Viper's kiss

CHAPTER 14

Arvin sat in Karrell's room at the Fairwinds Inn, staring at the cold ashes in the fireplace, exhausted in mind and body. His limbs were heavy with fatigue and his wounds ached; even thinking was as difficult as wading through deep water.

What was Karrell doing, speaking to Zelia? She was putting not only Arvin's life in danger by doing so, but her own life, as well. The two women might share the same goal-finding Sibyl-but Zelia was utterly ruthless in that pursuit. She'd allowed Arvin and Naulg to fall into the hands of The Pox then subjected Arvin to one of the cruelest psionic powers of all in order to achieve her goal. Why would Karrell ever want to ally herself with such a person?

Because, Arvin thought heavily, Karrell was also a yuan-ti. She didn't fear that race, the way a human would.

And because-and with this thought, Arvin sighed heavily-Zelia was a far more powerful psion than he was, far more capable.

Had Karrell decided to abandon him?

The drawing Karrell had done of him was still lying on the table. He picked it up. She'd drawn him as he lay sleeping; in the portrait, his face looked relaxed, at peace, which was hardly how he felt right now.

Everything had gone right, yet everything had gone wrong. He'd done what Tanju had demanded of him- found Foesmasher's daughter-even without using the dorje. But what good had it done? Glisena was about to give birth to a demon; her chances of survival weren't high. And once again, those who had committed this foul crime-Naneth and the abomination Sibyl-would go unpunished.

Thunder grumbled in the coal-dark sky, a distant echo to Arvin's thoughts.

If Glisena did die, Foesmasher would be devastated. The baron didn't think clearly where his daughter was concerned. He was bound to take his frustrations out on those who were "responsible," in however oblique a way, for any harm that came to her. He demonstrated that when he'd lashed out at the soldier after the death of the satyr. Arvin might be the next one on the chopping block-especially if his absence from the palace were discovered. Marasa had instructed him to stay close at hand, and he'd disobeyed her. That alone would be enough to rouse the baron's wrath.

Arvin clenched his gloved hand until his abbreviated little finger ached. It was like serving the Guild, all over again.

He'd been wrong to think he could make a new home for himself in Sespech; wrong in putting his faith in the baron; and most of all, wrong about Karrell.

He stared at the bed in which they'd made love-in which they'd conceived a child-then he looked back at the portrait, still in his hand. He crumpled it and tossed it onto the cold ashes in the fireplace.

He leaned forward and drummed his fingers on the table. If he knew where Zelia was, he might have tried to head Karrell off, to talk some sense into her. But the baron had been too preoccupied-to say the least-for Arvin to ask him where Zelia had been spotted. All Arvin knew was that she was somewhere in Ormpetarr… Which was all Karrell knew about Zelia, as well. And yet the message she'd left with the soldiers sounded as if she knew where Zelia was. How? Karrell was a stranger here; she knew less about Ormpetarr than even Arvin did. She'd have no idea which inn Zelia might have chosen to stay atArvin stiffened. Zelia was an agent of House Extaminos, a trusted employee of Lady Dediana. She wouldn't stay at an inn.

She'd stay at the ambassador's residence.

That was where Karrell went.

His exhaustion suddenly forgotten, Arvin hurried from the room.

Arvin approached the ambassador's residence warily, his feet squelching on melting snow. If he was right in his guess that Zelia was staying here, he didn't want to run into her in the street. He pulled his hood up and tugged it down over his forehead to hide his wound. The lapis lazuli was still in place over his third eye; if Naneth scried on him again, he wanted to know it. Besides, removing the stone wouldn't accomplish much. Though the cut on his forehead had scabbed over completely, hiding the stone from view, Zelia would quickly realize what had prompted such a wound. Even with several days' worth of stubble shadowing Arvin's face, she'd recognize him.

He stared at the ambassador's residence from the shadow of an arched gate down the street. Several lights were on inside the building, and figures moved busily back and forth, their silhouettes passing across the draped windows. A large cargo wagon was pulled up in front of the main gate. The wagon was already half filled with boxes, rolled-up rugs, and furniture; slaves hurried back and forth from the residence, loading it.

It looked as though Ambassador Extaminos was beating a hasty retreat from Ormpetarr. Had he heard what was happening at the palace?

Four militiamen in cobra-hood helmets stood guard over the wagon. Arvin recognized one of them by his prominent nose. He touched the crystal at his neck, whispering a prayer of thanks to Tymora for sending him good fortune. He still had a little energy left in his muladhara, but he didn't want to spend it on a charm unless he had to. Rillis, fortunately, responded to more mundane prods.

Arvin fished two silver pieces out of his coin pouch then walked toward the front gate of the residence, hailing Rillis by name. "I'm looking for Karrell-the woman who was with me when I spoke with Ambassador Extaminos. Have you seen her?"

The young militiaman shook his head.

Relief filled Arvin. Maybe Karrell had second thoughts about talking to Zelia. Then again, maybe Rillis hadn't been in a position to spot her. "How long have you been on watch?"

"All night," Rillis said with a wry look. "As usual." "Always at the front gate?"

"Mostly," he said. He kicked at the slush. "The snow might be melting, but it's still been a damp, chilly night," he added with a wink.

