The two svirfneblin behind Q'arlynd moved right and left, flanking him. Backing him against a wall. Q'arlynd shifted his arms, trying to menace them with his wand. It fell from his withered hands and clattered to the floor. The svirfneblin who'd felled Leliana raised his hooked hammer, but the blurred gnome raised a hand.

"Hold," he told them.

Q'arlynd stared at the blurred gnome but could make out no details. He was like every other svirfneblin Q'arlynd had ever seen: mottled gray skin, bald head, just over half Q'arlynd's height, and wearing clothes the color of stone. Why had he just called off the attack?

"Flinderspeld? Is that you?"

The svirfneblin dropped his blur, revealing himself. It wasn't Flinderspeld. He had a wider forehead, one ear that cocked at an odd angle, and his hands were more heavily mottled than those of Q'arlynd's former slave. The deep gnome glanced at his two companions and said something in the svirfneblin tongue. They nodded and visibly relaxed.

"I not Flinderspeld," he told Q'arlynd, speaking in the pidgin language the races of the Underdark shared. "But I know him."

"Who are you?"

"Name's Durth."

"How do you know Flinderspeld?"

"Do business with him."

"Gems?" Q'arlynd guessed. Flinderspeld must have reentered the gem business after settling in Silverymoon. Q'arlynd wondered if the gem that had withered his arms had been destined for him. He shook his head, not quite believing the odds against this most unlikely of meetings. It made him wonder if Eilistraee really did watch over him. Or maybe she was just watching over her priestesses, he thought, glancing down at Leliana. Either way, Q'arlynd was thankful for Eilistraee's mercies. He shrugged his arms and nodded down at them for Durth's benefit. "Can you heal these?"

"No." Durth shrugged. "Maybe priestess can, if she wakes up. But she be mad at you for blinding her, I think."

The other svirfneblin laughed.

Q'arlynd silently cursed as he realized it had been Leliana who had yanked him down after he levitated. He added a silent prayer that Leliana would wake up-and not just because he needed healing. To his surprise, he found he actually cared whether she lived or died.

Durth turned to his companions and motioned for them to get the strongbox, which lay on the floor not far from Leliana. The lid hung from a single hinge and was split nearly in two-probably the result of one of Leliana's sword blows. Inside the box, Q'arlynd could see a fist-sized lump of utter blackness that made his eyes ache whenever he looked directly at it. The thing hovered at the exact center of the strongbox, not touching any of its interior surfaces.

Q'arlynd had seen something similar years before the fall of Ched Nasad. It had been housed in the Arcane Conservatory in a room with walls several paces thick. Great care had been taken so that, like the object in the strongbox, it touched neither walls, nor ceiling, nor floor: a levitation spell, made permanent and backed up by contingencies.

One of the svirfneblin picked up the strongbox and tried to force the lid shut. Q'arlynd took an involuntary step back.

"What?" Durth asked.

"That's voidstone," Q'arlynd croaked.

Even without eyebrows, Durth could still frown. "So?"

Q'arlynd was horrified. The deep gnomes obviously had no idea what they were carrying. "It's a solidified chunk of the negative energy plane," he told them, trying to quiet the inner voice that demanded he run screaming from the deep gnome who so casually held the box. "Anything that touches voidstone is instantly destroyed. If that 'rock' falls out of the box, it won't be pretty."

The deep gnome holding the strong box looked uncomfortable. He stopped fiddling with the lid.

Durth glared at his companion. "We not afraid to die," he told Q'arlynd. "Callarduran Smoothhands will-"

"No he won't," Q'arlynd interrupted. "Voidstone destroys both matter and spirit. If that chunk spills from the box, there won't be any souls left for your god to claim."

The deep gnome holding the box turned a lighter shade of gray.

Durth glared at him. "We are paid for the risk."

"By Flinderspeld?" Q'arlynd asked. His former slave should have had more sense than to handle the stuff. "I hope, for your sake, it's some serious coin he's promised you."

Durth's smirk confirmed it.

Q'arlynd nodded at the box. "Is Flinderspeld buying or selling the stuff?"

Durth's eyes narrowed. "What business is that of yours?"

"None," Q'arlynd said. "I just… hope he knows what he's dealing with, that's all."

Durth scratched behind his cocked ear. He glanced down at Leliana. "She mean anything to you?"

Q'arlynd kept his voice completely neutral. "She is the only one who can heal my arms."

Durth said something in his own language to the deep gnome who was holding the hooked hammer. The other gnome grunted. Leliana had just been granted a reprieve.

Durth glanced furtively around and crooked a finger at Q'arlynd, inviting him to bend down to ear level. Q'arlynd did, and the deep gnome whispered in his ear. "When you get close to Acropolis, hang back a little." He raised a hairless eyebrow. "Got it?"

Q'arlynd did. "The Crones," he whispered back. "You warned them Eilistraee's priestesses were coming."

Durth nodded. "Drow against drow. Seemed fitting then, but I regret it now. The priestesses don't know we play both sides, right?"

The other two gnomes shifted restlessly, as if bored with the conversation and ready to move on. The one who wasn't holding the box twirled his hammer back and forth on the cord that bound it to his wrist.

Q'arlynd suddenly realized what was going on. That last question had been the key-the reason he was still alive. He played dumb by answering it. "That's right."

"Too bad. But a friend of Flinderspeld…" Durth shrugged.

Had Q'arlynd been a surface elf, he might have been caught off guard. But Q'arlynd was a drow, born and raised in Ched Nasad. Treachery had been in the very air he breathed. The hammer twirling had been intended as a distraction; Q'arlynd had seen the svirfneblin's other hand slide stealthily into a pocket. When the deep gnome flicked a gemstone at him, Q'arlynd was ready. His cantrip required only the most basic of gestures; the caster had only to point. Q'arlynd flopped one withered arm in Durth's direction, guiding the gemstone to the deep gnome's chest. Durth's eyes widened as it struck him. Then he collapsed.

Q'arlynd lashed out with a foot. It sank into the throat of the deep gnome who'd just tossed the gemstone. The svirfneblin gasped and staggered backward. Q'arlynd twirled, causing his useless arms to windmill. He shouted out a spell as his left hand slapped the head of the deep gnome holding the box. Suddenly both blind and deaf, the deep gnome jerked in surprise. He backed away and halted. He carefully lowered the strongbox to the floor.

Q'arlynd, meanwhile, snapped a second kick at the other gnome-one that slammed the little male's skull into the wall, cracking his head against stone. The deep gnome slumped to the floor, unconscious. Meanwhile, the blinded svirfneblin blurred himself. He backed up the tunnel, trying to escape, but Q'arlynd's foot swept out, tripping him. A kick rendered him unconscious, as well.

Q'arlynd stood, panting. Durth lay on the floor a short distance away, snoring. The second gemstone, Q'arlynd realized, had contained nothing more lethal than a sleep spell. Harmless enough, but Q'arlynd was certain they'd intended to slit his throat the moment he was down.

He didn't have much time; magical sleep didn't last very long. He fell to his knees beside Leliana to listen to her breathing. It was regular enough, but she showed no signs of regaining consciousness.

"Leliana," he said, nudging her with his shoulder. "Can you hear me? Leliana, wake up!"