"That's right," the demon panted, his breath hot in her ear. "You can never be redeemed. Never."

Tears squeezed from Cavatina's closed eyes and trickled down her salt-encrusted cheeks. "I can never be-"

Suddenly, she realized the flaw in the demon's logic. If descendants of the Miyeritari were free of demonic taint, they didn't need to be redeemed. Yet redemption existed. The ritual had to have been created for a reason, and the ritual itself gave the answer. Redemption required the penitent to look deep into herself, to confront the evil that lay within her very soul. To pry that evil-that taint-out of the darkness that enshrouded it and expose it to Eilistraee's merciful light and-

Yes, daughter. Yes!

Cavatina couldn't have said, in that moment, if it was the single voice of Eilistraee herself speaking or a chorus of voices. Thousands of souls, speaking with one heart. Priestess and lay worshiper, female and male, Dark Maiden and…

Nightshadow.

Cavatina blinked. If a Nightshadow could be among the redeemed, why couldn't she?

Yes, the voice said again.

Cavatina could hear the deeper tones that underlay the word. Bass, baritone, soprano, and alto, all blended into the single voice that was the Masked Lady.

Cavatina wept openly. Relief flooded her. She no longer feared Wendonai's taunting, or any physical cruelties he might inflict. In that moment, nothing but one simple fact mattered.

"I am redeemed!" she cried.

The demon reared back, his eyes blazing with fury. Then he threw back his head and howled.

In that instant, Halisstra lunged.

Q'arlynd, Eldrinn, Daffir, and Gilkriz followed the priestesses along the abandoned mineshaft. Leliana had ordered one priestess to wait at the spot where Cavatina had last been seen. Q'arlynd was thankful she'd stopped insisting that he go. That left four priestesses under her command. Each took a turn at scouting, ranging ahead of the others and returning to report their findings to Leliana with quick, concise hand signals. Leliana replied with the briefest of gestures, constantly cautioning silence. Each faint grunt, scuff of a foot, or creak of a leather pack brought a warning glare. The Faerzress probably wasn't helping. Its sparkling blue glow threw everyone into silhouette.

Gilkriz walked just ahead of Q'arlynd and Eldrinn; Daffir trailed behind. Every few hundred paces, the diviner paused to close his eyes. Whenever he did, he leaned on his staff, bending forward until the wood touched his forehead.

What's he doing? Q'arlynd signed.

Eldrinn glanced ahead at Gilkriz, making sure the conjurer wasn't "listening" in. Making sure we don't encounter any surprises, I guess.

Q'arlynd nodded. He'd made discreet enquiries about the staff after returning the feebleminded Eldrinn to Sshamath. He knew everything a staff of divination could do. If there were secret passageways, concealed by magic or mundane means, Daffir would spot them. He'd also be able to see, even with those weak human eyes of his, anything that was invisible or otherwise hidden by magic.

Q'arlynd might have been using his crystal to do the same, had he not been drow. Have you noticed'? he signed to Eldrinn. Daffir keeps looking up at the ceiling.

I noticed. Eldrinn clambered over a fallen beam and waited while Q'arlynd did the same. The boy nodded down at the rotten timber. Maybe he expects another of these to fall. Let's hope, when it does, it lands on Gilkriz. He shrugged. Though Daffir was wrong about the direction the threat came from, last time. Remember he said it was going to rise out of the lake?

The boy had that wrong, Q'arlynd thought. Daffir had said no such thing. The human had warned that something was approaching. Something big. And it had. He'd predicted not where it had come from, but where it would end up: in the lake. Dissolved to a slurry and washed away.

He'd seen into the future. A common enough accomplishment for a wizard who specialized in divination, but Q'arlynd was starting to wonder if it had been a spell that had been used. Daffir, he recalled, had pressed the staffs diamond to his forehead in just the same way before making his prediction.

They ducked under a sagging beam. Q'arlynd brushed away the cobweb that snagged his hair and flicked a hand to get Eldrinn's attention again. Your father's staff. Does it hold magic that will reveal the future?

That wouldn't surprise me. It would explain why the diamond is shaped like an hourglass.

Q'arlynd thought back to when he'd first met Eldrinn, out on the High Moor. Even feeblewitted, the boy had held on to the staff, rather than dropping it in the dust. Part of his spell-blasted mind had recognized it as valuable. As being important to his quest.

Q'arlynd caught the boy's eye. Could the staff also reveal the past?

I… An odd expression contorted Eldrinn's face-as if he had been about speak aloud but had suddenly forgotten what he was going to say, I suppose so, he signed at last.

Q'arlynd laughed aloud. Could the answer to the riddle of Kraanfhaor's Door really be that simple?

Gilkriz glanced back at them.

So did the priestess just ahead of them, who flicked a warning. Quiet!

Q'arlynd signed a quick apology. Its insincerity was betrayed by his grin, but he didn't care. Hundreds of kiira shimmered in his imagination. Thousands of them. He knew how Eldrinn had opened Kraanfhaor's Door: by using his father's staff to look back thousands of years to the time of ancient Miyeritar. The boy had watched one of the original dark elves open it.

Q'arlynd could do the same-all he needed was that staff.

What is it? Eldrinn asked.

Q'arlynd forced the grin from his face. I'll tell you later.

A few moments later, he sneaked a glance behind him. The dark lenses that hid Daffir's eyes made it almost impossible to read the human's expression. What's more, Daffir seemed as capable as any drow of hiding his thoughts. If he used his divinations to foresee Q'arlynd's treachery and decided to pre-empt it, there would be little warning.

Q'arlynd would have to be careful when he made his move.

Very careful indeed.

Halisstra watched as the demon worked its torments. Cavatina lay on her back, helpless and weeping, the antithesis of the proud Darksong Knight she'd once been. Wendonai was deep inside her mind, teasing out jagged scraps of shame and loathing. Flaying her, body and soul, until she lay weak and trembling before him.

Halisstra knew just how that felt.

The massive wound the demon had inflicted upon Halisstra earlier had healed itself, bones knitting and organs and flesh growing back until only a shadow of pain remained. She could breathe without the sharp lance of agony that had blotted out all else. Even the callus was gone from her hand; only a faint pucker remained.

She stared at Wendonai's broad back, her eyes spitting hatred. She'd given him what he wanted: a plaything. She hadn't been stupid enough to expect the demon to keep his promise-freedom would be denied her-but she had expected him to return her to Lolth. Wendonai had no further use for Halisstra, after all. Now that she had delivered the Darksong Knight to him, she was insignificant, a creature to be ignored.

That burned.

Still, it might be to her advantage. With Wendonai's attention wholly focused on Cavatina, Halisstra might escape. She would use her bae'qeshel magic to render herself invisible and…

As soon as she thought that, she cringed. The demon would hear her thoughts!

She waited, wincing in anticipation of his blow. He couldn't kill her. Not without Lolth's complicity. But he could hurt her. Hurt her badly.