Arvin noticed that Rillis wasn't shivering. He'd obviously been inside at least part of his watch, warming himself at the fire.

Rillis stared at the wound on Arvin's forehead. "What happened this time?" he asked. "Another naga?"

Arvin shook his head. "Nothing so exciting as that," he lied. "A thief tried to grab my coin pouch. He cut me."

Rillis nodded sympathetically. "Good thing he wasn't aiming lower," he said, drawing a hand across his throat.

Arvin nodded gravely. He stepped closer and opened his hand just enough to reveal the two coins. "There's another woman I'm also looking for. A yuan-ti who serves House Extaminos, named Zelia. She has red hair, green scales, and a blue forked tongue. Have you seen her?"

Rillis arched an eyebrow. "One gorgeous woman isn't enough?" He started to laugh but faltered when he saw the glower in Arvin's eye. "The red-headed yuan-ti is here," he said quickly. "She's a guest of the ambassador."

Arvin glanced up at the residence. "Is she here now?"

Rillis rubbed his finger and thumb together. Arvin passed him the coins.

"Yes."

"Which room is she in?"

"Second floor. At the back. The second to last suite on the right." Rillis gave Arvin a tentative glance, his expression a mixture of greed and fear. "Do you… need me to get you inside?"

"That won't be necessary," Arvin answered. Rillis looked relieved.

Arvin took two more coins from his pouch and passed them to Rillis. "If Karrell does show up and asks for Zelia," he instructed, "tell her that Zelia's not here. That she's somewhere else."

Rillis grinned as he took the coins. "Consider it done. But I'm only on duty until dawn. The ambassador has finally risen from his dream sleep, and he's in a hurry to leave; I'll be part of the escort accompanying him to the morning riverboat."

"Will Zelia be going with him?" Arvin asked. "Or will she be staying on at the residence?"

Rillis shrugged. "That's up to the new ambassador. He'll decide which slaves and militia-and which house guests-he wants to stay on."

"Thanks," Arvin said. "You've been a big help."

He walked down the street, turned a corner, and circled around the block to the street at the rear of the ambassador's residence. He walked the length of the building, glancing up at the residence only when the two militiamen who were standing out back weren't watching. The last two windows of the second floor were dark, but light glowed through the next two; that must have been Zelia's suite. The curtains on one of the windows had been drawn but not quite all the way; a slight gap remained. It was impossible, however, to see inside from this angle.

The militiamen watched Arvin as he walked the length of the block but lost interest in him as he turned the corner. Making his way to the rear of the building that was directly behind the ambassador's residence, he walked up a short flight of stairs to one of its doors. Pretending to be fitting a key into the lock, he glanced up and down the street. No one was watching. Then he activated the magic within his bracelet and climbed the wall.

Arvin swung himself up onto the roof. Crawling to the far side through patches of wet snow, he stared across the street at the window that had caught his attention a moment ago. Through the gap in its curtains he spotted Zelia. She was seated in a chair that had its side to the window. She was leaning forward in hungry anticipation, her forked tongue flickering through a smile that sent shivers through him. She'd smiled at Arvin in just the same way when she gloatingly told him about the seed she'd planted in his mind. She leaned forward more, gesturing at someone who sat opposite her.

A sudden dread filled him. Who was Zelia talking to?

He crawled farther along the rooftop, ignoring the discomfort of the slush that had soaked through his pants and shirt. No matter what angle he viewed the window from, however, he couldn't see the second person. Working his way back to his original position-a spot directly opposite the window-he sent his awareness into his third eye. He was taking an enormous chance by manifesting a power-if Zelia detected his psionics, he would give himself away-but he had to know if Karrell was inside.

As the energy stored in his third eye uncoiled, a thread of silver light spun out into the night, toward the window. It penetrated the glass and touched the curtain inside, weaving its way into the fabric. Then, one tiny tug at a time, it began to pull.

Slowly, the curtain eased back. After each tug, Arvin waited for several heartbeats, terrified that Zelia might hear the soft slide of the curtain on its rod or notice the gradually widening gap between the curtains. She didn't.

Finally, Arvin got a glimpse of the person she was talking to. It wasn't Karrell.

It was Naneth.

Arvin blinked in surprise. He'd expected Naneth to come to Ormpetarr in an attempt to recapture Glisena, but he'd also expected her to show up at the palace. He did not expect her to be here, inside the ambassador's home.

He had to find out what was going on.

With all that remained of the energy in his muladhara, he manifested one last power. Sparkles of light streamed out of the center of his forehead then curled around his head. With them came a heightened awareness. The lighted windows in the ambassador's residence became a babble of overlapping sounds; the lights elsewhere in the city, a distant hum. Even the stars in the night sky emitted a faint, crackling hiss.

Those, however, weren't the sounds Arvin was interested in.

He curled both of his hands into loose fists then held both of them up to his left eye, forming a tube. Through it, he peered at Zelia's window with his other eye shut. The waves of noise that had been pouring into his mind were stopped down to a trickle; now he "saw" only the sounds emanating from Zelia's room. He had to shift, slightly, to screen out the light from the hearth, which filled his mind with a sharp crackle. The fire had been well stoked; like all yuan-ti, Zelia liked her rooms at basking temperature. At last he managed to narrow his field of view to include just Zelia and Naneth. As he did, their voices sprang into focus.

