit. Turning her body so that this wall became “down,” she walked along it.
After what seemed an eternity, her head bumped against what felt like a solid surface: the magical barrier that capped the Pit. It shone with a bright silver glow, blocking her way. The Promenade, she was thankful to see, was still safe from an incursion from belowby material and ethereal creatures alike.
She sang the hymn that would allow a priestess to enter the Promenade, and felt the barrier above her soften just enough to let her pass. She pushed her way up through it, into the cavern above.
Everything looked exactly as it should have. The floor was the usual smooth, raked field of stone chips, and the statue of Eilistraee was intact. Made up of tiny chips of stone, it stood on tiptoe with arms extended overhead, forefingers and thumbs touching. It moved, almost imperceptibly, in a dance that kept time with the passage of the moon through the skies of the World Above.
A Protector stood guard at the bottom of the secret stairŹcase that wound down to this cavern. Slowly, Cavatina moved toward her, and the female’s face gradually came into focus. It was Zindira, one of the priestesses who had accompanied Cavatina on the expedition to the Acropolis of the death goddess, more than a year ago. Cavatina waved a hand in front of Zindira’s face, but the other priestess showed no sign of realizing she was there.
“Zindira!” Cavatina shouted, this time passing her hand back and forth through the Protector’s body. “There’s a planar breach at the bottom of the Pit!”
Zindira shivered. She drew her sword and glanced around.
“Yes!” Cavatina cried. “I’m here. Can you hear me, Zindira?”
A moment later Zindira shrugged and resumed her sentry’s pose. She did, however, continue to grip her softly humming sword. As Cavatina shouted again, the volume of the hum rose slightly. Zindira glanced at the weapon.
Struck by sudden inspiration, Cavatina switched from shouting to singing. The sword hummed in time, harmonizing with her melody. By spacing out her words, she could make the sword’s song wax and wane. She sang a battle hymna strident call to action. Though the song was drastically slowed, and without words, Zindira listened carefully to it. She glanced back up the staircase as if debating whether to leave her post, then seemed to change her mind and sang a quiet evocation. “Rylla, it’s Zindira. Something strange is happening at the Mound. My sword is singing a warning.”
Cavatina breathed a sigh of relief. Her warning had been received, if not completely understood. It was the best she could do for now.
Rylla hurried down the stairs a few moments later. Cavatina resumed her song. The battle-mistress listened to the sword, then nodded. She glanced around, then strode over to the Mound and inspected it.
“Yes!” Cavatina breathed. “That’s exactly what I wanted you to do.” When Rylla sang a trueseeing and stared intently at the statue, Cavatina tried to move to a spot where the battle-mistress could see her, but she was too slow. Rylla’s survey of the room just missed her.
“I see nothing amiss,” the battle-mistress told Zindira. “Resume your post. Be watchful. After that scare with the dretch, we can’t take chances.”
Zindira saluted the battle-mistress and moved back into position at the bottom of the staircase. Rylla departed up the stairs.
Cavatina clenched her jaw in frustration. Unless she could find a way to render herself material once more, she’d never be able to warn the others about what was happening below. She briefly considered following Ryllatrying to make her understandthen decided that she probably wouldn’t have much luck.
She could, however, find out where that ooze had gone.
With her sword balanced on her shoulder, she climbed down through the rubble.
This time, she scrutinized the walls of the shaft more careŹfully. The stone was smooth for most of its length; the cracks were in the lowest section of the Pit, far below the level of the Promenade. Here, she found numerous places where an ooze or a slime might escape.
She entered the cracked wall and saw a shimmering wall of emerald green light a short distance ahead. At first, she thought it was