AN: Look! An update that's actually on time! Consider it an early Christmas present, if you will.
Chapter Nine
The first thing Cavatina noticed when she woke from Reverie was the cold draft against her back. She stood, stretched, and tried to pretend that Kâras's absence didn't bother her. It was true they'd become unexpectedly close, but since they'd both expected to hate each other that wasn't saying much. He wasn't her consort. In fact, he was barely her friend. There was no reason for her to expect their lovemaking to be anything more than mutual pleasuring. No reason at all.
When she tried to dress, she realized her clothes were still folded beside the shrine where she'd left them last night when she joined her sisters in dance. With an irritated sigh, she pulled on a spare grown and went to retrieve them. On her way down the ladder she paused outside Kâras's door, wondering if she should knock, but unsure what she would say to him if he answered. In the end she climbed past, telling herself he might not even be inside. Perhaps he had left her to continue their investigation.
Though what he would investigate, Cavatina wasn't sure. They had no leads except for Balan, who, assuming he had been resurrected without trouble, could not return to the shrine through the portal until moonrise. There didn't seem to be anything for them to do except wait.
Cavatina wasn't the only one who'd forgotten her clothes in last night's wild scramble: another female was there already, gathering up a bundle of silk and leather. Cavatina recognized her as one of those who had joined in the fight against the giant spider and later helped carry Balan's body back to the shrine. The female bowed in respectful greeting to Cavatina, and something tickled Cavatina's memory.
"You're Yvonnel, aren't you?" Cavatina asked. "Rowaan said you were a good friend of Aliira."
"Very close." Yvonnel smiled sadly. "We were part of the same patrol, sent to the surface to attack an elven village. The attack failed, and Aliira and I thought we would be killed. Instead we were given the chance to find redemption." Her eyes became distant and filled with wonder at the memory of that redemption. For the first time, Cavatina felt no envy. "That was more than a century ago."
"Then you must have known her better than anyone," Cavatina said. "Did you know her consort, as well?"
"Balan? Of course. He was a sweet boy. I pray they are able to resurrect him."
"Then you don't believe he killed her."
"No!" she exclaimed. "I admit, when the Nightshadows first joined Eilistraee's faithful, I believed it was a disaster. I thought they would pollute our shrines and our faith with their dark ways, and I thought Aliira was making a mistake by taking one as her consort. But I realized I was wrong. I committed dark deeds once, too. And Balan is—was—no more evil than I am."
Cavatina struggled to keep her expression impassive. Before the Acropolis crusade, she would have agreed wholheartedly with Yvonnel's former condemnation of the Nightshadows. Although recent events had softened her views, she still found herself unable to match Yvonnel's newfound acceptance. She couldn't bring herself to entirely trust the Nightshadows—not even Kâras
The realization left her feeling uncomfortable, and she hastily pushed it aside. Yvonnel's words offered more confirmation that Kâras was right—something they would likely get absolute proof of in a few hours, when Balan returned.
"Who could it be, then?" Cavatina wondered aloud, frustrated. "Who would want Aliira dead?"
"A question I've asked myself often," Yvonnel said somberly. "In the Underdark, there are no friends, only enemies. But how can one have enemies here?"
What enemy would attack you here in the Promenade? Cavatina had asked Kâras. The enemies of Eilistraee's faithful came from the outside: monsters, goblin-kin, Lolth-worshiping drow. They never came from within, never disguised themselves as friends. Perhaps that was why the Protectors were so eager to blame Aliira's death on a Nightshadow, Cavatina reflected. It was easier to accept than the possibility that she was murdered by one of her sisters.
"Of course she had no enemies," Cavatina said slowly, wondering how Kâras would consider the question. He would never make a direct attack. There had to be a different direction she could approach this problem from. "Did anything unusual happen before she died? Did she behave strangely, or have an argument with someone?"
Yvonnel's expression sharpened. "She did have an argument with one of the petitioners, Aden'ila. The girl tried to take Balan."
Cavatina blinked in surprise. "Didn't she know he was Aliira's consort?"
"If she didn't before, she did once he told her—at knifepoint."
"What?"
"Even after Balan told Aden'ila he was consort to Aliira, she refused to leave him be," Yvonnel said grimly. "He was forced to draw steel and defend himself. Later, he confessed everything to Aliira. He was terrified, you understand, that she or Aden'ila would punish him for what happened."