"… to be done tonight," the midwife said.

"Why?" Zelia asked.

"Because Foesmasher has summoned his clerics," Naneth said urgently. "He's convinced them to do his dirty work. This time, the child will be killed."

Zelia arched an eyebrow. "Surely he wouldn't slay his own grandchild?"

Naneth snorted. "He doesn't have the same respect for life that Lady Dediana does. To him, the child is just a serpent. I've heard it said that he refers to it as `the demon.'" She shook her head in a parody of sadness, sending a ripple through her double chin.

Zelia lounged in her chair, her expression confident. "I'll get the girl out."

"How?" Naneth asked. "Glisena's chamber is warded against serpents."

Zelia smiled. "There are ways of getting around wards."

Naneth leaned forward, pudgy hands on her knees. "Just so long as you can do it. Remove her from the palace, and I'll teleport her to Hlondeth."

"Directly to the House Extaminos compound?" Zelia asked.

Naneth nodded. "Yes. Tell your mistress the girl will be delivered, as promised."

Arvin waited, tense with anticipation.

"I'll contact you as soon as I have her," Zelia promised.

"This needs to be done sooner, rather than later," Naneth urged. "As swiftly as you can."

"Swift as a striking serpent," Zelia agreed with a hiss of laughter. She leaned forward as she spoke, playing with a strand of her long red hair. It parted, revealing a finger-long chunk of crystal that hung from a silver hoop in her ear. Judging by its faint glow, it was a crystal capacitor or power stone-which was strange, since Zelia had always before scorned the use of psionic "crutches."

Something must have made Naneth nervous; the midwife raised a hand to her temple to wipe sweat from her forehead.

Zelia settled back into her chair, staring at Naneth through slit eyes. Her tongue flickered out of her mouth, as if she were savoring the midwife's discomfort.

Naneth wiped her temple, glanced in the direction of the hearth, and moved her chair a little farther from it. Arvin gave a mental nod; he felt the same discomfort in the yuan-ti's overheated rooms.

"Will you be staying on in Sespech once our business is concluded?" Naneth asked.

Zelia smiled. "Only for a few days," she said. "Then we really must leave."

"Who is "we'?" Naneth asked.

Zelia smiled. "You'll find out-seven days from now." A soft, satisfied hiss of laughter followed.

Arvin's eyes widened as he realized what he'd just witnessed. Naneth hadn't been wiping sweat from her brow. She'd been wiping away a sheen of ectoplasm. Zelia had just seeded her. The earring-a power stone-must have contained a copy of the mind seed power.

The power that Arvin thought he had stripped from her for good, six months ago.

Arvin closed his eyes, blocking out both sight and sound. Bile rose in his throat; he swallowed it down. He could guess what must have happened. He'd relayed his warnings about Naneth being one of Sibyl's minions to Tanju, who in turn had conveyed them to Lady Dediana. And she, in turn, had passed the information along to Zelia, her agent in Sespech. Together, no doubt, with an order: that Zelia try, once again, to plant a spy within Sibyl's ranks.

Thunder grumbled from a clear sky: the laughter of Hoar. Naneth had placed a demon in Glisena's womb, and Zelia had just planted a mind seed in the midwife. The god of poetic justice was, beyond a doubt, pleased.

Arvin shuddered.

He watched as the two women in the room exchanged good-byes. Zelia promised to use another sending to contact Naneth the instant Glisena was out of the palace. Naneth nodded then teleported away.

Zelia turned and stared out the window, her eyes flashing silver as she manifested a power. Fearful that she would detect him, Arvin immediately ended his power. For several terrible moments he held his breath, bracing himself for her attack. Then he saw Zelia shiver.

An annoyed look on her face, she swayed to the window and yanked the curtains shut.

Slowly, Arvin let out his breath. Then he scrambled to the far side of the building and climbed back down to the street. He hurried up the road, casting several glances behind him, but saw no signs of pursuit. Relieved, he turned his steps toward the Fairwinds Inn.

As he walked, he pondered what he'd just seen and heard. He didn't believe for a moment that Zelia would attempt to remove Glisena from the palace-she'd just wanted to distract Naneth while she seeded her. That seed, however, would take seven days to blossom. And long before those seven days ended, Naneth would face Sibyl's wrath for having failed to deliver the pregnant Glisena to Hlondeth. What good would Zelia's mind seed be then?

He reached the inn and-after one more careful glance around-let himself in through the back door. He climbed the three flights of stairs that led to the attic room that Karrell had rented. As he reached the landing, he heard sounds of movement behind her door. Karrell had at last returned, it seemed. He prayed she'd been unsuccessful in finding Zelia. As he started to reach for the latch, he heard a wooden clatter that sounded like a chair falling over inside the room. It was immediately followed by a whispered oath, spoken by a male voice.

Arvin summoned his dagger into his glove and flattened himself against the wall beside the door. With his free hand, he reached into his pocket for the monkey's fist he'd used to waylay the satyr. A heartbeat later, the latch turned. The door eased open and a man started to back through it. Arvin recognized the fellow at once: the gaunt-faced rogue with the ice dagger who had waylaid him four days ago. The rogue was bent over, carrying something: an unconscious woman. A second man, still inside the room, held her feet. Even though both the room and hallway were in darkness, Arvin recognized their victim at once by her long hair and hugely pregnant belly.

