Выбрать главу

He stood, debating what to do. He had the upper half of the Circled Serpent, and so he needed to find out where Dmetrio was and trick him into giving up his half.

Easier said than done, however. Arvin had no idea where Dmetrio was-no idea where he was, either. Pakal had seemed confident that the portal would convey them to his homeland but had seemed surprised

to be deposited in a river. Had the portal malfunctioned and sent them somewhere else?

Pakal would know the answer to that question- but Pakal was draped, unconscious, over a log in the middle of a raging river, maybe even dead by now, if the river had swept his body away.

There was an oasy way to find out.

Arvin started to summon energy into his lapis lazuli then hesitated. If Pakal was alive, a sending would allow him to see Arvin as well, and Arvin didn't want to give too much away. He took off his backpack and hid it behind a nearby tree. Then he resumed the sending.

Closing his eyes, he pictured the dwarfs face in his mind. A moment later, it came into focus. Pakal was bedraggled, his wet braids plastered against a bloody scalp, but alive. Both hands were gripping tightly to something and one foot was braced while the other was searching for a foothold. He'd not only survived but was trying to climb out of the canyon.

Pakal! Arvin said. You're alive! I tried to swim back to you, but… He paused, realizing that was eleven words, wasted. Where are we? Did we reach your homeland?

Yes, but we did not arrive where I expected. The portal must beHe stopped, looked closely at each of Arvin's empty hands, then leaned to the side as if trying to see Arvin's back. Arvin turned slightly-a casual looking gesture designed to let Pakal see that his pack was gone.

Pakal's expression turned grim. Arvin could guess what he was thinking: that the box had been swept away by the river. The lead foil around the Circled Serpent would make it impossible to find.

Return to the fallen tree, the dwarf replied. / will tell Ts'ikil to meet usHaving reached its limit, the sending ended.

Arvin grinned. Tymora must have been smiling on him; everything had worked out perfectly. All he had left to do was trick Pakal-or Ts'ikil-into telling him where Dmetrio was. First, however, he needed to hide the Circled Serpent.

Where?

He needed to get a good look around. The best way to do that would be by morphing into a flying snake again, much as Arvin hated the idea. The musky smell that clung to him even after he'd morphed back again was as bad as a dunking in Hlondeth's sewers. Sighing, he picked up his pack and put it on.

A scream made him jump-a bad thing to do so close to a cliff. One of his feet slipped off the edge, sending a stone clattering down toward the river.

Arvin recovered quickly and reached for his dagger,

The scream had come from somewhere close-no more than a few paces away-and it had sounded like a woman.

She screamed again, but her cry choked off suddenly. Arvin hesitated. Did he really want to get involved? Then he thought of Karrell. She, too, was alone and in trouble.

He plunged into the jungle toward the spot where the scream had come from. The vegetation was thick, and he was forced to push his way through a tangle of vines and bushes that blocked his way. When he was certain he was at the spot the screams had come from, he stopped. He searched the ground for tracks but saw none. The air smelled of dark soil and growing things, of sweet-scented flowers-and an acidic smell, like yuan-ti sweat.

Belatedly, he realized the jungle around him was silent. The monkeys, birds, and flying snakes were gone. A sharp smell hung in the air, one that stung his nostrils. He glanced down and saw tendrils of

yellowish fog whisping out from under a waxy-leafed bush to his right. Then, with a loud hissing, the fog billowed out full force, enveloping him.

It became difficult to breathe or to see. The acidic fog tore at his lungs and throat with each breath. He doubled over, coughing. He could see no more than a pace or two in any direction. He tried to run but tripped over a vine.

It wrapped itself around his ankle. Then it tugged, sending him sprawling, and began dragging him along the ground.

He slashed at the vine, but three more came snaking out of the jungle after it. Coughing so hard he began to retch, he tried to crawl away, but his limbs moved at only a fraction of their normal speed. It was as if the air around him had turned to thick mud. The vines had wound around both legs and pulled him steadily along. He threw his body in the direction they dragged him, causing them to go slack, and slashed through another of the vines. But more came snaking through the air toward him-a dozen at least. Four more wrapped around him.

The vines belonged to an enormous plant. Yellow mist spewed out of the base of its trunk, and waxy green leaves fluttered like feathers around four flower buds that were each the size of a horse. One of these buds gaped open, revealing a mouth lined with row upon row of thornlike teeth. Another was clenched firmly upon the body of a monkey; the animal's limp leg and tail dangled from it. Arvin cursed as he realized it must have been the monkey that had screamed. The open bud swayed in Arvin's direction as the vines pulled him toward it.

Arvin cast his awareness toward the thing, trying to connect with its mind, but its thoughts were slow and ponderous, as impossible to grasp as the eye- stinging yellow fog that surrounded him. The plant

would not respond to a distraction or to an illusion. An astral construct might be able to tear apart one of the buds, but not before the other three-all gaping open and turning hungrily in Arvin's direction- gobbled him up.

Instinctively, Arvin tried to slash at one of the vines that quested toward him, but his arm, like the rest of his body, moved too slowly. The vine wrapped around his wrist, immobilizing his weapon hand. If only, he thought feverishly, his body would move as quickly as his mind…

That gave him an idea. He summoned energy into his third eye and sent out a streak of silver that wrapped itself around the vine. Rotating it swiftly, he uncoiled the vine from his wrist. Another line of silver burst from Arvin's forehead as he repeated the manifestation. He used it to grab his dagger and slash at the vines that held his legs. He manifested the power a third time. and a fourth, and a fifth, yanking back the vines that were still snaking toward him. He grabbed the end of each, then moved his energy-hands back and forth, over and under, tying the vines into a knot. Meanwhile, the dagger slashed through the last of the vines holding his legs. Slowly, sweat pouring from his body, Arvin crawled backward, moving at the pace of a slug.

Vines kept snaking through the jungle toward him, but he caught each one with a psionic hand, knotting it around the branch of a nearby tree. Coughing, his throat and lungs raw, he at last found the edge of the cloud of fog. He crawled into clean, clear air-and moved at his normal pace again. His pent-up muscles were sent leaping forward, and his shoulder slammed into the trunk of a tree.

In the branches above, a monkey screeched angrily- again, a very human-sounding cry-then swung away

through the jungle. A piece of half-eaten fruit landed at Arvin's feet.

He rose, still coughing, and stared at the chewed- up fruit, its pulpy red seeds spilling out of its torn skin. "Nine lives," he whispered, touching the crystal at his throat.

Standing there, staring, he felt a tingle awaken in his forehead.

The iron cobra. It must have passed through the portal as well. It was still looking for him.

Arvin needed to get out of there. He drew energy into his navel and chest and manifested the power that would alter his body. It was disturbingly easy to morph into a flying snake; after his long flight to the temple, the wings that sprouted out of his arms felt familiar. Even feeling his legs meld together into a tail didn't bother him. He had an anxious moment as his backpack flattened into a brown patch of scales on his back, but the Circled Serpent in its box, like everything else in his pack, as well as his clothing, melded with his body. Exhaling the scent of saffron and ginger, he rose into the air, his snake tail lashing with each stroke of his wings.