Vanity's brood

CHAPTER 12

Sibyl landed awkwardly in a loose coil. Arvin could see now why she had been flying so unevenly. There was a trickle of dried blood under each of her ears. Ts'ikil's cry must have burst both of Sibyl's eardrums. As she folded her wings against her back and steadied herself against a tree with two of her four hands, Arvin scrambled for his pack. Ripping it open, he found that tendrils of musk creeper had once again grown into the leather. Cursing, he slashed these with his dagger.

Sibyl's magical fear struck him.

Arvin fought back, even as the fear drove

him to his knees. Forcing his will against it

was like trying to shoulder his way through an icy wall of water. It slammed against him, trying to shove his mind back into a

tiny corner of itself where it screamed, cringed, and wept.

He fought it down. Like a man staggering under a massive weight, he rose to his feet. Hands shaking, he hauled the net from the pack and lifted it to shoulder height, preparing to throw…

Sibyl's glare intensified. So did the magical fear. Arvin felt tears pour down his face. The net sagged in his arms then slid from his hands.

Sibyl bared her fangs in triumph. Then she turned her attention to Karrell.

"Well, well," she hissed. "A cleric of Ubtao, in Smaragd? How stupid of you to reveal your position with that spell. I would tell you to prepare to meet your god, but there's only a hungry serpent where you're going." She laughed, then cocked her head, savoring the pain of Karrell's labor. "Go on," she taunted. "Try to run."

Arvin stared at the net that lay at his feet, his entire body quaking. Control, he urged himself. Fight back! Reaching deep inside his muladhara, he grasped a thread of energy and yanked it up into his chest. He breathed out, heard a droning noise fill the air, and imagined a protective shield in front of him.

Sibyl's magical fear broke upon it and was deflected to either side.

Arvin scooped up the net and hurled it. The throw was perfect. The net opened in mid-flight and landed on Sibyl's head and shoulders.

"Absu-"

Sibyl was swifter. She shifted into a tiny flying snake.

"— mo!" Arvin shouted, completing his command.

Too late. Sibyl escaped through the large weave

of the net. She hovered above where it lay on the

ground. She darted sideways then reappeared in her

humanoid form next to Arvin. She towered over him, easily three times his height.

"You may have escaped my temple," she hissed, "but you won't escape Smaragd."

She flicked her tail. A lightning bolt shot from it, striking Arvin square in the chest. He was hurled backward into a vine-draped tree. At a spoken word from Sibyl the vines came to life, whipping themselves around him. He managed to wrench one arm free, tearing his skin as the suckers of the vine were ripped from it, but the vine wrapped around it once more. He tried morphing into flying snake form, but the tendrils tightened instantly, holding him fast. Abandoning that manifestation, he resumed his human form. Sibyl watched with unblinking eyes, smirking at his struggles.

The net lay on the ground a palm's breadth from Karrell, yellow flowers blossoming from its knotwork. Its fibers began to unweave, sending pale green tendrils questing up into the air, searching for a mind to drain.

Karrell continued with her labor, her head down and hair trailing, grunting as another contraction gripped her.

Struggling against the vines was futile, but Arvin's mind was still free. He clawed ectoplasm out of the air and shaped it into a construct with great hooked claws and a mouth that gaped wider than a serpent's and sent it hurtling toward Sibyl in a sparkle of silver that clouded his vision.

Sibyl met it with a shouted word in Draconic. The construct exploded into a cloud of tiny, shimmering flies that circled harmlessly around her head. With a shrug of one wing, she brushed them aside.

Sibyl was even more powerful than Arvin had feared. Had she already become an avatar? No, there hadn't been time, but the thought gave him an idea.

A droning filled the air around him as he tried to force his way into her mind. If he could convince her, even for an instant, that she had heard an unconditional summons from her god, she might leave. A simple splicing of her memories would be all it took. He pushed against her will, looking for the tiniest chink in her mental armor through which his own mind could slip.

Sibyl forced him back. Then she hissed. Her tail began to glow with an unbearably bright light then whipped forward. As the tip of it slapped against Arvin's face the brightness exploded, filling his entire vision. He blinked but could see nothing but white. He was blind.

He could no longer see Karrell, but he could hear her deep, shuddering groans. He could also hear, over Sibyl's hissing laughter, the soft pops of the flowers on his net releasing their compelling dust. Sibyl, he had seen in the instant before he was blinded, was still too far away from the net to be affected by the dust, but Karrell was close. Too close.

"Karrell," he shouted again. "Get away from the-"

His teeth slammed together as what must have been a second lightning bolt struck him. Muscles rigid, he fought against the blackness that threatened to swallow him. He had been foolish, he realized, to attempt to rescue Karrell alone. He should have tried harder to convince Ts'ikil to come with him. He pictured the couatl as he'd left her on the ledge, realized he should have at least told her he was entering Smaragd. Even wounded, the couatl was the one creature who might actually be a match forNo. There was one other who might be able to beat Sibyl in a head-to-head fight.

The marilith demon. Arvin knew just which card to play to get it on his side: the fate link.

Allowing his body to go limp-playing dead- Arvin pictured the demon in his mind. The face was easy to visualize. It had seared itself into Arvin's memory on that terrible day that Karrell had been drawn into the Abyss. Sulfur-yellow hair framing an angular face with wide lips and a V-shaped frown, the hair whipping about in an invisible current. The body, female from the waist up, but with six arms. Below the waist, a writhing serpent's tail covered in green scales that shimmered as though they had been dipped in oil.

