At least this time, they had an idea of what kind of attacks to expect. They needed to stay clear of the nagas' tails, while also avoiding any spells they might hurl. Jarial and Ghleanna whispered hurriedly about what sort of sorcery to use. In spare moments of the journey, they'd been working to expand their arsenal, developing new spells based on magic that opponents had used against them, and they were eager to try out some of the new incantations in combination with their old standbys. Kestrel gave one ear to them while keeping the other tuned to Corran's conversation.

"Have you seen any activity around the castle?" one of the hissing voices inquired. "We hear a dracolich has made his lair there."

"Really? Where within the castle?"

Kestrel had to give Corran credit for improving his subtlety skills. The paladin injected a casualness into his tone that he could not have felt.

"Inside a cavern, far below. From what we understand."

Ghleanna and Jarial settled on their spellcasting plan. Jarial murmured to Kestrel not to forget Borea's Blood, which she carried in a beltpouch. "Ozama's ice knife had the power to paralyze. The shard blade may have a similar effect-worth a try, anyway."

The sorcerers waved their hands, casting protective spells, including one on Corran, who, from his spot in the doorway, now chatted with the nagas about a marble idol of Llash, the snake god of poisons, that they had raised in the ruined shrine. When the mages were finished, they nodded in unison. Kestrel glanced around, lifting her hand, then brought it sharply down, signaling the attack.

Jarial and Ghleanna moved in first, each casting an offensive spell on a different naga. From Jarial's fingers a lightning bolt seared one of the creatures with electrical energy, lifting her off the ground and propelling her across the room to land at the base of the statue. Before the other naga comprehended what happened to her sister, Ghleanna struck her with the same fiery evocation that Preybelish had used against the half-elf.

Durwyn followed the magical attacks with a pair of arrows. He missed Jarial's naga, but Kestrel caught the creature between the eyes with a dagger. The beast's head thumped to the floor.

"One down!" Durwyn shouted. Already, Kestrel breathed a little easier.

Beside her, Jarial began a second incantation. The injured naga rose, parts of her charred purple flesh still smoking. Hatred seethed from her gaze as she took in the party. "Vile humans!" She started a spell of her own.

Just as Jarial seemed about to complete his casting, he suddenly flew back and sprawled facedown on the ground. A hole in his back welled blood.

Kestrel spun around. A third naga had stolen up behind them, unheard in the noise of battle, and struck the human sorcerer with her tail.

"Arrogant wanderers!" the creature hissed. "How dare you bring violence into our place of worship?" She swung her tail again, this time aiming for Kestrel. The thief ducked and rolled away from the giant snake, but the creature drew back its tail for a second attack.

"Your place of worship?" Corran sputtered. "You blaspheme a house of Mystra with your profane idol!" He grabbed his warhammer and swung it against the black marble statue of the snake god, breaking off one of its three heads.

"No!" The naga's tail dropped in mid-swing, her attention fully drawn to Corran.

The injured naga finished her spell, directing it at Ghleanna. Three bursts of dark magical energy sped toward the half-elf. When they came within a foot of her, however, they bounced off a shimmering barrier and harmlessly sputtered out.

"Llash damn you to the Abyss!" the thwarted creature swore.

Corran swung his warhammer at the base of the idol. The marble fractured, and the top-heavy sculpture wobbled. The paladin threw his weight against it, pushing it toward the monster. The idol tottered. Corran threw himself at the statue once more, this time toppling it onto the injured naga. It landed on her head with a mighty crash. The creature's body jerked spasmodically, then fell still.

"Llash! Aid your servant!" the remaining naga cried. Unable to tear her gaze away from the fallen statue, she seemed oblivious to the enemies surrounding her. She slithered toward the idol.

Kestrel took advantage of her distraction to hurl Borea's Blood. The ice knife caught the creature in the throat just below her head. The naga couldn't even scream before the paralyzing cold numbed her upper body. Her head fell to the floor, where Durwyn easily removed it with a stroke of his axe.

The moment he struck the death blow, a loud hissing commenced outside the ruined shrine. Not another naga? Kestrel didn't think so-this was a different sort of hiss, like that released by the last few drops of water in a pan boiled dry. She cautiously approached the doorway and peered out

The amber pool was evaporating so rapidly that steam billowed into the sky. As the foul water dissipated, the land around it returned to health. Greenery once again graced the area surrounding the ruined shrine, and patches of blueglow moss appeared.

Kestrel turned to the others. "The pool's gone!" Then an idea struck her. "I'll be right back," she called over her shoulder as she dashed out the door. She dug up a patch of the healing moss and brought it inside for Jarial. Ozama's boots had saved him once again from the naga's poison, but the creature's barbed tail had inflicted a nasty wound. As Kestrel applied the moss to the sorcerer's back, the air in the ruined shrine suddenly chilled.

"Where are the followers of Mystra?" beseeched a forlorn voice. The sound seemed to come from above. They all looked skyward-to find their view of the clouds veiled by a translucent ceiling.

The ruined walls of the shrine seemed to be restored, but in a shimmery, intangible state. At the same time, the Llash graffiti faded. All around them, features of the former temple reappeared-statues, tapestries, ritual objects. The ghostly shrine looked as it had centuries ago, before war brought it to ruin.

"Those faithful to the Goddess of the Weave-are they no more? Where are the servants of Mystery?" The plaintive voice echoed throughout the spectral building, but the speaker remained unseen.

"There are many who yet serve you in our time, my lady," Corran called to the air.

Kestrel stared at him. "You think that's actually Mystra's voice?"

He shrugged. "Perhaps."

"Where are the followers of Mystra?"

Kestrel didn't believe they heard a divine call. Wouldn't a goddess, of all people, know where her followers were? As it was, the voice held such melancholy that she didn't think she could listen to it much longer. "Can we leave before whoever she is drives us mad?" She retrieved her weapons and went to clean them on the grass outside while Durwyn helped Jarial to his feet.

When she returned, Corran still cast a searching gaze heavenward. "She sounds so sorrowful," he said. "We should try to help her."

The sad voice stirred a response in Kestrel as well-not that she'd ever admit that fact to Corran. Unlike the quixotic paladin, she knew they couldn't afford any more tangential delays. "Like we helped Nottle? Look what that cost us."

The words came out more sharply than she intended. Corran turned his head away, but not before she saw a look of bitter regret cross his features. Apparently, the paladin felt the responsibility for Emmeric's death more keenly than she'd realized.

"All right, then," Corran said quietly, his back to them all. "Let us go."

Injured, tired, and nearly out of spells, the party voted to visit Beriand and Faeril before returning to the House of Gems. Though the elven shelter lay out of their way, there they could find healing and a safe place to rest

Kestrel hadn't apologized to Corran for her earlier barb about Emmeric, though her conscience pricked her. The delight she'd expected to feel at having discovered a way to wound him hadn't materialized. She felt more hollow than anything else. There was no satisfaction, she realized, in causing a companion the chagrin his unguarded response had revealed.