Vanity's brood hos-3

by Lisa Smedman

  "Sseth. I am one of…" he hesitated, fearful of telling an outright lie to a god, "one of your people. Tell me how to reach you."

  The mental image Arvin had formed suddenly shifted. The statue he had pictured became flesh, and the face of a sleeping serpent filled his mind. Thick vegetation covered it: a tangle of leafy vines, bulging white rootlets, and interwoven tree branches and roots. Arvin's breathing faltered as he realized he was looking at the face of a god.

  The eye opened. A slit pupil swiveled to stare at Arvin through the constricting lace of foliage. Arvin gasped as his awareness tumbled into it.

  Into Sseth's own nightmares.

  Sseth lay in his jungle domain, basking under a brooding purple sky, surrounded by his minions- the souls of his yuan-ti priests. His merest whim should have produced fervent, fawning service, but they had turned their backs on him. Without a

  word-ignoring even his commands-they slithered away. As they did, the jungle around Sseth came to life. Tree trunks glowed red then turned into tubes of lava. Vines became streamers of molten rock. These flowed over Sseth, burning him. The immense heat curled his scales like dead leaves. Then they crystallized, trapping him in solid stone. Trapped like an insect in amber-him! A god! He tried to open his mouth, but it would not move. The petrified vines had bound it shut.

  He stared in mute fury as a dog-headed giant wearing a starched white kilt and golden sandals strode toward him, each of his steps crunching the petrified vegetation underfoot. Around the usurpur's head was the symbol of his power: a golden diadem of a rearing cobra.

  The awareness that was Arvin had no idea who the dog-headed giant was, save that he was reminiscent of the dog-man who had followed Arvin all the way from Hlondeth. The awareness that was Sseth, however, understood that the head was not that of a dog, but of a jackal, a scavenger of the desert. It conveyed to Arvin the full extent of what that meant. It was no giant who strode toward him with an evil leer on his lips but a rival god, Set, Lord of Carrion, brother to jackals and serpents, King of Malice and Lord of Evil, slayer of his own kin.

  Sseth raged. An angry hiss slipped between his clenched jaws.

  Set grabbed his mouth in his massive hands and forced it open. He placed a golden sandal on Sseth's forked tongue, stilling it. Then he stepped inside.

  Sseth tried to thrash away, but to no avail; the petrified vegetation held him fast. He felt Set force his way down his gullet. For a heartbeat, all was still. Then came a tearing sensation. To Arvin, it felt as though the skin were being flayed from his body. To

  Sseth, who had a deeper understanding, it was recognized as skin sloughing free. Never before, however, had the shedding of his skin been so painful.

  When it was done, Set stood before him, clad in Sseth's own green-and-bronze skin. A serpent head cloaked his own; through its gaping jaws Set's jackal grin could be seen. Then the rival god vanished.

  Sseth tried to follow but could not move. His jaw, however, was still open. He snapped it shut, only to feel a tooth break against one of the potrified vines that bound him. Looking down, he saw that the tooth was embedded in the ground. It stood upright, like a miniature volcano, blood flowing from the broken tip like lava. Then the molten rock crystalized. Sseth stared at it, focusing his entire attention upon the tooth. Upon the crater at its tip. Thisss…

  A sudden clarity came to Arvin's mind. He recognized that shape. The tooth had the exact contours of the volcano he'd viewed from the air while trying to get his bearings after coming through the portal. The broken top of the tooth had the same jagged edges as the crater at the volcano's peak. Sseth's message was clear: the door was inside that, crater.

  Yes, Sseth hissed. Yesss.

  "How do I open it?" Arvin asked.

  Too late. Tho sending was over. Blackness descended.

  When consciousness returned, Arvin found himself lying face down on the ground. He must have collapsed a second time. Blood trickled from his upper lip where a tooth had torn it. The tooth felt loose in his mouth when he worried it with his tongue.

  Ts'ikil bent over him, her expression anxious. Did you learn where the door is?

  Arvin rose, shaking, to his feet. "You weren't listening to my thoughts?"

  Sseth might not have spoken if I had.

