Viper's kiss

CHAPTER 6

Baron Thuragar Foesmasher sat at one end of the council chamber, his broad hands resting on the arms of the heavy wooden chair. The man exuded both power and confidence. He was large, with dark eyes, hair cut square just above his eyebrows, and a blackish chin framed by a neatly trimmed beard. He wore a purple silk shirt; black trousers tied at the ankle, knee, and groin; and leather slippers embroidered in gold thread with the Foesmasher crest: a clenched fist. A heavy gold ring adorned the forefinger of his right hand; a silver brooch in the shape of a beetle was pinned to his shirt front. Arvin had no doubt that both pieces of jewelry were magical.

On a table next to the baron sat a helmet chased with gold and set with a single purple plume. Foesmasher had entered the room wearing it, but had taken the helm off after Arvin submitted to a magical scan by the baron's chief advisor, a cleric named Marasa. She stood to the left of the baron's chair. She wore a knee-length blue tunic over trousers and fur boots with gold felt tassels. Her hair was steel-gray and hung in two shoulder-length braids, each capped with a silver bead shaped like a gauntlet. On each wrist was a thick bracelet of polished silver bearing the blue eye of Helm. A mace hung from her belt.

The baron had dismissed Marasa from the chamber earlier, when he'd sent the servants away, but she had refused to leave. She was obviously an old friend-a supporter, rather than a vassal.

"Both clerical magic and wizardry have failed to locate my daughter," the baron told Arvin. "But Lady Dediana has informed me that you can work a different kind of spell-one that requires neither spellbook nor holy symbol. She said it might circumvent whatever is preventing Glisena from being found."

Before Arvin could respond, Marasa interrupted. "I doubt a sorcerer can part a veil that Helm himself has failed to rend." She stared at Arvin, a challenge in her eyes. It was clear from the derisive way she'd used the term that she disapproved of sorcery.

Arvin met her eyes. "I'm not a sorcerer," he told her. "I'm a psion."

"What's the difference?" she asked.

"A sorcerer casts spells that draw upon magic that is woven into the world. A psion uses mind magic. We tap the energies of the mind itself. If the magic of the Weave were to unravel tomorrow, sorcerers and wizards would lose their spells, but psions would continue to manifest their powers."

Marasa nodded politely but appeared unconvinced. "What spell will you cast?" the baron asked. Arvin was acutely aware of the broken dorje in his

pack. Without it, he had to rely on his wits-and the one psionic power that just might be of use-in order to find the baron's daughter. "We call them "powers,' not "spells,' Lord Foesmasher. There are many I could choose from," he continued, waving his hand breezily in the air, "but I'll need to know more about the circumstances of your daughter's disappearance in order to determine the best one to use. When was the last time you saw Glisena?"

The baron sighed heavily. He stared the length of the room, past the tapestries that commemorated his many skirmishes with Chondath, past the trophy shields and weapons that hung on the walls. His eye settled on a half dozen miniature ships that sat on a table near the far wall, models of the galleys Hlondeth was helping him build. For several moments, the only sound was the crackling of the fire in the hearth behind him tenday ago," he said at last. "We dined together, spent the evening listening to a harpist, and Glisena took her leave and retired to bed. The next morning, her chamber was empty. High Watcher Davinu was called in to recite a prayer that should have discerned her location but was unable to. It's as if Glisena was spirited away to another plane of existence." His voice crackled. "Either that, or she's…"

Marasa touched his arm. "Glisena is still alive," she said. "Davinu's communion told us that much, at least." She turned to Arvin. "But she seems to be shielded by powerful magic, which leads me to believe she didn't leave willingly. She was kidnapped, most likely, by agents from Chondath. They-"

"There have been no demands," Foesmasher interrupted, "from Wianar, or anyone else. My daughter left here of her own accord." He stared broodingly at the wall.

The cleric gave an exasperated sigh. It was clear she had ventured this theory to the baron before-with the same result.

"Lady Marasa, I believe Baron Foesmasher is right," Arvin said, breaking the silence. "Lord Wianar does not have Glisena."

"How do you know this?" Marasa asked.

