Eldrinn supervised the placement of these valuables, while Alexa scribed the teleportation circle that would convey Q'arlynd and the other three masters to the ancient temple. She'd been forced to draw it well away from the city, in this damp cavern, in order to be clear of the Faerzress. The cool, bare walls with their trickles of water would have been soothing, in other circumstances.

"Qilue!" Q'arlynd hissed again. "It's time! Where are you?"

"Is something wrong?" a voice behind him asked.

Q'arlynd spun. Seldszar sat cross-legged on a drift-disc, dark lenses shielding his eyes in preparation for his imminent journey to the World Above. Lying to him would serve no purpose. For all Q'arlynd knew, the Master of Divination was already reading his thoughts. "I can't reach Lady Qilue," Q'arlynd admitted. "She promised she'd participate-that she would come the instant she received my summons. But-"

"Does she realize the importance of what we're about to do?"

"Yes. Of course. It will be of enormous benefit to her faith. If the Faerzress no longer draws the drow below, her followers will have an easier time convincing them to come to the surface."

Out of the darkness, and into the moonlight.

Q'arlynd startled. Had he just said that aloud? He cleared his throat. "Could we put the casting off for a little while? Until we've located her?"

Seldszar shook his head. "Too much is at stake. By now, spies from the other Colleges will have noticed the shifting of so many magical items. They're bound to either make a grab for them or attack our Colleges while we're away. To delay would give them time to marshal their forces-and it might cost us the other masters' support." His head shifted slightly as he scrutinized one of the crystals orbiting his head. "Speaking of which, Masters Masoj and Urlryn will be here momentarily."

"I see. This cycle, then."

"Immediately-if not sooner." Seldszar glanced briefly at Q'arlynd. "Where is Lady Qilue mostly likely to be?"

"In the Promenade."

"Describe it. And describe her."

"If she's in the temple, you won't be able to scry her," Q'arlynd told him. "The Promenade is warded against…" His voice trailed off as he saw the look Seldszar was giving him over the top of those dark lenses.

He did as Seldszar asked. When he'd finished, Seldszar chanted a divination, and sat in silence for several moments. His lips parted, as if in surprise. Then a muscle in his jaw clenched.

"Were you able to see the Promenade?"

"I was. There were no priestesses there. Every cavern I scried was awash in oozes."

Q'arlynd felt a profound sorrow. To his surprise, hearing at arm's length that the Promenade had been lost struck even deeper than watching, first-hand, the violent demise of Ched Nasad, the city of his birth. "But surely it… Qilue…"

"Is neither within her temple, nor anywhere else I can divine. She's gone."

The certainty with which Seldszar said this worried Q'arlynd. He grasped at threads. "There's another shrine, in the Misty Forest. I know the priestess who presides there. I saved her life, once. Lady Rowaan may know what's become of Qilue. Even if she doesn't, she may be able to provide someone of equal stature."

"Go then. Don't waste time."

Q'arlynd bowed. He concentrated on the burl trees that housed the priestesses, spoke a word, and teleported. An instant later, he stood in a forest beside a massive tree. A thought sent him levitating to the nearest burl. As he rose, he saw its door was slightly open. Suddenly wary, he cast a protective spell. A flick of his fingers eased the door open from afar. He peered in and saw there was no one inside. The room within the hollowed-out burl looked as though it had recently been occupied, though: clothes hung from pegs, and the remains of a meal stood on the table, next to a half-full goblet. Wind blew through the branches above, making them creak and groan.

"Lady Rowaan?" he called. "Is anyone here?" He drifted upward, and knocked on the next door. It didn't open. He tried again at another door: again, no response. He descended and stood in thought a moment, before hurrying through the forest to the shrine itself.

The dozen sword-shaped columns of black obsidian were just as he remembered them. There was no blood on the circular platform of white stone, nor any other sign of struggle. Q'arlynd, however, couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. He touched one of the sword-columns. The polished stone felt cool under his fingertips. Shouldn't there have been a priestess here, guarding the shrine?

He felt the kiira tickling his memories. You took your sword oath here.

"Yes." Q'arlynd didn't have time for reminiscences. He hurried on through the forest, hoping to hear the sound of singing above the sighing branches. It was night, and the moon was up. Perhaps the priestesses were dancing in the glade.

They weren't.

The mist that had given the forest its name swirled around his ankles like flowing water, reminding him there was one place yet to look. The sacred pool, he thought. There was always someone standing guard there. That priestess would know where Rowaan and the others had gone.

As he headed to the pool, the wind shifted. It carried a new smell to his nostrils: a stench like sour vomit. Cautiously, he approached the sacred pool. His eyes widened as he saw the tangle of toppled and rotting trees that surrounded it. The mist above the pool was a sickly greenish yellow. A bubble rose from the depths of the pool and ruptured, splattering the bushes next to Q'arlynd. Leaves sizzled, turned black, and dribbled away.

"By all that's unholy," he swore. He suddenly remembered that each of the sacred pools was connected, via portals, with the Promenade's Moonspring Portal. Had all of Eilistraee's shrines fallen?

A gurgling sound warned that the pool was about to erupt again. Q'arlynd backed hurriedly away.

What now, he agonized.

Are you the last?

"The last what?"

The last of Eilistraee's faithful.

"Impossible!" he told the kiira. "The priestesses must be around… somewhere." The emptiness of the forest, however, cried otherwise. Had Rowaan and her priestesses rushed to defend the Promenade, only to be consumed by oozes? For all he knew, the faithful at each of the shrines could have suffered the same fate: all plunging blindly into their sacred pools in an attempt to reach the Promenade, only to be consumed by the oozes that fouled them.

It must be you, then. You will be the one to call down the miracle.

"Me?" Q'arlynd laughed aloud. "I'm a wizard, not a cleric."

You belong to Eilistraee.

Q'arlynd didn't like the sound of that. It sounded too much like slavery.

We will guide you through the ritual.

"Why not take over my body and evoke the miracle yourselves?"

The prayer must be directed by the will of a living worshiper-a conduit to the goddess.

Q'arlynd nervously stroked his chin. He didn't want to think of what might follow, were he to let the other masters down. "What if I can't do it? What if it doesn't work?"

If your heart is filled with light and your cause is true, we shall not fail.

Q'arlynd frowned slightly. Those words sounded familiar-like the text of some half-forgotten spell. He glanced down at the dancing-figure glyph on his House insignia. Was he Eilistraee's? He'd spoken her sword oath for convenience's sake, but much had happened since then. He'd changed.

He glanced around the empty forest, wishing a priestess would materialize. Any priestess.

He started as a voice spoke to him. Seldszar's voice, clear and distinct, as if the Master of Divination were standing by his side. "The others are here. We're ready to teleport. Have you found a replacement?"

Q'arlynd squared his shoulders. "I have."