The hiss of steel-a weapon being drawn from a scabbard-was his only warning. He jerked his hand back just as Prellyn's sword cut through the chain Flinderspeld was holding. Had Q'arlynd not moved, the blade might have sliced open his hand. The pendant clattered to the ground.

Flinderspeld still held the tiny sword. Q'arlynd made the deep gnome place it on a flat chunk of rock then released his mental hold on Flinderspeld, letting him ease away. He didn't want the deep gnome to wind up on the receiving end of Prellyn's wrath. If he did, Q'arlynd would be without a slave, and without a coin to his name, he couldn't buy another.

"That pendant is Eilistraee's holy symbol," Prellyn spat, her mouth twisting as if at a foul taste. "Be thankful I was here to keep you from touching it."

"I am," Q'arlynd said smoothly. He pointed. "And that tiny sword? Is it connected with Eilistraee's worship, too?"

Prellyn used the tip of her sword to flick the tiny blade into a deep crevice in the rubble. "That's not something you want to touch, either."

"I won't," Q'arlynd said, "but what is a holy symbol of Eilistraee doing here, in Ched Nasad?"

"It must have been carried here by one of her priestesses before the city's fall. They do that sometimes-come below to try to subvert Lolth's children and seduce them up to the surface realms."

"Where the simpletons who fall for it are immediately killed, no doubt."

Prellyn laughed. "How little you know, male. Eilistraee's followers actually welcome strangers into their midst."

"Any stranger?" Q'arlynd asked, thinking of his sister. "Even one of Lolth's faithful?"