Viper's kiss

CHAPTER 12

Arvin's heart pounded as he stared out of the satyr but at Naneth. For the moment, the satyrs were busy talking to her-which was bad. They'd be telling her about the human who claimed to be her assistant. Arvin had to act quickly. Energy awakened at the base of his neck, sending a prickling through his scalp as he manifested a charm. The midwife, however, didn't cock her head; the power seemed to have had no effect on her.

She turned toward the hut and gestured.

The inside of the hut filled with an explosion of color. Arvin was still staring at Naneth and saw the swirling colors only in his peripheral vision, but his eyes were drawn to them like moths to a flame. He turned to watch the rainbows that danced and rippled in the air then took

a step closer. It was like standing inside the crisscrossing rays cast by a thousand prisms. "Beautiful," he whispered, reaching up to touch one of the rainbows. It twisted away through the air like a snake, leaving a blur of red-violet-blue in its wake. "So beautiful," he breathed.

Dimly, he was aware of the door flap opening and Naneth stepping inside. She glanced around the hut-at Theyron's body, the empty sheepskin where Glisena had lain, and Arvin-and her lips pressed together in a thin line that made her mouth all but disappear in her heavy jowls. Fear flickered in her eyes. It was clear what she was thinking: she'd lost Glisena, and now would have to face Sibyl's wrath. Whatever punishment Sibyl dreamed up would probably make the suffering Naulg had gone through look trivial.

A distant part of Arvin's mind screamed at him that this was the moment to throw the knife he held loosely at his side, to manifest a different psionic power, to run, but the colors held him. His gaze drifted back and forth, watching the rainbows.

Naneth ignored the shifting lights. Above and behind her, Arvin saw a snake peering in through a gap in the rear wall of the hut. It, too, was staring at the beautiful lights, tongue flickering in and out of its mouth as if it hoped to taste them. For some reason, that concerned Arvin, but only briefly. The lights were fascinating, scintillating, and beautiful.

More beautiful than any snake.

Naneth reached into a belt pouch at her hip and pulled out an egg painted with a blood-red symbol. She held it out toward Arvin, but he barely glanced at it; the shimmering colors still held his eye. Then she spoke a word in what sounded like Draconic.

The rainbows disappeared.

So did the hut.

Arvin found himself curled in a ball inside something smooth and leathery that pressed against him on every side. Warm, sticky fluid surrounded him, soaking his clothes and hair. With a start, he realized he was breathing it in and out like air; it felt thick and heavy in his lungs. His mind was his own again, but he was unable to move. He couldn't even lift his chin from his chest. Suddenly claustrophobic, he kicked at the wall of his prison. It didn't give. He jabbed it with his knife. The blade bounced off it without making a dent. Trapped-he was trapped in here! It took all of his will to keep himself from panicking.

Karrell was out there somewhere, he told himself, in the hut, with Naneth. She'd do something to rescue him.

Unless she was still staring at rainbows.

A muffled voice came from outside Arvin's prison. "Where is the girl?"

"Naneth!" Arvin exclaimed. "You got my warning. Let me out of here, and I'll tell you what's going on." His voice sounded only slightly muffled, despite the fact that he was exhaling liquid. The cloying taste of raw egg lingered on his tongue.

The egg shook violently. Arvin, dizzy, tried not to throw up.

"Where's the girl?" Naneth repeated.

Arvin tried to manifest the power that would let him listen in on Naneth's thoughts, but though silver sparkles erupted from his third eye, briefly illuminating the liquid that surrounded him, the link could not be forged. Whatever magic had protected Naneth from being charmed was also preventing Arvin from reading her mind.

Arvin groaned. He'd have to rely on his wits alone to convince Naneth to let him out of this prison. He thought frantically, trying to come up with a story that would sound plausible. Should he drop Sibyl's name and claim to be working for one of the factions allied with her? Claim to be one of Talos's worshipers? Neither was likely to work. He had only the vaguest of ideas of what Sibyl was up to; he'd probably say something that would give him away.

Suddenly, he realized there was one story that would make sense-and that would throw Naneth off track, way off track.

"You're too late," he told Naneth. "Chondath has claimed Glisena."

"You're one of Lord Wianar's men'?" Naneth asked.

Arvin smiled. She'd taken his hook. Now to set it.

