Free Sacrifice of the Widow: The Lady Penitent, Book I by Lisa Smedman

the pool—a circle that shimmered like a reflection of the full moon.
    “I’d like you to leave at once for the Velarswood via the Moonspring,” Qilué said. “Take all the time you need to find out what’s going on there. Be thorough, and use the resources that Eilistraee places in your hands. Do whatever you need to in order to protect our shrines in Cormanthor.”
    Cavatina’s eyes glittered with anticipation. She looked delighted to be off on the hunt again, and Qilué knew that the patrols of the temple had bored the Darksong Knight to tears. She saluted Qilué with the singing sword.
    “They will be safe under my blade,” she promised. Then she paused. “Any other instructions, Lady?”
    “Only one,” Qilué said, hiding her smile. “If you’re carrying any scrolls or other equipment that can be damaged by water, I’d suggest you remove them.

    Q’arlynd winced as the arcane eye he’d just conjured passed through the portal. He’d done a similar reconnaissance twice already, waiting for the fall of night in the surface world, but even under the light of that realm’s lesser disc—the moon—everything was painfully bright. It took him several moments to make sense of what he was seeing: pale stone walls, a floor dusted with sand, and a black sky dotted with points of white—the stars. They reminded him, a little, of the magical, twinkling faerie fire that had covered Ched Nasad’s buildings, but not nearly as beautiful.
    The portal was affixed to a wall in a ruined building whose roof was open to the sky. A second arch, non-magical,opened onto a street paved with large slabs of stone. The building had probably been built by humans or surface elves, judging by the height of the arch. The frescoes on its walls might have given more clues, but they were faded to the point where only faint smudges of pigment could still be seen.
    Q’arlynd sent the eye roving through the arch and out into the street. There didn’t seem to be anyone around.
    His view dissolved into static as the spell ended. He turned to Flinderspeld, who lay on his belly beside him in the gap in the rubble. His slave was fidgeting, tugging at the tight leather gloves Q’arlynd had ordered him to wear. Q’arlynd rapped him on the head with a knuckle.
    “Gnomes first,” he said, gesturing at the arch with its glowing runes.
    “Where does it lead to?” Flinderspeld asked.
    Q’arlynd’s ring gave him a glimpse into the deep gnome’s thoughts. Flinderspeld was weighing the possibilities. If the portal led to another plane, he was thinking, he might at last be free of the ring’s binding.
    “Crawl through it and find out if you’re right,” Q’arlynd suggested aloud. Inwardly, he chuckled.
    Flinderspeld hesitated then realized that refusal to enter the portal would only cause his master to force him through. Muttering under his breath, he crawled forward, his head, shoulders, and chest gradually disappearing into the arch.
    When the deep gnome was about halfway through, his legs and feet jerked forward abruptly, as if he’d been yanked the rest of the way. This gave Q’arlynd a moment’s pause, then he realized that the floor level on the other side of the portal was well below the uppermost part of the arch—the only part of the portal not hidden by rubble. Flinderspeld had simply fallen. Q’arlynd concentrated, but he could no longer hear Flinderspeld’s thoughts. That was to be expected, since the range of the rings was limitedand the deep gnome was leagues away.
    He conjured a second arcane eye and sent it through the gate. Flinderspeld stood next to the gate, rubbing one cheek and wincing. He must have scuffed it during his fall, but nothing was attacking him.
    So far, so good, but before using the portal himself, Q’arlynd cast a spell that would encase him in a layer of force like magical armor. Then he eased his way through the arch feet first. He felt a brief, mildly disorienting lurch before landing on the