The baron, too, turned to stare at Arvin.

Arvin took a deep breath. "Does the name Haskar mean anything to you?"

The baron's eyes blazed. "Haskar!" he growled. "Is that who has my daughter? By Helm, I'll have his hea d."

Arvin raised a hand. "Haskar doesn't have Glisena. But he knows that she's missing. He'd like to find her so he can sell her to Lord Wianar." He turned to Marasa. "So you see, lady, it appears that Lord Wianar doesn't have Glisena. If he did, Haskar wouldn't have made him the offer."

"How do you know all this?" the baron asked.

Arvin told him about the events of that morning. He emphasized the reward he had been offered, adding that he'd rather receive "honest coin" for his work. He was careful, however, to avoid any mention of his ability to listen to others' thoughts, making it sound instead as though he had tricked the man into giving him the information. The baron seemed like a straightforward, honest man, but there might come a time when Arvin needed to know what he was really thinking.

Marasa listened carefully to Arvin's report then shook her head. "The fact that Haskar's rogues want to offer Glisena to Chondath means nothing," she said. "Lord Wianar might have kidnapped her without the rogues' knowing it."

"The fact remains," the baron interrupted, "that there have been no demands. Chondath is silent." He turned to Arvin. "You've done a good morning's work, but now comes the true test. Can you find my daughter?"

Arvin took a deep breath. "Of course, Lord Foe- smasher," he said in a confident voice. "But I need to know just a little more about what happened on the night of her disappearance. Did you entertain any guests that evening?"

The baron's eyes bored into Arvin's. "If you mean to ask if Ambassador Extaminos was here, the answer is no. Nor were any other guests present. It was a… quiet evening. Just Glisena and myself."

"And the harpist," Ma rasa noted. "She may have been a-"

"The harpist is a regular guest of this household and well trusted," the baron growled, "as are the servants who attended us that evening."

Arvin knew little of royal households, but he'd spent two months in the home of the wealthy uncle who had cared for Arvin briefly after his mother had died. There had been a constant flutter of servants around his uncle-servants to help him dress and undress, to carry his parcels, to turn down his bed and place a draught of fortified wine on his bed table each night. In summer a servant stood over his bed while he slept, waving a fan to keep him cool. Arvin's uncle had little privacy-a princess of a royal household would have even less.

"Have you questioned Glisena's servants?" Arvin asked. "The ones who attended her bedchamber that night?"

"No servants attended her on the evening she disappeared," Foesmasher said. "Glisena's head pained her. She said she could not bear even the slightest noise and dismissed them from her chamber."

"Her head paied her?" Arvin echoed. A wild notion occurred to him-that Zelia might have planted a mind seed in the baron's daughter. Arvin had stripped that power from Zelia six months ago, but she may have regained it since. That would explain what she

was doing in Sespech-she may have been stopping at Riverboat Landing on her way back from Ormpetarr, rather than on her way to the city. It would also explain Glisena's sudden disappearance.

Then again, he reminded himself, it might be a simple elopement he was dealing with, after all. No need to jump to conclusions… yet. "Was this the first time your daughter complained of a headache?" he asked.

Foesmasher shook his head. "Glisena had been feeling unwell for several days."

"How many days?" Arvin asked sharply. A mind seed took time to blossom. If her headache had begun seven days before her disappearance…

"Several days," Foesmasher repeated. He gave an exasperated sigh. "What does it matter? Her illness had nothing to do with her disappearance."

"Glisena had been unwell for nearly a month," Marasa told Arvin. She turned to the baron, "You should have summoned me."

"Her illness was minor," Foesmasher said. There was a testy edge to his voice. It sounded, to Arvin, that the baron and his advisor had gone through this argument at least once before. "It was a slight upset of the stomach. Nothing that required magical healing."

"A stomach upset?" Arvin asked, confused. "I thought you said she had a headache."

Neither the baron nor Marasa was listening to him. Marasa bristled at Foesmasher. "A simple laying on of hands would have saved Glisena much discomfort."

"The headache was an excuse to dismiss the servants!" the baron growled. "Glisena ran away."