  The sun was low enough in the west that shadows from the cliff across the river had started to creep across the ledge on which they stood. Arvin turned and looked north. Peeking above the treetops was the distant mountain he had seen in Sseth's dreams. inside its crater lay the door to Smaragd-the door that led to Karrell.

  Ts'ikil turned in that direction. Her awareness slid into Arvin's mind. After a moment, she spoke. Have you enough magic left to fly?

  Arvin had just been worrying about that. He'd taken the time to replenish his muladhara at the beginning of his meditation, but the numerous manifestations the metamorphosis power would require to carry him such a distance would certainly deplete it again. If he was going to do battle with the Dmetrioseed, he'd need to conserve his power.

  Ts'ikil extended her good wing. Only one of her flight feathers remained intact and unbent; she nodded at it. Take it.

  Arvin started. "You want me to pull your feather out?"

  It will allow you to reach the volcano without wasting your power.

  Arvin grasped it then hesitated. Was it some sort of trick? Would him having the feather somehow allow Ts'ikil to come along for the ride? To reach the door and prevent him from opening it?

  No.

  "Then why help me?"

  Ts'ikil nodded at Pakal. The dwarf lay on the stone, the patches on his legs only slightly more insubstantial than the shadows that crept toward him. Then she stared at Arvin. I help you because, even though I know what is in your heart, there is still a chance-her lips quirked-albeit only a coin's toss

  chance, that you will choose the correct path through the labyrinth that lies ahead.

  Arvin nodded. He grasped the feather and pulled. It slid cleanly from Ts'ikil's wing. He felt his feet drift away from the ground. He was flying.

  Gripping the feather tightly, he took a deep breath. "I'll make the right choice," he promised Ts'ikil.

  Though whether right for himself and Karrell-or for the world-remained to be seen.

  CHAPTER 11

  Arvin approached the volcanic crater warily. He had morphed his body into that of a flying snake as soon as he drew close enough to the volcano for a single manifestation to carry him the rest of the distance. The couatl feather was tucked inside his pack.

  The lower slopes of the mountain were covered in thick jungle that gave way near its peak to bare black rock where nothing grew. Ancient lava flows had overlapped one another, leaving rounded puddles of frozen stone that looked like layered scales. The peak itself was a crater perhaps fifty paces across with a floor that looked like ropy, wrinkled black skin. Wisps of white vapor hissed from cracks in the rock, tingeing the air with a rotten-egg smell. The walls of the crater appeared thin and

  fragile. In several places, chunks of stone had broken away and fallen down the mountainside, giving the peak its jagged, broken appearance.

  There was no sign of the Dmetrio-seed. Nor was there any indication of exactly where the door might be. Arvin had expected to see something like the portal he and Pakal had used or the circular dais in Sibyl's lair, but the crater appeared wholly natural.

  He probed the area for any sign of psionic manifestations. There were none. Nor could he detect any thoughts.

  He landed in a spot away from the venting gas, on hot black stone. Folding his wings against his body, he shifted the color of his scales from greenish brown to glossy black. He waited, one finger of his awareness touching his muladhara, ready at an instant's notice to manifest a power should the Dmetrio-seed arrive. As shadows crept across the crater's floor, he kept an eye on the sky.

  After a time, he felt the tingling in his body that meant his metamorphosis was about to end. Still there was no sign of the Dmetrio-se
ed. He waited until his body had shifted back into human form before he scrambled to the lip of the crater. It would have been a difficult climb without his magical bracelet, for the rock was indeed as fragile as it appeared. He took a look around but saw nothing that mlght have been a flying carpet. No matter which direction he peered in, the sky was empty.

  Perhaps the seed hadn't received Sseth's message.

  Arvin laughed at the irony-that he, the last person who would ever embrace the serpent god, had been the only one to understand Sseth's plea.

  He was growing impatient. Gods only knew what was happening to Karrel 1. She'd put on a brave front when Arvin had used Zelia's power stone to speak with her, but he had seen the toll that mere survival

  had taken on her. That had been days ago. Anything might have happened in the meantime. Karrell might be…

  He couldn't bring himself to contemplate it. Not there, not when he was so close. If only the Dmetrioseed would show up, Arvin could get on with it. The waiting was the hardest part. When would the Dmetrio-seed figure out Sseth's message?