As Arvin made contact, he saw the marilith whirl, a hiss on its lips. Its mouth silently framed a word: "You!"

Sibyl is about to kill Karrell, Arvin sent. Teleport to Karrell. Now!

The demon didn't bother making a reply; its image simply vanished from Arvin's mind. A heartbeat later, he heard a whoosh of displaced air that announced its arrival. He was already busy manifesting a power. His face felt cool where ectoplasm coated it. Blurry images filtered in through the skin of his forehead and cheeks as they became sensitive to light. Two towering shapes, confronting one another.

Suddenly he could see again.

The marilith cuffed Sibyl away from Karrell and screeched something at it in Dra conic. Sibyl hissed angrily and snaked her tail toward Karrell. The marilith flung out all six hands, and swords appeared in them.

Arvin smiled. Drawing air deep into his lungs, he charged his breath with psionic energy, then he blew the scents of saffron and ginger, first at the marilith, then at Sibyl, linking their fates.

The shouting was dying down and the marilith was lowering her swords. Time to stir the pot a little. Arvin manifested a second power, insinuating

himself inside the demon's mind. It was an ugly mind, volatile and irrational, filled with violent fantasies that centered on what it would do to the worthless dretches-the creatures that were its minions-who had clearly shirked their duties. It bubbled with loathing over the fact that Sibyl-an insignificant half-demon-possessed the one necessary quality that would al low her to become Sseth's avatar: a mortal soul. But the anger that had boiled like lava through the marilith just an instant before was already cooling. Sibyl had agreed to deal with Ubtao's worm later, after she became Sseth's avatar. Once the chains that bound the human's fate with the marilith's had been severed, the impudent cleric and her squirming, loathsome spawn could be safely crushed. The marilith, Sibyl had just promised, had nothing to fear.

Fear, Arvin thought. He seized the emotion and braided it together with the marilith's frustration and her ideas of how minions should be treated to form a new memory: Sibyl telling the demon that it had better learn to obey her, and that the demon- worthless dretchl-had better learn that its needs were insignificant, that Sibyl was Sseth's chosen one, that she would deal with Ubtao's cleric when it suited her, and if that time had already come, and if that meant the marilith's miserable life would end, well thenA scream of utter fury ripped through the demon's mind. Ungrateful spawn! I should never have agreed toA sword slashed down. Connected. Blood sprayed as one of Sibyl's forearms was sliced open from elbow to wrist. Marilith and abomination screamed as one. The demon stared at the identical wound on its own arm. Arvin felt a shadow of the demon's pain and gasped. He clung grimly to its mind. Swift as thought, he

added a new memory: Sibyl, grabbing the demon's arm as the sword descended and deliberately twisting it so the blade struck Karrell, instead-causing a wound to spring up magically on the marilith's arm-then Sibyl somehow being wounded in the arm herself by the sword as the demon yanked it away from her again.

It was a crude image, one the demon would have recognized for false in an instant just by glancing down at Karrell, but its blood was up, anger frothing through its mind. Screaming, it launched itself at Sibyl, all six blades flashing.

The demon was lightning-fast, but Sibyl moved even more swiftly. Serpent body writhing, she avoided the slashes. Twin streaks of red shot from Sibyl's eyes. They plunged into the demon's chest, punching hot red holes. Identical wounds appeared on Sibyl's chest. She reeled back, glanced down at them-then at Arvin. Her tail twitched toward him, but before she could blast him with another lightning bolt, the marilith lopped off the tip of Sibyl's tail. Sibyl screamed at it in Draconic, but the demon was in full fury and did not notice that its own tail had been severed as well.

Sibyl, however, had learned something from the exchange. Instead of fighting back, a dark shimmer pulsed from her body: magical fear. It slowed but didn't stop the marilith's attacks. Jungle vines whipped around the demon's body. It sliced them apart and kept coming. In the distance, Arvin could hear wings flapping-another demon, summoned by the marilith to join in the fray?

The vines holding Arvin had loosened somewhat, and he strained against them, trying to get free. Sibyl and the demon were in the way, and he couldn't see Karrell. Had she breathed in the dust and fallen victim to the musk creeper's compulsion?

He caught a glimpse of Karrell crawling toward the net. She reached out, grasped it with both hands, drew it closer to her.

"No!" Arvin shouted.

Karrell staggered to her feet, drawing the net still closer to her. Tendrils reached eagerly for her head.

Arvin tore at the vines. If those tendrils rooted in her scalp…

Sibyl flicked her tail, smearing blood across the marilith as it slapped home, and shouted something in Draconic. The demon was transformed. One moment, it was a massive creature with six arms and a serpent's tail; the next, an ordinary human with six swords lying at her feet-a human who gaped down at the smoking holes in her chest, the blood draining from her lacerated arm, and the abbreviated stump of her left foot… then collapsed.

Arvin ripped free of the vines at last and raced for Karrell. "The net!" he screamed at her. "Throw it at Sibyl!"

She did. The net sailed out of her arms-and missed its target. It landed on the now-human demon, enveloping it.

Karrell's face went white. Then another contraction staggered her. Grunting, she sank back into a crouch.

