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Q'arlynd nearly laughed. Eldri
If Eldri
"Well," Eldri
Q'arlynd sighed. "Father" was a term he'd never get used to. It was a word borrowed from the surface elves; the drow of Ched Nasad never had a use for it. Descent was, and always had been, through the female line. The idea of a consort claiming children as his own was ludicrous.
"My answer is still no," Q'arlynd said. He pointed at the dead chitine. "I won't let you be reduced to that."
"I won't be," Eldri
"What's that?" Baltak asked.
Eldri
"Go on," Q'arlynd said, intrigued despite himself.
"I'll cast a tightly targeted spell into the clip and make the actions of the kiira the contingency. The instant the lorestone tries to kill me, grease will appear on my forehead. The crystal won't be able to stick. It will slide off-just like it did from the chitine."
Q'arlynd nodded to himself. So that was what had happened. Now he understood the greasy smudge he'd seen on Eldri
He realized that Eldri
Eldri
"… but I won't allow you to risk yourself."
The grin disappeared. "It will work," Eldri
Q'arlynd stared down at the kiira. "I'm sure it will."
Zarifar was still playing with the ash, but Baltak and Piri watched Q'arlynd intently.
"It's Eldri
"No," Q'arlynd said. The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them. "I'll do it."
Eldri
"Your contingency clip," Q'arlynd asked him. "It's something any wizard can use, right?"
Eldri
"Even if it's you who casts the spell into the clip?"
Another grudging nod.
"Good," Q'arlynd said. "Do it, but make the contingency that will trigger the spell a little broader. Instead of something that will 'kill' me, word it so that anything that might 'damage' me will trigger the spell. Is that clear?"
Eldri
In another moment, all was ready. The contingency clip had been ensorcelled and clipped to Q'arlynd's hair. The kiira was in his hands. All that remained was to press it to his forehead.
Q'arlynd hesitated. Did he dare?
Of course he did. He must. It would be just like free-falling from a ledge. Whatever happened, the contingency clip would pull him up in time. Already his blood pounded in anticipation of the mental jump.
He motioned Eldri
They did.
Q'arlynd paused to give a mental nod to the others. Baltak stood braced and steady on his wide feet, Zarifar closed his eyes and once again imagined a pattern drawn between them. Piri hovered near the door, seemingly ready to bolt through it. Eldri
Wherever the kiira took Q'arlynd, they were ready to come along.
"Wish me luck." Q'arlynd pressed the kiira to his forehead.
Eldri
Q'arlynd shivered. Cold. He felt cold. His legs trembled.
He put out a hand to steady himself and touched stone. He glanced up and saw that he was standing in front of a massive stone door. The carvings on it looked familiar, but he couldn't quite figure out why. He knew he'd seen the door somewhere before, but…
Where in the Abyss was he?
Below ground, somewhere in the Underdark. Somewhere he didn't recognize at all. A corridor stretched away behind him, its walls illuminated with the faintest shimmer of Faerzress, and dead-ended at the door. There was a musty smell in the air, and dust on the floor. And footprints-a lot of footprints. And tools. Picks, pry bars, and-Q'arlynd jumped back in alarm when he saw it-a stonefire bomb, like the ones that had laid waste to Ched Nasad. The bomb was spent, though, its magical fire long since spilled. There was a deep, charred hole in the stone just to the right of the door. Q'arlynd peered into it and saw that the door was thicker than the hole the stonefire had burned.
The puzzle of why someone would do that only briefly took his mind off the central question of where he was and how he'd gotten there. The last thing he could remember was talking to Eldri
Q'arlynd stared up at the ceiling, searching for the word.
It floated just beyond his grasp. Something small, and pointed, and…
It was gone again.
Eldri
Q'arlynd closed his eyes and tried to think. His thoughts kept circling back to when he'd found the boy wandering on the High Moor in the ruins of ancient Talthalaran. Eldri
Q'arlynd felt his face pale. Had the same thing happened to him?
Words came to him then. A sentence that rattled in his head like a pebble in an empty cup. He said it aloud. "Must get it back."
He frowned. Must get what back? And to where?
He turned to the door. Twice as high as he was tall, it was carved with an unusual design: elves and dragons, standing side by side and holding scrolls, as if they were casting spells. A single word, written in archaic High Drowic, arched above the design. It looked like a name: "Kraanfhaor."