"I'm Wianar's eyes and ears within the Sespech court. Three days ago, Baron Foesmasher captured a satyr who had come to Ormpetarr to fetch you; the satyr told him his daughter was in the Chondalwood. It wasn't in Chondath's best interests that Glisena be found, so I sent you the warning. Just in case you didn't heed it, I made my way here. I was surprised to find the girl had not been moved. I was ordered to take advantage of that oversight."

"Where is Glisena now?" Naneth asked. "In Arrabar?"

"All you need to know is that Wianar has her."

For several moments, Naneth was silent. Then she replied-in a strained voice that instantly told Arvin how desperate she was, and how willing to bargain. "Tell your master that keeping the girl would be a terrible mistake. One that could prove fatal for him."

"What do you mean?" Arvin asked.

There was a long pause. When Naneth at last spoke, her voice sounded reluctant. "The child in Glisena's womb is… dangerous," she began.

"Go on," Arvin prompted. He held his breath, praying that Naneth would expound upon what she'd done to the baron's daughter-that she'd reveal the nature of the thing she'd put in Glisena's womb. "What is it?"

"A demon."

"A demon?" Arvin gasped, horrified. "How-"

"Magic," Naneth said smugly. "A unique form of binding no other sorcerer can perform."

"But why?" Arvin asked, still struggling with his horror at what Naneth had done. He felt queasy, as though he were going to be sick.

A gloating smile crept into Naneth's voice. "Lady Dediana is anxious to see the birth of her first grandchild," she said. "What a surprise it will be when she sees the new heir. The shock alone will kill her-and if it doesn't, the 'child' will. Now do you understand why it's in Chondath's best interests not to keep the girl? Wianar has much more to gain by letting us place someone more „. agreeable on Hlondeth's throne. Someone who would turn her back on Sespech, and instead form an alliance with Chondath."

Arvin's eyebrows rose. At last he understood what Sibyl had planned. The thing inside Glisena was part of an elaborate assassination attempt against Lady Dediana. Sibyl, once again, was making a bid for the throne-and this time, she was going to claim it herself, instead of merely installing a puppet. Naneth must have been in Hlondeth, these past three days, setting the whole thing up.

"Glisena will give birth soon," Naneth continued. "When she does, she'll need a midwife. One who knows how to deal with what's inside her. Lord Wianar's best interests lie in turning the girl over to me."

"Who do you serve?" Arvin asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.

"Sseth's avatar," Naneth answered. "In this incarnation, he is known as Sibyl."

"Where is this Sibyl?" Arvin asked, hoping that Karrell was listening. "In Hlondeth?"

"Why?" Naneth asked-suspiciously enough that Arvin's guess might have been on the mark.

"Lord Wianar will insist on dealing with her personally."

"That won't be necessary. Deliver the girl to me, and I'll convey her to Sibyl."

"Why should Lord Wianar trust you?" Arvin asked. "The hiding place you chose was compromised; be thankful that I found it before Foesmasher did. No, I think he will want to deal with Sibyl, in person."

There was a long pause. "What is it Wianar wants?" Naneth asked.

"What do you mean?" Arvin asked.

The egg shook, making Arvin dizzy. "Don't play with me," Naneth spat. "Wianar wants something from Sibyl, in return for the girl. But he doesn't realize the consequences of the delay he's causing-or of angering Sibyl. Only a fool would dare to blackmail a god. And you are a greater fool, to serve him."

"I may be a fool, but I know where Glisena is, and you don't," Arvin countered. "And unless you want to face the wrath of your god, you'll have to do something other than threaten me. What can you offer, in return for Glisena?"

"I'm not so foolish as you think," the midwife growled. "I held a playing piece back from Sibyl-one that will prove valuable, if Dediana survives. I'm willing to offer it in trade for the baron's daughter. But I'm obviously wasting my time with you. I'll talk to Lord Wianar myself."

Arvin's breath caught. Would she kill him now? Then he realized that Naneth was bluffing-trying to make Arvin sweat a little. As if being trapped in an egg wasn't doing that readily enough.

"Lord Wianar knows better than to trust you," he countered. "But he trusts me." He paused. "What can you offer me, if I help you?"

"Your life," Naneth said, relief evident in her voice, "and the gratitude of a god."

"That's a good start," Arvin agreed. He rapped on the inside of the egg with the hilt of his dagger. "But

I'm not going to negotiate from inside an egg. Let me out of here, and we'll talk."

