Extinction

It looked as though Oothoon hadn't succumbed to his charm spell, after all. Nor had the aboleth matriarch been fooled by his mirror images?an illusion Oothoon had obviously seen through, since she managed to pick the right Pharaun to spit the bead of power at. She'd been teasing him with the truth, knowing he'd soon be as helpless as a flutter lizard in a web.

Launching herself out of the niche, Oothoon streaked toward the spot where Pharaun hung helpless, jaws open wide, she sucked Pharaun into her mouth. Still stunned by the blast of the bead, Pharaun didn't even have the strength to scream as the jaws snapped shut. Darkness enveloped him, and razor-sharp teeth sawed into his body.

Chapter Twenty-two

Halisstra stood near one of the trophy trees, the hilt of the songsword raised to her lips. After she'd killed the phase spider two nights before, the priestesses had let her keep the broken sword, as well as Seyll's shield and chain mail. They'd also given her back her House insignia?which Halisstra had tucked into a pocket, instead of pinning to her piwafwi?and her other enchanted rings and devices. She also still had her magical lyre, though she felt as disinclined to use it as the other things from the Underdark she had set aside. Instead she practiced on the songsword, fingers dancing as she tried to create a tune to suit the mood of the snow-dappled woods and the clouds drifting lazily overhead, as white and fine-spun as hair.

Ryld sat cross-legged on a log a short distance away, sharpening his shortsword. His eyes were squinted against the morning sunlight even though he'd chosen a spot in deep shade. He sat with his back against a large boulder, under a canopy of tree branches that hung no more than a handspan above him. He was obviously still struggling with his unease of open spaces, of having nothing but the sky over his head.

After a while, the arrhythmic rasp. . rasp rasp. . rasp of Ryld's sharpening stone grated on Halisstra's nerves, forcing her to lower the songsword.

"Ryld," she said in exasperation. "If you have to do that here, could you at least work in time with my music?"

Startled, Ryld looked up.

"Fine," he said. He crawled out from under the overhanging branches, stood, and shoved the shortsword back into its sheath. Scowling at the forest, he asked, "How long do you intend for us to stay here?"

"A tenday, a month … a year, if need be," Halisstra answered.

"Until I learn everything I can about Eilistraee's worship."

"A lifetime, you mean," Ryld said sourly.

"Perhaps," Halisstra said with a shrug, then added, "There's no one forcing you to stay, you know. You could go back to Menzoberranzan or try to find Quenthel and the others?or go to the Abyss itself, if you like."

Ryld gave her a stubborn look and said, "I want to stay with you."

Seeing the look in his eye?a human might have called it «love»? Halisstra's temper cooled.

"I'm glad," she said. "And not just for my own sake but for yours, as well. The Dark Maiden will embrace you, if you only let her. Eilistraee can show you a joy you've never known. We drow have been confined to the Underdark for too long, and it's time we took our rightful place in the sunlight?and held it, by the strength of our swords if need be."

Ryld didn't answer but instead stared up at the trophy tree. Following his gaze, Halisstra saw that he was looking at a deep, sword-shaped niche in the trunk in which two heads rested, one on top of the other. They were skeletal, with only a few clumps of black hair clinging to them, and the jawbone of the top skull had fallen away. They were human, by the shape of them, though the mouth and jaw of the bottom skull protruded slightly, and the canine teeth were overly large. The sight of them seemed to be making the hardened warrior uneasy, which was strange, since Ryld had undoubtedly seen far more gruesome sights in his career as a weapons master of Melee-Magthere.

Ryld wrenched his gaze away.

"Why Eilistraee?" he asked. "Why not worship. . Kiaransalee, or Selvetarm? His faith, at least, I could have had some part in. Or do you think Lolth's champion has suffered the same fate as his mistress?"

"Selvetarm guards Lolth still," Halisstra answered. "Vhaeraun did not defeat him."

Ryld's eyebrows raised and he asked, "How do you know?"

"Last night, Uluyara led the priestesses in a spell-song. The scrying they performed penetrated deep into the Abyss, and Uluyara was able to look briefly upon the stone that sealed Lolth's temple. Selvetarm was squatting in front of it in his spider form, wounded, but with sword and mace still in hand. He may have defeated Vhaeraun?or perhaps just temporarily driven the other god off. Uluyara was only able to get the briefest of glimpses before the water in her font boiled away."

Ryld cursed softly under his breath.

"Last night?" he asked. "So that was what all the singing was about. Why didn't you tell me this sooner?"