Vanity's Brood

by Lisa Smedman

  Arvin felt Zelia push deeper into his mind. She chuckled. “Try that trick on someone who’s going to fall for it.” Then she continued to sift through his thoughts.

  Arvin’s mind reeled as his thoughts were peeled back, layer by layer. Memories flashed before his eyes, terrible memories of confronting the marilith and watching in horror as the fate link he’d manifested yanked Karrell into the Abyss with it when the demon was banished. And wonderful memories of making love to Karrell—just a flash of that, and a long sequence, replayed more slowly, of the conversation they’d had just before.

  Zelia rifled through his memories of everything Karrell had told him about the Circled Serpent, then through more recent memories of sneaking into the temple and getting close—but not quite close enough—to exact his revenge on Sibyl. She saw him meet Pakal, get past the tentacled mouth and undead snake to claim half of the Circled Serpent, confront the Naneth-seed and defeat it, and she saw them found by Sibyl then teleporting to the rooftop …

  “The Circled Serpent was here?” Zelia hissed, releasing his mind at last. She glanced around, wary, then kicked Arvin. “Where did the dwarf go?”

  Arvin slumped, exhausted in both mind and body. “I don’t know,” he answered at last. He stared, unseeing, at the fountain. He’d been violated. Used.

  Zelia swore under her breath. She sputtered for several moments, her fangs bared, then got control of herself again. She turned back to Arvin.

  “You are certain the Naneth-seed is dead?”

  Arvin supposed she would kill him for that, especially since she’d learned all that his memories could tell her. He tried to nod, but his fused body just rocked back and forth on the floor.

  “She’s dead,” he answered.

  Zelia gave a false-sounding chuckle. “Just as well. I was growing tired of her. Mind seeds can be so … infuriating … at times. Naneth was constantly complaining about the body I chose for her. And she was getting … defiant. They all do, given enough time—” she stared down at Arvin—“some of them even before their seed has blossomed.”

  Arvin met her unblinking stare with his one good eye. “What do you expect?” he said. “They’re all just as self-centered and vain as you are.” Blood pooled in his mouth again, and he spat. “Now shut up and kill me.”

  Zelia’s eyes widened in mock surprise. “Kill you?” She tilted her head. “Oh, no. I never waste anything I can still use.”

  Swaying into a crouch, she brushed a hand against his cheek. A shiver rushed through Arvin’s body and a thin sheen of ectoplasm blossomed on his skin, forcing its way into the folds of fused flesh. His arms and legs sprang apart and his eyelid fluttered open. He rose, shaking, to his feet. Blood still dripped from his lips, his ears, and his left hand. He stared down at the latter, and saw that the little finger and the one next to it were sliced open along their lengths. He picked up one of the scraps of cloth that remained from his shirt and wrapped the fingers together, debating whether or not he should attack Zelia. He glanced at his backpack. It was within reach, but the net had probably rooted itself back into the leather again.

  Zelia saw his glance and bared her fangs: a warning not to try anything. She held up Karrell’s ring. “You think she’s dead, don’t you?”

  Arvin stared at the floor. “The demon drew her into the Abyss. Nobody can survive there.”

  “It drew her into Smaragd, you mean.”

  Arvin glanced up. “What are you talking about?”

  “Smaragd is a layer of Abyss, the layer where Sseth dwells. That’s where Karrell would have wound up.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Mariliths range throughout the Abyss, but this one was summoned by a servant of Sseth. It’s the most likely place for the demon to have come from, and its banishment would have returned it there.”

  Arvin pressed his damaged lips together. The sting of cut flesh helped blot out the ache in his heart. “Even if she did get dragged into … there, she’s still—”

  “Dead?” Zelia gave a hiss of derisive laughter. “You humans know so little. Smaragd is dangerous but not completely inhospitable to mortals, especially if the mortal is yuan-ti. Your precious Karrell may still be alive.”

  Arvin felt a surge of hope. Karrell—alive? Zelia knew more about the Abyss than he did. Maybe she was right about this Smaragd layer being survivable, except that Karrell’s god, Ubtao, was an enemy of Sseth. The serpent god would have immediately killed any cleric of Ubtao’s that showed up in his realm. Zelia was toying with him, tempting him with the one possibility that she knew—now that she’d raped his memories—would most torment him.

