"Quickly," he whispered in High Drowic that had the distinctive accent of someone from Ched Nasad. "Before the monster returns. Follow me."

Q'arlynd was instantly suspicious. Why wasn't the drow using the silent speech, if a hostile creature was nearby? And why, if he could penetrate Q'arlynd's invisibility spell, was he staring so intently at the portal?

Flinderspeld's own suspicions supplied the missing piece of the puzzle. Where Q'arlynd saw a drow, Flinderspeld saw another deep gnome-one who spoke to him in svirfneblin. The newcomer was an illusion.

That didn't necessarily mean whoever had created the illusion was an enemy, of course. Perhaps she was just cautious.

Q'arlynd fished out of his pocket one of the tiny silver swords the dead priestess had been carrying, found Flinderspeld's hand, and pressed the trinket into it. Then he rendered the deep gnome visible again and stepped swiftly aside.

The drow-illusion turned toward Flinderspeld-whoever had cast it was watching the room-and repeated the exhortation to follow.

Q'arlynd forced Flinderspeld to hold up the trinket. The illusion barely glanced at the tiny sword.

Q'arlynd levitated while forcing Flinderspeld to walk toward the drow-illusion. As soon as Q'arlynd was high enough to see over the ruined walls, he spotted the tawny-furred creature hiding in an alley just up the street. As Q'arlynd turned the silently protesting Flinderspeld to follow the drow-illusion in that direction, the creature crouched, tail whisking in anticipation. Claws flexed from its furred feet.

Definitely an enemy, but one who could, perhaps, tell Q'arlynd more about this place.

He cast a spell. The slab of paving stone on which the creature crouched became soft as mud and the creature's feet sank into it. A second, equally quick whisper, and the paving stone was solid once more. The creature, realizing its feet were trapped, thrashed about, trying to free itself. Realizing it could not, it snarled.

The drow-illusion disappeared. As it did, Q'arlynd released his hold on Flinderspeld's body. The deep gnome had served his purpose as a distraction, and Q'arlynd didn't want him getting within range of whatever other magic the tawny-furred creature might have at its disposal.

Instead of retreating, the deep gnome collapsed in the middle of the street, the tiny silver sword falling from his hand.

Q'arlynd probed his slave's mind. Flinderspeld was still alive. His thoughts were sluggish and dreamlike, but there.

The tawny-furred creature let out a loud roar. An answering roar came from elsewhere in the ruined city.

Realizing it had just called another of its kind, Q'arlynd immediately sank to the floor of the ruined building. Still invisible, he hurried out into the street, toward Flinderspeld.

He wasn't the only one. A drow came running out of a doorway on the opposite side of the street-a female with waist-length white hair, wearing a chain mail tunic over trousers and a padded shirt. She reached Flinderspeld a heartbeat ahead of Q'arlynd and slapped a hand onto the deep gnome's chest.

"Sanctuary!" she cried.

Both the drow female and Flinderspeld disappeared.

Q'arlynd skidded to a stop on the sand-dusted flagstones and swore softly under his breath. His only slave, gone. Before he had time for regret, however, he felt a tickling sensation, deep within his mind.

I know you're there, somewhere. Free me. I can help you.

Q'arlynd glanced toward the trapped creature. It held its arms out imploringly, its eyes fixed on the dust that slowly settled around Q'arlynd's boots.

Q'arlynd laughed. The creature's magical suggestion might have worked on someone less suspicious than a drow. He drew his wand from its sheath, pointed it, then spoke its command word. Jagged balls of ice erupted from it. They streaked across the street and slammed into the creature's chest with harsh, meaty thuds. Q'arlynd corrected his aim and shot again, and the ice smashed into the creature's face, knocking its head back. The creature collapsed, either unconscious or dead, its feet still encased in stone. Q'arlynd heard a bone snap as one of its ankles twisted and broke.

His direct attack had rendered him visible once more. He could sense eyes on him. He whirled and saw another drow female standing in the street staring at him. She was armored as the first had been, in a chain mail tunic, and she carried a sword. Her hair was whiter than the other female's and was twisted in a knot at the back of her head. The tiny sword that was Eilistraee's pendant hung against her chest. She glanced past Q'arlynd at the collapsed creature, then nodded and moved forward.

"Nicely done. Lamias can be challenging opponents."

Q'arlynd lowered his wand but did not sheathe it. Under his breath, he whispered a simple cantrip. When he pinched his fingers together, the tiny silver sword that had been lying on the ground at his feet-the one Flinderspeld had dropped-rose to his hand. He held it out with a flourish and bowed. When he straightened, the female had visibly relaxed.

"Where did the other female take the deep gnome?" Q'arlynd asked.

"Your friend is safe. Rowaan will take care of him."

Q'arlynd nearly laughed aloud. Friend? Anyone with half a cup of cunning would have realized Flinderspeld was Q'arlynd's slave.

As the priestess walked toward Q'arlynd, her eyes lingered on his face. He suppressed a sigh. Despite his broken nose, he seemed to have that effect on females, but still she frowned when she asked, "What House are you?"

Q'arlynd almost lied-deceit was a reflex-then decided against it. "House Melarn."

The priestess's eyes widened.

Q'arlynd's heartbeat quickened. He took a risk-something he would normally not have done. "You know my sister," he said. A statement, rather than a question. "Halisstra Melarn."

She started to nod then checked herself. "I knew her."

"Knew?" Q'arlynd asked. "Is she-"

From another part of the ruined city, a roar sounded. The second tawny-furred creature, calling out. Or perhaps a third.

"We must go." The female raised a hand, her palm toward Q'arlynd's chest. "Are you willing?"

Q'arlynd met her eyes briefly then lowered his gaze submissively. "Yes. Take me."

The female's eyebrows rose in surprise. Then she laughed. The laughter had a pure sound, devoid of the sharpness Q'arlynd was used to. "You've got a lot to learn, petitioner," she said. "That's not how it's done here."

She touched his chest, spoke a word, and the ruined city disappeared.

Q'arlynd glanced around at the place the priestess had teleported him to. The ground was a flat, rocky expanse that stretched as far as the eye could see. The place was vast, bigger than any cavern he'd had ever been in. Above was a black dome, studded with twinkling points of light-the night sky.

"Where are we?" he asked.

"The High Moor," the priestess who had teleported him answered.

The other priestess kneeled beside Flinderspeld and shook him awake. The gnome groaned, then groggily rose to his feet, the priestess helping him.

Q'arlynd gave the deep gnome a cursory glance, assuring himself his slave was undamaged. Then he returned his attention to the priestesses.

The two females were very similar in appearance. Both had lean, muscular bodies and red eyes, and they walked with light, precise footsteps, as if moving through the steps of a dance. They were dressed alike and shared several of the same gestures and expressions. The major difference that Q'arlynd could see was that the one who had teleported him was older, with ice-white hair, whereas the younger one, Rowaan, had hair that was shaded with hints of yellow.

Each, he noted, wore a ring on the index finger of her right hand: a plain band of platinum. A discreetly whispered divination revealed that the rings were magical. Q'arlynd wondered if they were the equivalent of his own master-and-slave rings. Rowaan deferred to the older priestess, but Q'arlynd could see no overt signs that the other priestess was controlling her.