Sacrifice of the Widow: The Lady Penitent, Book I Read Online Free PDF

innumerable teasing about her being long and narrow as a sword blade but blunt as a maul when it came to speaking her mind.
    Thaleste, on the other hand, was well into middle age, her body soft after decades of sloth. She had come to Eilistraee’s faith only recently after a life of pampered luxury in one of the noble Houses of Menzoberranzan. Her motive for leaving that city had been far from holy. She’d angered her matron and barely survived the poison that had been slipped into her wine. She had been headed forSkullport for some poison of her own when she’d taken a wrong turn and blundered into the Promenade—a fork in life’s path she later understood to be the unseen hand of Eilistraee.
    Thaleste had gone from being a lazy, self-indulgent viper to a fervent worshiper who had embraced the goddess wholeheartedly, once she understood what the worship of Eilistraee truly meant. When that enlightenment had come, she’d wept openly, something a drow of the Underdark never did. She later confided in Cavatina that it had been the first time in two and a half centuries that she’d allowed herself to
feel
.
    Cavatina had heard it many times before. She’d been born into Eilistraee’s worship, seen many conversions. She envied each and every one. She herself would never know the moment of rapture redemption could bring. Though she had—and she smiled—experienced the intense exhilaration of skewering one of Lolth’s demonic minions on her sword. More than one, in fact.
    She sighed. Compared to a demon hunt, patrolling was dull work. She almost hoped that a cloaker
would
swoop down from the ceiling. She patted the bastard sword at her hip. Demonbane would make short work of it. The sword might not hum as prettily as the temple’s singing swords, but it had seen Cavatina through more battles than she could count.
    They continued through the cavern, checking to make sure that none of the magical symbols had been dispelled. Each symbol was as large as a breastplate, painted prominently on a wall, floor, or column where those passing through the cavern couldn’t help but glance at it. The symbols had been painted using a paste made from a blend of liquid mercury and red phosphorus, sprinkled with powdered diamond and opal. Attuned to Eilistraee’s faithful, the symbols could be safely stared at by her priestesses and lay worshipers, but anyone with evil intentions who somuch as glanced at a symbol would trigger it, as would any cleric who served Eilistraee’s enemies. Cavatina pointed out for Thaleste the difference between those symbols that caused wracking pain, and those that sapped strength.
    “None that kill?” the novice asked. “Why not slay our enemies outright?”
    “Because for all drow, there is a chance of redemption,” Cavatina answered. Then she smiled grimly. “Though for some, the chance is much slimmer than for others. That’s what our swords are for. Once an intruder is debilitated, we give her one chance. She can live by the song—or die by the sword.”
    Thaleste nodded, her eyes bright with tears. She’d made that very choice, just two years ago.
    They moved on, softly singing the hymn that disabled the cavern’s other magical protections. Tiny bells, hanging from silver threads, had been secreted here and there among the columns. Capable of detecting anything that moved in the cavern without singing the proper wards, the bells were ensorcelled to sound a clamorous alarm that could be heard dozens of paces away. A silence spell could muffle the sound, but the spell would have to be cast several times over—once per bell—and each bell’s hiding place would have to be found first.
    All of the bells Cavatina randomly selected to inspect were in place; none had been disturbed. Each rang with a clear
ping
when Cavatina flicked it with a fingernail.
    Just like the Promenade itself, the caverns were protected not only by visible defenses but also by less tangible magic. Forbiddance spells had