Marasa glared right back at him. "How can you be so sure? Wianar's agents may have infiltrated the palace and kidnapped her. Whether the headache was feigned or not, if you'd summoned me that night-"

"That's enough, High Watcher Ferrentio!" Foe- smasher shouted. He looked away, refusing to meet the

cleric's eye. He glared at the far wall, visibly composing himself.

Marasa gently touched his hand. "You and Glisena were arguing again, weren't you?"

Foesmasher sighed. "Yes."

Arvin's eyebrows rose. A "quiet evening," the baron had said. Given the baron's propensity for shouting, it had probably been anything but. No wonder Glisena had fled to her chamber. "So the headache had only come on that evening?" he asked.

The baron turned to Arvin, a suspicious look in his eye. "Why are you so interested in my daughter's health?"

Arvin paused, considering whether to tell the baron about Zelia. Foesmasher was a powerful man, with an army at his disposal. That army included clerics of Helm-clerics who had proven themselves capable of dealing with the yuan-ti. They could arrest Zelia and throw her in prison. On the other hand, Zelia's presence in Sespech might be mere coincidence; she might not be searching for Arvin, after all. If she was hauled before the baron for questioning and was able to probe his thoughts, she'd be alerted to the fact that Arvin was alive, and in Sespech. If she later escaped…

Arvin decided it was worth the risk. Perhaps Zelia would resist capture, and the clerics would kill her. The thought made Arvin smile.

"There is a power that psions can manifest," he told the baron, "one that plants a seed in the victim's mind that germinates slowly, over several days. During that time, the victim suffers head pains and experiences brief flashes of memory-the memories of the psion who planted the seed. On the seventh day…" He paused, revisiting the dread he'd felt at slowly losing control of his mind. For six days and nights, Zelia's mind seed had warped his thoughts and slithered into his dreams, turning them into nightmares. Under its influence,

Arvin had lashed out at people who tried to help him, had even killed an innocent man. Only on the seventh day, when he'd been within heartbeats of having his own consciousness utterly extinguished, had the mind seed at last been purged.

"On the seventh day?" the baron prompted.

Arvin chose his words carefully; he was about to impart what might be very bad news, indeed. "On that day," he said slowly, "the victim's own mind is destroyed, and replaced it with a copy of the psion's mind, instead."

Marasa's face paled. "Helm grant it is not so," she whispered.

The baron leaned forward, his eyes intent on Arvin. "You know someone who can cast this spell," he said. "Someone here, in Sespech."

Arvin met his eye. "Yes."

"Name him."

"It's her, not him," Arvin answered. "Her name is Zelia. I spotted her three days ago, at Riverboat Landing. She's a yuan-ti."

Arvin expected the baron to immediately demand a description, but Foesmasher seemed disinterested. Beside him, Marasa looked visibly relieved.

"Aren't you going to arrest Zelia?" Arvin asked. "If she planted a mind seed in your daughter-"

"She couldn't have," the baron said. "Glisena has had no contact with yuan-ti for… some time."

"How can you be so sure?" Arvin asked. "Yuan-ti can assume serpent form. Zelia could have slithered into the palace undetected and-"

Marasa interrupted him. "Tell him, Thuragar," she said, giving the baron a hard look.

Baron Foesmasher sighed. "You will, no doubt, have heard that I disapproved of Ambassador Extaminos's courtship of my daughter?" he said.

Arvin nodded.

"A little over a month ago, I forbade my daughter from seeing Ambassador Extaminos again. I took precautions against him… contacting her. It is no longer possible for a yuan-ti to enter certain sections of the palace. The hallways, doors, and windows-every possible entrance to those parts of the palace that Glisena would have any cause to enter-have been warded to prevent serpents from entering. All serpents. Even yuan-ti in human form."

He gave a heavy sigh before continuing. "Glisena has not… had not," he corrected himself, "set foot outside those sections of the palace since this was done. She's had no contact with serpents since that time. That is how I know this Zelia person could not have planted a mind seed in my daughter."

"I see," Arvin said. He understood, now, why the baron was so certain his daughter had run away. Anyone would, after being placed under what was, essentially, a prison sentence, however sumptuous and comfortable the prison might be. Arvin was starting to have second thoughts about the baron. If he ruled his own daughter with such a domineering hand, how did he treat his hirelings?

