'True,' Arvin agreed, bristling. 'But she's the last person I'd ever ask for help from. As soon as she found out I'm alive, she'd kill me. Quick as spit. It's bad enough that Windswift knows what I look like. The next time he reports to Zelia…' He shook his head, amazed at the complicated net he'd managed to weave around himself, hoping he could keep it from drawing any tighter.
'I was not suggesting that you speak with Zelia,' Karrell said. She raised her right hand and nodded at the ring on her finger. 'And she will not learn that you are alive. Not from me.'
Arvin shook a finger at her. 'Don't do it. Gods only know what Zelia will do to you. She's dangerous,' he repeated again, grasping at straws. 'She's-'
yuan-ti,' Karrell said. 'As am I.' She glared at him. 'And do not presume to give me orders. I am not human, and you are not my…' She paused, searching for the word. 'Not my husband. Even if you did quicken my eggs.' Tossing her hair angrily, she turned her back.
Arvin's mouth gaped open. 'Your what?'
She touched her stomach. 'My eggs,' she repeated softly.
Arvin stared at Karrell. 'You're pregnant?' he asked in a strained whisper. 'But it's only been'-he did a quick tally in his head-'two days-no, three-since we first…' He shook his head. 'How could you possibly know so soon?'
'My scales,' she said. 'They are shedding out of season-it is one of the early signs.' She touched a hand to her belly. 'And the way I… feel. I know.'
Arvin was stunned. He didn't know what to say. What to think. If Karrell was right, he was a father. Or soon would be. The thought terrified him; he knew nothing about children. 'How long until…' He swallowed hard, and rubbed his forehead. His wound was bothering him again.
Beside Arvin, someone cleared his throat hesitantly- the cleric. He had completed his healing; Tanglemane was back on his feet, his color restored. The cleric had walked over to where Arvin stood without Arvin even noticing.
'Are you Arvin?' he asked.
Arvin nodded. Eggs, Karrell had said. Plural. How many eggs?
'I'm to convey you to Ormpetarr at once,' the cleric continued. 'The baron needs your mind magic. There's someone at the palace who's… not well. Will you come? You must be willing, in order for me to teleport you.'
'I don't have any healing powers,' Arvin protested. Absently, he rubbed at his forehead. The itching was getting worse.
'The baron needs you to… listen to some thoughts,' the cleric said.
'Whose?' Arvin asked absently. He stared at Karrell, realizing he hardly knew her. Yet she bore his child. His children.
'A… demon's,' the cleric whispered, shooting a worried glance at Karrell.
Arvin rubbed his itching forehead. No, not itching. Tickling. The flutter was back-had been back, for some time.
Naneth was listening.
'It is all right,' Karrell assured the cleric. 'I know all about Glis-'
Arvin sprang forward and clapped a hand across her mouth. With his free hand he signaled frantically, jerking two V-splayed fingers over his shoulder.
Karrell's eyes widened.
Pretending that he was worried about the cleric overhearing, Arvin whispered fiercely at Karrell in a voice he hoped was loud enough for Naneth to hear. 'The cleric isn't one of us. Don't say anything that will give the game away. Don't mention Lord Wianar. Or the fact that it's not… not really Glisena that Foesmasher has, but a… an illusion. If they find out Glisena is really in… in Arrabar, they might find her.'
The tickling in his forehead faded. Arvin stared at Karrell, stricken by the knowledge that they had probably just given the game away, despite his feeble attempt to lay a false trail. He let his hand fall away from Karrell's mouth.
Her eyes asked a silent question.
'Too late,' he croaked. 'She heard all of it Karrell's mouth tightened.
As the cleric looked back and forth between Arvin and Karrell, obviously confused. 'Are you willing to come?' he asked. 'Can I teleport you?'
'Teleport both of us,' Karrell said. 'To wherever Glisena is. As quickly as you can.'
She held out a hand for Arvin. He took it.
'Let's hope Naneth doesn't beat us there,' he said. Karrell nodded grimly. 'Yes.'
When they arrived at the palace, the baron was waiting. His face was haggard as he strode across the reception hall to meet them. His hair was uncombed, and the odor of nervous sweat clung to him. There were dark circles under his eyes.
'You're here,' he said, clasping Arvin's hand as the cleric who had teleported them there hurried away. 'Helm be praised.'
'Be careful what you say, Lord Foesmasher,' Arvin warned. 'Naneth has a crystal ball. She's using it to scry on me. I tried to mislead her, but it might not have worked. If she learns what's going on… she may-'
'Don't worry about Naneth,' Foesmasher assured Arvin. 'Marasa has placed a dimensional lock on Glisena's room. Nobody is going to teleport into it-or out. The room has also been warded against scrying. Come.'
Foesmasher shifted his grip to Arvin's elbow and steered him toward a door that was flanked by two soldiers. Karrell started to follow, but the soldiers blocked her way, one of them rudely thrusting a hand against her chest.
Arvin stood his ground as Foesmasher wrenched open the door. 'Karrell's a healer,' he told the baron. 'Her spells-'
'Come from a serpent god,' Foesmasher said in a low voice. 'My daughter needs human healing.'
Arvin gave Karrell an apologetic look. She returned it with a shrug, but he could see the bitterness in her eyes. 'Go,' she said. 'I will wait.'
The baron led Arvin through another reception hall; up a flight of stairs; and through a room in which several soldiers stood, armed and ready. Foesmasher gestured, and they stepped away from a locked door. Foesmasher placed his palm on the door; a heartbeat later, magical energy crackled around the lock. The door swung open, revealing a chamber in which nine
of Helm's clerics stood. They were gathered in a circle, praying in low voices, their gauntleted hands extended toward a bed where Glisena lay. Nine shields, each embossed with Helm's eye, floated in the air behind their backs, forming a circle that turned slowly around them. Marasa sat on a stool next to the bed, holding Glisena's hand. She glanced up, kissed Glisena, and rose to her feet, motioning for the baron to take her hand. He crossed to the bed, a strained smile on his face as he kneeled at his daughter's side. 'Little dove,' he whispered. 'Father is here.'
Glisena turned her head away from him.
Marasa's face was grim as she approached Arvin. 'Helm be praised,' she said. 'The giant found you.'
Arvin stared at Glisena. She was still pregnant-and looked even worse than before. Despite the ministrations of the clerics, her face had a sickly yellow pallor. She had been bathed-a ceramic tub filled with scented water stood in a corner of the room-and was wearing fresh night robe, but the odor of vomit lingered in the room. She twisted restlessly on the bed, her free hand scrabbling at the blankets, shoving them aside. Her stomach was an ominous bulge.
Arvin swallowed nervously. There was a demon in there. He met Marasa's eye. 'Does she know?' he asked. 'About-'
'We told her,' Marasa said. Her expression grew pained. 'But I don't know if she believes us. Not after what her father tried to do.' She sighed heavily, not looking at Foesmasher.
'The cleric who teleported us here said you wanted me to listen to the demon's thoughts,' Arvin prompted. 'Are you going to try to banish it?'
'We can't,' Marasa said, her voice low. 'It is linked to Glisena by the blood cord. If we banish it, Glisena will be drawn into the Abyss with it. We will have to try to kill it, instead.'
Arvin, suddenly remembering the vision he'd had in Naneth's home-of a woman, linked by a thread of blood, to her own death-felt his face grow pale. 'That might kill her,' he whispered. Quickly, he told Marasa of his
