Q'arlynd felt his body stiffen. Unbalanced, he toppled over. He landed heavily on the ground next to Flinderspeld, narrowly missing winding up with his face in the fire. The earthy smell of fallen leaves filled his nostrils.
He heard Rowaan chanting. Suddenly, he could see his nose again. His invisibility had been dispelled.
Leliana rolled him over. She poked his shoulder with the point of her sword, notching a shallow wound in his flesh. If he'd been able to, Q'arlynd would have yelped.
Leliana smiled. "You're wondering what just happened."
Indeed he was.
Leliana flipped up the back of Flinderspeld's vest and pointed at something: a glyph, drawn on the inside of it. Q'arlynd didn't recognize the glyph, even though it was written using the drow script. It must have been sacred to Eilistraee.
"Rowaan got the idea from watching you reading your belt," Leliana told him.
Q'arlynd's eyelids were still working, so he gave an involuntary blink of surprise. He barged his way into Flinderspeld's thoughts. The deep gnome was the only one who knew where Q'arlynd kept his travel "spellbook," but Flinderspeld gave the equivalent of a mental head shake. He hadn't told the priestesses.
Q'arlynd decided that Rowaan was more cunning than he'd given her credit for. She must have spied on him, on an earlier occasion, as he'd replenished his magic.
Leliana let the vest fall. "The glyph was triggered by whatever spell you just tried to cast on your former slave," she told Q'arlynd. Her eyes were gleaming, triumphant. She took great pleasure in having outwitted him.
Eilistraee's priestesses, he decided, were no different from any other females. He'd been stupid to let down his guard around them.
"Now you're going to tell us who you really are," Leliana continued, "and why you're so keen on meeting Qilue."
With that, Leliana spun her sword around her head, repeating the prayer she'd used earlier, casting a truth spell. Inwardly, Q'arlynd smiled. She would no doubt remove the magical hold only from his mouth and leave the rest of his body enspelled, and when she did, a word would suffice. He'd strike both priestesses blind, dispel the magic that held him rigid, and teleport away with Flinderspeld.
Leliana touched his lips, freeing them, then held the sword over his head.
Q'arlynd tried to cast his spell. His mouth, however, refused to cooperate. Concentrate as he might, he couldn't speak the arcane word that would trigger his spell. Instead, he found himself meekly answering Leliana's questions, while the rest of his body remained stiff and uncooperative. He told her about finding the sword-tokens on the priestess's body, about taking the magical boots and rings for himself, about the rock that had struck her dead.
At this, Rowaan gasped then exchanged a pained look with Leliana.
"Where is her body?" Leliana asked.
"In Ched Nasad. I rendered it invisible then left it where it was."
"And her pendant?"
"Taken by Prellyn."
"Who's Prellyn?"
"Weapons mistress of House Teh'Kinrellz, the House I was serving."
She let that go without further explanation. "Where are the other sword-tokens she was carrying?"
"Hidden, together with the boots and rings, except…" Q'arlynd tried to choke back the rest but couldn't. "Except for the one that's sewn into the collar of Flinderspeld's new cloak."
Leliana signaled to Rowaan. The other priestess ran her hands along the deep gnome's collar, located the sword-token within then cut the seam, removing it. Q'arlynd was relieved when she didn't search the cloak further. Inside the hem were things he'd prefer to keep.
Q'arlynd continued babbling as Leliana questioned him some more. He confirmed that he was, indeed, a Melarn, and Halisstra's brother, that he had used the portal because he was curious about his sister's fate, that he had no intention of converting to Eilistraee's faith but wanted to meet Qilue so he could offer his services to her as a battle mage.
By the end of it, when Leliana at last touched his lips again, stilling them, he was sweating. The priestess stared down at him, her expression grim. She was thinking, no doubt, about the priestess who had died in Ched Nasad. She obviously intended to execute him, but not swiftly-she wasn't nearly enraged enough. She was probably trying to decide which bits of him to slice off first. She was a female, after all, and drow females delighted in nothing so much as torture.
