"You've left all that behind in the darkness," Rowaan continued. "You've come up into Eilistraee's light. As long as you've truly taken her song into your heart, you'll dance forever with the goddess."

"Eternal reward," Q'arlynd whispered, adding a touch of reverence to his voice. He needed to appear suitably awed, even though he knew what Rowaan was saying was too good to be true. "But only, surely, for the souls of those who proved themselves worthy of it in life by aiding the goddess in some substantial way."

"No," Rowaan said, her voice firm. "To Eilistraee, struggle and success are the same. It's the intent behind the act that truly counts."

Q'arlynd stroked his chin, mulling that over. If what Rowaan said was true, Eilistraee offered eternal life to anyone who stuck to their vows of aiding the weak and working to convert other drow to the faith. It didn't matter if they actually succeeded in achieving those goals, only that they had tried.

It was an astonishing doctrine, one that contradicted everything Q'arlynd had learned in life thus far. From all that he'd observed and been taught, the gods demanded either everything or nothing of their faithful. Vhaeraun, for example, insisted on perfection from his followers. The slightest failure in following the Masked Lord's decree would earn his eternal wrath. Even those who had hitherto been the most devout of his followers could find themselves forever barred from his domain. Lolth, in contrast, reveled in chaos and didn't seem to care what her faithful did. Nor did she take much of a hand in the trials they faced after death, leaving that to the minions of her domain. Souls-from the lowest male lay worshiper to the highest female priestess-succeeded in making the passage across the Demonweb Pits by chance as much as anything.

In contrast, Eilistraee made demands of her followers but showed mercy to them, even when they failed.

Q'arlynd supposed that was a comforting thought to most, but to him the idea of a deity who weighed not just deeds but intentions was more than a little unnerving, and it seemed a little unfair. Vhaeraun's followers, as long as they produced results that were to their god's liking, could harbor whatever rebellious thoughts they liked in their hearts. Lolth's priestesses could do and think whatever they wanted, since the rewards their goddess bestowed were so often arbitrary. Eilistraee's faithful, on the other hand, had to always be asking themselves not just if they were doing the right thing but if they were doing it for the right reasons.

Q'arlynd didn't want to have to live up to that. After a lifetime of lying to survive, he wasn't sure himself when he was telling the truth.

Most of the other females had returned to their quarters. Leliana, however, lingered, talking to another priestess who had also remained behind. Q'arlynd could see that Leliana was keeping an eye on her daughter. Despite his avowed conversion, she still didn't trust him. Not fully.

"One other question… Is Eilistraee's domain truly a place where the dead are happy?"

Rowaan seemed startled by his question. "Of course. What could bring more joy than slowly becoming one with the goddess herself?"

Q'arlynd lowered his voice. "Then why were you so sad when Leliana died?"

"Because I'd miss her," Rowaan said. She paused a moment then added, "Imagine if someone you loved suddenly disappeared, and you knew it might be many years-perhaps centuries-before you'd see them again. You'd be terribly sad to see them go. You'd cry, too."

No, I wouldn't, Q'arlynd thought. I didn't, not three years ago, and not now.

"Then why did you use your ring to change places with her?" he asked. "The same would apply. You would be dead, and she would be alive, and it might be many years before you met again."

Rowaan winced. "My mother is a powerful priestess. She can do more to further Eilistraee's cause here on Toril than I can."

She glanced up at the bundles in the trees. "We raise our dead because we must. We're few in number and we can't afford to lose a single one of the faithful from our ranks. That's why the judicator's attack was so devastating. Without a body, we can't resurrect the dead, and there's so much work yet to be done. So many drow haven't yet been brought up into the light. Every one of Eilistraee's faithful is going to be needed in the coming fight." She stared down at Q'arlynd, and for a moment he felt as if a divine being stared into his soul. "Every one."

Q'arlynd shivered.

Behind Rowaan, Leliana ended her conversation with the other priestess and walked toward them. Q'arlynd bowed as she approached.

"What are you two talking about?" Leliana asked.

Rowaan turned, smiling. "He was asking about Eilistraee's domain and what it's like to dance with the goddess."

Leliana cocked an eyebrow and turned to Q'arlynd. "Why? Are you planning on dying some time soon?"

He rose from his bow. "Not if I can help it, Lady. Eilistraee willing, it will be a while yet before I set foot in her domain." He gave them one of his most boyish smiles. "I'm not much of a dancer, you see."

The remark had the desired effect. Rowaan laughed out loud.

Leliana, however, did not.

"I was thinking about my sister, actually," Q'arlynd hurriedly continued. "I wanted to know what happened to her after her death."

Leliana's expression softened. "Don't worry-you'll see her again in Svartalfheim some day." She paused. "If you remain faithful to your vows, that is."

Q'arlynd bowed. "I will, Lady." It was a promise he wasn't likely to keep, but that wouldn't matter until he was dead. As long as he still drew breath, he could always choose a different patron deity, if things didn't work out with Eilistraee's high priestess.

It was time to get moving on that.

He caught Leliana's eye. "You told me a meeting with your high priestess would be possible." He gestured at the bier in the tree. "Now that the funeral rites are over, I was wondering when I might meet Lady Qilue. I understand she's in your chief temple-the Promenade?"

Leliana shook her head. "We can't spare anyone to take you there. Not right now."

"I can teleport, remember?" Q'arlynd reminded her. "I don't need an escort. Just describe this Promenade for me, and I'll make my way there myself."

"No," Leliana said firmly.

"Have you at least told Lady Qilue I'd like to meet with her?"

Leliana threw up her hands. "When would I have had the chance to do that, between battling driders and dealing with our dead?"

"The drider attack was more than a tenday ago," Q'arlynd continued, using the surface dwellers' term for the passage of time. He understood the delay-the priestesses had been busy strengthening their defenses in the aftermath of the attack-but it still irritated him. "When were you going to tell Lady Qilue that I'd like to meet with her?"

Leliana folded her arms. "When I'm good and ready-and not a moment before."

Q'arlynd fumed, wishing he had disposed of Leliana when he'd had the chance. Clearly, she'd changed her mind about arranging a meeting with the high priestess, and since she was the one who had taken charge of him, back at the portal, she had the final say over what duties he would have among the faithful-as well as whether he might move on to another shrine or temple. Q'arlynd, however, had higher aspirations than sitting in some mist-choked forest, listening to the females sing. He wanted to be at the heart of things, at the seat of power, which would only be possible if he secured an audience with Qilue. That was how a male succeeded in life, by attaching himself to a powerful female and serving her well.

"It's best for now if you stay here, Q'arlynd," Rowaan said. "The drider attack cut our numbers nearly in half. If the judicator returns, we'll need your spells."