Sibyl whipped around, hissing, her red eyes furious. Her tail lashed forward, catching Arvin around the chest, trapping his arms against his sides. It squeezed…

"Karrell," Arvin cried. "I-"

The squeezing forced the air out of his lungs, preventing him from saying more. Then, abruptly, it stopped.

Arvin tore his eyes away from Karrell and looked up at Sibyl. The abomination stared over his head, a vacant look on her face. Like a suddenly loosened cloak, her coils fell away from Arvin. He stepped out of

them and saw, behind Sibyl, the marilith demon. Still in the human form Sibyl had transformed it into, it lay, draped by the net, its eyes empty. Strands of yellow musk creeper had rooted in its scalp and wormed their way in through its ears, nose, and mouth. They pulsed as they drained the last vestiges of its mind. Already it had been rendered an empty husk.

Sibyl, linked to it by Arvin's psionics, had suffered the same fate. The abomination's chest still rose and fell, but her mind was a gaping ruin. She was as good as dead.

Arvin ran past both abomination and demon and lifted Karrell in his arms. He felt tears streaming down his cheeks. "The net," he said. "I thought…"

"Ubtao," Karrell whispered-though whether it was an explanation or a plea, Arvin couldn't tell. She groaned-deep and long-and her body shuddered.

Arvin glanoed up at the sky. The circle of red was still open, and the wingbeats he'd heard a moment before had grown closer.

"We've got to get out of here," he said, knowing even as he spoke that there was no hope of esoape.

A shadow fell across them. Arvin reached for the dregs of energy that remained in his almost depleted muladhara, then glanced up.

"Ts'ikil!"

The couatl landed gracefully, despite its injured wing. Her condition had improved. New feathers had sprouted in several of the bare patches and her wings were less tattered. Ts'ikil trilled softly as she stared at Karrell, then touched her with a wingtip.

Arvin stared up at the couatl. "How…?"

Your sending.

"But I didn't…"

Ts'ikil smiled. Yes, you did. You called out to me, asking me foraid-then very unflatteringly compared me to a demon.

"I did?"

Karrell groaned, reminding Arvin of more urgent concerns. "Can you fly Karrell out of here?" he asked. "Quickly, before she-"

I can do better than that, now that the door is open, the couatl said, pointing up at the hole in the sky. She extended her other wingtip to Arvin. I can take her home. Take herhand, and touch me. We will step between the planes.

Arvin scrambled across hot, black stone to the spot where he'd thrown the Circled Serpent. The trip to Karrell's village had taken less time than a heartbeat. They'd spent only enough time there to explain what was going on to Karrell's startled clan and see her safely into a hut. Then Ts'ikil and Arvin raced back to the crater again. The gate to Smaragd had already started to close; a thin crust of wrinkled, almost-hard stone covered the opening. It crackled and steamed, releasing hot gases that stung Arvin's eyes.

He blinked, clearing them, and spotted the Circled Serpent lying near the edge of the cooling lava. "There it is," he told Ts'ikil.

He started to pick it up, then yanked his hand back. The silver didn't look hot, but it had burned his fingers. He blew on them, then manifested a power that lifted the Circled Serpent into the air.

Ts'ikil hovered above, her wings fanning away the worst of the heat. Arvin moved the Circled Serpent toward her, but the couatl shook her head.

You should be the one to destroy it, she said. You have earned the right.

Arvin nodded. He enlarged the invisible psionic hand he had created, then squeezed, forcing the tail

of the Circled Serpent into its mouth. He felt a sudden tug, and the artifact yanked itself free. A hissing filled the air-louder than the crackling of the cooling lava-as the Circled Serpent spun in mid-air. Arvin backed away, one hand raised to shield his face. Faster and faster the Circled Serpent spun, the head following the tail, until it was a blur of silver in the air. Then it disappeared.

The volcano gave a shuddering rumble. Then all was quiet. Arvin lowered his arm and looked down, and saw that what had been crusted lava a moment ago was cold, solid stone. A breeze blew across the peak of the volcano, cooling the sweat on Arvin's face.

He glanced at Ts'ikil. "That's it?" he asked. He had expected something more.

The couatl smiled, then nodded. It is done. "Then let's go. I want to see my children."

Arvin leaned back against the wall of the hut, his infant son cradled in his arms. The boy was quiet, but earlier he had been competing with his sister in a crying contest. The twins were small- the combined effects of sharing the same womb and the lean nourishment Karrell had found in Smaragd-but they seemed strong enough, and they had powerful lungs.

The boy had brown eyes, like Arvin, a fuzz of brown hair, and a pattern on his smooth skin that might one day become scales. The girl had Karrell's high cheekbones, darker hair, and a slightly forked tongue. Both had human arms and legs, but what was most important was that both had survived.

So had Karrell, though the labor had been hard on her. She lay in a hammock, nursing their daughter.

Arvin watched as two women of the Chex'en clan fussed over the new mother, fanning her and offering sips of cool water. They looked like Karrell-close enough in appearance to have been her mother and sister, though Karrell had said they were only the clan midwife and her apprentice, both distant cousins. Each of them had Karrell's long black hair and dusky skin.

It had been some time since Arvin had slept, even though three days had passed since Ts'ikil had spirited them out of Smaragd. The birthing had taken the remainder of that first night, and the days and nights since then had slipped past in a blur. Arvin hovered somewhere between dozing and wakefulness. The heat of the jungle didn't help, nor did the fact that he kept slipping, in his drowsy state, into the minds of his son and daughter. The link with them came so easily it was like breathing. One moment his thoughts were his own-the next, his mind was overflowing with simple sensation: the sweet slide of milk down his throat, the gentle touch of a warm body against his, the blur of his mother's or father's face as they stared down at him with adoration.