"Of course," Cavatina said, not understanding at all.
"Naturally, Aliira would never do such a thing. She confronted Aden'ila, and when the girl refused to repent she went to Lady Rowaan. Some of the other females," Yvonnel continued, her eyes narrowing, "were inclined to see the matter as a simple misunderstanding, but Aliira convinced Rowaan otherwise. Apparently Balan wasn't the first male she'd tried to force."
"What did Rowaan do?"
"She assigned the girl penance." Yvonnel shook her head. "We thought that was the end of it. But now that I think on it, Aden'ila... has had some trouble fitting in here." She frowned at Cavatina. "You don't think she killed Aliira? Over a male?"
Saying I have no idea wouldn't do any favors for her reputation, so Cavatina asked Yvonnel where she could find Aden'ila, instead. She trudged off through the snow, reflecting that she was probably wasting her time. It seemed pointless to chase down leads when, in a few hours, Balan might be able to name the killer. It was such a slim lead, too. It seemed impossible that a priestess would murder her sister over a male. Of course, it also seemed impossible that a priestess would try to take a male against his will. She had heard that happened in the Underdark—but converts were supposed to leave those dark ways behind them when they came up into the light.
Cavatina found the tree that housed Aden'ila's room, but paused at the base of the ladder. The third door up on the north side—Aden'ila's door—stood a little ajar. A feeling of dread settled in the pit of her stomach. She climbed the ladder slowly, already certain of what she would find.
Just two years ago a Nightshadow assassinated a priestess here, Kâras had told her last night. She vaguely remembered the details. Rowaan had been strangled by a Nightshadow, her soul stolen as part of a plot to assassinate Eilistraee. Her room must have looked very much like this one: a chair overturned, broken pottery on the floor, and the body of a drow female sprawled face-up across the table, her eyes bulging and a deep crease across her throat.
Cavatina climbed back down the ladder and stood at the base of the tree, feeling sick and furious and betrayed. Last night, hadn't she marveled at how far she had come toward regarding the Nightshadows as allies, even friends? Ten minutes ago, hadn't she been ashamed of how far she still had to go? Hadn't Kâras spent the last two nights berating her for her prejudice—and hadn't she made a real effort to take his criticisms to heart? Yet, in return for all the faith she'd placed in the Nightshadows, she was rewarded with a priestess killed by an assassin's cord. Aden'ila might not have been perfect, but she didn't deserve to die.
"Lady? Are you well?"
Cavatina shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. A girl stood in front of her, watching her with concern. Apparently, Cavatina reflected wryly, she had once again failed to conceal her emotions.
"I need you to find Lady Rowaan for me," Cavatina told the girl. "Aden'ila's been murdered."
The girl's eyes widened, and Cavatina realized too late that her emotions weren't the only things that needed to be concealed. "Tell no one but Rowaan!" she added quickly.
When the girl had run off, Cavatina returned to Aden'ila's room. Remembering Kâras's criticisms of the "ham-fisted sisters" who had examined Aliira's room, she stepped carefully through the shards of pottery to touch Aden'ila's body. It was cold and stiff. Cavatina guessed she had been lying there for most of the day. She lay on her back, arms, legs, and head hanging limply off the edge of the table. There were scratches on her neck and blood under her fingernails from where she had clawed at the strangler's cord.
Aden'ila's sword pendant spilled from the deep neckline of her disheveled gown to lie across her breastbone. A second, longer chain twined with it, disappearing between Aden'ila's breasts. Curious, Cavatina gently tugged it free, revealing a tiny silver spider set with glittering shards of obsidian.
Cavatina snatched her hand back in shock. The spider was the unholy symbol of Lolth, and there was no reason for Aden'ila to be wearing it. Sickened by the sight of it lying beside Eilistraee's sacred symbol, Cavatina plucked the tiny sword from Aden'ila's chest and snapped the chain with a hard jerk.
She heard voices below and a few moments later Rowaan, Kâras, and Ralinn appeared in the doorway, all out of breath. Rowaan's eyes went to the body stretched out on the table and her face turned gray. Ralinn looked from Aden'ila's body to Rowaan's face, and then glared suspiciously at Kâras. Cavatina glared at Kâras, as well. Obviously the girl had not obeyed her instructions to tell only Rowaan.