"You're certain the wards were effective?".Arvin asked.

It was Marasa who answered. "I oversaw their placement myself." The look she gave the baron suggested she'd been unhappy with this task.

Arvin nodded. Even if Zelia had relearned the mind seed power, it wouldn't have been possible for her to plant a seed in Glisena-she wouldn't have been able to get close enough to the princess.

Marasa leaned closer to the baron and spoke, interrupting Arvin's thoughts. "This "mind seed' could be used to create the perfect spy," she told him in a voice that was pitched low-but not quite low enough that Arvin couldn't overhear.

"Yes," the baron agreed. "It could." He gave Arvin a level stare. "Is that why you told us about Zelia? Is this a warning from Lady Dediana-that she has ears within my court?"

Arvin met the baron's eyes. "I didn't come to Sespech to play at politics, Lord Foesmasher," he answered. "I'm here for one purpose only: to find your daughter. Whether Zelia has seeded anyone in your court is a question that's best put to her. But be careful; Zelia's dangerous. This I know, from personal experience."

"She's your enemy," the baron observed. "Yet you serve the same mistress."

Arvin took a deep breath. Now was the moment he'd been waiting for, the moment to make a commitment- one that would affect everything that was to follow in his life. He reminded himself that this wasn't like his incarceration in the orphanage, or his obligation to the Guild. He was choosing this alliance.

"I don't serve Lady Dediana," he told the baron. "I'm a free agent; I choose who I work for. It is my belief that working for a human-especially a man of your stature-will be much more… rewarding."

The baron gave a low chuckle. "I see." He exchanged a look with Marasa. "I think that, after Arvin has found my daughter, he and I will have a chat about mind seeds and spies… and rewards."

"Will you arrest Zelia?" Arvin asked.

"That wouldn't be expedient at the moment," Foe- smasher replied. "There was an… unfortunate incident a few days ago. It seems that the new ambassador from Hlondeth had an altercation with one of the less reputable citizens of Mimph-an altercation that resulted in his arrest. If I simply order his release, it will appear that certain people are above Helm's law. Yet if I allow the Eyes to place Helm's mark on him, it may fracture the alliance. I have to tread carefully, where yuan-ti are concerned. I can't afford to ruffle any more scales."

Arvin realized at once who the baron was talking about: the yuan-ti who had attacked the young pickpocket. He shook his head in disbelief. The yuan-ti had a lot to learn about diplomacy.

Foesmasher continued speaking. "If you provide me with a description of Zelia, I will see to it that she is watched. If she comes to Ormpetarr, you'll be alerted."

Arvin murmured his thanks. It was time to get back to business. "You said that, on the night of Glisena's disappearance, she retired to her chambers and dismissed her servants. Presumably after that, she slipped out her door-"

"No," the baron said. "The guard in the hall was questioned under Helm's truth. He did not see her, and he was awake all night."

"Did she climb out a window?"

"Her chamber has no window."

Glisena was sounding more like a prisoner by the moment.

"Does your daughter know any magic?" Arvin asked.

Foesmasher shook his head. "Not so much as a cantrip. Yet she must have used magic to flee the palace. Someone aided her."

"Or kidnapped her," Marasa muttered under her breath.

Wanting to stave off another argument, Arvin interrupted. "I'm ready to manifest my power," he told them. "Could I see Glisena's chamber?"

"High Watcher Davinu already examined it," Marasa said. "There was nothing-"

"And now the psion will examine it-with mind magic," Foesmasher told her sternly. "Come," he said to Arvin, rising from his chair. "I'll take you there."

Glisena's bedchamber was even more ornate than Arvin had imagined. The bed, side tables, and wardrobe were painted white and trimmed with gilt. The rug on the floor was also white, with a border of prancing centaurs. Arvin's feet sank into its softness as he entered the room. The windowless walls were divided into paels, painted with scenes of noblewomen waving silken favors at jousting knights. The ceiling was of molded white plaster, the pattern an ornate spray of bouquets and tree boughs.