It was easy to let his mind drift. The worst was over. Sibyl and the marilith were as good as dead, their minds empty shells. Sseth was securely contained within his domain, bound and brooding. Pakal had recovered from his shadow wounds and gone back to his people, and Ts'ikil had also fully healed.

Yet…

The younger woman came to Arvin and said something to him in her own language, then gently lifted his son from his arms. It was time for Karrell to feed him. Arvin reluctantly relinquished his son. He had been enjoying the feel of the infant's soft breathing against his bare chest. He stood and straightened the loincloth one of the Tabaxi men had given him,

then crossed the but to Karrell's hammock. As he brushed his lips against her forehead, she gave him an exhausted smile.

"We did it," she whispered. "We stopped Sibyl. It's over now."

"Yes," he said.

Yet…

He needed to think, to shake the lethargy from his mind. He stroked his daughter's head, and his son's, then squeezed Karrell's hand.

"I'll be outside," he told her.

The but was circular, made of saplings that had been bound together. The roof was a rough dome covered with broad leaves, laid in a pattern like shingles. It was one of perhaps a dozen huts occupying an oval clearing that had been hacked from the jungle. At one end of the clearing stood a pitted chunk of black volcanic stone, studded with "thunder lizard" olaws-an altar sacred to both Ubtao and Thard Harr. One of the wild dwarves who also made their home in that part of the jungle was prostrated in front of it, his hands extended toward the stone, fingers curled like claws. The clan's meeting house was at the opposite end of the clearing. In the distance behind it, smoke rose from the trees. That was where the rest of the clan was, clearing new land for crops. Arvin could just hear the faint thudding of their axes. Lulled by the sound, Arvin stood, staring at the jungle.

A woman's shrill cry from inside the but jerked him out of his half-doze. He raced inside, nearly colliding with the midwife. She shouted something at him in her own language, pointed at her assistant, who knelt on the ground next to Karrell. The assistant lifted one of the twins-their son-and blew air into his open mouth in short, rapid puffs. Arvin's entire body went cold at the sight.

"What's wrong?" he cried.

Karrell didn't answer. Her lips were moving rapidly as she bent over their daughter. She gave Arvin a quick, terrified glance as she whispered a prayer. Arvin clenched his fists. Something had gone wrong. Both twins had stopped breathing, but Karrell's magic would save their children. It had to.

Then Karrell exhaled, as sharply and violently as if she had vomited the air from her lungs. She clutched at her chest and struggled to inhale.

"What's wrong?" Arvin shouted.

Karrell shook her head. She tried to speak, but couldn't. She made a frantic gesture at their daughter. The girl's lips were starting to turn blue. Arvin scooped the girl up, only to have her wrenched from his hands by the midwife. The elderly woman began blowing air into the infant's lungs.

Karrell swayed, still trying to gasp air into her lungs. Her eyelids fluttered.

Magic. It had to be, but why?

No, not magic. A memory hovered dimly at the back of Arvin's mind. Of himself gloating as he manifested that very same power.

No, not himself.

Zelia.

A droning hum filled the air as Arvin manifested a power. Silver sparkled from his eyes; a thread of it led out the door. He raced after it across the clearing. It led where he'd half expected it to: to the dwarf who stood, a smirk on his face, next to the holy stone.

One of Zelia's seeds.

Arvin hurled a manifestation at the dwarf-seed as he ran. Droning filled the air around him as he tried to batter his way through the seed's defenses, to crush his opponent's mind to dust, but the seed was ready. His mind slithered away from Arvin, leaving him grasping emptiness. Then the seed attacked. A fist of mental energy punched its way through Arvin's defenses then

coiled around his mind. Too late, Arvin tried to throw up a shield against it. He could feel strands of energy moving this way and that inside his mind, weaving a net that held him fast. There was a quick, sharp tug- and the net closed, trapping his consciousness inside. Arvin could feel himself standing, was aware of his chest rapidly rising and falling, of his heart pounding in his ears-but the will that normally controlled his actions was tightly confined. He could imagine himself manifesting a power, but his muladhara seemed far away. His mind couldn't reach out to it from behind the net that had trapped it. Made stupid by a lack of sleep and the urgency of stopping the attack on Karrell and the children, he'd done just what the seed wanted-rushed blindly into psionic combat.

The dwarf-seed smiled, as if reading his thoughts. For all Arvin knew, it was.

"Arvin," the seed said in a husky voice that was unsettlingly similar to Pakal's, except for its smirking tone. "How obliging of you to run right into my coils."

Arvin tried to talk. All he could manage was a low moan. He felt drool trickle from the edge of his mouth.

The seed smiled. "Where is Dmetrio? Where is the Circled Serpent?" Silver flashed from his eyes as he spoke.

Arvin tried to resist the awareness that slid deep into his mind but couldn't. In another moment, the seed would learn that Dmetrio was dead and the Circled Serpent destroyed. The worst of it was that Arvin knew exactly how the seed would react-with rage at the fact that Zelia's plans had been thwarted-and with gleeful satisfaction at having caused Arvin the greatest anguish possible by killing the children and Karrell.