Above his mask, Kâras looked puzzled, but not shocked, which was all the confirmation Cavatina needed. "You knew!" Cavatina advanced on Kâras, brandishing the sword pendant. He gave ground before her, his puzzled expression turning wary. "You knew Aden'ila was a traitor, you lied to me last night when you said you had no leads, and then you killed her after you left me yesterday!"
He stopped when his back hit the wall. "I suspected there was a traitor at the shrine," he admitted. "It would explain several mysteries surrounding Aliira's murder. But I didn't know the traitor's identity until now. How did you know?"
Cavatina drew her dagger and used the tip to lift the chain from Aden'ila's chest. The spider pendant spun and glittered in the starlight that spilled through the open doorway. Ralinn drew in sharp breath.
"I don't understand," Rowaan said, staring at the pendant in horror. "How could Aden'ila have worn that... thing? And how does it explain anything?"
"The spiders in Aliira's room." Cavatina's mind was racing, making connections Kâras must have made from the beginning—and felt no need to share with her. "A priestess of Lolth could summon a horde of them to consume the body."
"And the spider that attacked Balan in the forest," Kâras agreed. "It appeared conveniently—too conveniently. I thought I saw someone else out there, someone watching Balan. It must have been her." He tilted his head toward Aden'ila's body. "When Aliira reported Aden'ila's behavior toward Balan, Aden'ila must have killed her in revenge. It's the sort of thing a priestess of Lolth would do."
It might even have had nothing to do with Balan at all, Cavatina realized. During their confrontation, Aden'ila could have had let something slip, something that aroused Aliira's suspicions, and Aden'ila had killed her to keep her quiet.
"But Aden'ila was here more than a full change of the moon," Rowaan protested. "How could she have maintained the deception for so long?"
"I'm surprised she didn't make it even longer," Kâras said, his voice bland. "Considering how readily you accept strangers into your ranks, it would be child's play for a spy to infiltrate the shrine."
"It is because we are so accepting of strangers that we are always vigilant for spies," Ralinn countered, glaring at Kâras. "We watch new petitioners closely for signs that their conversion is not as genuine as it seems. Since you were never a petitioner," he added pointedly, "you would, of course, not know that."
Apparently unconcerned by the other male's barb, Kâras studied Ralinn thoughtfully "There were those," he said slowly, "who worshiped both the Masked Lord and Lolth, called traitor-priestesses. They were extremely rare, and trusted by neither side. The Masked Lord granted them spells of concealment, spells so strong they could hide their traitorous thoughts from their fellow priestesses, even from Lolth herself. It's possible that a traitor-priestess who survived Vhaeraun's death might still be able to work such magic. If so, she could use those spells to conceal her true alignment from you—us."
Cavatina barely noticed his slip, too overwhelmed with horror at the thought of what mischief a cleric with such power could cause. "Then you think Aden'ila was a priestess of Vhaeraun, as well? Is that how you knew what she was?"
Kâras's eyebrows drew together in a frown. "I told you, I wasn't certain of the traitor's identity until now. And," he continued quickly, as she opened her to protest, "I didn't kill her."
"But it was a Nightshadow who killed her," Cavatina persisted, frowning back at him. He had managed to convince her that the dagger in Aliira's room was a false lead, but only a Nightshadow would kill with a garrote. "Whoever he was, he must have realized what she was."
"Not necessarily," Ralinn said, reluctantly. "Aden'ila had a reputation for being... aggressive with males. If she tried to force a Nightshadow the way she tried to force Balan, he may have killed her in retaliation without ever knowing what goddess she truly worshiped."
Kâras gestured impatiently. "What does it matter why he killed her?" he demanded. "She was a priestess of Lolth. He merely saved us the trouble of killing her ourselves."
Cavatina opened her mouth and then closed it, unsure what to say. She did not entirely disagree with Kâras—but his response troubled her. She knew Vhaeraun had demanded nothing from his followers but obedience, caring nothing for their thoughts or beliefs so long as they succeeded in performing his will. Eilistraee, however, valued the truth in her worshipers' hearts, often more than she valued whether they succeeded in her endeavors. That even after two years amongst Eilistraee's faithful Kâras could not see the connection between motives and morals, between right and wrong, was disturbing.