The chamber gave the appearance of still being occupied. A fire crackled in the hearth, and a brazier filled with scented oil perfumed the air. A gown had been laid out on a clothing rack and fresh water stood in a pitcher beside a floral-print wash bowl. Next to these were a comb and brush. The bed was turned down for the night.

"I felt it wise to keep up appearances," the baron explained. "None of the servants know that Glisena is gone."

Marasa, standing a little behind him, shook her head sadly but made no comment. "What do you hope to find here?" she asked Arvin.

"There is a psionic power that allows me to view emotionally charged events that have occurred in this room," Arvin explained. "Whether Glisena ran away or was kidnapped, she's certain to have been highly emotional at the time. I hope to catch a glimpse of something that will provide some clue as to where she went." He glanced around the room, wondering where to begin. "The manifestation will take some time," he told them over his shoulder. "Please don't interrupt until-"

The baron placed a heavy hand on Arvin's shoulder and turned him around. "You said you were going to use mind magic to track her-not to spy on her private moments. What my daughter does in her chamber is her own affair."

"What are you so concerned about, Thuragar?" Marasa asked. "That he might catch a glimpse of Glisena undressing for bed?"

The baron's face flushed. "He will not cast that spell."

"Thuragar!" Marasa said in an exasperated voice. "Your daughter is missing. Surely a chance at finding her, no matter how slim it might be, is more important than-"

"Lord Foesmasher," Arvin interrupted. "Be at ease. I assure you that, whatever I might see, I will be… discreet."

"For Glisena's sake, Thuragar," Marasa said. "Let him cast the spell."

Arvin smiled to himself. Marasa, so doubtful of his powers at first, now seemed willing to believe in them.

The baron stood in silence for several moments, conflicting emotions in his eye. At last, reluctantly, he nodded. "Very well." His hand fell away from Arvin's shoulder. "Begin."

Arvin looked around the chamber, sizing up its contents. Though the power could provide glimpses into the past of any event that happened in the immediate area-up to three dozen paces away from the manifester-it was most effective if it was concentrated on a specific item-a bed that an angry young woman might have flopped down onto after an argument with her father, for example.

Touching one of the lace-trimmed pillows, Arvin manifested the power. Psionic energy awoke within two of his power points: his throat vibrated, and a coil of energy slowly unwound within his abdomen, tickling the area around his navel. The baron and Marasa glanced uneasily at each other as a low droning filled the air-part of the secondary display. As the power manifested fully, Arvin felt the pillow dampen with ectoplasmic seepage where his fingertips touched it.

The vision came almost at once. Suddenly the bed was occupied by two people thrashing against one another-a man and a woman making love. The figures were transparent, almost ghostly, and seemed to be writhing on the neatly folded-down sheets without ever mussing them.

The woman was young and somewhat plain in appearance; her face was a little too square to ever be pretty, though her naked body was sensuously curved. Her head was thrown back in rapture, her long loose hair splayed against the pillow Arvin was touching. Arvin felt a blush warm his face as he realized he was looking at the baron's daughter, soon to peak in her passion.

The man on top of Glisena had his back to Arvin. His lower torso was hidden by the bedding. But when he tossed back his long, dark hair, Arvin caught a glimpse of slit pupils and snake scales, and a face he recognized at once. Dmetrio ran the forked tip of his tongue along Glisena's breast, and as her mouth fell open in a low, shuddering moan, he began to laugh. The look in his eyes was harsh, triumphant. He suddenly withdrew from her, levering himself up off her body, and spoke in a sneering hiss. "If you want more," he taunted, "you'll have to beg for it."

"Please," Glisena gasped, clutching at Dmetrio and trying to draw him back down to her. "I'd do anything for you. Please."

"That's a good start," Dmetrio said, a look of triumph in his slit eyes. His feet were visible now, protruding out of the bedding. They were rounded and scaly and looked like snake tails; each foot ended in a single large, blunt toe. Dmetrio wrenched himself free of Glisena and sat up in a kneeling position, then twined his fingers in Glisena's hair and yanked her forward. Dmetrio, like many yuan-ti males, had a slit at the

groin, inside which his reproductive organs rested. Arvin, staring, was horrified to see emerging out of it not one, but two…

With a shudder, Arvin yanked his fingers away from the pillow. He felt sullied by what he'd seen. If he did manage to find the baron's daughter, it would be hard to look her in the eye.

