Ascendancy of the Last - By Lisa Smedman Page 0,91
by the ceiling. Inside the hoop, a spider descended on a thread of silk. The high priestess coaxed it in the direction she wanted with a morsel of raw meat, her free hand slowly guiding the hoop. The metal grated softly against the chain as it turned. She caught the spider and deftly moved it to the side, adherŹing the strand to the hoop. The final strand in place, she transferred the spider to her shoulder, and inspected its handiwork. Within the hoop was a five-pointed star, made entirely from web.
“We can begin.”
T’lar nodded. She slipped the spike-spider into her belt pouch and wiped her bloody palms against the thighs of her skin-tight tunic. “Summon him.”
The high priestess flicked the iron hoop, setting it spinning. Then she picked up a candle. She held it a moment near her face and invoked Lolth’s name. As she did so, the flickering light illuminated her elaborately coiffed hair, obsidian blood-drop earrings, and silver crown. Only a short time ago, that crown had graced the head of Laele Zauviir, but the Spider Queen’s temple in Sshamath had a new high priestess, now. Streea’Valsharess Zolond was much stronger than Zauviir had beenready to grasp power in her own two hands, instead of licking up the crumbs the Conclave offered.
Streea’Valsharess Zolond touched the candle to the web inside the hoop. The strands of spider silk ignited. Sustained by magic, they continued to burn. “Lords of the Abyss, hear my command,” she intoned. “In Lolth’s name, send forth the demon Glizn.”
A puff of yellow smoke erupted out of the center of the spinning hoop, filling the chamber with an acrid stench. Smoke drifted toward the spider carvings adorning the ceiling. A stationary figure appeared within the hoop, held by the burnŹing web while the hoop spun around it: a tiny demon, barely twice the length of T’lar’s hand, with batlike wings. It looked like a quasit, except that its skin was black and dry, instead of oily green. Instead of the usual horns, it had stiff white tufts of hair growing from its scalp. The demon’s red eyes were too large for its face, and their expression was one T’lar was used to seeing on the faces of her targets. Fear. Deep inside those eyes, someone screamed.
The high priestess laughed. “What lovely irony! Whatever happened, quasit, to flip things inside out?”
T’lar glanced sideways at the high priestess.
Streea’Valsharess Zolond gestured at the demon, and chuckled. “Until recently, one of Q’arlynd Melarn’s apprentices wore this demon.”
“And now the quasit wears him?”
“So it would seem.” She chuckled. “I’d been wondering why we hadn’t heard from Glizn. I assumed it was because ‘Piri’ had been found out by his master, and slunk away.”
The demon tugged, but failed to free its wings from the burning web. It shifted into centipede form, then into a squat toad, but still wasn’t able to escape. At last it let out a thin squeak. “Why have you summoned me?”
“Where is Q’arlynd Melarn?” the high priestess said.
“I don’t know!” the quasit squeaked. Fear oozed from it like a bad smell. “I haven’t seen him since my lord called me back to the Abyss. So you might as well unbind me, and send me back, since I can’t help you to”
The demon’s voice suddenly deepened. Words jerked from the tiny mouth. “I… can… find …”
The quasit snapped its jaw shut, biting its own tongue.
The high priestess studied the bound demon, her head cocked to one side. “Piri? Was that you who answered just now?”
The demon’s face contorted from one emotion to the next: fear, anger, determination. A hiss escaped its lips. It might have been a yes.
“How can you find him?” T’lar demanded. “Tell me.”
The demon’s jaws creaked open. Shut. Open again. “Scry” the deeper voice said. Then the mouth snapped shut. One hand jerked. A finger twitched.
The high priestess pointed at a tiny copper band on the quasit’s finger. “How will you scry him? With that ring?”
The quasit’s head jerked sharply: a nod.
The high priestess reached for it.
“No! Only … I… can …”
The high priestess scoffed. Her fingers closed around the ring.
T’lar caught her arm. “Leave it.”
The high priestess glared at her.
T’lar pointed out the obvious. “If it were possible for either of us to use the ring, the apprentice wouldn’t have told us about it.” She stepped closer and pinched the demon’s tiny chin. The quasit tried to bite her, but she held it fast. “Stop that!” she ordered. “Let Piri speak.”