Glisena. What in the Nine Hells was she doing here?

Arvin sprang forward, simultaneously slamming the hilt of his dagger into the temple of the rogue while hurling the monkey's fist in through the door at the second man. The intricate knot unraveled as it flew through the air, strands of it lashing the second man's arms against his sides. The skinny rogue, meanwhile, staggered sideways down the hall under the force of Arvin's blow. Both men dropped their burden at once; Glisena fell to the floor with a heavy thud.

There was no time to check if she was hurt. Arvin's blow had stunned the rogue instead of rendering him unconscious, and the second man-a beefy-looking fellow with a wind-reddened face and greasy hair-managed, despite his bonds, to twist up the loaded crossbow that hung from his belt. Arvin heard the trigger click and leaped aside from the doorway. The bolt snagged his cloak. The first rogue recovered and rushed down the hall, thrusting with his ice dagger. Arvin parried, and the point of the weapon scratched his left forearm. A shock of cold swept through his arm from his elbow to the tip of his abbreviated little finger. His hand went numb, and he dropped his dagger.

Greasy Hair was out of commission inside the room; the monkey's fist had wound its strands around his legs as well, and he'd fallen to the floor. But the first rogue had recovered enough to press home his attack. He feinted with his ice dagger, driving Arvin away from the weapon he'd just dropped. Arvin backed down the short hallway until the wall was at his back then put a deliberately worried look on his face.

The rogue lunged.

“Redditio!" Arvin cried, and his magical dagger flew up from the floor toward his ungloved hand. He caught it as the rogue completed his lunge; the ice dagger scored a line across Arvin's side as he twisted, tearing his shirt. Gasping from the sudden cold-it felt as though an ice- cold hand had clenched his guts-Arvin completed his twist and slammed his own weapon home. It sank to the hilt in the rogue's back.

The rogue went down. He fell to the floor, gurgling like a man whose lungs were filled with fever-fluid. Then he coughed a spray of blood. He wouldn't live long.

Arvin stood on the rogue's wrist and plucked the ice dagger out of his hand then glanced through the doorway at the second man. The fellow had strained against his magical bindings until the cords cut deep grooves into the flesh of his arms and legs, but the ensorcelled twine was holding.

Transferring both daggers to his gloved hand, Arvin touched his side. Crumbles of frozen blood came away from the wound, causing it to bleed slightly. Like the cut on his arm, it was no more than a scratch. "Nine lives," he whispered.

Inside the room, on the table, was a mug of ale. Arvin was tempted to take a hefty swallow but decided against it. He didn't want the rogues thinking his bravery needed a crutch. He glared down at the trussed man.

"It wasn't my idea," the fellow whined. He jerked his head at the rogue who lay dying in the hall. "Lewinn was the one who wanted to cut you out of the deal. He said we could keep the diamonds for ourselves. I said, `No, Lewinn, we should deal fairly with the mind mage,' but he wouldn't listen. He-"

"Shut up," Arvin said.

Greasy Hair did.

The wounded rogue exhaled one last, gurgling breath then was still. Arvin grabbed his ankles and dragged him inside the room. He eased the door shut-so far, the other occupants of the inn hadn't reacted to the sounds of the fight, and he wanted to keep it that way-then knelt beside Glisena. Her eyes were closed, but her chest rose and fell evenly. Arvin lightly patted her cheek and called her name, but she didn't wake up.

"What have you done to her?" Arvin asked.

"She's drugged," Greasy Hair answered. His voice matched the mental voice Arvin had listened in on earlier, when the skinny rogue had forced him into the cooper's workshop.

Arvin frowned down at Glisena. "How did-"

"It was Lewinn's idea," Greasy Hair interrupted. "He posed as the innkeeper and brought her the ale, and-"

"How did you know she was here?" Arvin asked, glad he'd resisted the urge to drink.

"Lewinn spotted her, looking out the window. That's how we knew you had her." Greasy Hair paused. A too-innocent expression appeared on his face. "Listen, mind mage, the diamonds are in my pocket. Untie me, and I'll give them to you. The diamonds for the girl, just like we agreed, and our dealings will be over. All right?"

Arvin ignored him. He stood, thinking. Doubtless it had happened just the way Greasy Hair described. But how had Glisena wound up in Karrell's room?

It was possible-though it bordered on the miraculous-that Zelia had found a way to spirit Glisena out of the palace in the time it had taken Arvin to walk back to the inn. Could she have found a way past the wards and plucked Glisena out from under the very eyes of nine powerful clerics-ten, counting Marasa-and a watchful baron?

Possible, but hardly likely.

Unless Karrell had been the one to get Glisena out.

Karrell looked human enough; maybe she'd fooled the wards. And she had access to the palace. She might have been able to charm the clerics, to steal Glisena away and bring her here, to the room at the inn.

Whatever was going on, Arvin needed to get Glisena out of here.

Scooping the mug of ale off the table, he grabbed the rogue's greasy hair and wrenched his head back. "Drink it," he growled.