Then it would kill him.

If Arvin could have closed his eyes, he would have. He didn't want to see the dwarf-seed gloating.

What he did see surprised him. The seed suddenly jerked and his eyes widened. He whirled, and as his back came into Arvin's view, Arvin saw the dart that had lodged in the seed's neck.

"No!" the seed gasped. "Not-"

Then he fell.

As the rigid body struck the ground, Arvin felt the net that held his mind fray then suddenly loosen. He saw Pakal step from the jungle, blowpipe in hand. Astonished, he gaped at the dwarf-but only for-a heartbeat.

Karrell, he thought. The children…

He turned and raced back toward the hut.

As he neared it, he heard a baby's cry. Then another. Then Karrell's voice, thanking Ubtao. He plunged inside and saw Karrell holding both children in her arms, tears streaming down her cheeks. The midwife and her assistant stood nearby, relieved looks on their faces.

Arvin fell to his knees beside Karrell. "By the gods," he said. "I thought I'd lost all three of you."

Karrell closed her eyes and took a shuddering breath. The children in her arms continued to cry, strong, healthy wails. Arvin gently stroked his son's hair then his daughter's. They were alive. He touched a hand to the stone that hung at his neck.

"Nine lives," he whispered to himself.

Karrell's eyes opened. They bored into Arvin's "It was her, wasn't it?"

Arvin nodded grimly. "One of her seeds." "Is it-"

"Dead?" Arvin asked. "Yes, Tymora be praised. By a stroke of her luck, Pakal happened to be-"

Hearing something behind him, Arvin turned. Pakal stood in the doorway, arms folded.

Arvin crossed the but and squatted in front of the dwarf. "You saved my life," he said, "and Karrell's, and our children's." He let out a long sigh. "I thought you'd gone back to your people. How did you manage to show up in just the right place and at just the right time?"

Pakal grunted. He said something in his own language-a brief prayer-then spoke in the common tongue. His eyes were smiling. "Having me watch the village was your idea. You anticipated that a seed might come."

"My idea?" Arvin echoed.

Pakal nodded. He touched a thick finger to Arvin's temple. "The memory. You erased it."

"Ah." Arvin said. Suddenly understanding his lingering unease.

Karrell passed the twins to the other women and rose to her feet. "You knew that a seed would attack us?" she said, rounding on Arvin. "You might have told me."

"He could not, Karrell," Pakal said. "The seed might have probed your thoughts and learned that I was lying in wait for it."

Karrell continued to rage. "You risked our children's lives, just to eliminate one seed?" she shouted. "You might have killed this one, but what now? Will you erase all of our memories of what just happened and send Pakal back into the jungle to wait until the next seed comes? And the next? And the one after that?"

Arvin balled his fists. Karrell was right. More seeds would come. Arvin and Karrell might flee, but there would be no guarantee that wherever they chose to hide wouldn't be home to another of Zeli a's seeds, and once Zelia learned the Circled Serpent had been destroyed, she'd stop at nothing to have her revenge. As she'd demonstrated, killing Arvin alone wouldn't be enough.

Pakal interrupted that grim thought. "There is a way to end this," he said. He turned to Arvin. "Before you erased your memory, you told me to remind you of this: one year ago, you stripped away Zelia's power to create seeds at will. Since then, she has been able to seed only two people: Naneth and Dmetrio. Both are dead. All of her other seeds-those created before Zelia met you-do not share her animosity toward you. They simply do as Zelia orders. To them, you are just another target for them to kill. Eliminate Zelia, and no more such orders will be givon."

"That much is obvious," Arvin said, "but it raises one big question. Did I happen to tell you why I didn't set out for Hlondeth at once?" He glanced at the twins. "Aside from the obvious reason?"

Pakal smiled. "Before confronting Zelia in her tower, you needed to learn more about its defences," Pakal answered. "I have a spell that allows me to question the dead-and the dead cannot lie."

Arvin smiled. "Not a bad plan," he said. "I wish I'd thought of it."

Pakal grinned. "You did."

Arvin glanced at Karrell. The anger had fled from her eyes; determination had replaced it. "I'll come too," she said. "My magic-"

"Is needed to protect the children," Arvin said. "If another seed should find them while I'm gone…"

Karrell's mouth tightened. She held his eyes a moment longer, then nodded. "Do it," she said. "Kill her. End this."

Arvin and Pakal strode across the flagstone plaza toward the pyramid that dominated the center of the city. Ss'inthee'ssaree was as ancient as Ss'yin, but unlike the Jenestaa, the Se'sehen had worked

hard to reclaim it from the jungle. The buildings that ringed the plaza had been repaired and restored to their former glory, their stonework cleaned and remortared. The serpents that twined on their carved facades had been repainted in bright colors. The flagstones underfoot were smooth and even, without so much as a tendril of vine growing between their cracks.

They were also stained with dried blood. House Extaminos had not only triumphed over the Se'sehen in Hlondeth but had carried the fight to the Black Jungle. Sibyl had inadvertently shown them the way, when she used the portal on Mount Ugruth to follow Arvin and Pakal. House Extaminos controlled what had once been the Se'sehen stronghold.

Flies rose lazily into the air as Arvin skirted the largest of the dark brown stains that marked the plaza. The corpses of those who had fallen in battle had been carried away, but the smell of death still rose from the sun-hot stones.