  Another possiblity occurred to Arvin. Maybe the seed had figured it out. Maybe he'd decided not to betray Zelia but to convey the Circled Serpent to her as ordered. When Arvin had probed the seed's thoughts, a final decision had yet to be made. For all he knew, the Dmetrio-seed had decided to obey Zelia after ail. The seed might be making his way back to Hlondeth even then…

  Arvin rubbed the scar on his forehead. There was one way to find out.

  The scents of saffron and ginger mingled with the rotten-egg smell of the volcano as Arvin manifested a metamorphosis. Ectoplasm slimed his skin, adding to the discomfort of assuming a form even more distasteful than that of a flying snake. His body became slender, developing curves and breasts. His face took on a serpentine appearance. Even without a mirror to guide him, he could easily visualize his hair turning red as it lengthened, his tongue developing a bluish tinge as it forked. The scales that blossomed on his hands and face were the exact shade of green he remembered. He fought the urge to scratch his itching skin, venting his discomfort instead in a soft, feminine hiss.

  Then he manifested his sending.

  The Dmetrio-seed's face took several moments to coalesce in Arvin's mind. Eventually, it came into focus: dark hair that swept back from a high forehead, narrow nose and thin lips. His face was dappled in

  leaf-shaped shadow; he was somewhere outdoors. Eyelids drooped low over slit-pupiled eyes, and it looked as though the seed had just wakened. He lay on the ground, his body coiled around something that gave off smoke that caused his body to blur then become clear again, probably a brazier filled with burning osssra. That surprised Arvin. Perhaps the seed had decided to find the door and use it himself.

  Arvin wasted no time on preliminaries; Zelia certainly wouldn't. He concentrated on the memory of her voice and shaped his own mental words with the inflections she would use.

  The door is a volcanic crater at the head of the River Chun, he sent. I am there. How quickly can you reach me?

  The Dmetrio-seed looked startled then wary. For a moment, Arvin wondered if something in his tone had given him away. You want me to…?he started to ask, then caught himself. A sly smile crept across his face. I will be there by sunset.

  The sending ended as he bent over and picked up the object he had been lying on-the flying carpet.

  Arvin took a deep breath, glanced at the sun, then smiled. "I'll be ready for you," he promised. Then he began his preparations.

  The Dmetrio-seed arrived exactly at sunset, when the sky to the west was a deep purplish red and the crater gloomy with shadow. He circled the peak on the flying carpet, staring down into the crater. Arvin, circling higher above in flying snake form, couldn't make out the expression on the seed's face but could imagine it. The seed, expecting a meeting with Zelia, would be puzzled at finding the crater empty. He would be probing for psionic energies or

  scanning the area for thoughts, perhaps even surveying the seemingly empty crater with a power that would banish illusions.

  Arvin waited well out of range, not yet daring to make his move. He'd managed to lure the Dmetrioseed there, but had the seed brought the Circled Serpent with him?

  The flying carpet landed inside the crater. The seed stepped off it, hesitated, then pulled out a box that had been tucked inside his shirt. The seed looked around warily then shouted something, but Arvin was too high above to make out the words. Then the seed opened the box. Arvin saw a gleam of silver inside. He watched as the seed tossed the box aside and began to fit the two halves of the key together. While the seed was busy assembling the Circled Serpent, was the best moment to strike.

  Arvin stiffened his wings and dived.

  As he hurtled toward the crater, he clawed ectoplasm out of the air around him and shaped it into a flying snake that hurtled through the air next to him. A loud droning noise surrounded him as he gave his construct a single mental command-seize it! andaimed it like an arrow at the Circled Serpent. Then he attacked.

  Imagining his arms lashing forward, he sent strands of mental energy whipping through the air toward the Dmetrio-seed. The seed sent his mind slithering away into emptiness that left Arvin's attack with nothing to latch onto, then countered Arvin's attack with one of his own-a psychic crush that crashed through the mental shield Arvin had erected in front of himself and looped tightly around his mind. Arvin was barely able to remain conscious as it constricted, squeezing his thoughts together like the broken bones of a mouse in a serpent's coils. He tumbled through the air, his mind no longer in

  control of his body. Suddenly, he was human again. He slammed into the crater floor, knocking the air from his lungs. Dazed, he looked up.