Greasy Hair struggled to wrench his head aside. "The diamonds aren't really in my pocket," he gasped. "But I can get them for you. Let me-"

Arvin poured the ale down his throat.

The man sputtered then swallowed. His eyes glazed then rolled-and he went limp.

Arvin pricked the fellow's arm with his dagger: no response. Greasy Hair wasn't feigning unconsciousness. Arvin spoke the command word that re-knotted the monkey's fist and shoved it back in his pocket. Then he reached inside his shirt for the brooch the baron had given him. He pinned it to the front of the thin rogue's shirt, where it was sure to be spotted. That would give Naneth something to puzzle over, if she came to claim Glisena and found one of the "baron's men" dead on the floor, next to an unconscious rogue.

Arvin removed the ice dagger's sheath from the dead rogue's belt, slid the weapon into it, and tucked it into his boot. Then he bent down and carefully picked up Glisena.

She was lighter than he'd expected-and cooler; her body no longer radiated heat. The drug the rogues had tricked her into drinking must have dampened her fever. It also seemed to have quieted the demon. Glisena's bulging stomach pressed up against Arvin's; he could no longer feel the demon kicking.

Arvin crept down the stairs, Glisena in his arms. He eased open the door at the bottom and peered out into the street. The street was deserted, except for a lone figure far down the block, walking toward the inn. Something about the person made Arvin uneasy; a second glance told him he'd been right to trust his instincts. The person moved with a swaying motion that instantly told Arvin her race: yuan-ti.

Zelia.

And she was moving toward the inn. Had she spotted him?

Arvin closed the door and hurried in the only other direction available: through the inn's common room, which had closed for the night. With Glisena in his arms, he wound his way between the tables, toward the inn's front door. Once again he looked cautiously outside. This time the street was empty.

Arvin hurried up the street. As he ran, slipping on patches of slush, he activated the lapis lazuli and visualized the one person he'd not yet contacted with it today who might be able to help: Marasa. Her face came into focus in his mind at once: drawn, worried-looking, and pale. Her left hand was raised, evoking Helm; her lips moved in prayer. Her eyes widened as a mental image of Arvin formed in her mind's eye.

Marasa, he thought, hailing her. I found Glisena. She's unconscious; I'm carrying her back to the palace from the Fairwinds Inn. Send help. Hurry!

Marasa's eyes widened in surprise. She glanced down then up at Arvin. That's not possible, she thought. Glisena's here. I've been by her side all… Suddenly, her expression grew wary. One last thought-only half- directed at Arvin, but it came through anyway-drifted through her mind: Is this a trick? Then the sending was broken.

Arvin slowed and stared down at the woman in his arms. Glisena was still at the palace? If this wasn't Glisena, who was it? He glanced around, spotted a sheltered doorway up the street, and stepped into it. With one hand, he undid the fastenings of his cloak, letting it fall to the ground. He spread it out with his foot then lowered the unconscious woman onto it. Then, closing his eyes so he could concentrate, he ran his fingertips across her face.

It took several moments of intense concentration for him to feel what was truly there. The face felt broader than Glisena's, and flatter. And the hair, when he ran it through his fingers, was wavy, not straight. And the ears…

Yes. There it was. The woman's left earlobe was pierced, the piercing filled with an earring of carved stone.

"Karrell," Arvin said in a stunned whisper.

She'd done an amazing job of transforming her appearance. She hadn't polymorphed herself-that would have fooled Arvin's fingers, as well as his eyes. She must have used some sort of illusion. He touched her hair a second time and felt what he'd expected: a gritty powder. Back in Hlondeth, one of the assassins who had commissioned a magical rope from Arvin had used a similar magical powder. By sprinkling a pinch of it on his head, he could change his appearance to that of anyone he liked. He'd actually gloated about how he'd used the powder to assume the appearance of a woman's husband then stabbed the woman in front of her own daughter. The husband had been charged with the crime-and executed in the pits with his daughter watching and cursing his name.

Arvin was glad he wasn't working for the Guild anymore.

He stared down at Karrell, shaking his head. Whatever game she'd been playing had been a dangerous one. The rogues had interrupted it, Tymora be praised.

Arvin idly scratched his forehead. The scab was starting to itch again.

His hand froze in mid-scratch as he realized it wasn't the wound. That tickling sensation was Naneth scrying on him.

And if she could see him, she could see Karrell. Who still looked like Glisena.

Arvin cursed his ill luck. Why had Naneth chosen this precise moment to scry on him? If she recognized the spot where he was crouching, she might appear at any moment.

He glanced wildly around. Just a short distance up the street, in the intersection, was one of the statues of Helm's gauntlet. Maybe, if he was quick enough…

Arvin scooped Karrell up and ran toward the gauntlet. Naneth's scrying ended when he was partway there. He scrambled up onto the dais and slapped his bare hand against the gauntlet. "Come on," he gasped, looking around for one of the clerics who was supposed to materialize when the gauntlet's protection was invoked. "Come on."

He heard a faint pop behind him: air being displaced as a person teleported. He turned, expecting to see one of the Eyes.

It was Naneth, standing perhaps a hundred paces away, beside the doorway Arvin had just bolted from.

Then Zelia appeared from around a corner, holding a piece of parchment in one hand.

