Vanity's brood hos-3

by Lisa Smedman

  "It's the ring," Arvin told her, "but let him think what he likes-he's powerless. I drained him with a catapsi."

  His voice sounded strange in his ears. It matched the form he'd metamorphosed into: Dmetrio. He'd spent extra care in shaping his body, down to the last detail. The hair that framed his high forehead was thinner and darker than his own, and his scales were the exact shade Dmetrio's were. His body was leaner, his groin a smooth surface with his genitals tucked inside a flap of skin. His posture and movements were fully those of a yuan-ti. He swayed, rather than standing square on his two stub feet, and kept his lips parted, tasting the air with his tongue.

  A hissing filled the air, though Zelia's lips remained closed. "You're right," she said a moment later. "His aura is empty."

  "If it wasn't, the door frame would have drained him," Arvin chuckled.

  Abruptly, she looked up at Arvin. He was ready for her. As her eyes flashed silver a second time, he pulled energy into his throat and imagined his hands sweeping through the air in front of his face, washing his thoughts clean. At the same time he concentrated, simultaneously manifesting the power that allowed him to shape sound. The droning of his secondary display became a sharp hissing noise-the sound the Dmetrio-seed would have made, had it been the one manifesting the empty-mind defense.

  Zelia tsk-tsked, shaking her head.

  Arvin shrugged, adding a feminine sway to the gesture. "What did you expect?" he said. "None of us like to reveal all of our playing pieces at once, do we?" He glanced past Zelia into the tower. "Where is she?"

  The duplicate didn't bother to pretend she didn't know who he was talking about. "In the study."

  She opened the door wider, an invitation for Arvin to step inside. He did, taking care to deactivate the traps in the door as he passed through it. Zelia hung

  back, waiting for him to prove that he knew where he was going, which he didn't. Her body language, however, spoke volumes to someone trained by the guild. The slight turn of her hips plus her deliberately averted eyes pointed him in the right direction. Shoving Gonthril ahead of him, Arvin crossed the entryway and made for a door on the right. The handle was trapped with a venomed needle, so Arvin pushed the secret button as he turned it, preventing the needle from springing.

  The study had a basking pit and walls hung with slitherglows that filled the room with soft, shifting rainbows. The scent of oil lingered in the air. The only piece of furniture was a small cabinet opposite the door. The room was unoccupied; the basking pit was empty. Arvin turned as Zelia olosed the door behind her. One hand still knotted in Gonthril's hair, he forced his "captive" back to his knees.

  "Where's Zelia?" Arvin asked.

  Zelia cocked her head. "Right here," she said, touching her chest with a slender finger.

  Arvin didn't believe it for a moment.

  Gonthril shifted suddenly, twisting in Arvin's grip. "You bitch!" he shouted, rearing to his feet. "You killed Karrell! I'll-"

  Arvin manifested a simple power, shaping the sounds in the room. As a loud hissing filled the air, he shifted one of the fingers of the hand that held Gonthril's head, giving a two-tap code. Gonthril reacted according to plan, writhing and moaning as if his brain were burning. Arvin wrenched Gonthril's head back, exposing his throat, and bared his fangs.

  Zelia caught his arm. "Don't be so hasty," she hissed. "Let him suffer a little more. Let's savor this."

  Arvin twisted his lips into a sadistic smile. "I know," he said. "Let's fuse him."

  "No!" Gonthril cried. "Not that!" He tried to force his way to his feet but Arvin shoved him down.

  As Arvin pretended to be busy subduing Gonthril, he heard a chuckle from the seemingly empty air next to the cabinet. A second Zelia appeared in the room, standing next to it. She was dressed identically to the first-aside from their positions in the room, it was impossible to tell them apart. Arvin was almost certain it was the original, or maybe the first Zelia was the original and the second was the duplicate. It would be just the sort of mind game she would enjoy.

  This second Zella stepped swiftly forward and flicked her fingers against Gonthril's face. Silver flashed in her eyes a third time. Gonthril's shouts of protest became muffled howls as his lips fused together. The flesh of his legs joined, and his arms melded with his torso. He crumpled downward into a ball, his body smoothing and folding in upon itself until it resembled a wrinkled lump of clay through which the ropes that had bound him passed. Hair and fingernails were still visible, as were the two holes in what had once been his nose. Gonthril breathed through these rapidly.