  He walked over to the fountain and splashed water onto his face, washing away the blood. “Quit lying to me,” he told her, “and let’s get this over with. Tell me what you want.” He turned to her, his face dripping. “Why am I so ‘useful?’ Because I have something that can kill Sibyl?”

  Zelia laughed. “That too,” she said, her eyes glinting, “but also because you have eyes in Smaragd.”

  “Eyes?” Arvin echoed. He’d expected Zelia to send him on his way, to either order him back into the temple to make another attempt on Sibyl or to chase after Pakal and retrieve the Circled Serpent—perhaps after seeding him first, though he was starting to suspect she might have used her last power stone when she seeded Naneth.

  “Eyes,” Zelia repeated. “Karrell’s eyes.”

  “She’s dead.” Arvin touched the lapis lazuli embedded in his forehead under a layer of scar tissue. “I tried sending to her, every day for more than a month.”

  “You kept my stone? How touching,” she mocked. Her voice grew serious again. “A sending doesn’t always penetrate to another plane. Smaragd lies deep in the Abyss—more than seventy layers shield it from this plane. There is another power, however, which can be used to view a mortal on another plane, even one as remote as Smaragd. And by viewing that mortal, to get a glimpse of what is happening on that layer of the Abyss.”

  Arvin’s head came up. His breath caught as hope blossomed a second time in his chest. “You really do think Karrell’s alive, don’t you?”

  Zelia gave a slow serpent nod.

  Arvin hesitated, wondering if she’d just tricked him somehow. “What … is it, exactly, that you hope to see? Sseth?”

  Zelia smiled. “Aren’t you the smart little monkey?” She passed Arvin back his dagger then sank down, cross-legged, and patted the floor next to her. “Sit.”

  Arvin sheathed the dagger, hesitated, then did as she’d ordered. Aside from tatters of his clothing he was naked, and the stone floor felt cool against his skin. The only sound was that of water tinkling into the fountain. He glanced across the city’s rooftops, glowing green against the night sky. He couldn’t believe that he was sitting in that rooftop garden, talking to the woman he most feared. It was as if he’d stepped back in time to the night when Zelia taught him to master his psionic powers. But if there was a chance that Karrell was alive—even a small chance—he wanted to hear what Zelia had to say.

  “For some time now—more than a decade—Sseth has been … strangely muted,” she began. “His clerics are still granted spells, and the god still answers their prayers, but the voice of Sseth has changed in subtle ways. They say it has deepened, become somehow drier, more whispery …”

  “Drier?” Arvin asked.

  Zelia shrugged. “I am not a cleric.” She toyed with the ring in her hands. “But I do serve House Extaminos, and that noble House controls the Cathedral of Emerald Scales. Anything that is of concern to its clerics disturbs Lady Dediana, and that, in turn, disturbs me.”

  “The clerics think something’s happened to Sseth?” Arvin asked.

  Zelia nodded. “A little over two years ago, I had a troubling dream, a dream of a larger serpent swallowing a smaller serpent, tail first. As the smaller serpent started to disappear into the larger one’s jaws, it twisted and took the larger serpent’s tail in its own mouth, and started consuming it in tur
n. Each serpent choked the other down, until both disappeared.”

  She paused to flick away the venom that had beaded on her fangs with a blue forked tongue. “I wasn’t the only one to have this dream,” she continued. “Dozens of other yuan-ti shared it—or one similar to it.” She nodded at the ring. “Karrell was one of them. She told me of her dream when we spoke in Ormpetarr. She was one of the few to recognize the snakes in the dream for what they were: the two halves of the Circled Serpent.”

  Zelia obviously expected a startled reaction. Arvin didn’t grant her one.

  “Go on,” he said.

  “That same winter, a restlessness gripped the yuan-ti. Dmetrio Extaminos began his restoration of the ancient city, and Sibyl arrived in Hlondeth. Lady Dediana, deep in winter torpor, didn’t recognize the danger Sibyl posed at first, not until Sibyl had killed her cousin Urshas and lured half of the cathedral’s clergy away by claiming to be Sseth’s avatar. By then it was almost too late.”

