She didn't stir.

Q'arlynd stood. The strongbox had been knocked over in the scuffle. Fortunately, the voidstone hadn't spilled out; magic held it in place. Gingerly, he touched his foot to the box and rocked it upright. Then he noticed something. The spot where the box had just lain glowed slightly brighter than the rest of the floor. Curious, he used his foot to ease the box to a different spot and tilted it until the open top was close to the floor. Once again, the Faerzress brightened to an eye-hurting hue.

He rocked the box upright again. With a thought, he summoned up faerie fire, clothing his body in a sparkling violet radiance. He lowered one of his withered hands to the box-taking great care not to actually touch its contents-and saw the violet glow intensify.

He straightened and nodded to himself. Qilue had been right about who was behind the augmentation of the Faerzress, as well as the involuntary manifestations of faerie fire by Sshamath's mages. Whatever the Crones were doing with the voidstone that the deep gnomes were supplying was causing both effects.

He stared down at the strongbox. The chunk of voidstone it held would be the expedition's way in. They could disguise themselves as deep gnomes, carry the voidstone to the Acropolis, and learn what the Crones were up to. Put a stop to it. End the crisis and ensure that the College of Divination would not fall.

Q'arlynd smiled. "Thanks, Eilistraee," he said, only half-jokingly. He nudged Leliana again with his foot, glancing warily at the prone bodies of the deep gnomes. "Now if I could just ask one more favor of you…"

Leliana, however, remained unconscious.

Durth snorted in his sleep and rolled over.

Q'arlynd grimaced. Then he remembered what Cavatina had told him, during the briefing. Perhaps Qilue would know what to do.

He whispered her name. A heartbeat later, her voice filled his mind. Q'arlynd? What is it?

"The svirfneblin," he said aloud. "They betrayed us. They're trading with the Crones. Supplying them with voidstone." Swiftly, he summed up what he'd just learned, capping it with the fact that he and Leliana were alone-and in trouble.

I will tell the others.

"They're too far away to get here in time! And these svirfneblin may wake up at any moment. Leliana's unconscious, and my arms are withered. I can't very well drag her away. We need your help. Is there anything you can do?"

No. But there's something you can do. Pray.

With that, the communication ended.

Q'arlynd raged at the high priestess's sudden dismissal, even though it was to be expected. He was expendable. Despite his vital discovery of the voidstone.

He stared down at Leliana, then at the slumbering and unconscious svirfneblin. The answer was simple, of course. He could just walk away and leave her there. It was the logical thing to do. The only sane thing to do.

Instead he fell to his knees. Pray, Qilue' had said. He snorted. As if Eilistraee had time to listen to him. But he was willing to give it a try. If it didn't work, he'd go. At least then, if the deep gnomes killed Leliana, it would be Eilistraee's fault.

He flopped one arm toward the unconscious priestess, moving it until his hand touched her holy symbol. Resting his useless fingers on it, he mumbled a prayer. "Eilistraee, it's uh, Q'arlynd. I pledged myself to you a couple of years ago. I need your help. Leliana needs your help. Heal her."

Durth stirred again. Still asleep, but starting to wake up.

Leliana remained unconscious. Q'arlynd's prayer hadn't worked.

He stood. That was it. He was out of there.

Leliana's eyes fluttered. "Q'arlynd?" She winced, as if speaking had hurt. One of her hands lifted slightly from the floor, grasping weakly.

Q'arlynd fell to his knees beside her and gripped her sleeve with his teeth. He lifted her arm, positioning her hand over her chest, above her holy symbol. He released his grip, and her hand fell on the miniature sword.

"Leliana, you need to heal yourself. If you don't, we're in big trouble."

Leliana nodded weakly. Her lips began to move. Her prayer came in whispered snatches, but a melody was there. Slowly, her voice strengthened. The song's final note burst from her lips with a joyous peal, and her head wound vanished. She sat up, looked around at the svirfneblin, and immediately grasped her sword. She climbed to her feet, murder in her eye.

"Wait!" Q'arlynd said. "We need them. They're our way into the Acropolis. Heal me, and I'll deal with them."

Leliana gave him a suspicious look but eventually nodded. Touching her holy symbol a second time, she sang out a prayer. Q'arlynd sighed in relief as a tingling rushed through his arms. A moment more, and they were functional again. He flexed his fingers and grinned.

"Remember that trick I pulled on the lamia, back when we first met?" he asked.

Leliana nodded.

Q'arlynd grabbed one of the deep gnomes and dragged him over to where Durth lay. "Haul that other one over here. Once I've trapped them, you can use that truth-compelling prayer of yours. These three were on their way to the Acropolis to deliver the contents of that strongbox to the Crones. They're about to tell us everything we need to know in order to do the same."

Leliana raised her eyebrows. "You missed your calling," she said as she grabbed the other unconscious deep gnome and dragged him across the floor. "You should have been a Nightshadow."

"Perhaps I should have," Q'arlynd whispered to himself. Then he cast his spell.

CHAPTER 10

Cavatina levitated up the mineshaft, fully on alert. The description the Protectors had given of the "demon" matched Halisstra, but Cavatina was still cautious. As she rose, she pulled the stopper from her iron flask. If this turned out to be a demon after all, she'd trap it.

She landed softly at the lip of the shaft and looked around. The cavern was wide and filled with ancient debris. Tunnels led off from it in three directions. The glow of the Faerzress contrasted with the dark shadows of fallen timbers, winches, tangles of wire, and other abandoned equipment. Halisstra might have been hiding anywhere.

So might any number of undead.

"Halisstra?" Cavatina called softly. The sword in her hand hummed softly, a precaution against enchantments.

She heard a scuffling in the tunnel to her left. "Halisstra?" she called again, slightly louder. She walked in the direction of the noise.

Something scurried up a support beam beside her. Cavatina turned. A rat stared down at her from a sagging roof timber, eyes gleaming. It regarded her a moment, then scuttled away.

Cavatina stood in silence, wondering if Zindira might have been seeing things-shadows turned into demons by an overactive imagination. Zindira was a Protector, and well trained, yet the encounter with the undead head might have left her jumpy.

Something touched Cavatina's shoulder. She whirled and brought her sword into play. At the last moment, she halted her thrust.

Halisstra stared down at the sword point that touched her midriff, just below the lowest of the eight spider legs protruding from her chest. Her bestial face twisted in a pout. "Is this how you greet a friend?"

Cavatina took a step back, sword still at the ready. If the creature was a demon, somehow impersonating Halisstra, it was doing a fine job of it. "Is that really you, Halisstra?"

"You want proof?" The fangs protruding from her cheeks twitched. She pointed at Cavatina's breastplate. "Those dents: they're from Selvetarm's teeth. You were in his jaws-helpless-when I passed you the Crescent Blade." She cocked her head. "That's something I'll bet the ballads don't tell."

Cavatina nodded. Indeed it wasn't. She lowered her sword. "Halisstra."