  Arvin felt a dull horror as he glanced down at the lump that had, a moment before, been a man, but so far, his plan was holding together. Zelia had swallowed the bait he'd tossed her and had repeated her previous error, fusing Gonthril's fingers together, ensuring that Karrell's ring could not be removed. It was up to Arvin to keep her occupied, so she would not slice it free.

  The first Zelia gestured toward the far wall. "Roll him over there," she ordered.

  Arvin obliged. As he tumbled Gonthril against the wall, he

  the wall, he kept one wary eye on the Zelias. At the first hint of suspicion on their part, he would begin his attack.

  The second Zelia regarded him with unblinking eyes. "So, `Dmetrio; " she said. Why haven't I been able to reach you? Where have you been?"

  Arvin turned. "I had a run-in with an old friend of ours," he answered. "Juz'la."

  The second Zelia gave him a sharp glance. "What of her?"

  "She, too, quit the Hall of Mental Spendor," Arvin said. "She's working for Sibyl now."

  Zelia's eyes widened.

  "Or perhaps I should say, Juz'la was working for Sibyl," Arvin said. He ended with one of Zelia's gloating smiles.

  The first Zelia cocked her head. Her tongue flickered from her lips. "You'll have to tell me all about that," she said. "Later."

  As if at some unspoken signal, both Zelias swayed toward him. The first one ran a hand down his bare chest, toying with his scales; her tongue flickered out again, touching his chest.

  "Interesting perfume," she said. "It tastes like ginger."

  Arvin forced himself not to recoil though his skin crawled. He nodded. "I thought you might like it."

  The second Zelia lifted the hand that held the bottle. "What's this?" she asked.

  "The best wine in House Extaminos' cellars: a truly exotic vintage," Arvin answered. He nodded at the lump that was Gonthril. "I thought it would be appropriate to celebrate before we swat the gnat."

  Out of the corner of his eye, Arvin caught a flash of silver from the Zelia who had moved slightly behind him. She was manifesting a power!

  Despite knowing that he was already a heartbeat too late, he plunged into his mu ladhara and started to draw energy intoThe cork popped from the bottle, startling him. As it drifted over the shoulder of the Zelia whose eyes had flashed, Arvin realized what power she'd just manifested-a simple far hand to pull the cork. She would have been suspecting treachery from her seed- contact poison on the neck of the bottle, perhaps.

  "Drink," she said.

  The first Zelia stared up at him, the tips of the fangs showing as she smiled. One hand continued to stroke his chest. Behind her, Gonthril rocked back and forth in a futile effort to free himself, moaning softly.

  Arvin lifted the bottle in a toast first to one Zelia, then the other. "To the sweet taste of victory," he said. He drank deeply. The wine was indeed a fine vintage, better than any he'd drunk before, but all he tasted was the hassaael's perfumey flavor, which prickled his nose. That, and a faintly bitter undertone that was his own blood.

  He licked his lips with a forked tongue. He glanced between the two Zelias, as if uncertain which to pass the bottle to first. He still couldn't be certain which was the real Zelia and which was merely a duplicate. The one giving the orders might be the original-or she might just be playing a clever game. For all he knew, both women were duplicates.

  He hoped not. Two Zelias w
ere enough to deal with.

  The one stroking his chest took the bottle. A cabinet opened, and three delicate crystal glasses floated

  through the air toward her. She poured the wine into

  them, set the bottle down, and passed one glass to

  Arvin, the other two to the second Zelia-then took

  all of Arvin's self control not to flinch away from her and still more effort to return the kiss. Their forked tongues entwined briefly, then she pulled away. She glanced at the first Zelia, nodded, then took one glass

  and raised it in a toast. The other Zelia returned it but didn't drink the wine herself until the first had swallowed hers.

  That decided it. The Zelia standing slightly behind Arvin had to be the original. The one that had met him at the door was taking the chances, tasting his mouth to see if he'd really consumed the wine, then drinking it herself.