With a sinking heart, Arvin recognized it as the drawing Karrell had made of him. The one he'd crumpled up, thrown into the fireplace, and forgotten.

Zelia had found it.

"Arvin," she said as she walked with slithering steps toward Arvin. "We meet again. You look unusually healthy… for a dead man." Laughter hissed softly from her lips.

No, not laughter. That hissing meant she was manifesting a power: a psionic attack. And Arvin had no energy left in his muladhara to counter it.

He tensed, but the mental agony he was bracing against didn't manifest. Then he realized that the gauntlet was protecting him. Zelia couldn't attack him. Not here.

He shifted Karrell in his arms so that her limp hand also touched the gauntlet. They were protected, for the moment, against spells. But if Naneth used a spell that wasn't directly hostile-if she got close enough to touch Karrell and teleport away with her, for example-they'd be in trouble.

"There you are," Zelia said to Naneth, gesturing at Arvin and Karrell. "The girl. As promised."

Naneth thanked her with a silent nod then walked briskly toward them.

A second faint pop sounded, right next to Arvin. Relief swept through him as he saw the newcomer's red cloak and brightly polished breastplate, emblazoned with the eye of Helm.

"The baron's daughter!" Arvin gasped, shifting Karrell so the cleric could see her face. "She's in danger."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Naneth break into a run. For a large woman, she moved surprisingly fast. "Detain that man!" she screamed. "He's an agent of Chondath. He's kidnapping the baron's daughter."

The cleric frowned then raised his gauntlet, turning the eye on its palm toward Arvin.

Arvin answered the question before the cleric even asked it. "I serve Lord Foesmasher," he said. As he spoke, a tingle swept through him: the gauntlet's truth- enforcing magic. He jerked his head at Naneth. "That woman's a sorcerer-an enemy of Foesmasher."

Naneth's hands were up, her fingers weaving a spell.

"Teleport us to the palace," Arvin shouted. "Now!" The cleric had been summoning his weapon-a mace-shaped glow that had half-materialized in his fist. The glow vanished, and he clamped a hand on Arvin's wrist.

As he did, Naneth completed her spell. In the area next to the dais, up suddenly became down. Arvin fell into the air, legs flailing. Karrell tumbled from his arms. The cleric was still holding onto Arvin's wrist and was praying-a prayer Arvin recognized, though he'd heard it only once before, when the yuan-ti ambassador had been teleported away by the clerics in Mimph.

"Wait!" Arvin shouted. With his free hand, he twisted violently, trying to catch Karrell. He caught hold of her ankle as he had a dizzying glimpse of Naneth on the dais below, casting another spell while Zelia hissed furiously, manifesting a power.

Tendrils of thought wiggled their way into his mind like tiny serpents. Hissing, they slithered through his mind, tearing with their fangs at his thoughts. He felt his mind begin to fray, and with each strand that parted, his body became weaker. One leg went limp, his left arm suddenly stopped responding to his thoughts, his head lolled back on a weakened neck-and the fingers of his right hand, the one that was gripping Karrell's ankle, grew limp as severed strings. He tried to keep hold of her, but felt his fingers slipping, slipping…

Naneth gloated up at him, reaching for Karrell with her pudgy fingers, while Zelia hissed with laughter.

"No," Arvin gasped. With his last bit of strength, he forced his thumb and one finger to close around Karrell's ankle-just as Zelia hit him with a massive thrust of psionic energy that smashed into his mind like a fist. Reeling, still falling upward, he caught a glimpse of her savoring his defeat with her forked tongue.

And the street vanished as the cleric teleported Arvin away.

Arvin groaned and rolled over. He ached in several places, there were sharp pains in his side and along his left arm, and his mind felt as though it were full of holes-the aftermath of Zelia's psionic attack.

The memory jolted him fully awake.

Karrell! Had sheHe looked wildly around. He was in the same chapel in which he had spoken to Foesmasher two nights ago-inside the palace. Relief rushed through him as he spotted Karrell farther along the bench he was lying on, just beyond his feet. The effects of the magical powder had worn off; she looked like herself again. She'd been teleported back with him. She was safe.

He touched the crystal at his neck. "Nine lives," he whispered. He glanced around, but saw they were alone in the room. Oddly, the cleric who had teleported them here had just left them. Or perhaps it was not so odd, given the events that were unfolding elsewhere in the palace. Arvin wondered if Glisena had given birth yet.

Karrell's chin was on her chest, her body slumped with exhaustion. She seemed to be sleeping, albeit restlessly. Her fingers twitched, as if plucking at something. Then she groaned in her sleep.

Fear swept through Arvin then, chilling him like an icy wind. Was Karrell having a nightmare-one drawn from the dark pit of Zelia's memories? Fingers trembling, he nudged her awake.

Karrell's eyes flew open. "Arvin! You have recovered. The cleric assured me you would, but I was worried, even so. He told me that I had been drugged, that Naneth had attacked you and-"

Arvin pulled her closer to him and anxiously ran his fingers over her temples, her hair, searching for traces of ectoplasm. He found none, but that meant nothing. If she had been seeded, it had been done some time ago.

"What are you doing?" Karrell asked.

"Did you meet with Zelia?"

Karrell pulled away, a wary expression on her face. "I said nothing that would give you away. My ring prevented her from learning about you."

