Arvin patted the ground, pretending to search for his shirt, as he probed the mind of the 'Stormmistress.' She was delighted to have stumbled across the wine; that would make her job all the easier. She planned to mix something into it before serving it to the Talos worshipers. A word drifted through her mind: hassaael. Arvin wasn't sure if it was the name of a potion, a poison, or the yuan-ti word for blood. All three concepts seemed to be braided into the word. She'd been given it by a yuan-ti in Skullport named Ssarm-the same man who had provided the Pox with their deadly trans- formative potion.
He probed deeper, worming his way into her memories of Sibyl. He was relieved,
somewhat, to find that her most recent meeting with the abomination was more than a tenday in the past, and that she had no knowledge of the events unfolding in Hlondeth or Arvin's role in them. The cleric-Thessania, her name was-had been on the road with the latest batch of worshipers, who had come all the way from Ormath on the Shining Plains. Her instructions had been to herd them to the temple, where they would be killed. If they didn't die that night, Sibyl would be displeased.
An image of what Thessania intended flickered through her mind, swift as a snake's darting tongue: Men and women, piled in a heap, their faces bright red and eyeballs bulging.
Arvin shuddered. The followers of the Raging God might be crazy-they had to be, to view volcanic eruptions, hurricanes, and lightning-strike wildfires as something to celebrate-but that didn't mean they deserved to die.
Once again, Sibyl was taking advantage of human gullibility. The first time, it had been the Pox then it was the pilgrims. If Arvin could stop whatever was happening, he would.
He heard another grumble of thunder, out over the Reach. A natural storm? Or the voice of Hoar, god of vengeance?
Arvin cracked a wry smile.
'Vin!' a familiar voice cried out. 'I told you not to sell any wine until I got back.'
Arvin turned in that direction. Daris had said nothing about the wine. He was up to something, and Arvin docided to play along for the moment.
Suddenly, Arvin could see again. Darris strode toward him, the leather sack gone. He had one hand behind his back, inside his collar, as if scratching his neck. It was an old guild trick, a way of dropping something you'd palmed into your
shirt. Probably the wand he'd just used to restore Arvin's eyesight.
Pretending to still be blind, Arvin held his hands out in front of him. Play along, he signed. Aloud, he added, 'Darris? Is that you?'
Meanwhile, he studied Thessania. The surprise of his eyesight returning had broken the link with her mind, but ho'd learned what he needed already. He committed her appearance to memory as he stared 'blindly' past her. She was one of those yuan-ti who could pass for human. Her pupils were round and there was no sign of a tail under her robe. Ash-gray gloves covered her hands, which were human-shaped, and the only skin showing-her face, framed by a tight-fitting black cowl-was devoid of scales. Arvin noticed, however, that she kept her teeth clenched when she spoke, giving her words a tense, clipped sound. She probably had a forked tongue.
She was dressed as a cleric of Talos, in a long- sleeved black robe that reached to her ankles. Lightning bolts were embroidered on it in gold thread, and the sleeves ended in jagged hems, braided with more thread of gold. The front of the cowl bore; the god's symbol: three lightning bolts in brown, red and blue, radiating out from a central point, representing the destructive powers of earthquake, fire, and flood. A black patch covered her left ey e-another symbol of the one-eyed god she pretended to worship. Her face, Arvin noted, was unscratched, unlike those of the real worshipers.
She held the three jugs of wine she'd purchased in the crook of one arm, a traveling pack in the other. The worshipers clamored for the wine, insisting their throats were dry from the long march up into the hills. She rebuked them sharply, telling them to quench their thirst with water instead. The wine, she said, would be served with dinner.
'Start preparing our meal,' she ordered.
The worshipers crossed their arms aver their chests and bowed, then scurried away.
Barris, meanwhile, strode up to Arvin. 'How much did you charge her for the wine?' he demanded.
'Five vipers a jug.' Arvin held out the gold coins while staring slightly to one side of Darius.
'Five?' Darris asked, his voice rising. Pretending to scold Arvin, he waggled a forefinger at him, then brushed the front of his nose. Pretend. 'I told you to charge six!' He slapped the forefinger into an open palm. Fight. Glowering, he shouted, 'What did you do? Pocket the balance? Up to your old tricks again, are you?'
He grabbed Arvin by the shoulder and shook him. The gold spilled from Arvin's hand onto the ground. Arvin knew what Darris had in mind; the mock argument was an old guild trick. Arvin was supposed to shove Darris toward Thossania, who watched the two humans with a bemused look on her face. The rogue would stagger into her, grasp at her robe in an effort to keep from falling-and in the process, slip a quick hand into a pocket. A neat trick-if you were dealing with a human and not with someone who could kill with a single bite.
'You never said six,' Arvin said in an even tone. 'You told me five, and that's what I charged.' No, he signed.
A bored look in her eyes, the yuan-ti turned away to follow the worshipers.
Darris raised his palm and jerked it forwardPush! — then slapped Arvin. Hard.
Arvin took the blow like a blind man, without ducking; the worshipers still watched the fight. He lifted his hand to his mouth, as if to wipe away the blood from his split lip. Two fingers curled like fangs, he turned the wipe into a flowing motion
while nodding in the direction of the fake cleric. She's yuan-ti.
That stopped Darris cold. 'Ah,' he said. Then, loudly, 'I remember now. You're right; this is the five- viper wine. Sorry for the misunderstanding, Vin.' He clapped an arm around Arvin's shoulder, using the gesture to whisper in Arvin's ear. 'A yuan-ti Stormmistress?Are you sure?'
Arvin nodded.
'What's in her bag?' Darris breathed.
'Poison,' Arvin whispered back. 'She plans to mix it into the wine.'
'I see,' Darris said. He gave the worshipers a long, appraising look. 'They look skinny as slaves,' he said, using an old guild expression for someone with nothing worth stealing. Then he shrugged. 'No sense hanging around, if you ask me. If the doomsayer really is yuan-ti, she'll demand first pickings.'
Arvin, disgusted, realized that Darris thought he was suggesting they stay behind to loot the bodies once the poison had done its work.
'That's not what I meant,' he said. 'We've got to stop her from poisoning them.'
Darris removed his arm from Arvin's shoulder and stepped back. 'What she does is none of my business,' he said. He watched the yuan-ti as she walked with swaying steps to the spot where the worshipers piled branches for a cooking fire. 'What makes it yours?'
'Those people will die,' Arvin answered.
'So?' Darris asked. 'Sooner or later, one of the floods or fires they keep praying for will kill them, anyway.' He tapped his temple. Crazy.
Arvin scooped up his pack and glanced at the worshipers out of the corner of his eye. One was a boy not yet in his teens who was being ordered about by an older, gray-haired man-probably his grandfather,
given the resemblance between the two. Like the rest of them, the boy had ripped his shirt and gouged scratches in his face. He kept touching his cheeks however and wincing, giving his grandfather rueful looks.
'That one's just a boy,' Arvin whispered. 'He deserves a chance to grow up, to make his own decisions about which god to worship.'
Darris listened, eyebrows raised. Then he nodded, as if enlightenment had suddenly come to him. He lowered his voice once more.
'You won't find my stash.'
Arvin sighed. 'I don't plan on looking for it.'
The rogue chuckled. 'Strangely enough, I believe you.' He picked up the five coins and shoved them in a pocket, then clambered up into the cart. 'People will be leaving the city-and they'll be thirsty. I'll have the rest of this wine sold in no time. Give me a hand, and I'll split the profits.' He lifted the reins. 'Last chance. Coming?'
Arvin shook his head. Thessania had disappeared inside one of the huts; she was probably lacing the wine