Arvin was jostled back and forth, and a seam of light shone in through a rip in the egg. He saw Naneth's pudgy fingers-impossibly large-tear the egg, widening the rip, and felt the liquid drain away. Suddenly he was breathing air once more. The egg parted into two halves, and he fell. The floor of the but rushed up to meet him…

Before it struck him, he returned to his full size. His feet hit the floor with a thud. He staggered then regained his balance. As he looked up, he saw that the rainbows were gone-and that Karrell was hanging from the ceiling, just behind Naneth. She was swaying back and forth, hissing softly. No, not hissing, whispering the words of her charm spell.

A spell that, Arvin knew, would have no effect whatsoever on Naneth.

Reacting to the hissing, Naneth whirled to face Karrell.

"Naneth," Karrell hissed. "I have an urgent message for Sibyl from the ssthaarof the Se'sehen. Where is she?"

Naneth's eyes narrowed. One hand was behind her back; with it, she began a complicated gesture that could only have been the start of a spell. Karrell, under the impression that Naneth had been charmed, didn't seem to have noticed. She just hung there, swaying, about to take the brunt of whatever spell Naneth was going to cast.

The time for bluffing was over.

Arvin leaped forward, seizing the midwife's hand and clamping a hand over her mouth, but Naneth twisted her head aside and spat out a one-word incantation. Electricity shot into Arvin's hands and surged through his body, throwing him backward. He landed heavily on the floor, heart rattling in his chest, gasping for breath.

Naneth turned away, ignoring him. "Tell me your message. I'll convey it."

Karrell's head swayed back and forth. "My message is for Sibyl's ears alone. Where is she?"

Arvin, listening, knew that Karrell's attempt to pry information from Naneth was doomed. Under the compulsion of a charm spell, the midwife might have overlooked the extremely coincidental arrival of a messenger from Tashalar, asking exactly the same question "Lord Wianar's spy" had just asked. Without the charm, everything Karrell said was an obvious lie. Naneth was toying with Karrell, buying time to cast a spell. Once again, her hand was behind her back, her fingers working.

Forcing himself up off the floor, Arvin threw his dagger. It spun through the air, striking Naneth in the back. But instead of penetrating, the weapon fell harmlessly to the floor, deflected by magic. The midwife spun and leveled a pointing finger at Arvin.

Karrell hissed sharply, glanced between Naneth and Arvin, and sank her teeth into Naneth's shoulder.

Naneth's eyes widened. She jerked away, clamping a hand to her injured shoulder. Barking out a two-word incantation, she vanished.

Arvin clambered to his feet.

Karrell dropped from the ceiling, shifted into human form, and rose gracefully to her feet. Despite the urgency of the moment, the sight of her, naked, took Arvin's breath away. Her words, however, were harsh. "Why did you do that? In another moment she would have told me where Sibyl was."

"No she wouldn't; your charm spell didn't work," Arvin said, rising to his feet. "Naneth is shielded against spells that affect the mind. She knew you were lying and was about to cast a spell on you. I was afraid you'd be killed."

Karrell's eyes softened. "I thought the same… about you."

"I know," Arvin said, touching her cheek. He let his hand fall. "I'm sure whatever spell Naneth was about to cast wouldn't have been very pleasant. But at least we won't have to worry about her anymore. Yuan-ti venom is… pretty potent stuff, right?"

"My bite is not venomous."

"Oh," Arvin said. He frowned. "We'd better get out of here, then. As soon as Naneth figures out she hasn't been poisoned, she'll be back. And she won't be happy- with either one of us." He peered outside the door. The satyrs had obeyed Naneth's instructions and were waiting outside, but they looked agitated. They were talking in low voices, and pointing toward the hut.

Arvin beckoned Karrell to the doorway. "Do you have all of a yuan-ti's usual magical abilities?" he whispered.

She nodded.

"We need to get out of here," Arvin continued. He pointed at his pack, which lay on the ground near the satyrs. "If you cast a magical darkness just outside the hut, I should be able to grab my pack. I'll make for the nearest tunnel and keep going. In the meantime, use your magical fear on the satyrs; I hope I'll be out of the maze before they've gathered enough courage to follow me. As soon as you've done that, assume snake form and get out yourself. We'll meet back where we left Tanglemane and figure out some other way of finding Sibyl. Agreed?"

"Agreed." She planted a kiss on his lips. "For luck."

"Thanks," he said, smiling. His lips tingled where she'd kissed them. Dagger in hand, he readied himself, calculating the number of paces it would take to reach his pack. "Do it."