"That doesn't matter-not now," Arvin said. He laughed bitterly. "Zelia knows I'm alive. She showed up at the inn, just as I was carrying you out. She saw me." He winced and rubbed his aching head. "She nearly killed me."

Karrell glanced away. She was silent for several moments. "I am sorry," she said at last.

'Sorry' isn't going to help me now," Arvin said. He shook his head. "What in the Abyss were you thinking?"

Karrell met his eye. "That Zelia might know where Sibyl is hiding. And I was right. She-"

"Damn it, Karrell," Arvin exploded. "Zelia might have seeded you."

"Yes," Karrell said gravely. "I know. But it was a calculated risk. You found a way to root out a mind seed once before; I was confident in your ability to do it again, if need be." Then her voice lowered. "I just wish you had an equal confidence in me."

Arvin sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "Were you dreaming just now?"

"Yes." She frowned. "Why?"

"Was the dream…" He searched for the right word. He had found Zelia's memories foreign, disturbing-but perhaps Karrell wouldn't. She was a yuan-ti, after all, and female. "Did it seem to be a memory from someone else's life?"

"Ah. You are still worried about the mind seed. No, it was not Zelia's dream. It was one I have been having for many months. A troubling dream, in which I am bound tightly and cannot escape."

"Your own dream, then," Arvin said, feeling slightly relieved.

"No, not mine. Not mine alone."

"What do you mean?" Arvin asked sharply.

Karrell tilted her head and stared at the window. Pale winter sunlight shone through the stained glass, causing the blue-and-gold eye of Helm to glow. "I have talked to other yuan-ti. Many of us have been having troubling dreams. Dreams of someone who is embracing us who will not let go, or of being bound by ropes, or even-most strange, for a yuan-ti-of being a mouse, held tight by a serpent. No one knows what they mean. Not even Zelia."

Arvin nodded, completely at a loss. Whatever the dreams meant, they had little to do with their immediate problem. "If you start having strange thoughts while you're awake, tell me," he said. "Or strange dreams-stranger than the ones you've just described, I mean."

"I will," Karrell said with a grave nod. Then she said, "Tell me what happened. How did I come to be drugged?"

Arvin told her about the two rogues who hoped to sell "Glisena" to Chondath, about finding her unconscious in the room at the inn, and about trying to carry "Glisena" back to the palace, only to be confronted by Naneth. He also told her about their narrow escape, thanks to the cleric.

She listened, nodding.

Arvin paused. "So what were you doing, disguised as Glisena?"

"It was Zelia's idea," Karrell said.

Arvin waited, arms folded across his chest. He could tell, already, that he wasn't going to like the explanation. "Start from the beginning. Tell me all about your meeting. Don't leave out any details."

"I met with Zelia at the ambassador's residence," Karrell said. "I told her I was an agent of Yra nil Suzur, ssthaar of the Jennestas-a ruler who, like Dediana

Extaminos, is wary of Sibyl's rise to power. Zelia agreed to speak with me."

"She agreed to meet with a complete stranger?" Karrell's eyes lighted mischievously. "I think she found me charming."

Arvin's eyebrows rose. "You charmed Zelia? I'm impressed."

"We spoke about Sibyl-about how dangerous she is. And yes, Zelia does know where Sibyl is hiding," Karrell continued. "As you guessed, she in Hlondeth. Sibyl has denned in an ancient temple beneath the city-a temple that was erected at the peak of the Serpentes Empire to honor the beast lord Varae, an aspect of Sseth. The temple was abandoned and forgotten long before Hlondeth was even built, but nobles of House Extaminos rediscovered it two years after Lord Shevron's death. They briefly worshiped there, and it was abandoned again. Sibyl, together with her followers, has turned it into a fully fledged temple once more."

"How did Zelia discover this?" Arvin asked. Karrell gave a graceful shrug. "One of House Extaminos's spies learned it."

Arvin wondered if it had been another of Zelia's mind seeds. "Zelia might have been lying to you."

"She might have," Karrell agreed. "But to what end? She would have been foolish to throw away the opportunity I offered-an alliance with a group that is also working against Sibyl."

"Zelia breaks alliances as quickly as she makes them," Arvin countered. "Still, go on. You haven't explained why you were impersonating Glisena."

"To lure Naneth to me," Karrell said. "Zelia gave me the powder, and suggested I play the part of Glisena. She said she would contact Naneth and promise to deliver `Glisena' to her-and ensure that Naneth teleported me to the Extaminos palace in Hlondeth. There, House Extaminos's spellcasters would subdue Naneth. And I would use a second pinch of the powder to change my appearance to match Naneth's. Then I would infiltrate the temple where Sibyl lairs, and-"

"Did Zelia give you a second pinch of powder?" Arvin asked.

"No."

"You trusted her? After what she did to me?" Karrell winced. "I had to take the chance. The lives of thousands of people-"

"What about this person?" Arvin asked, thumping a hand against his chest. It felt hollow. "You were going to leave without even saying good-bye."

"There was no time," Karrell said, her dark eyes flashing. "And I would have returned. Once I had secured the Circled Serpent and carried it to a place of safety, I would have come back to you."

"If you'd lived," Arvin said bitterly. "And if you didn't, I'd never have known what had happened to you."