  “What’s this got to do with … Smaragd?” Arvin asked, stumbling over the unfamiliar word. “And with Karrell?”

  “That’s what I hope to find out,” Zelia said. “Why has Sseth not struck down an imposter? Does he condone what Sibyl is doing? Or is he merely … keeping silent?”

  Arvin frowned. “You hope to find that out just by looking at Karrell? Why not look in on Sseth himself, or ask him?”

  “Because I can’t,” Zelia hissed. “No one can—not even his clerics. Something is preventing it, but that same something may not prevent us from viewing a mortal in Sseth’s realm. Your Karrell may be the crack in the wall that will allow us a glimpse into Smaragd.”

  “Why do you need me?” Arvin asked.

  “If I tried to contact her, Karrell would resist, but she won’t resist you. She trusts you.”

  “Why should I trust you? Given the way your mind seeds scheme behind your back, it looks as though you can’t even trust yourself.”

  Zelia’s lip twitched, revealing the tips of her fangs. Arvin’s taunt had struck home. He knew, thanks to the dreams he’d had while seeded, that at least one of Zelia’s seeds—a dwarf—had turned on her. He wondered how many others had betrayed her over the years.

  With a visible effort, Zelia composed herself. “Don’t you want to find out if Karrell is alive?”

  Arvin stared back at her for a long moment. At last he nodded and said, “There’s just one problem. I don’t know the power that will let me view someone at a distance.”

  “That’s easily remedied.”

  Silver flashed in Zelia’s eyes. She sat silent, staring out over the wrought iron railing that enclosed the rooftop garden. After several moments, a finger-sized crystal rose into view and floated toward her. She caught it then passed it to Arvin.

  He glanced at the crystal. It was deep blue and blade-shaped: thin, with a chisel-like point at one end. Azurite.

  “A power stone,” he said.

  Zelia nodded.

  Arvin closed his hand around it. “You trust me to tell you what I see?” he asked.

  Zelia laughed. “No. That’s why I’m going to look through your eyes.”

  Arvin shuddered. He’d had Zelia inside his head—or rather, a fragment of her—a year ago when she planted her mind seed. Having her coiled around his thoughts wasn’t an experience he wanted to repeat, even briefly, but it was something he had to do. If Karrell was alive….

  “Let’s do it,” he said through gritted teeth.

  Zelia stared into his eyes. Silver flashed across her pupils, then was gone. An instant later Arvin felt a soft fluttering under the scar on his forehead, the lapis lazuli silently alerting him to the fact that someone was watching him—from inside his own skull. As Zelia settled in behind his eyes, he saw her as she viewed herself: confident, poised, powerful—desirable. Then it was gone.

  “How do I hail the crystal?” he asked.

  “By its name,” Zelia said. “Gergorissa.”

  Arvin whispered the name. He sent his awareness deep into the crystal and felt it awaken.

  Yes? a female voice hissed as a mote of pale green light bloomed in the darkness. The voice was unsettlingly close to Zelia’s own, and for a moment, Arvin thought Zelia had spoken to him. She must have created the power stone.

  Arvin grasped the mote of light with his mind. He felt its energy rush into the base of his skull, filling the power point there. Suddenly he knew how to view Karrell anywhere on any plane of existence.

  Assuming she was still alive.

  Holding his breath, he manifested that power—and gasped as Karrell appeared in his mind’s eye.

  She sat slumped on the floor of a dripping jungle, arms clasped around her round, protruding belly. She was still pregnant, but otherwise she looked terrible. Her cheeks were hollow, her eyes dark, her hair tangled. The dress she wore was in rags and her arms and legs were covered in angry red scratches. The scar on her cheek from the sword wound the marilith had inflicted was barely visible under the dried mud that smudged her face. A tear trickled down her cheek, eroding a furrow through the grime. Despite her condition and the desperate, exhausted look in her eye, she was beautiful. Arvin’s breath caught in his throat. He ached to reach out and touch her, to hold her.

  To save her.

  Karrell glanced up, startled.