As utter darkness filled the clearing outside the hut, Arvin flung the door flap aside. He sprinted for his pack, keeping low. From his left, he heard the thrum of a bow, followed by the hiss of an arrow over his head.

The satyrs shouted at each other in confusion. Then Karrell loosed her second wave of magic, and the shouts turned to bleats of fear. Arvin scooped up his pack on the run, slinging it over a shoulder by one strap and praying that its contents weren't spilling out behind him. Then he reached the edge of the darkness. He burst into daylight a dozen paces or so from the edge of the brambles. The tunnel the satyrs had dragged him out of was to his left. He raced for it then flung himself prone and started to crawl. Behind him, he heard shouts and the thrum-thrum of a bow being shot twice in rapid succession; at least one of the satyrs had shaken off the magical fear. His shots, though aimed at random from inside the darkness, passed uncomfortably close to Arvin. One struck a vine just above his head.

Crawling rapidly, pack still slung awkwardly over one shoulder, Arvin followed the drag marks. They led to the spot where he'd been ambushed by the satyr with the pan pipes; from this point on he followed his own trail. All the while he prayed that the satyrs wouldn't figure out where he'd gone-that they wouldn't know a quicker route through the bramble maze. The fear seemed to have worn off; Arvin could hear them in the clearing, shouting at one another.

Tymora must have been with him, however; the satyrs didn't catch up. Soon he could see Tanglemane through the thicket of thorny vines. The centaur's ears were twitching; when he spotted Arvin, he gave a snort of delight. Arvin crawled out of the brambles, leaped to his feet, and was relieved to see Karrell slither out after him a moment later. As she shifted into human form, he turned to Tanglemane. "We need to get out of here fast," he told the centaur. "We've got a hornet's nest of angry satyrs behind us. Will you carry us?"

"I would," Tanglemane said. Then he glanced into the forest nervously. "But there's a problem. The wolves are still waiting for their meat."

Arvin turned and saw the wolves. They had been sitting, waiting, but when White Muzzle rose to her feet, the rest followed her lead. Tongues lolling, they stared at Arvin and Karrell. White Muzzle growled-and even without Karrell to translate, Arvin understood. The wolves were hungry.

And the satyrs' shouts were growing closer. They would be through the brambles at any moment.

Arvin glanced at Karrell. "Magical fear?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Not again. Not so soon."

An arrow careened out of the brambles behind them, narrowly missing Arvin. "What about darkness?" he asked Karrell.

"Not yet. But I have other magic that may help." Turning, she gestured at the brambles. As her fingers wove complicated patterns in the air, the vines constricted, closing off the tunnel like a net being pulled shut. The satyrs, trapped inside and pierced by thorns, bleated angrily.

Karrell cast a second spell, and their bows twisted into knots. No more arrows were fired.

"That's one problem down," Arvin said. The wolves, however, continued to pad closer to Arvin, Karrell, and Tanglemane. They were working up their courage with a series of low growls. Any moment now, they would rush forward and attack.

Arvin eyed the trees. He and Karrell could climb to safety, but not Tanglemane.

The centaur's ears twitched wildly. "We should run."

"No," Arvin said. "That's what they want." He glanced once more at the vine-trussed satyrs then turned to Karrell. "Speak to the wolves. Tell them we've brought their meat: the satyrs. The moment your spell wears off, the wolves can rush them. Then they'll have all the meat they like."

Karrell nodded then rapidly barked this out to White Muzzle. The wolf growled something at her pack then yipped a question back at Karrell, who answered it.

"I told her I broke the satyrs' bows, but she is still fearful," Karrell translated. "The satyrs are fierce fighters, even without weapons."

Arvin chuckled in reply. "Not when they're asleep." He spoke his glove's command word, and the pan pipes he'd vanished into it reappeared. "Plug your ears," he instructed. Tanglemane and Karrell did as instructed. Arvin, praying the pipes wouldn't affect the person playing them, lifted them to his lips and blew.

A shrill noise squealed from the pipes, but nothing happened. Neither the satyrs nor the wolves fell asleep. The nearest satyr, however, did twist around in the brambles, earning himself several scratches, to say something to his fellows. His voice sounded worried.

Arvin lowered the pipes. Only a satyr could evoke their magic, it seemed. But if that was the case, why did the satyrs sound concerned? He glanced closely at the pipes, noting for the first time that they were made from individual reeds, bound together with twine in a series of intricate knots.

Magical knots?