She lifted a hand to his face. "You would have contacted me," she said. Her fingers lightly touched the scab on his forehead. "With your stone. I would have told you, then, where I was."

Arvin turned away from her touch.

"Do you want the truth?" she asked.

Arvin glanced reluctantly back at her.

"I feared that you would try to talk me out of it," she said. She sighed. "And that you would succeed. I could not run that risk. Too much is at stake."

Arvin nodded. He stared at Helm's gauntlet for several long moments then turned to Karrell. "Zelia played you for a fool," he told her. "When she told you that you would be the one to infiltrate Sibyl's lair, she was lying."

Karrell tossed her head. "Of course you would say that."

"I'm not just saying that," Arvin told her. "I know that. I spied on Zelia, earlier tonight. Probably just after you met with her. When she was talking to Naneth." "And?" Karrell prompted.

"Zelia planted a mind seed in her."

Karrell absorbed this news without reacting. "I thought Zelia might do that," she said evenly. "And I knew it would anger you, if you found out. What I do not understand is why you feel any sympathy for the midwife. After what she did to the baron's daughter-"

"I don't feel sympathy for her," Arvin said. "Naneth deserves what's coming to her." He shuddered, remembering the terrible headaches, the nightmarish dreams, the impulses that were not his own-impulses that had, just before the mind seed was due to blossom, driven him to kill an innocent man. "The point is that Zelia was using you to further her own ends."

"Zelia no more used me than I used her," Karrell countered. "I sought her out. I asked her to help me get close to Sibyl, and that is what she did." She frowned. "Or rather, what she tried to do. Our plan would have worked, if the rogues had not interfered."

"You're lucky they did," Arvin said. "Zelia never would have let you impersonate Naneth."

Karrell's eyes narrowed. "Why are you so certain of that?"

"Zelia planted a mind seed in me-remember?" He tapped his temple. "I know how her mind works. Zelia doesn't delegate-she does the job herself. Or rather, her mind seeds do. She probably would have let Naneth teleport you to the House Extaminos compound-but that's as far as your part in it would go. She'd let Naneth report to Sibyl that `Glisena' had been delivered-thus ensuring that Naneth remained in Sibyl's good graces-then would have found a way, somehow, to stall the midwife for seven days, until the mind seed blossomed. You, meanwhile, would become superfluous-and would be disposed of."

"It is a convincing argument," Karrell said. "Except for one point. Why would Zelia kill me? Why throw away a valuable ally?"

"She wouldn't have thrown you away," Arvin said grimly. "She'd have seeded you."

"Ah." Karrell remained silent for several moments. She stared out through the chapel's stained-glass window. Outside, a light snow had begun to fall. "Thank you for risking your life to save me," she said at last. "If I had listened to your warnings…" A tear slid down her cheek. She brushed it angrily away. "It is just that so many lives are at stake. So much is resting on my shoulders. If Sibyl finds the second half of the Circled Serpent and uses it to unlock the door, the Night Serpent will escape."

"And the world will come to an end," Arvin whispered-believing it, this time. He held out his arms questioningly. Karrell nodded, and he embraced her. They kissed.

Several moments later she broke off the kiss and squared her shoulders. "At least Zelia has given me a starting point," she said. "The location of Sibyl's den. That is where the stolen half of the Circled Serpent must be." She met Arvin's eye. "I will go there," she said. "Alone, if need be. Unless…"

Arvin hesitated. Recovering ancient artifacts wasn't what he'd signed on for, and the people Karrell hoped to save were strangers from a distant land. Whether they lived or died meant nothing to him personally. But the fact that they would die to further Sibyl's plans did.

"I'll do it," he said, taking her hand. "I'll come with you to Hlondeth, and help you find the Circled Serpent. But before we go anywhere, I need to meditate and restore my energies." He heard Karrell's stomach growl and gave her a brief smile. "And it sounds as though you need to eat." He laid a hand gently on her stomach. "Or as though someone does."

Karrell lifted his hand to her lips and kissed it then rose to her feet. "I will find a servant," she said. "Someone who can bring us food."

Arvin nodded and watched her leave. Then he stripped off his shirt and pants, preparing himself for his meditations. He lowered himself to the floor and assumed the bhujanga asana. The stone tiles were cold against his bare legs and palms; the sensation helped him ignore his aches and pains, helped him focus.

Toward the end of his meditations, he heard hurried footsteps in the corridor outside the chapel. He rose to his feet as a soldier strode into the room. The soldier was one of those who had been standing vigil outside Glisena's chamber earlier-a man with short black hair and eyes as gray as steel. His eyes were wide and worried.

"The baron demands your presence," he announced. "At once."

Arvin looked around. "Where is Karrell? Have you seen her? She-"

"There is no time," the soldier said, gesturing impatiently. "High Watcher Davinu needs you."

Arvin nodded as he pulled on his shirt and pants. He told himself not to worry-Karrell was probably eating in the kitchen or somewhere else in the palace. She wouldn't abandon him a second time. Not after he'd promised to help her. He'd find her later, after the clerics had dealt with the demon.

As he followed the soldier from the room, he wondered what it would be like to listen in on a demon's thoughts as it was being born.

He shuddered. He was certain the experience wasn't going to be a pleasant one.