"Well?" the baron asked. "What did you see?"

Arvin hesitated. The baron had closed the gate long after the horse had bolted from the stable-or rather, into the stable, in this case. The wardings on the palace had been in vain, but how to tell the baron that diplomatically?

"Your daughter was quite… passionate about Dmetrio, wasn't she?" Arvin began.

The baron's face purpled as he realized what Arvin was implying. "Here? In this room?"

Marasa glanced sharply at the baron.

"I saw Glisena and Dmetrio kissing," Arvin said. "The vision must have been more than a month old- from before the wards were set. It wasn't the one I was hoping for. I'll try again."

Before the baron could reply, Arvin retreated into a second manifestation. As the droning of his secondary display filled the air once more, he looked around the room, this time trying to pick up general impressions. As he glanced at the baron, he once again saw a double image-a ghostly baron standing just behind the first, his face also twisted with rage. He was shouting something. Curious, Arvin extended his hand in that direction, willing the vision to come into focus.

It did, with a volume that startled him.

"You will never see him again!" the ghostly image roared.

Arvin heard the sound of weeping behind him. He turned and saw Glisena-fully clothed, this time, and sitting on a neatly made bed-wringing a lace-trimmed

handkerchief in her hands. Tears were sliding down her cheeks and a strand of her dark hair had fallen out of the pearl-studded net that held her hair in a bun at the nape of her neck. "But we're in love," she sobbed.

The baron snorted. "You're in love. That… snake is as cold-hearted as any of his race. He cares nothing for you, girl. Nothing."

Glisena shook her head fiercely. "That's not true. You'll see. When I tell him about-"

"You'll tell him nothing." The baron strode forward and loomed over Glisena. "Nor will you tell anyone else what's happened. We're going to take care of this… quietly."

Anger blazed in Glisena's eyes and flushed her cheeks. "You only care about your stupid alliances. If Dmetrio marries me-"

"He won't."

"Yes, he will," Glisena shrilled. "And when he does, your hopes of an alliance with Turmish are over. You can't force me to marry Lord Herengar's son. He's as stupid as he is ugly."

"At least he's human," the baron spat back.

"What do you think I am?" Glisena wailed. "A child? I'm a grown woman. You can't do this to me."

The baron's voice dropped dangerously low. "You did this to yourself," he growled. "And now you'll face the consequences." Turning on his heel, he wrenched open the door, startling the guard who stood in the hallway outside. "Make sure she doesn't leave," he snapped at the guard then slammed the door behind himself.

The vision-and Glisena's faint sobbing-faded.

"What did you see this time?" the baron asked. His voice startled Arvin; it took a moment for Arvin to realize that he was back in the here and now. A fine sheen of ectoplasm shimmered in the baron's hair. He didn't seem to notice it.

Arvin swallowed nervously. The last thing he wanted to report was that he'd listened in on a family argument-a very private family argument.

"I didn't see much this time," he said, "just Glisena sitting on her bed, crying. But I think I'm getting closer to the night of her disappearance. I'll try again."

The baron gave a brief nod. His hands, Arvin noticed, were white-knuckled. What was it he was so afraid of?

Arvin manifested his power a third time, scanning the room, and out of the corner of his eye saw a movement near the hearth. There were two ghostly women there, one standing, the other kneeling in front of her. Concentrating on these, he brought them into focus.

The standing woman was Glisena. She held her night robe slightly open, revealing her stomach. The look on her face was one of acute apprehension.

The woman who knelt in front of her touched Glisena's stomach with a forefinger and chanted in a language Arvin couldn't understand. Her finger moved back and forth across the bare flesh as if sketching, but left no visible marks. She was casting a spell of some description, but Arvin had no idea what its purpose might be.

This second woman had her back to Arvin; all he could tell was that she was large and was wearing a dark green cloak. He moved across the room-closer to the hearth, which began to sweat a sheen of ectoplasm- and got a view of her face.