Grinning, Arvin slid the point of his dagger under one of the knots. He held the pan pipes out where the satyrs could see them. "Do as I say!" he shouted. "Or I'll destroy them."

A babble of voices broke out as the satyrs conversed in their own tongue. Then one of them shouted. "What want you?"

White Muzzle had begun to slink forward again, the rest of the pack following.

Arvin spoke quickly to Karrell. "Can you loosen just a few of the brambles?" he asked. "Enough to let one of the satyrs go?"

She nodded.

"Translate what I say for the wolves," Arvin told her. Then he turned his attention back to the satyrs. "We're going to release one of you," he shouted. "That one will go back to the clearing and fetch Theyron's body, and bring it to me."

Karrell translated, and White Muzzle gave a satisfied growl. The satyrs, however, seemed reluctant. Arvin held the pan pipes a little higher, and started to saw with his blade.

"Stop!" one cried. "We shall bring him."

Arvin smiled. He tipped his head in the direction of the satyr who had spoken. "That one," he told Karrell in a low voice. Loosen the brambles around him."

As the vines untwined themselves from him, the satyr leaped to his feet. He gave Arvin a fierce glare, then trotted back in the direction of the satyr camp. While he was gone, the brambles around the other satyrs began to loosen. Karrell recast her spell.

The satyr returned a short while later, dragging Theyron's body. He paused just before leaving the brambles, catching his breath, then readjusted his grip on the body and continued dragging it toward Arvin. The wound in the dead satyr's neck was still leaking blood; it left a trail of red. The wolves moved forward, licking their lips in anticipation. Then, at a yip from White Muzzle, they moved forward in a rush. The satyr bleated and scurried back into the brambles. The wolves converged on the corpse, growling at one another as they tore bloody chunks from it.

"Let's get moving," Arvin said in a low voice, eyeing the wolves. "Before they finish eating and decide they're still hungry."

Tanglemane nodded and knelt, motioning for Arvin and Karrell to get on his back. Arvin started to climb on then heard the creak of a bow being drawn. He turned his head just in time to see one of the satyrs-the one who had dragged Theyron's body back-standing inside

the brambles with a bow held at full draw. Arvin ducked as the satyr let his arrow fly.

The satyr wasn't aiming at Arvin however, but at the wolves. One of them yelped as the arrow struck it.

"Let's go," Arvin shouted, boosting Karrell onto Tanglemane's back.

Tanglemane, however, crumpled to his knees, spilling her to the ground. The centaur staggered to his feet a moment later, clutching his chest. A thin line of blood trickled out from beneath his hands.

"Tanglemane," Karrell said, alarmed. "What's wrong?"

Even as she asked the question, Arvin realized the answer. The arrow had struck White Muzzle, and the fate link had caused Tanglemane to suffer an identical wound.

The satyr shot another arrow. This one struck another wolf in the head, instantly killing it.

The pack bolted, White Muzzle in the rear, limping.

Arvin silently cursed his stupidity; he should have guessed that the satyr would pick up another bow when he returned to the camp.

The satyr nocked another arrow. This time, he turned toward Arvin as he drew his bow.

"Wait!" Arvin shouted. "If you shoot me, you'll never get these back." He flourished the pan pipes then vanished them into his glove.

"The pipes are inside my glove," he told the satyr, splaying his fingers wide to show that they had truly vanished. "And I'm the only one who can work the glove's magic. Kill me, and you'll lose the pipes forever." He paused to let that sink in then added, "Let us leave the forest, and I'll give the pipes back to you. They're useless to me-I have no interest in keeping them. I'll leave them at the forest's edge for you. Do we have an agreement?"

The satyr lowered his bow a fraction and turned to speak to his fellows. Low murmuring followed. As the satyrs conferred, Arvin glanced at Tanglemane. The centaur's face was pale; his legs trembled. Only a trickle of blood seeped from the wound; the arrow must have still been buried in White Muzzle's flesh. Given her limited, animal intelligence, she would probably flee from the pain until she dropped, until she died.

"Agreed!" the satyr shouted back. "You may leave."

Cautiously, Arvin and Karrell backed away from the brambles, leading the injured Tanglemane. The satyr held his fire.

Tanglemane was able to walk, but he gasped with each breath.

Arvin touched the crystal at his throat. "Nine lives," he pleaded.

Tanglemane was going to need them. Even if the satyrs kept their end of the bargain, the centaur was unlikely to make it out of the woods.