"It matters," Rowaan said gently, "because it is the difference between murder and execution. Even if he knew what Aden'ila was, she should have been given a chance to speak in her own defense and find redemption, if she had it in her to do so."
Kâras dropped his eyes and said nothing.
"Whatever his motive for killing her, he did us no favors," Cavatina said grimly. "Short of having a necromancer speak to her shade, we have no way of knowing what she was planning."
Rowaan smiled a small, fierce smile. "On the contrary—the wild elves brought word of a drow camp in the forest."
"What?" Cavatina exclaimed. "A raiding party, here in the Misty Forest?"
"Aden'ila must have been their advance scout," Kâras said. He had been staring thoughtfully at the body, but now he raised his eyes. "We have no idea when they planned to attack. When Aden'ila fails to contact them they may wait—or they may attack immediately."
"Then what are we waiting for?" Cavatina demanded. "We must attack first!"
The next few hours passed in a flurry of preparations. Kâras volunteered for the scouting party, claiming he had little experience planning a large-scale attack and would be of no use at the shrine. Considering how opinionated he had been during the crusade on the Acropolis, Cavatina doubted this. Then again, considering how opinionated he had been during the crusade, she was glad to have him gone.
Despite her relief that Kâras was not present to argue and second-guess everything she said, Cavatina found her thoughts returning to him. With Ralinn and Iliaraena—a wizard and a priestess, both familiar with the forest—accompanying him, he was as safe as anyone spying on an encampment of Lolth-worshiping drow could be. She reminded herself that he had survived the fall of Maerimydra; he could take care of himself. Yet, to her annoyance, the worry persisted.
When the moon rose, a messenger came to tell her Balan had returned from the Promenade. Cavatina excused herself from the controlled chaos of the battle preparations. Although Rowaan was young, she was not lacking in experience, and there were many veteran priestesses to aid her.
They'd put Balan in the library with three priestesses to guard the door. Two were from the Misty Forest shrine, but the third Cavatina recognized from the Promenade. They all bowed as she reached the landing.
"Lady," Yastyrr said, "Lady Qilué sends her regards, and a message. She has examined the Nightshadow and found him innocent of Aliira's murder."
Cavatina had expected it, but she still felt relieved. She liked Aden'ila as Aliira's killer far better than Balan. She suppressed a smile and said, "Your duty here is done, then."
"I understand there is to be an attack soon," Yastyrr said, unmoved. "With your permission, Lady, I would like to remain here and assist however I can."
This time Cavatina let her smile show. "Of course. All three of you are free to join the preparations."
When the priestesses had bowed and left, Cavatina opened the door. Only a single drifting light illuminated the room, leaving it darker than Cavatina had ever seen it. Balan sat cross-legged and straight-backed in Ralinn's cushioned chair, so still he might have been a statue. When Cavatina stepped into the room he stirred as though waking from Reverie and slipped out of the chair. He bowed deeply and held the pose.
"You can stand up straight," Cavatina said, with some asperity. Accustomed to Kâras's sarcasm, she suspected she was being mocked.
At her command he straightened, but kept his eyes on the floor. Cavatina began to wonder if he might not be sincere. He was young, even younger than herself, and handsome in a delicate, fine-boned sort of way that made him look vulnerable. Cavatina was beginning to realize that this might be a dangerous combination for a male living at the mercy of Lolth's priestesses. His shoulders were tense, and he cast stealthy glances at her from under his long eyelashes, as though waiting for an expected blow.
His face was bare, and as she watched he brought up a hand to his mouth as though feeling for his mask or trying to hide his face. Perhaps both, she thought. His exposed skin reminded her of Kâras, but where the other Nightshadow had been confident and defiant without his mask, Balan was nervous and uncomfortable. She found herself wanting to put him at ease.
"Why don't you sit down?" she offered.
She dragged one of the other chairs over so they could sit facing each other. Balan waited until she was settled, and then sat on the very edge of his seat. He still refused to meet her eyes.
"My name is Cavatina," she said, wondering what she could say to make him stop being afraid of her. "I know you've spoken to Lady Qilué, and I know you were not responsible for Aliira's death. You will not be punished in any way for her murder or for any of the events of the past few days. I just want to talk to you about what happened, so we can figure out who killed her."