If Q'arlynd had been capable of it, he would have cupped his hands protectively over his groin. That was usually the spot the blade sliced first. It always, the females agreed, produced the most amusing screams.
Leliana glanced at Rowaan. She said something to her in the drow's silent speech-holding her hand where Q'arlynd couldn't see it. Rowaan glanced briefly down at Q'arlynd then shook her head.
Leliana sheathed her sword and drew a dagger. She bent down and grabbed Q'arlynd's piwafwi and lifted him slightly from the ground. Behind her, Flinderspeld leaned forward, struggling to speak. His lips struggled to form a word.
Q'arlynd barely managed to prevent his eyes from widening in surprise. The hold spell Leliana had cast on Flinderspeld was wearing off. The deep gnome's hands twitched slightly as he strained against the spell's ebbing magic. The moment that hold spell ended, Q'arlynd could use the deep gnome as a distraction. He thrust his awareness deep into Flinderspeld's mind, preparing to take it over…
And nearly lost his connection, so surprised was he by what he heard. Flinderspeld hoped to plead with Leliana to spare his master's life! Or to grab the priestess's hand, if need be, to prevent her from harming Q'arlynd.
It was inconceivable. Slaves simply didn't do that, especially slaves who had recently been promised their freedom by that very same priestess. Q'arlynd wondered what Flinderspeld thought he could gain through such an action. Something, surely.
Leliana, meanwhile, moved her dagger closer to Q'arlynd's throat. His punishment was about to begin. Q'arlynd wished he could close his eyes. In another instant, the priestesses would carve off something painful. Judging by where the knife was, it would probably be the flesh of his face or throat. He braced himself, mentally whispering a prayer to Lolth. A token effort, really, but the goddess was just capricious enough that she might allow his soul to enter her domain once he was dead.
A horn sounded deep in the woods, a strident blare, loud and long.
Both priestesses were startled. The horn sounded again, a sharp, complex series of notes.
"An attack on the shrine," Rowaan said, her voice tense.
Leliana nodded.
Rowan gestured at Q'arlynd. "What about…?"
"We leave them," Leliana said. She used her dagger to slice the cord around Q'arlynd's neck and let him fall back against the ground. When she stood, the sword-token was in her hand. "Let's move."
She hurried off into the woods.
Rowaan lingered just long enough to glance down at Q'arlynd. "Redemption is still possible," she whispered. "One day, you might find it in you to-"
"Rowaan!" Leliana shouted from the woods.
Rowaan jumped, then turned and ran after her companion.
A moment later, Flinderspeld began to move. Slowly and stiffly. Q'arlynd knew how he felt. His own body tingled and his joints felt as stiff as a haunch of thawing meat. He stared up at the deep gnome, still not quite believing what he'd overheard in his slave's thoughts.
When Q'arlynd could move again, he used Flinderspeld to lever himself back to his feet. Despite the gnome's small stature, Flinderspeld proved a surprisingly solid anchor.
Leliana hadn't taken Q'arlynd's wand. An oversight, surely.
"What now?" Flinderspeld asked. Belatedly, he added, "Master."
What now indeed, Q'arlynd wondered. Admit defeat, teleport back to the portal, and return to Ched Nasad? He sighed. The prospect of digging through the ruins and groveling to Prellyn for years on end didn't really appeal to him. Nor was there much to be gained by it. If Prellyn had wanted to formally recognize him as her consort and give him a position within her House, she'd have done it long ago. All Q'arlynd would ever be to House Teh'Kinrellz was a fetch and carry boy, one whose talents were wasted on levitating rocks and ferreting out magical trinkets from the heap of rubble that had once been his home. His own House had trained him as a battle wizard, a caster of fireballs and ice storms. He'd wondered, those past three years, if he'd ever get to use those spells again.