The spellcaster had heavy jowls, a double chin, and brown hair with a streak of gray at one temple. Her small eyes were screwed shut as she concentrated on her magic. Arvin looked for a brooch or pendant that might be a cleric's holy symbol, but saw none. The only item of jewelry the woman wore was a ring, a band of brownish-red stone around her pudgy little finger. A band carved from amber, Arvin thought, identifying the stone from the lingering bits of gem lore Zelia's mind seed had left him with.

When the spell was done, the woman stood. Glisena closed her robe and stood with her palms lightly pressing against her belly. "When will it take effect?" she asked.

The spellcaster gave her a motherly smile. "Some time tomorrow." She tugged at the ring on her little finger. 'This," she said, working it back and forth to pull it free. "Will convey you to me." She held the ring out to Glisena. "Use it as soon as you feel the magic of the spell begin."

Glisena took the ring with what looked like reluctance. A tear blossomed at the corner of one eye and trickled down her cheek. "Did he really tell you to end it?" she asked.

"He did." The spellcaster said in a grim voice. Then she patted Glisena's cheek. "But all's well now. We'll fool him." Glisena nodded and clenched her hand around the ring. "Yes."

"Now listen closely, and I'll tell you how the ring works," Naneth said.

The vision shifted then. The spellcaster disappeared, and Arvin had a palpable sense of leaping forward in time to a moment when Glisena stood in just the same spot in front of the hearth. As before, the moment was emotionally charged. Tears were streaming down her face. She wore clothes instead of a night robe, as well as a heavy cloak pinned at the shoulder and high leather boots. And her stomach was no longer flat. It bulged, visibly pregnant. Very pregnant.

Arvin whistled under his breath. No wonder Glisena and her father had argued. Glisena was carrying Dmetrio's child. A child that was only partly human. He watched as the ghostly Glisena toyed with something she held in her hands-the spellcaster's amber ring. A knock at the door caused her to startle, nearly dropping it.

"Glisena?" a muffled male voice called. "I'm sorry we argued. Can we talk?"

Glisena's eyes flew open wide. She glanced down at her belly then back at the door, and she drew her cloak around herself, as if to hide her pregnancy. Then her lips pressed together in a determined line. Tossing the ring on the floor, she spoke a word: "Ossalur!" As the ring hit the floor, it grew, expanding into a hoop fully two paces in diameter within the space of an eye-blink. Glisena jumped into the center of it-an awkward hop while holding her belly-and vanished. The ring contracted to its normal size then disappeared.

The door to her chamber opened. Baron Foesmasher poked his head tentatively into the room. "Glisena?" he called softly. He glanced at the empty bed-then looked wildly around the chamber. "Glisena!" he shouted. "Glisena!"

The vision faded.

Arvin let out a long, slow sigh and stood for several moments with his eyes closed. Then he turned to the baron. "I have news," he reported. "I've seen how Glisena esca-ah, that is, how she fled from the palace."

The baron ignored Arvin's slip of the tongue. "Tell me," he said.

"Your daughter was given a ring," Arvin said. "One that gave her the ability to teleport."

"Who gave it to her?" Marasa asked, her voice low and tense.

"A spellcaster," Arvin said. He started to describe the woman, but Marasa interrupted him after he'd barely begun.

"The midwife?" she asked. Then, to the baron, "What was she doing here, in the palace?"

Arvin was wondering the same thing. What had the spellcaster been doing to Glisena?

The baron stood rigid, his shoulders tense. The words jerked out of him. "Glisena was pregnant. By that… serpent. By Ambassador Extaminos."

Marasa's mouth dropped open. "Pregnant?" she whispered. Then she nodded to herself. "Was that why she'd been feeling unwell?"

The baron stared at the far wall, not answering. "And Naneth?" Marasa prodded.

"She came to cast a spell," the baron began. "A spell that…" His voice trembled. He sank onto the bed, head in his hands, unable or unwilling to say more.

Marasa's face paled. "Naneth came to end the pregnancy, didn't she?"

The baron refused to look up.

