Viper's kiss hos-2

by Lisa Smedman

  He expected Karrell to smile at his faint attempt at humor, or to ask what his decision was, but her face had a distant look, as if she were lost in thought.

  "The centaur Windswift," she said abruptly. "You addressed him as Zelia. Was he one of her seeds?"

  Arvin's jaw clenched. "He was. Zelia must have created him to spy on Chondath."

  "Zelia is an agent of Hlondeth?" Karrell asked. Arvin nodded.

  "She serves House Extaminos?"

  "Yes," Arvin answered. "Why?"

  Karrell countered with a question of her own. "Why did she try to seed you?"

  Arvin gave a bitter laugh. "You'll appreciate the irony, I'm sure. Zelia hoped to use me to infiltrate The Pox-the clerics who were allied with Sibyl during her first attempt at Hlondeth's throne. Zelia needed a human who had…" His voice faltered as he remembered the terrible transformation Naulg had undergone-and the final kindness Arvin had been forced to pay him. "Who'd had the misfortune of falling into their hands. They wouldn't have accepted anyone else into their ranks."

  Arvin was thankful that Karrell didn't ask him to elaborate.

  "What other psionic powers does Zelia have?" she asked.

  Arvin gave her a sharp look. "Don't even think about it," he snapped. "Zelia's dangerous. And untrustworthy. She's as slippery as a-" He realized what he was saying, and stopped himself just in time.

  Karrell's eyes narrowed. She yanked her hand out of his. "As what? A serpent?"

  Arvin's face flushed. That was exactly what he'd been about to say.

  The giant, seeing that they had stopped walking, halted. "Is something wrong?" he rumbled. Tanglemane lifted his head slightly; his face looked pale.

  "It's nothing," Arvin said. He pointed at the wagon, only a few hundred paces from them now. Behind the driver sat two soldiers and a third man, identifiable as a cleric of Helm by his eye-emblazoned breastplate and deep red cloak. "Get Tanglemane to the wagon. We'll follow in a moment."

  The giant shrugged then continued with heavy footsteps toward the wagon. It pulled to a halt as he drew near it, and the cleric hopped out. The giant lowered Tanglemane to the ground. The cleric crouched beside him and started removing the centaur's crude wound binding.

  Arvin turned back to Karrell. "Zelia's dangerous," he repeated. "Perhaps as dangerous as Sibyl herself."

  "And she is Sibyl's enemy. And she has mind magic beyond what you possess. Magic that may force Naneth to tell us where Sibyl is."

  "True," Arvin agreed, bristling. "But she's the last person I'd ever ask for help from. As soon as she found out I'm alive, she'd kill me. Quick as spit. It's bad enough that Windswift knows what I look like. The next time he reports to Zelia…" He shook his head, amazed at the complicated net he'd managed to weave around himself, hoping he could keep it from drawing any tighter.

  "I was not suggesting that you speak with Zelia," Karrell said. She raised her right hand and nodded at the ring on her finger. "And she will not learn that you are alive. Not from me."

  Arvin shook a finger at her. "Don't do it. Gods only know what Zelia will do to you. She's dangerous," he repeated again, grasping at straws. "She's-"

  yuan-ti," Karrell said. "As am I." She glared at him. "And do not presume to give me orders. I am not human, and you are not my…" She paused, searching for the word. "Not my husband. Even if you did quicken my eggs." Tossing her hair angrily, she turned her back.

  Arvin's mouth gaped open. "Your what?"

  She touched her stomach. "My eggs," she repeated softly.

  Arvin stared at Karrell. "You're pregnant?" he asked in a strained whisper. "But it's only been"-he did a quick tally in his head-"two days-no, three-since we first…" He shook his head. "How could you possibly know so soon?"

  "My scales," she said. "They are shedding out of season-it is one of the early signs." She touched a hand to her belly. "And the way I… feel. I know."

  Arvin was stunned. He didn't know what to say. What to think. If Karrell was right, he was a father. Or soon would be. The thought terrified him; he knew nothing about children. "How long until…" He swallowed hard, and rubbed his forehead. His wound was bothering him again.

  Beside Arvin, someone cleared his throat hesitantly- the cleric. He had completed his healing; Tanglemane was back on his feet, his color restored. The cleric had walked over to where Arvin stood without Arvin even noticing.

  "Are you Arvin?" he asked.