  The Dmetrio-seed was at the other side of the crater, struggling with Arvin's construct. It had seized the Circled Serpent in its mouth and was tugging on it while the seed clung grimly to it. Arvin forced himself to his knees, waving a hand. That way, he commanded. The construct obeyed, dragging the seed with it. At last, it wrenched the Circled Serpent from the seed's hands-but even as it did, a loud hissing filled the air. The seed glared at the construct and it exploded into a mist of ectoplasm. The Circled Serpent clattered to the floor of the crater, practically at the seed's feet.

  Instead of picking it up, the seed whirled toward the real threat: Arvin. Surprise flickered across his face as he recognized his attacker. He visibly relaxed, then crooked a finger at Arvin-just as Zelia had done in the rooftop garden. Arvin felt a hollow open at the base of his spine; his muladh ara opening, preparing to spill its psionic energies to the winds.

  He smiled. The seed, just as he'd hoped, had chosen to toy with him instead of killing him outright. Arvin knew better than to use his psionics.

  "Augesto!" he shouted.

  The Dmetio-seed reacted immediately. A sharp hissing filled the air-his secondary display. His psionic attack struck Arvin even as it sounded, and Arvin felt the air rush from his lungs in an explosive breath. His lungs strained as he tried to inhale, but it was as if an invisible rope had cinched tight around his chest. Only by concentrating was he able to draw a thin, gasping breath.

  The seed picked up the Circled Serpent, twisted it back into a circle, then bared his fangs in a delighted smile.

  "This time, you won't have to play dead, Arvin," he hissed. "You'll be-"

  A rumbling noise from the crater wall behind him interrupted his gloating. The seed whirled-just as a teetering slab of stone crashed down on him. Dmetrio vanished underneath the slab, which shattered explosively as it struck the crater floor.

  Immediately, Arvin could breathe again. "Nine lives," he breathed, touching the crystal at his neck. Then he ran toward the fallen rock.

  The seed lay in the middle of a scattering of broken stone-he either hadn't known any powers that would whisk him away or hadn't had time to manifest them. The falling slab must have struck him square on the head. His high forehead was caved in, and his jaw hung loose, attached only at one
side. The arms and legs were likewise broken and bent, fragments of white bone protruding through bloody flesh. Even so, Arvin bent and touched a finger to the seed's twisted throat. As he expected, there was no sign of life.

  Jumbled together with the stone were fragments of Arvin's trollgut rope. His trap had worked just as he'd hoped it would. He had tied off the slab of stone with his rope, then loosened it until the rope was all that held it in place. The astral construct had lured the Dmetrio-seed into position, and upon Arvin's command, the rope had lengthened, allowing the stone to fall.

  Only one thing had not gone according to plan: the construct was supposed to have carried the Circled Serpent out of the way before the stone fell. Falling to his knees, Arvin scrabbled at the broken rock, clearing it away from the seed's body. The Circled Serpent was supposed to be indestructable, but a part of him worried, even so, that the rock might have dented it, preventing it from being used.

  He heaved a sigh of relief when he saw where it had landed: inside a fold of stone that sheltered it from the crush of falling rock. They key was undented. Whole. Closing his eyes, he whispered a prayer to Tymora. He silently promised the goddess of fortune a hundred gold coins-no, a thousand-for her benevolence, then ended it with the plea that she extend the run of good fortune just a little bit longer.

  "Just long enough for me to rescue Karrell," he said.

  Then he stood. Slowly, he twisted the Circled Serpent back into a circle again. He was careful not to press the head toward the tail; that, he had learned from Pakal, would cause it to consume itself.

  When it was a circle again, he walked to the center of the crater, a confident smile on his lips. Last summer, one of Gonthril's rebels had used a magical device to open a secret passage in the Extaminos gardens. The Circled Serpent, Arvin reasoned, had to work in the same manner. Just as Chorl had done with his hollow metal tube that night, Arvin bent and lightly tapped the Circled Serpent against the ground. Instead of emitting a musical tone as the tube had done, the Circled Serpent struck the stone with a dull clank.