Saanaa and Viiklee, the other two priestesses, held their own council, but they didn't stand with Laaqueel as they should have.

"I know what I say," Thuur said. Her broad, finned feet slid through the greasy black mud, assuming an attack stance. "I think we should turn back now." She touched the loaded crossbow hanging from her waist.

The lateral lines in Laaqueel's body turned more sensitive, reading every flicker of movement Thuur made. "We won't turn back until we've found what we've come for," she said steadily.

“You're dooming us to wander these forsaken hills forever."

"Has your faith been shaken, Sister?" Laaqueel made her voice harsh and challenging. With Thuur, she knew there was no way to speak of reason. "Sekolah guides this quest. You should trust that."

"I trust Sekolah, not some diseased abomination who has been given status by Baron Huaanton purely by accident of her birth."

"That status was earned," Laaqueel said, "not given as freely as you say. As a malenti, I was trained to be an assassin from the moment I was born. I've lived among the surface dwellers as a spy and helped our village grow. I've slain our enemies, and I've stolen their secrets. If High Priestess Ghaataag had not seen the promise in me to better serve Sekolah, I would still be among the hated elves as Haaunton's dagger."

In truth, the training spy was somewhat wasted. Laaqueel's deception among the surface dwellers had been limited to brief excursions. With her pale skin, she'd been forced to adopt disguises and pass herself off as a surface dwelling elf among the sea elves, or a sea elf among the surface dwellers. She'd been the least effectual of all the malenti in her tribe. Had Priestess Ghaataag not sensed Sekolah's blessed fin moving in her as a hatch-ling, she'd have been put to death the moment she'd been discovered among the newborn.