A score of Hlondeth's militia stood guard in front of Arvin's destination: the pyramid that housed the Pit of Vipers, a temple identical to the one that had been Sibyl's lair, a temple that contained the one-way portal the Se'sehen had used to reach Hlondeth.

Though they were sweltering in bronze chain mail and flared helmets, the Hlondeth militia was alert. They lowered their crossbows and snapped to attention as Arvin approached. Their officer-a halfblood with a narrow, black-scaled face that echoed those of the twined serpents embossed on his breastplate-touched his sword hilt to his chest, then bowed low.

"Lord Extaminos", he said. "We thought "

"You are paid to obey, not think, Captain Vreshni," Arvin said, neatly plucking the officer's name from the man's mind. He raised his chin haughtily, as

Dmetrio would have done. His forked tongue gave his words an imperious hiss. "Accompany me to the portal. I have urgent business in Hlondeth."

"Yes, Lord Extaminos," the officer said, bowing a second time. He sheathed his sword and gestured at the pyramid. "This way."

Arvin turned to Pakal, who had also disguised himself as a yuan-ti. The dwarf's illusion was perfect; his body appeared twice as tall as it really was and slender as a serpent's. The tattoos on his body had become a pattern of snake scales, his matted braids were gone, and the necklace of claws and teeth around his neck had become a ring of tiny, sparkling jewels set into the scales of his chest, shoulders, and back. The only detail untouched by his illusion was the armband of gold, set with a turquoise stone, on his upper right arm.

"You may go," Arvin told Pakal in a cold voice. Using his lapis lazuli, however, he bade the dwarf a more pleasant farewell. Thank you. For everything.

Pakal returned his grim smile. Thard Harr watch over you, he sent back. And… good luck. He bowed then strode away.

Arvin followed the officer, moving his feet with a sliding motion as Dmetrio had done. The metamorphosis had been an easy one; Dmetrio's appearance was still fresh in his mind. The club-toed feet, however, were tricky to walk on.

The pyramid was tall and narrow. It resembled a series of ever-smaller blocks set one upon the other. Each of the four sides was dominated by a stone serpent that seemed to be slithering down the stonework, its head resting upon the ground, and their four tails twined together at the top of the pyramid. The serpent that decorated the front of the pyramid had its mouth open wide, and its fangs looked as though they were solid silver.

Arvin suppressed his shudder as he followed the officer into the mouth. It reminded him a little too closely of Sseth. The mouth was open wide enough that Arvin could walk upright, but an edge of the officer's flared helmet scraped against one of the silver fangs, causing him to duck.

A smooth ramp led down to a chamber filled with soft green light. The walls were carved to resemble scales. A forest of serpent-shaped columns held the weight of the pyramid above at bay. A sweet scent lingered in the air under the heavy musk of snake-osssra, Arvin realized a moment later. Though the braziers that dotted the floor were cold and dark, the stone walls were impregnated with the stuff.

More militia-six halfblood officers, two of them armed with wands-stood guard in front of a gilded statue: one of the stations of Sseth. The god was depicted in his twin-tailed form, his tails encircling a black obsidian globe that represented the world. Wings flared out from his shoulders, and under each wing was an arched entry. These led to corridors that curved away to the right and left.

The officers bowed as Arvin approached. One of them touched a hand to his helm. "Shall I inform Lady Dediana of your imminent arrival, Lord Extaminos?"

"No," Arvin ordered. "Tell no one."

Confusion flitted across the officer's faoe but was quickly hidden by his bow. "As you command, Lord Extaminos."

Arvin waited for Captain Vreshni to indicate which of the corridors led to the portal. The captain did a moment later by turning slightly toward the left entrance. Arvin strode into it as if he'd known all along which route to take. The captain scurried after him.

The corridor spiraled down past slit windows that opened onto a central room. Just like the room in the temple under Hlondeth, it was dominated by a dais of black obsidian. The snakes that had once slithered around it were dead. They'd been reduced to ash; a burned stench lingered in the air. Judging by the scorches on the walls, someone must have let loose a blast of magical fire-one of House Extaminos's wizards, perhaps.

Just as in Sibyl's lair in Hlondeth, the portal room's only other exit was framed by the beastlord's snarling face-it probably led to a similar temple. More militia stood guard in front of the exit, looking alert and watchful. Captain Vreshni indicated a path had been cleared through the ash, allowing passage to the dais.

"If you please, Lord Extaminos."

Arvin started to thank him, then remembered whom he was impersonating. "Go," he said curtly, dismissing him.

The captain bowed his way out of the room.

Arvin took a deep breath then stepped onto the dais. For several heartbeats, nothing happened. Then the portal activated. He felt a dizzying lurch-and found himself standing in the same room as before.

No, not the same. The corridor beyond the beast- lord's face was choked with rubble and the lantern light was stronger here. Arvin could hear soft breathing and the creak of a crossbow being drawn. Whoever was guarding this room was invisible.

Refusing to flinch, Arvin drew himself up and glanced imperiously around the seemingly empty chamber. As he did, he manifested the power that would allow him to listen in on their thoughts.

There-one of them was casting a spell. It was divination magic: a spell that would confirm whether the visitor who had arrived so abruptly was, indeed,

Hlondeth's missing prince. As the spell quickened, Arvin slid deeper into her mind and neatly snipped out the memory of what her magic had revealed: a human who bore no resemblance whatsoever to Lord Dmetrio. He spliced an image of his metamorphosed form into the hole he'd just created then withdrew.