  Arvin nodded. Eggs, Karrell had said. Plural. How many eggs?

  "I'm to convey you to Ormpetarr at once," the cleric continued. "The baron needs your mind magic. There's someone at the palace who's… not well. Will you come? You must be willing, in order for me to teleport you."

  "I don't have any healing powers," Arvin protested. Absently, he rubbed at his forehead. The itching was getting worse.

  "The baron needs you to… listen to some thoughts," the cleric said.

  "Whose?" Arvin asked absently. He stared at Karrell, realizing he hardly knew her. Yet she bore his child. His children.

  "A… demon's," the cleric whispered, shooting a worried glance at Karrell.

  Arvin rubbed his itching forehead. No, not itching. Tickling. The flutter was back-had been back, for some time.

  Naneth was listening.

  "It is all right," Karrell assured the cleric. "I know all about Glis-"

  Arvin sprang forward and clapped a hand across her mouth. With his free hand he signaled frantically, jerking two V-splayed fingers over his shoulder.

  Karrell's eyes widened.

  Pretending that he was worried about the cleric overhearing, Arvin whispered fiercely at Karrell in a voice he hoped was loud enough for Naneth to hear. "The cleric isn't one of us. Don't say anything that will give the game away. Don't mention Lord Wianar. Or the fact that it's not… not really Glisena that Foesmasher has, but a… an illusion. If they find out Glisena is really in… in Arrabar, they might find her."

  The tickling in his forehead faded. Arvin stared at Karrell, stricken by the knowledge that they had probably just given the game away, despite his feeble attempt to lay a false trail. He let his hand fall away from Karrell's mouth.

  Her eyes asked a silent question.

  "Too late," he croaked. "She heard all of it Karrell's mouth tightened.

  As the cleric looked back and forth between Arvin and Karrell, obviously confused. "Are you willing to come?" he asked. "Can I teleport you?"

  "Teleport both of us," Karrell said. "To wherever Glisena is. As quickly as you can."

  She held out a hand for Arvin. He took it.

  "Let's hope Naneth doesn't beat us there," he said. Karrell nodded grimly. "Yes."

  When they arrived at the palace, the baron was waiting. His face was haggard as he strode across the reception hall to meet them. His hair was uncombed, and the odor of nervous sweat clung to him. There were dark circles under his eyes.

  "You're here," he said, clasping Arvin's hand as the cleric who had teleported them there hurried away. "Helm be praised."

  "Be careful what you say, Lord Foesmasher," Arvin warned. "Naneth has a crystal ball. She's using it to scry on me. I tried to mislead her, but it might not have worked. If she learns what's going on… she may-"

  "Don't worry about Naneth," Foesmasher assured Arvin. "Marasa has placed a dimensional lock on Glisena's room. Nobody is going to teleport into it-or out. The room has also been warded against scrying. Come."

  Foesmasher shifted his grip to Arvin's elbow and steered him toward a door that was flanked by two soldiers. Karrell started to follow, but the soldiers blocked her way, one of them rudely thrusting a hand against her chest.

  Arvin stood his ground as Foesmasher wrenched open the door. "Karrell's a healer," he told the baron. "Her spells-"

  "Come from a serpent god," Foesmasher said in a low voice. "My daughter needs human healing."

  Arvin gave Karrell an apologetic look. She returned it with a shrug, but he could see the bitterness in her eyes. "Go," she said. "I
will wait."

  The baron led Arvin through another reception hall; up a flight of stairs; and through a room in which several soldiers stood, armed and ready. Foesmasher gestured, and they stepped away from a locked door. Foesmasher placed his palm on the door; a heartbeat later, magical energy crackled around the lock. The door swung open, revealing a chamber in which nine

  of Helm's clerics stood. They were gathered in a circle, praying in low voices, their gauntleted hands extended toward a bed where Glisena lay. Nine shields, each embossed with Helm's eye, floated in the air behind their backs, forming a circle that turned slowly around them. Marasa sat on a stool next to the bed, holding Glisena's hand. She glanced up, kissed Glisena, and rose to her feet, motioning for the baron to take her hand. He crossed to the bed, a strained smile on his face as he kneeled at his daughter's side. "Little dove," he whispered. "Father is here."

  Glisena turned her head away from him.

  Marasa's face was grim as she approached Arvin. "Helm be praised," she said. "The giant found you."