  The second Zelia clinked her glass against Arvin's then drank. Arvin resisted the urge to smile as he sipped from his own glass. His guess had been right: the Dmetrio-seed hadn't known what hassaael was, and neither did Zelia.

  Lowering her glass, the second Zelia stared with a smile on her lips for several moments at Arvin-then coiled an arm around his neck and drew him close.

  "You said you have both halves?" she breathed, her breath heavy with the scent of the potion.

  Arvin smiled. "Yes." He nodded down at Gonthril. "Your plan worked beautifully."

  "Where are they?"

  "In a safe place." He raised his glass to his lips and started to drinkThe arm around his neck tightened, preventing him from swallowing. Zelia's green eyes blazed. "You weren't thinking about trying to keep it for yourself," she hissed. "Were you?"

  The grip eased enough for Arvin to swallow the wine that was in his mouth. "The thought never even entered my mind," he answered.

  "Liar," she spat. She gave him a steely look. "You know what happens to seeds who defy me. You'll deliver them, as promised, and we'll reap our reward." Then she smiled "Before we deal with that, let's have a little fun."

  That surprised Arvin. He'd expected her to demand that he hand over the Circled Serpent immediately.

  That was, in part, why he'd tricked her into drinking the hassaael-so that he could persuade her to wait. His deception was going even better than he'd hoped, and that worried him. There was something he was missing-but what?

  The second Zelia had dropped to her knees. Feeling her fingers on the laces of his breeches, Arvin stiffened, then forced his body to relax. He looked down and faked a lustful simile as he choked down his revulsion. There was a time he might have found Zelia alluring-but that was long passed.

  Time to plant the suggestion and let the potion do its work. He pulled the first Zelia close, pretending to kiss her. "I don't want to share you," he whispered, deliberately making his words just loud enough for the second Zelia to hear. "Get rid of her."

  As he spoke, he manifested a fate link between the two. The scent of saffron and ginger rose in the air, and he scratched his chest. He'd never manifested a power in her presence that caused that particular secondary display, and he counted on them to mistake the smell for his "perfume."

  If either woman recognized it as a secondary display, they made no comment. They were too busy matching each other, glare for glare.

  "What are you waiting for?" Arvin cried at the standing Zelia. "Strike!"

  Each of the Zelias hesitated for a heartbeat. Then the air filled with a loud hissing. Under the influence of hassaael-and goaded by their own suspicious natures-they attacked each other. Each reeled back as the other's power struck. The kneeling Zelia's eyes rolled back in her head, and the standing Zelia blinked, then shook her head. Eyes flashed silver, hissing lashed through the air and ectoplasm sheened first one then the other woman as powers were hurled back and forth.

  Arvin tossed in an attack of his own. He lashed the mind of one Zelia with a whip of psionic energy, then sent tendrils of thought into the mind of the other, constricting and crushing her mind. His concentration held for the first attack, but in the middle of the second, the sound he'd been shaping into a hiss reverted back to a low drone.

  One of the Zelias whirled. "Arvin!" she shouted, pointing at the lump that was Gonthril. "He's using his psionics. He's used a suggestion to turn us against each other!"

  In the heartbeat of silence that followed, Arvin heard a faint crunch. He knew at once what it was: Gonthril biting down on the thin-walled ceramic vial he'd been holding in his mouth-the potion Arvin had purchased from Drin earlier that evening. Arvin silently cursed.

  Not now! Arvin sent. They're both looking right at you!

  Too late.

  The magic-dispelling potion inside the vial did its work. Gonthril's arms and legs sprang apart. A quick twist of his hands-just as Arvin had taught him-freed the bonds around his wrists, and a sharp kick freed his ankles. He tore off the blindfold and spat out the remains of the vial, then leaped to his feet.

  Arvin lunged for Gonthril, dragging him to the side. "I'll deal with him!" he shouted at one of the Zelias. "She's the one who manifested a suggestion on you."

  Instead of resuming their attack as he'd hoped, the Zelias turned toward him.

  "Do you want to become an avatar or not?" Arvin screamed at the duplicate. "Kill her!"

  The Zelias exchanged a knowing look, and Arvin suddenly worried that he'd mistaken the original for the duplicate. Before he could correct the error, both

  women's eyes flashed silver. Their mouths parted slightly in surprise, one a heartbeat after the other, as they glanced between Arvin and Gontrhil.