Marasa flushed with anger. "Killing an innocent is a grievous sin! And nothing is more innocent than an unborn child." She pointed a trembling finger at the baron. "Helm will never countenance this. Never! He will demand retribution. He-"

The baron looked up, his face twisted with remorse. "Helm has punished me already. Glisena is gone. Gone."

Marasa lowered her accusing hand. "Oh, Thuragar," she said, her voice anguished. "What were you thinking?" She turned her back on him and paced across the room to stare at the hearth, shaking her head.

Arvin shifted uncomfortably, wishing he were someplace else. He stood in silence, debating whether to tell the baron what he'd seen in that last vision. The spell Naneth had cast on Glisena hadn't ended her pregnancy. Instead, it had hastened it to term. In that first vision, Glisena had not been visibly pregnant-she was at most two to three months along. And in the second vision, the one in which she'd used the ring, she'd been full-bellied, close to giving birth. Yet only a day had passed.

The spell must have taken effect on the evening that Glisena disappeared. That was why she'd dismissed her servants that night-she could feel the spell starting

to work its magic. That was why she'd hidden her belly from view when her father knocked at her door.

The baron didn't know that Glisena was still pregnant.

But he would, once Arvin found her.

Sickened, Arvin stared at the carpet, unwilling to look at the baron. The last thing he wanted to do now was return Glisena to him.

Foesmasher balled his fist. "She's with Naneth," he said in a low voice. He sprang to his feet and crossed the room, wrenching the door open. "Stand aside," he shouted at someone as he stomped down the hall.

Marasa had whirled at the sudden motion. As the baron's heavy footsteps faded down the hall, she ran after him. "Thuragar! Wait!"

After a moment's hesitation, Arvin hurried after her. He caught up with Marasa as she was passing a guard who had a puzzled expression on his face. The baron was nowhere to be seen. Somewhere down the corridor, a door slammed.

Marasa grabbed Arvin's arm and dragged him down the hall with her. "He'll go to Naneth's house," she said in a low voice. "I'm worried. If he finds Glisena there…"

Arvin nodded grimly. "Indeed. And when he learns she's still pregnant-"

Marasa jerked to a halt. "She's what?"

"Still pregnant. Naneth didn't end the pregnancy- she cast a spell that hurried it along instead. In that last vision, Glisena looked ready to give birth at any moment. She may even have had the child by now."

Marasa looked grim. "We must find her, then. Quickly, before Thuragar compounds his sin."

Arvin's eyes widened. "He wouldn't harm the child… would he?"

"No," Ma rasa said. "He wouldn't. Not Thuragar," she said, sounding as if she were trying to convince herself.

"But I do fear for Naneth's safety."

"What can we do?"

"Does your mind magic allow you to teleport? Could you reach Naneth's house ahead of Thuragar?"

Arvin shook his head. "No. But I can send a warning to her"-shoving a hand into his pocket, he pulled out the lapis lazuli-"with this." He touched the fingernail- sized chip of stone to his forehead. It adhered at once as he spoke its command word. Drawing power from the magical stone, he manifested a sending. He imagined that he was looking at Naneth and felt a prickling at the base of his scalp. A heartbeat later her image solidified, and he was staring at the midwife. She was leaning over, placing a saucer filled with water inside something that Arvin couldn't see. As the connection between her and Arvin grew stronger, she jerked upright, spilling the water. Her mouth moved in a sharp question, but Arvin couldn't hear what she was saying.

"Naneth," he said, speaking the words aloud. "I know you have Glisena. If she's at your home, move her. Hide her. The baron is on his way there now. He knows what you did."

The sorcerer repeated her question; this time Arvin could hear it. "Who are you?" she said, staring intently at his face. Her eyes were narrow with suspicion. "I don't recognize you."

She paused, waiting for an answer, but Arvin couldn't give one. That was how the lapis lazuli worked-he could send a brief message, and receive one in return. A few heartbeats later, the sending reached the limits of its duration. Naneth faded from view.

"It's done," Arvin said. "What now?"

"Are you quick on your feet?" Marasa asked. Arvin nodded.

"Then let's get moving. I know where Naneth