Now he looked at her, though only for a moment. His expression was wary. "I don't know who killed her, lady," he said.
"But you suspect."
His expression became warier.
Cavatina sighed in exasperation. "Aden'ila is dead," she told him.
His eyes widened, and then he laughed, a cold, bitter, satisfied laugh. "The Masked Lady heard my prayers for justice, after all."
It had been easy to think of him as nothing but a frightened boy, but his reaction reminded Cavatina that he was a Nightshadow, mask or no mask. She remembered that in the Underdark "justice" usually meant the destruction of a noble house after a failed attack on another house: a punishment for getting caught, rather than for doing wrong.
"You believe Aden'ila killed Aliira," Cavatina pressed.
"They had an... altercation a few days before Aliira died," Balan said. "The night of the murder, I went to see Aliira. Aden'ila was already there in her room. She claimed she'd come to apologize to Aliira, and found my bloody dagger lying on the floor. She accused me of the murder. Of course I knew I hadn't done it, but my dagger was there. The evidence was clear. I knew no one would believe me, especially with Aden'ila's word against me."
Cavatina suppressed a wince.
"I suppose her story is why an assassin was sent from the Promenade," he continued.
She stared at him for a moment, puzzled and uncomprehending, before she remembered. "No, Kâras wasn't sent to kill you. Aden'ila never came forward to accuse you." She paused. "Kâras was the one who argued for your innocence."
This seemed to surprise him. "Then... he was sent to assassinate Aden'ila?"
"No," Cavatina said. "Kâras wasn't sent to assassinate anyone." At least, she didn't think that was why Qilué had sent him. After seeing Aden'ila's body, she wasn't entirely sure.
"I don't understand, lady," Balan said. "How did Aden'ila die?"
Once again, Cavatina thought I don't know wouldn't do any favors for her reputation. That Aden'ila had been killed by a Nightshadow seemed obvious—but the identity of Aliira's murderer had seemed obvious, too. Even if Aden'ila had been assassinated, which Nightshadow had done the deed? Kâras? He had slipped out of Cavatina's room early the previous morning, about the time Aden'ila was killed, and he admitted he had suspected there was a traitor in the shrine. Yet, his protestations of innocence seemed genuine.
But then, they would, wouldn't they? that small, paranoid voice whispered in the back of her mind. Kâras was a practiced liar. How could Cavatina, who had often been teased as a child for being blunt as a maul, hope to see through his deceit?
Aware that Balan was still waiting for an answer, she said, "Did you know Aden'ila was a spy?"
Balan looked first confused, and then shocked. "A spy? A spy for—? She was a Lolthite?"
When Cavatina nodded, he laughed again, a sweet, pure laugh that took Cavatina's breath away. He suddenly looked like any of the boys she had grown up with, boys who could no more slink through the shadows and commit dark deeds than Cavatina herself. "Shadows be praised! I was afraid—"
With a guilty look at Cavatina, he stopped suddenly, but Cavatina thought she knew what he had been about to say. I was afraid Eilistraee's priestesses were no different than Lolth's, after all. For the first time, she appreciated how difficult it must be for those converts who had not experienced redemption to leave their pasts behind them, to break the cycle of treachery and mistrust bred and beaten into them by the Underdark.
And for the first time she realized, truly realized, that none of the Nightshadows had ever been redeemed.
The realization knocked the breath from her body. Every captured drow was offered the chance to convert to Eilistraee's worship, but priestesses went a step further, casting aside their dark pasts and accepting Eilistraee's light into their hearts in a moment of redemption. Cavatina knew the Nightshadows hadn't been required to do more than take the sword-oath that was administered to lay worshipers; everyone knew that. Yet somehow, in the two years the Nightshadows had lived amongst Eilistraee's faithful, no one—including Cavatina herself—had considered that the clerics should be treated no differently than the priestesses.
While Cavatina struggled to come to terms with this revelation, there was a frantic knock on the door. Before Cavatina could do more than stand, the door flew open, revealing the young girl who had played messenger for Cavatina earlier.
"Lady Cavatina!" she said, panting a little. "Lady Rowaan sent me to find you. She says the scouting party is back—and Lord Kâras has been captured!"