  “Karrell,” Arvin whispered in a choked voice. “It’s me.”

  Her eyes widened. “Arvin?” she gasped. “You’re alive?”

  Arvin almost laughed. Six months in the Abyss, and she was worried about him. “It’s me, kiichpan chu’al. I’m alive.”

  Karrell’s image blurred as tears formed in his eyes. Suddenly, they blinked rapidly: Zelia, trying to clear them. Arvin tried to push her from his mind.

  Don’t, she cautioned, shoving back hard enough to make his eyes bulge. Talk to her, before the manifestation ends. Ask her what’s happened to Sseth.

  Karrell continued to stare at Arvin. “Where are you?”

  “In Hlondeth.” He shook his head, still not quite willing to believe his eyes. “How did you survive?” he asked. “It’s been so long.”

  Karrell gave him a weary smile. “By Ubtao’s will,” she said, “and through my own resourcefulness.” She laid a hand gently on her stomach. “Because I had to.”

  Zelia gave him a mental jab that made his mind ache.

  “Where are you?” Arvin continued. “In Smaragd? With Sseth?”

  Karrell didn’t seem to find his question odd. “Yes. The serpent god is stuck fast. His jungle has bound him. I escaped from the marilith, and now it’s searching for me. It still thinks our fates are linked. It’s been protecting me, but when I start to give birth, and it doesn’t feel my pain …” she shuddered. “I can’t let it find me.”

  Ask her more about Sseth, Zelia interrupted. Is the god asleep? Awake?

  Arvin ignored her. He stared at Karrell’s stomach. “The children. Are they still …?”

  Karrell smiled. “Alive? Yes. And kicking—at least one of them has feet, and not a tail.” She bit her lip. A haunted look crept into her eyes. “It won’t be long now. When my time comes, I won’t be able to run any more. The marilith—”

  “I’ll get you out of there,” Arvin promised. “I don’t know how, but I will. I’ll find a way.”

  “Find Ts’ikil,” Karrell said. “She’ll know what to do.”

  Sseth, Zelia insisted. Tell her to go to where Sseth is.

  Karrell looked warily around. “Arvin! Did you hear a hissing noise?”

  “It’s nothing,” Arvin lied, mentally shoving Zelia back as he spoke. “Who is Ts’ikil? Where is she?”

  “She’s—”

  Their connection broke. Arvin found himself staring at Zelia across the rooftop garden. He leaped to his feet, furious. “What did you do that for?” he shouted.

  Zelia gave him a long, unblinking stare. “You were supposed to make her go to where Sseth is.”

  Arvin almost laughed. “Karrell? I can’t make
her do anything.” He sighed. “You got what you wanted—you heard Karrell. If she says Sseth is bound, he is.”

  Zelia thought about this for several moments, her eyes narrowed. Then she lounged back against the fountain, a lazy smile on her lips. She looked like a serpent that had just swallowed a juicy, squirming morsel.

  “Karrell’s pregnant?” she hissed. She gave him a withering look. “By you—a human?”

  “You can hardly talk, given what you like to sleep with,” Arvin shot back at her, “and Karrell’s pregnancy is none of your business.”

  “Oh but it is,” Zelia said, rising smoothly to her feet. “It makes you so much more … motivated.”

  “To do what?” Arvin asked, his voice tense.

  “To rescue her.” She let the silence stretch out between them for several heartbeats, then added, “Wouldn’t you like to know how? Or would you rather let your children be born in the Abyss? I don’t think they’d last long. Karrell couldn’t possibly protect them. They’d be no more than a soft, squishy mouthful for any passing—”

  “Get on with it,” Arvin snapped. “How do I rescue her?” His hands balled into tight fists.

  “By using the Circled Serpent. It can open a door to Smaragd.”

  “You lie,” Arvin said in a low voice. “It opens a door to the Fugue Plain, to the lair of Dendar, the Night Serpent. If that door opens and Dendar is released, thousands will die.”

  “That’s true,” Zelia said, “but the Circled Serpent opens more than one door. There is a second—the door that Sseth used nearly fourteen centuries ago, when he vanished from this plane and became a god, a door that leads directly to Smaragd … and to Karrell.”