  Arvin stared at Glisena. She was still pregnant-and looked even worse than before. Despite the ministrations of the clerics, her face had a sickly yellow pallor. She had been bathed-a ceramic tub filled with scented water stood in a corner of the room-and was wearing fresh night robe, but the odor of vomit lingered in the room. She twisted restlessly on the bed, her free hand scrabbling at the blankets, shoving them aside. Her stomach was an ominous bulge.

  Arvin swallowed nervously. There was a demon in there. He met Marasa's eye. "Does she know?" he asked. "About-"

  "We told her," Marasa said. Her expression grew pained. "But I don't know if she believes us. Not after what her father tried to do." She sighed heavily, not looking at Foesmasher.

  "The cleric who teleported us here said you wanted me to listen to the demon's thoughts," Arvin prompted. "Are you going to try to banish it?"

  "We can't," Marasa said, her voice low. "It is linked to Glisena by the blood cord. If we banish it, Glisena will be drawn into the Abyss with it. We will have to try to kill it, instead."

  Arvin, suddenly remembering the vision he'd had in Naneth's home-of a woman, linked by a thread of blood, to her own death-felt his face grow pale. "That might kill her," he whispered. Quickly, he told Marasa of his vision.

  Marasa listened quietly, a strained look on her face. Then she gave a helpless shrug. "There is nothing else left to try," she said. She stared at Glisena. "The demon is small, and Helm willing, will succumb to High Watcher Davinu's holy word. It can then be birthed-or removed-in the same way as a stillborn child. But if the demon does not succumb-if it tries to trick us by feigning death-we need to know what it is thinking. Perhaps it will give us some clue that will tell us what will harm it."

  "I see," Arvin said, not wholly convinced. His eyes remained locked on Glisena's distended belly. It was taut as a drum-one that might tear open at any moment.

  "Prepare yourself," Marasa said. "And we will begin."

  Arvin took off his cloak and draped it over a chair. Sending his awareness down into his muladhara, he was relieved to see that it contained enough energy to manifest the power Marasa had requested. He walked across the room, steeling himself for what he was about to experience. The thought of contacting the demon's mind a second time terrified him, but-he glanced at Glisena's pale face-if it would help, he would do it.

  He crossed the room and stood at the foot of Glisena's bed. "I'm ready," he told Marasa.

  She nodded at one of the clerics-an older man with pale blue eyes and hair so white and fine that the age spots on his scalp could clearly be seen through it. He seemed hale enough, however; he wore the suit of armor that was the priestly vestment of Helm's clerics with the upright posture and ease of a much younger man.

  "Give High Watcher Davinu a signal, Arvin, when you have made contact," Marasa said. "Once you have, he will begin."

  Arvin smiled to himself. Using the silent speech, he could have described, moment by moment, exactly what was happening as he manifested his power. Bathe didn't want anyone to know he was Guild… ex-Guild. "I'll raise my hand," he said.

  As he prepared to manifest his power, Glisena caught his hand. Startled, Arvin looked down at her. She was straining to speak, her eyes imploring him. Concerned, he moved to the side of the bed and leaned over to hear what she was saying.

  "Where did it go?" she whispered.

  "Where did what go?" Arvin asked.

  Glisena glanced warily at her father then continued to whisper in Arvin's ear. Her breath was fever-hot. "My baby," she said. "Naneth had to take my baby out before she put the demon in. She had to put her somewhere. Find my baby for me. Promise you will. Please?"

  Arvin blinked. It hadn't occurred to him, until now, to wonder what had happened to the child Glisena had been carrying. He'd assumed it had died or been subsumed when Naneth summoned the demon into Glisena's womb. Either that, or teleported elsewhere- the Abyss, perhaps-and had died a swift death outside the womb.

  But what if it had been teleported into another womb?

  If it had, Glisena's unborn child might still be alive. And Naneth would have an extra playing piece to haggle with.

  An extra playing piece she had offered to trade for Glisena earlier, when she thought Arvin was Lord Wianar's man.

  Foesmasher leaned forward, stiff with tension. "What is Glisena saying?"

  Arvin straightened, shaking his head. "She's delirious," he said, trying to ease his hand out of Glisena's. She clung to it with a grip tight as death. Her eyes begged a silent question of him.

  He nodded. "I'll do it," he promised her.

