That argument, of course, was as thin as rotted cloth. The Crescent Blade's blessings specifically enabled it to kill by decapitation, and Ghaunadaur was a shapeless mass without a neck or a head. But perhaps Qilue was so deeply in the demon's thrall that she wouldn't think of this.

Whatever the demon might be whispering in the high priestess's ear was a puzzle Cavatina couldn't solve just now. What she could do, however, was inspect the seals on the Pit to ensure that whatever oozes slipped through the flickering breach weren't a threat to the Promenade.

Chasing after the black ooze had left Cavatina with no clear sense of which way was up. Fortunately, there was a way to figure this out. She chose a direction at random and moved until the rubble ended. Beyond it was a wall of stone that had been fused to a glassy sheen by the outpouring of silver fire Qilue had used to drive Ghaunadaur's avatar down the Pit. Turning her body so that this wall became "down," she walked along it.

After what seemed an eternity, her head bumped against what felt like a solid surface: the magical barrier that capped the Pit. It shone with a bright silver glow, blocking her way. The Promenade, she was thankful to see, was still safe from an incursion from below-by material and ethereal creatures alike.

She sang the hymn that would allow a priestess to enter the Promenade, and felt the barrier above her soften just enough to let her pass. She pushed her way up through it, into the cavern above.

Everything looked exactly as it should have. The floor was the usual smooth, raked field of stone chips, and the statue of Eilistraee was intact. Made up of tiny chips of stone, it stood on tiptoe with arms extended overhead, forefingers and thumbs touching. It moved, almost imperceptibly, in a dance that kept time with the passage of the moon through the skies of the World Above.

A Protector stood guard at the bottom of the secret staircase that wound down to this cavern. Slowly, Cavatina moved toward her, and the female's face gradually came into focus. It was Zindira, one of the priestesses who had accompanied Cavatina on the expedition to the Acropolis of the death goddess, more than a year ago. Cavatina waved a hand in front of Zindira's face, but the other priestess showed no sign of realizing she was there.

"Zindira!" Cavatina shouted, this time passing her hand back and forth through the Protector's body. "There's a planar breach at the bottom of the Pit!"

Zindira shivered. She drew her sword and glanced around.

"Yes!" Cavatina cried. "I'm here. Can you hear me, Zindira?"

A moment later Zindira shrugged and resumed her sentry's pose. She did, however, continue to grip her softly humming sword. As Cavatina shouted again, the volume of the hum rose slightly. Zindira glanced at the weapon.

Struck by sudden inspiration, Cavatina switched from shouting to singing. The sword hummed in time, harmonizing with her melody. By spacing out her words, she could make the sword's song wax and wane. She sang a battle hymn-a strident call to action. Though the song was drastically slowed, and without words, Zindira listened carefully to it. She glanced back up the staircase as if debating whether to leave her post, then seemed to change her mind and sang a quiet evocation. "Rylla, it's Zindira. Something strange is happening at the Mound. My sword is singing a warning."

Cavatina breathed a sigh of relief. Her warning had been received, if not completely understood. It was the best she could do for now.

Rylla hurried down the stairs a few moments later. Cavatina resumed her song. The battle-mistress listened to the sword, then nodded. She glanced around, then strode over to the Mound and inspected it.

"Yes!" Cavatina breathed. "That's exactly what I wanted you to do." When Rylla sang a trueseeing and stared intently at the statue, Cavatina tried to move to a spot where the battle-mistress could see her, but she was too slow. Rylla's survey of the room just missed her.

"I see nothing amiss," the battle-mistress told Zindira. "Resume your post. Be watchful. After that scare with the dretch, we can't take chances."

Zindira saluted the battle-mistress and moved back into position at the bottom of the staircase. Rylla departed up the stairs.

Cavatina clenched her jaw in frustration. Unless she could find a way to render herself material once more, she'd never be able to warn the others about what was happening below. She briefly considered following Rylla-trying to make her understand-then decided that she probably wouldn't have much luck.

She could, however, find out where that ooze had gone.

With her sword balanced on her shoulder, she climbed down through the rubble.

This time, she scrutinized the walls of the shaft more carefully. The stone was smooth for most of its length; the cracks were in the lowest section of the Pit, far below the level of the Promenade. Here, she found numerous places where an ooze or a slime might escape.

She entered the cracked wall and saw a shimmering wall of emerald green light a short distance ahead. At first, she thought it was just a passing ripple of Faerzress, then she realized it was holding steady. Another portal? With rising excitement she moved to it-only to bump into a barrier that felt as solid as stone. It appeared to be a magical ward, capable of keeping ethereal creatures at bay.

The green glow extended far above and below her, and for some distance on either side. Like the stone, it had numerous cracks, wide enough to admit an ooze, but too narrow for Cavatina to pass through. She forced herself against the barrier, hoping it would give way, but it didn't.

She pressed her eye to one of the cracks and peered inside. She saw a natural stone cavern with cracks in its walls, floor, and ceiling. The black ooze was inside the cave, slithering toward a score of other creatures: slugs, oozes, and slimes of varying hues. They sat, quivering, at the center of the room, as if waiting for something.

Several tunnels led away from the cavern. Cavatina spotted movement inside one of these: a figure walking toward the main cavern with smooth, flowing steps. It turned out to be a naked drow-an exquisitely beautiful male with eyes of a shade Cavatina had never seen before: pale green, like a newly budded leaf. The odd-looking drow moved without hesitation to the oozes, slimes, and slugs. He halted, his arms raised. As Cavatina watched, horrified, the creatures swarmed him, flowing over the drow in layers like quivering blankets. When they parted again, the drow was gone. Not even a smear remained.

"Self-sacrifice," Cavatina whispered. Had the drow been drugged? Compelled by an enchantment to offer himself to the creatures? Or had he been one of Ghaunadaur's followers, going willingly into the maws of the slime god's minions? She'd heard the fanatics sometimes did that. She shook her head in disgust.

Cavatina decided to see where the drow had come from. She made her way around the edge of the cavern to the tunnel he'd just come through. The magical barrier surrounded that tunnel, too. Like the cavern, the tunnel had numerous cracks in it-cracks that extended to the magical barrier. She worked her way around the tunnel, looking for a gap large enough to pass through. There wasn't one. She expanded her search. The magical barrier, she learned, enclosed an enormous space-an area that might be almost as large as the Promenade itself.

By pressing herself against the shimmering green glow here and there and peering through cracks, Cavatina could see what lay inside the rest of the space. Most of the areas she peered into were natural caverns like the first, but a few were proper rooms, cut from the native stone. One of these held an enormous iron scorpion that turned restlessly, its stinger tail scraping the ceiling of the too-small room.