  "He's split himself," they hissed as one.

  Arvin felt the blood drain from his face. They'd just seen through his metamorphosis. Releasing Gonthril and shouting, "Attack them!" he threw up a mental shield. Next to him, Gonthril leaped forward, shouting the word that would turn the rope that had bound him to stone. He whipped this improvised weapon around like a staff, aiming at the closest Zelia's head.

  She ducked, but the other Zelia had time to manifest a power. A wall of psionic energy slammed into Arvin, knocking him to the ground. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Gonthril crumple too, his nose and mouth leaking blood like he'd just been smashed in the face with a brick. Despite the roaring in his ears, Arvin heard what sounded like the tinkle of tiny bells-a hallucinatory noise that was another of Zelia's secondary displays. Dazed, he tried to mount a psionic defense-only to feel his muladhara open and spill all of its stored energy in a swirling rush.

  The Zelias must have seen the distress in his eyes. They smiled.

  "You… haven't won," Arvin gasped. "I destroyed… the Circled Serpent. You'll never become…"

  The eyes of the Zelia on the left flashed. Arvin felt her awareness enter his mind. Powerless to stop her, he felt her rifle through his thoughts. The memories she was looking for floated to the surface of Arvin's mind-memories of the Circled Serpent being destroyed. She probed further, and earlier memories floated to the surface of Arvin's mind: the dog-headed man confronting him in the cavern, then a skip ahead to Arvin learning that the Dmetrio-seed had killed him and fled with the Circled Serpent.

  "So he did betray me," hissed the Zelia whose eyes had flashed. "The fool. He could have ruled Hlondeth."

  The other Zelia cocked her head, still staring mockingly at Arvin. "What made you think I wanted to become an avatar?" she asked.

  Frowning took too much effort. Arvin's entire body felt like one big bruise. Something felt loose inside his chest. Intense agony shot through him with each breath. He oouldn't muster the strength to lever himself off the floor; he could barely raise his head. Beside him, Gonthril lay still. Dead or unconscious, Arvin couldn't tell.

  "Why… wouldn't you?" Arvin asked.

  He was surprised that the Zelias hadn't killed him yet. They wanted to gloat over their victory, it seemed. If he could keep them talking, maybe he could still make the hassaael work for him.

  The Zelia o
n the left-Arvin had lost track of which one was the original but suspected that she was the one-answered. "Because Set's followers will reward me so well for destroying the key."

  "Set's… followers?" Arvin repeated dazedly. Then he understood. The dog-man who had followed him up Mount Ugruth-Zelia was working with him. Working forhim. Arvin had been wrong. She hadn't wanted to become an avatar at all.

  "Exactly," she hissed, obviously still listening in on his thoughts. "The Dmetrio-seed was merely supposed to rule Hlondeth, once Dediana was out of the way." She tsk-tsked. "A pity that he grew greedy." She sighed melodramatically. "They all do in the end."

  The Zelia to the right had been silent for some time; Arvin noticed her frown, as if concentrating on something intensely. Then her eyes slid sideways in a furtive glance that was directed at the first Zelia.

  Odd that he couldn't feel both Zelias inside his head. It was almost as if…

  He spoke quickly, even as the thought formed in his mind. "She's drained you," he gasped. "She's going to kill you. She said "me,' not "us.' If you kill her first, she-"

  Zelia, too, must have known how to control sound. Arvin heard a hissing and no more words emerged, even though he was still talking.

  He smiled. Zelia had just played right into his hand.

  Swifter than a cobra, the duplicate twisted and bit the other in the throat. The original Zelia recoiled, one hand pressed to her wound. She removed it, then blinked in surprise at the twin beads of blood on her fingers.

  Both women began breathing with tight, shallow gasps; their faces a bright red. Blood trickled from the nose of the original Zelia.

  "You fool!" she hissed at the duplicate. "Can't you see what he's done? He fate linked us! You're going to die now, too." She shook her head. "Why did you… I would never

  "Yes, you would," the duplicate panted back. A blue forked tongue flicked away the blood that flowed from her own nose. Her lips twisted in a wry grimace. "In fact… you just… did."