Ascendancy of the Last - By Lisa Smedman Page 0,68

been given permission to move, Abyss take her—but a whisper of song distracted her. It was coming from the webs on the throne. Halisstra cocked her head, listening. The voice belonged to T’lar, the assassin who’d been the first to accept penitence and redemption.

Lady Penitent, the webs sang. News from Sshamath.

Halisstra dropped the priestess and climbed back onto her throne. Sing on, she ordered. It had better be good news, she thought. She wasn’t in the mood for more insolence.

Streea’Valsharess Zauviir is dead. The temple is ours.

Halisstra barked out a delighted laugh.

There is something else you should know. There is a wizard in Sshamath who opposes us.

“Hardly news,” Halisstra laughed. “All of Sshamath’s wizards are hostile.”

This one will bear watching. His name is Q’arlynd Melarn.

Halisstra’s breath caught. Her brother Q’arlynd, alive? “Impossible! He died in the collapse of Ched Nasad!”

The webs fell silent for a moment. Halisstra frowned. “T’lar? Are you still there?”

I do not believe the one who calls himself Q’arlynd Melarn to be an imposter, Lady Penitent, T’lar sang back. He told the Conclave he had a sister who was a bae’qeshel bard—a sister who died. He said her name was Halisstra Melarn.

“Halisstra!” Halisstra howled. She broke into shrill laughŹter. “She’s Halisstra no more. She’s—” Suddenly realizing what she was saying, she snapped her mouth shut. Her spider legs drummed against her chest; She forced them still with an effort. “Describe this wizard,” she ordered.

T’lar did.

The description fit. It was Q’arlynd. Halisstra shook her head, wondering how he’d managed to escape the golem. Not to mention getting crushed by the stones of a falling city.

There is one thing more, Lady Penitent. Q’arlynd Melarn has taken Eilistraee as his patron.

Halisstra’s eyebrows rose. “He has? How dare he!”

He refuses to repent.

Halisstra’s lips curled in a sneer.

Lady? T’lar’s voice asked. What is your will?

Halisstra clenched her fists; her claws dug into flesh. “If he is Eilistraee’s,” she said slowly, “he must die. Kill him.”

It will be my pleasure.

And his pain, Halisstra thought grimly. She laughed at her own joke.

The webs in her throne vibrated, shaking off the last drops of the dead priestess’s blood.

CHAPTER 8

Cavatina startled at Qilué’s message. “A new high priestess?”

Leliana’s head lifted sharply. She’d been in Reverie, her sword across her knees and her head bowed. “What’s happened? Has Eilistraee spoken to you?”

“Not Eilistraee—Qilué.” Cavatina repeated the sending she’d just received.

“Was it Qilué?” Leliana looked nervously around. “Or another of the demon’s tricks?”

“I’ve no idea.” Cavatina rubbed her forehead. Was it just her, or had the world grown heavier, of late? “I’m not certain about anything anymore.”

Leliana said nothing.

Cavatina realized the other priestess had been looking for strength, for leadership—for the Slayer of Selvetarm to come up with a way out of here.

Cavatina wished she could help. Yet there seemed little she could do. She squinted against the green glow that filled the chamber. The magical barrier resembled an overbright Faerzress; she supposed it might very well be. It was difficult to see through it, to the cavern’s stone walls. If Cavatina had been a wizard or a druid, she might have bored a hole through that stone with magic, or transmuted the stone to mud. Then she and Leliana could have dug their way out with their bare hands, just like a—

Cavatina gasped. That was it! They couldn’t dig through solid stone, but there were creatures that could. She thought back to those Kâras had listed when they’d planned their assault on the Acropolis. A purple worm would be too danŹgerous—it might swallow Leliana and Cavatina whole. An umber hulk was too volatile to control. Rather than dig, it would do its best to claw them to pieces. Delvers, however, were generally docile creatures. And—she smiled as her eye fell on the gilded pedestal—they were drawn to metal. Especially gold.

None were creatures that prayers would ordinarily summon, but with Eilistraee’s blessing—with a miracle—it might be possible. Cavatina squared her shoulders. There was only one way to find out if it were possible.

She outlined her plan to Leliana. The other priestess nodded. “Do you really think it will work?”

“Eilistraee grant that it does.”

They dragged the pedestal across the chamber and leaned it against the fused door. At Cavatina’s nod, each lifted her holy symbol and walked in a slowly widening spiral, singing her prayer. Cavatina reached out with her mind to the celestial realm. Her mind’s eye ranged over a host of creatures—lesser animals, elevated to celestial status, their bodies glinting with the metallic sheen that was the