  Glisena's hands relaxed.

  "Do what?" the baron growled.

  Arvin didn't answer.

  Glisena sighed and released his hand, closing her eyes. When she opened them again, she nodded at High Watcher Davinu. "I'm ready," she announced in a faint whisper. Then, in a stronger voice, she said, "You may begin."

  Arvin smiled. Despite Glisena's faults, she was her father's daughter.

  As Davinu prepared to cast his spell, Arvin sent his awareness down into the power points at the middle of his forehead and base of his scalp. Linking them, he manifested his power. Sparkles of silver erupted from his eyes and drifted gently down toward Glisena's stomach; as they settled there, vanishing, the thoughts of those in the room swam into his mind. Marasa was relieved that Arvin was finally here, and praying for Helm's mercy on the innocent Glisena. High Watcher Davinu was concentrating on the spell he was about to cast. He would channel Helm's glorious might into a single word so powerful that it would snuff out even a demon's life. The other clerics were focused on their prayers.

  And the demon-dark, malevolent, seething, and gloating. Soon, it thought, the words reverberating like the growls of a dragon in its cave. I will be free soon. The bindings… fade.

  Arvin shuddered. He raised his hand and signaled for Davinu to begin.

  Davinu raised one gauntleted hand above his head. Praying now-evoking Helm in a low chant as the other clerics whispered their own prayers in the background- he slowly closed his hand into a fist. He caught Marasa's eye-she nodded-and that of the baron. Foesmasher squeezed Glisena's hand. His free hand was clenched in a white-knuckled fist and trembling.

  Soon, the demon thought, its voice an evil chuckle. "Do it," Foesmasher croaked.

  Davinu's hand swept down toward Glisena's stomach, creating a sound like that of a sword sweeping through the air. "Moritas!" he cried.

  Glisena's eyes flew open. She gasped, arching her back.

  Foesmasher's eyes squeezed shut; his lips moved rapidly in silent prayer.

  Soon, the demon whispered. I will be-Arvin heard a wet thud-a sound like a blade striking flesh. For the space of a heartbeat, everyone in the room was silent, their minds blank with suspense. Even the demon was still. Arvin searched desperately for its mind, hope bubbling through him.

  He found only silence. He closed his eyes in relief.

&
nbsp; Stupid mortal, the demon suddenly roared. You thought you could kill me? Its mind erupted with laughter: a sound like thick, hot, bubbling blood.

  Arvin opened his eyes. Davinu, Marasa, and Foe- smasher were staring at him expectantly, their faces filled with cautious hope.

  "It's… not dead," he croaked.

  Their faces crumpled into despair.

  I hear you, the demon growled into Arvin's mind. I will remember your voice. It gave a mental shove… and the manifestation ended.

  Arvin sagged.

  Marasa caught his arm, steadying him. "Did you overhear anything?" she asked. "Anything that might help?"

  "The demon is bound," Arvin said. "But the bindings that hold it are fading. It thinks it will be free. 'Soon' was the word it used."

  Marasa looked grim. She stared at Glisena's distended stomach. "Does that mean it will be born?" she asked softly. "Or…"

  Foesmasher dropped his daughter's hand and rose to his feet. "Abyss take you!" he gritted at Davinu, his fists balled. "And you," he said, pointing at Marasa. "You assured me the prayer would work."

  "I don't understand why it didn't, my lord," Davinu protested, backing away. "Something so small… yet so powerful? We expected a minor demon-a quasit, given the size-but it appears we were wrong. Naneth seems to have reduced a larger demon-many times over-without diminishing its vital energies in the slightest."

  Marasa stood her ground before the baron's verbal onslaught. "Thuragar," she said, her voice dangerously low. "If Helm has forsaken your daughter, you have only yourself to blame."

  Foesmasher glared. His hand dropped to the hilt of his sword.

  Marasa glared back.

  The other clerics glanced warily between baron and cleric, waiting for the storm to break.

  When it did, it came as a flood of tears. They spilled down Foesmasher's cheeks as he stared at his daughter. His hand fell away from his sword. He turned away, his shoulders trembling with silent sobs.

  Davinu turned to Marasa. "What now?" he asked in a weary voice.

  Marasa sighed. She looked ready to collapse herself. One hand touched Glisena's forehead. "We wait," she announced at last, "until it is born. And banish it then."