Ascendancy of the Last - By Lisa Smedman Page 0,44

sick bed. She even smelled bad—as if it had been some time since she’d bathed.

“Fortunately for you, Cavatina, my preparations are incomplete.”

Cavatina’s heart fell. Qilué wasn’t answering her question! Was the demon capable of resisting Leliana’s magical compulŹsion? Or was the answer simpler: that it was Wendonai who had opened the portal—if so, the demon wouldn’t have been comŹpelled to answer a question directed at Qilué. Cavatina’s hands dampened with sweat. She resisted the urge to clench her sword tighter; Qilué might spot the slight movement and attack.

Cavatina tried another question. “What preparations?”

“A symbol. Had you blundered upon that ruined temple once it was visible, that would have been the end of you. You would have wandered the Ethereal Plane forever, gibbering and broken.”

“I did see a symbol—the mark of the Ancient One. Is that the one you mean?”

“Of course not,” Qilué snapped. “I’m talking about the symbol I inscribed on top of it.”

Cavatina cautiously nodded. If there had been another symbol atop Ghaunadaur’s, she’d failed to detect it. “What symbol is that?”

“One that provokes insanity.” Qilué smirked: another expression she never used. “The idea came from Ghaunadaur’s own scriptures.” She spoke quickly, as if she couldn’t get the words out fast enough. Maybe Leliana’s prayer was affecting her. “Millennia ago, the Ancient One rendered mindless the oozes and slimes that were his original worshipers. I’m going to do the same to the drow who worship him. They’re incapable of redemption, so we’re going to destroy them instead. That’s why I opened the portal in the abandoned temple. Our spies will lure his clerics into it with a feint the fanatics can’t help but follow. Especially once I open the door for them.”

“You’re going to allow Ghaunadaur’s fanatics to enter the Promenade?” Cavatina gasped.

Qilué missed the point. “They won’t realize we’ve ‘allowed’ it. Each group will think it’s mounting a sneak attack. They’ll never realize that others have preceded them, since the ones who have gone before won’t be in any condition to warn them, once the trap is sprung. They’ll all walk into it one by one, as meek as rothe.”

Cavatina was absolutely certain that this was Wendonai speaking. Qilué would never have slain drow outright—even those who worshiped so vile a god—without first offering a chance at redemption. Nor would she have allowed the Promenade’s defenses to be compromised.

“When are these ‘sneak attacks’ to begin?”

Qilué smiled. “My plan is already in motion.”

Leliana broke in. “But Lady Qilué, if the symbol is not yet visible—”

Qilué whirled around. “I know what I’m doing! Your opinion is not wanted, Protector.”

Leliana stood, her mouth open. Her fingers spread slightly, and her posture shifted. In another moment she’d lunge for her singing sword. Behind Qilué, Cavatina frantically shook her head. Not yet! Play along! she signed.

Leliana bowed. “Lady, my apologies for speaking out of turn.”

“The plan has its merits,” Cavatina said, trying to draw the high priestess’s attention back to her. “But the Protectors will need to be notified.”

“Of course,” Qilué said without turning around. She pointed at Leliana. “They just have been. A little sooner than I would have liked. There may be spies among us.”

“Not among the Protectors,” Leliana assured her.

“Not among the priestesses, you mean. There are Nightshadows whose loyalties I’m less certain of.”

She at last turned to Cavatina. “You can see why I’ve been so short-tempered, of late. It’s a big gamble I’m taking—but one that, if all goes well, will prove as rewarding as our assault on the Acropolis.”

Cavatina nodded, trying not to betray the tension she felt. “I don’t like it,” she said. “It’s too risky.” Then she shrugged, as if in resignation. “But I bow to your greater wisdom, Lady Qilué.”

“As do I, Lady,” Leliana echoed.

For a moment, no one spoke. Then Qilué nodded. Cavatina relaxed—a little. Hopefully, Wendonai was arrogant enough to think he’d fooled them.

A knock sounded on the door. As Qilué crossed the room to answer it, Leliana caught Cavatina’s eye. Her hand nicked a word: What—?

Ask to leave.

“Lady,” Leliana said. “May I check on Naxil?”

“Not yet,” Qilué said without turning around. “There’s more we need to discuss.”

“Agreed,” Cavatina interrupted. “And the battle-mistress should hear it. Leliana, go find Rylla. Ask her to join us.”

“No!” Qilué snapped. Her hand was on the door. “Remain where you are, Leliana. I’ve already sent for the battle-mistress.”

Cavatina’s heart sank. She could think of only one reason for Qilué to keep the Protector here: Wendonai hadn’t been fooled. And it was worse than that. As Qilué turned