Perhaps-loath as Karas was to think this-it was Vhaeraun who had been tricked. Or rather, outmaneuvered by Ghaunadaur. The Ancient One must have learned of the Masked Lord's plans, and taken advantage of them. And Karas had been the one who had set this in motion.

He stood, racked by indecision. Should he try to undo what had been done? He was ill prepared for a prolonged battle against multiple foes. He had his dagger, a few magical trinkets, and his prayers. Cavatina, slayer of Selvetarm, was much better suited to make a stand in front of the portal and prevent the fanatics from passing through it. Yet what if the Darksong Knight didn't even reach the ruined temple? She might have slain a demigod, but that didn't ensure she would always be triumphant. It had been a near thing for her, atop the Acropolis. She'd only survived that battle with his help.

"Masked Lord," Karas prayed. "Is it your will the breach be opened? Have you-" He hesitated, then forced himself to say it. "Have you allied yourself with the Ancient One?"

This time, the god answered. Not in words, but in the distant peal of a hunting horn. That alone wouldn't have convinced Karas; it might have been one of the priestesses, signaling the others. But as the horn sounded, a rectangle of darkness with two eyeholes appeared in the air a short distance away, within the tunnel leading to the ruined temple. The bottom of this "mask" fluttered, as if the mouth behind it were lending its breath to the hunting horn's peal. Dots of angry red blazed where the eyes would have been.

That decided it. Karas wouldn't run. He'd fight.

Just as he turned in that direction, a fanatic ran out of the tunnel Karas had been making for. Karas whipped up his dagger-but checked his throw as he recognized pink eyes.

"Valdas!" he cried. "You made it through!"

Valdas halted at the spot where the three tunnels converged. He was still disguised in the green robes and eye-embossed tabard of House Abbylan. His face was bare. He nodded at the other tunnels behind Karas. "Can we reach Skullport through that?"

"Yes, but-"

"Good. Let's get going. The tunnel behind me is choked with oozes."

Karas heard the wet slap of an ooze on stone, from somewhere behind Valdar. Would it be possible to get by it and reach the ruined temple? He pointed in the direction Valdar had just come. "We need to go back and stop the fanatics from entering Qilue's trap, or they'll summon Ghaunadaur's avatar to the Promenade."

"They will?" Valdar's pink eyes glittered. He laughed. "That's perfect! It will take care of whatever priestesses the oozes and slimes miss."

"But we'll lose the temple," Karas protested. "We need it as a base to rebuild our faith."

"We don't need it. From here, we move on-and keep moving. Infiltrate Ghaunadaur's temple in Skullport, and persuade the fanatics there to summon an avatar. Scour that city clean. Then we'll do the same in Eryndlyn. After that, we'll lure Ghaunadaur through one of the portals of Sschindylryn, and then-"

"But…" Karas felt his face grow cold, under his mask. "Our target is the matriarchies and their temples. Ghaunadaur's avatar will devour everyone-male and female alike. Who's going to be left to convert if-"

Valdar leaned closer. Karas could smell the sweat that clung to his dark skin. "I want to kill those spider-kissing bitches. Make them pay. Any male who didn't have the guts to tie on the mask before now deserves to die with them."

"I see," Karas said. And he did. Valdar was insane. He didn't want to build-only destroy. It didn't matter to Valdar that he'd entered into what amounted to an unholy alliance with Ghaunadaur's fanatics. Nor did he care what ultimately became of the drow. Whatever had happened in that crystal-lined cavern on the night that Eilistraee's and Vhaeraun's realms joined had twisted Valdar, made him blind to the consequences of his actions. He'd yanked the mask up over Karas's eyes as well. Until now.

The wet hiss of something slithering on stone drew nearer. A chill seeped out of the tunnel behind Valdar.

"You're right," Karas lied. "We'd better get moving." He pointed at the right-hand corridor. "That's the way to Skullport."

Valdar turned to the tunnel. "Lead the-"

Karas lunged-but Valdar leaped aside. Karas's dagger struck nothing but air.

"So that's how it is," Valdar said in a soft, lethal voice. He drew his own dagger-a black-bladed weapon that Karas didn't remember him having before. "Let's finish it, then-that little dance we began three years ago."

Karas shifted his weight, as if readying for a lunge.

Valdar's other arm whipped up. The wide sleeve of his robe fell back, and his wristbow twanged. Karas shouted a holy word and flicked his hand. The bolt glanced off the invisible shield the Masked Lord had just bestowed and shattered on the wall behind him.

Valdar lunged. Karas met it with a lunge of his own that drew blood from the other male's hand. Their blades clashed, bright steel sliding past black metal. Valdar flicked a hand at Karas and spat a word, but Karas twisted aside. Whatever spell Valdar had been trying to catch him with missed its mark.

Karas feinted and hurled a prayer back at Valdar. It should have left Valdar shaken and open to attack, yet it had no visible effect. Was that their mutual deity, preventing them from harming one another with their prayers? Or was Valdar's will simply too strong to be overcome by Karas's spell?

They rushed each other. A blade whispered past Karas's ear, nicking it. The point of his own dagger snagged Valdar's robe. They danced apart.

As they circled, Karas saw movement in the tunnel behind Valdar: a patch of roiling darkness, momentarily backlit by a temporary ripple of Faerzress. It looked like an enormous blob of shadow, smooth and bulging. Karas's pulse quickened as it flowed into the room. Shadow and ooze, together? Was its presence a sign that he'd guessed wrong? Perhaps the Masked Lord had indeed aligned himself with Ghaunadaur. Killing Valdar might have been the wrong choice.

"Ooze!" Karas shouted. "Behind you."

Valdar laughed. His fingers flicked. A flicker of light danced at the edge of Karas's peripheral vision: a forceblade, forged from moonlight and shadow. It streaked toward Karas-only to slam into his magical shield and explode in a halo of moonlight. Yet in the instant that Karas's attention was diverted, Valdar's other hand whipped forward. Karas felt a blow like a dull punch, then an ache. He looked down: Valdar's black blade had buried itself hilt-deep in Karas's gut.

Valdar started to gloat-only to grunt in pain as the shadow-ooze engulfed his legs, knocking him prone. His face paled to gray, and his eyes widened. He struggled in vain to free himself as the shadow-ooze flowed slowly up his body. "It… You weren't…"

"Bluffing?" Karas edged back, one hand pressed to the blood-slippery shirt where Valdar's dagger had punched home. He knew better than to draw the blade out. It would only do more damage. "No."

He stepped back again, keeping out of range of the bulging shadow-ooze. He sang a prayer to the Masked Lord that should have squeezed the dagger from his gut and stitched the puncture shut.

Nothing happened.

"No use," Valdar gasped. "It's a life stealer."

Worried now, Karas tried to yank the dagger free. It didn't budge. A cold centered in his midriff, and he felt his life spiral down into the blade.

Valdar lay on the floor, the ooze covering all but his shoulders and head. The magic sustaining his disguise bled away, revealing his mask. He tried once more to crawl-painfully, slowly-as the ooze sucked him fully into itself.

"You were wrong," Karas told the vanished Valdar. His voice quavered-and not just from the drain of the magical blade. Yet he kept speaking, if only to convince himself. Blackness crowded the edges of his vision. It wouldn't be long now before he'd go to the Masked Lord's embrace. He gestured weakly at the ooze. "This wasn't… what the Masked Lord… wanted."