"Show yourself," he commanded.

A yuan-ti appeared before him. She was a dark- haired woman with yellow scales, wearing the hlgh-collared robe of Sseth's clergy. One hand held a snake-headed staff that rested on the floor. She frowned for a moment, like someone who'd just walked into a room and forgotten what they'd been looking for, then bowed.

"Lord Extaminos," she said. "Welcome back. Your mother will be pleased to hear that you have returned."

"Do not inform her… quite yet," Arvin said.

The cleric, straightening, arched an eyebrow.

"There is someone else I must speak with first."

Her thoughts bubbled with curiosity. She held her tongue-but not her magic. Arvin felt energy surge from Karrell's ring, up through his arm and into his mind, shielding it. For just an instant, he slipped the ring from his finger and concentrated on a familiar face-Zelia's-filling his mind with it until the image crowded every other thought out. Then the ring was back on his finger again.

The cleric's lips parted in a smile, baring the tips of her fangs. She hid it behind a bow. "I will escort you, Lord Extaminos. During the attack by the Se'sehen, a number of humans took the opportunity to… cause some problems. The streets are still not entirely secure."

She was thinking about Gonthril. The rebel leader and his followers had been stirring up trouble, it seemed. More than that, several sections of the city,

including a stretch of its waterfront, had fallen into human hands, but once the militia returned from down south, she was thinking, all that would end. The uprising would be crushed and the slaves who had dared to claim their freedom would be put back in their place.

"You will show me to the surface, then resume your duties here," Arvin commanded.

"As you wish," the cleric demurred.

Her thoughts told him much more. Lady Dedian a had grown suspicious of Zelia of late, suspicious of the hold the mind mage seemed to have over the royal son. The queen suspected a plot-and "Dmetrio's" insistence on not telling his mother about his return had confirmed it. He would be watched. Carefully.

Arvin smiled to himself. Years of working for the Guild had taught him how to slip away from even the most persistent watchers, and his psionics would take care of any who was armed with magic. Meanwhile, the cleric would confirm Lady Dediana's fears. If Arvin was unsuccessful in his bid to take Zelia down, House Extaminos would surely finish the job.

For the moment, however, there was someone he needed to make contact with, someone he needed to persuade to help if his plan was to come to fruition.

"Your concern for my well being is… appreciated," he told the cleric, "but also unfounded. I can take care of myself."

Arvin stared across the table at Gonthril. The rebel leader hadn't bothered to disguise himself, save for the cloak hood he'd just allowed to fall back against his shoulders. His rebels-for the moment-had control of the waterfront, including one particular tavern.

The Mortal Coil.

Arvin smiled when Gonthril had suggested it as a meeting place. When Arvin had used a sending to contact Gonthril, he'd wondered if the rebel leader would bother to reply. It had been a year since they'd last seen one another. That they were meeting in the place where Arvin's troubles had begun was ironic. The head of the serpent was closing in on the tail.

Though the harbor outside was nearly empty of ships-most had fled when the Se'sehen attack began-the tavern was just as Arvin remembered it. Pipe smoke had stained the coiled-rope ceiling that had given the place its name, and the air still smelled of unwashed sailors and ale. The circular walls were still damp and the benches were as hard as ever. The only "patrons," however, were Gonthril's people, who stood alert and ready, crossbows in hand. Nobody was behind the bar-and nobody was drinking.

Gonthril looked the same but somehow older, aged by a year of hiding and fighting. Arvin, too, had aged. The two men still looked as close as brothers. Gonthril's eyes, however, were blue, and the little finger of his left hand was whole.

"You said you had something to offer me?" he asked. "Something I would find valuable?"

Arvin nodded and leaned forward in his chair. "Information."

"About what?"

"House Extaminos. Its secrets… and its weaknesses. Everything your uprising needs to succeed."

Gonthril's eyes glittered. "Tell me more."

"There's a yuan-ti," Arvin began, "a mind mage named Zelia."

ye never nearu Lae name.

Arvin smiled. "That doesn't surprise me. Zelia makes a point of keeping out of the public eye. She controls a network of spies who have infiltrated not

just House Extaminos but every major yuan-ti House in Hlondeth."

"How?"

"By passing themselves off as members of those Houses. The family members are eliminated, and the spies take their place."

Gonthril frowned, and thought a moment. "These spies-are they dopplegangers?"

Arvin's eyesbrows raised. The rebel leader had a quicker mind than he'd expected. "In a manner of speaking, yes."

"The information they have gathered-is it written down?"

"No," Arvin said. "It's all inside Zelia's head, but there's a way to get it out."

"How?" Gonthril asked, skepticism plain in his voice.

"By killing her. Once that's done, I can put you in touch with a cleric who can speak with the dead."

Gonthril's eyes bored into Arvin's. "Why do you want this woman dead?"

"For several reasons," Arvin answered. "The simple answer is that if I don't kill her, she'll kill me." He spread his hands. "That's not what really concerns me. Zelia won't stop there. She'll also make sure my wife and children die."

Gonthril's eyebrows rose. "You've been busy, this past year."

Arvin had to smile.

Gonthril's expression turned serious again. "What if the information in Zelia's head turns out to be of no use to the Secession?" Gonthril said, "I'll have wasted my resources. There's an entire city of yuanti that need killing and precious few humans bold enough to do the job."

Arvin fought to keep his smile from wavering. Gonthril's hatred of the serpent folk ran deep. If he

realized that Arvin was part yuan-ti-and that the wife and children Arvin was trying to protect were as well-the only "help" forthcoming would be a crossbow bolt in the back. He was glad, yet again, that Karrell's ring was still on his finger.

"Zelia is worth killing for other reasons," he said. "Convince me."

"You've heard that Sibyl is dead?" Arvin asked.

Gonthril nodded. "So House Extaminos says."

"It's true," Arvin assured him. "Now Zelia is trying to pick up where Sibyl left off. Sibyl was only pretending to be Sseth's avatar, but Zelia actually stands a chance at becoming just that."

"How?"

"It's complicated, but the short answer is this: Sseth is bound inside his domain. He needs someone to free him. Whoever does this will be rewarded with anything they ask for. Zelia knows of an artifact called the Circled Serpent-a key that opens a door to Sseth's domain. Using it, she can free him-and become his avatar."

Gonthril whistled under his breath. He sat in silence a moment, then reached inside his shirt and pulled out a chain that was looped through a ring-a wide band of silver, set with deep blue sapphires. He took it off the chain and slid it across the table to Arvin. "Put it on."

Arvin did, reluctantly. He remembered the last time he'd worn it. With the ring on, he'd be unable to tell a lie. If Gonthril asked directly about the Circled Serpent, Arvin would have to tell him it had already been destroyed. Gonthril would assume everything Arvin had just told him was a lie, and Arvin would have to fight his way out of the Mortal Coil.

He resisted the urge to glance at the half-dozen crossbows pointed at him. Instead he took a deep breath. Control, he urged himself. He didn't need to

tell the whole truth about the Circled Serpent-he just had to concentrate on answering Gonthril's questions as succinctly as possible.

Gonthril looked him square in the eye. "Do you work for House Extaminos?" he asked.

Relief washed through Arvin as he saw the tack Gonthril's questions would take. He smiled. "No," he answered, his voice firm and level. "As I told you when you asked me that question a year ago, I work for myself."

This time, it was the truth.

"Is the story about wanting to kill Zelia a ruse to trap me?"

"No."

"Is your name really Arvin?"

Arvin frowned. "Of course."

"Are you a doppleganger?"

Arvin laughed. "No. What you see is what you get. I'm-" He was about to say "human" but checked himself just in time. He shrugged. "I'm Arvin."

Gonthril nodded then gestured for Arvin to take off the ring.

Arvin did and passed it back to Gonthril. The rebel leader slipped it back on the chain and hung it around his neck.

"What's the Seccession's part in your plan?" the rebel leader asked. "What do you need us to do?"

"Not the Seccession," Arvin said. "You. I need someone who can pass as me without having to resort to magical disguises. I'll be playing the part of one of Zelia's spies-a spy that has 'captured' Arvin. It will be dangerous and unpleasant, but if Zelia reacts as I expeot her to-and believe me, I know her well-it will give me the chance to take her completely by surprise."

"I see," Gonthril said. For several moments, there was silence. Gonthril glanced at one of his rebels. The man gave a slight shrug then nodded.

Arvin waited for the rebel leader's reply.

"I'll need to know more details, of course," Gonthril said, "but so far, you've got my interest."

Arvin heaved a mental sigh of relief. He hesitated then decided to broach the question that had been nagging at him for some time. "Before we get into the details, there's one thing I neglected to ask the last time we met," he said, his voice low enough that Gonthril's people wouldn't hear it.

"Go on," Gonthril said.

Arvin waved a hand between them. "We look enough alike to be brothers," he whispered. "Is there any chance that we might be?"

Gonthril gave a tight smile. "My mother had a very strong spirit. When I was growing up, I often heard her tell my father she wouldn't be bound to any one man. We may-you and I-very well have been fathered by the same man."

"Did your mother ever mention a bard named Salim?"

"No."

"Then your father-"

"The only man who earned the right to be called `father' was the man who raised me," Gonthril said in a stern voice. His expression was grim. For a moment, Arvin was worried he'd offended Gonthril.

"That man is dead," Gonthril continued, "as is my mother. They died in the so-called 'Plaza of Justice' the year I turned thirteen, executed for a crime they did not commit, but that didn't matter. They were human, and "insolent to their betters.' Even as they were led to their deaths, they refused to go quietly and shouted insults at the yuan-ti who had condemned them." His eyes grew fierce. "I decided to carry on that tradition of defiance. That same year, I joined the Secession."

Arvin listened quietly, surprised by how much he and Gonthril had in common. Each of them had

been forced to make his way in the world alone. Their lives, however, had taken very different paths.

Gonthril shrugged. "You don't need to convince me that we're related," he said. "I'm helping you for the good of Hlondeth-for the benefit of humans everywhere-not because of some blood tie we may or may not share."

Arvin nodded, his face neutral, but his heart was beating quickly. Was the man across the table from him really his brother? Arvin's mother had believed that Arvin was the only child Salim had ever fathered-but what if the bard had been lying to her-or simply hadn't realized that a previous liaison had produced a child?

It would be ironic indeed if the leader of a group dedicated to returning Hlondeth to human hands turned out to be part yuan-ti.

Gonthril had already moved on; he leaned across the table in a conspiratorial hunch. "Now tell me your plan. In detail."