The yuan-ti relaxed his coils. His face was triangular with slit-pupiled eyes, not the slightest bit human. He had human arms, however, though they too were covered in green scales. His forked tongue flickered against Arvin's chest. "Sybil?" he repeated.
Arvin nodded. "Yes. Yes. We're on the same side." The yuan-ti smiled and released Arvin. "Sibyl," he hissed again.
A shadow flickered across the yuan-ti. Something big had momentarily blocked the sunlight. The yuanti looked up.
Arvin followed his glance and saw an enormous winged serpent silhouetted against the sky. He felt the blood drain from his face as he realized who it must be. With the arrival of dawn, the portal had once again activated. Sibyl had slipped through.
The yuan-ti said something to Arvin in a tense, urgent voice. He glanced up again at the winged serpent that circled above them. Then his tail uncoiled, releasing Arvin. He said something more, gesturing urgently at the jungle, then slithered rapidly away.
Arvin stared, surprised. It was almost as if the yuan-ti had been frightened off by Sibyl. Maybe he'd been Jennestaa, after all.
Time for Arvin to get out of here as well.
As he turned to go, he heard a sharp fluttering noise: air passing swiftly over massive wings. Glancing up, he saw the winged serpent hurtling down toward him. He ran, hoping to lose himself beneath the trees, and cursed. He had nothing to fight Sibyl with; he'd left the musk creeper net in the cave. He tripped over a vine, stumbled, then recovered and ran on. HeCouldn't move.
Couldn't even blink as he crashed, still frozen in a running pose, to the ground. As he lay on the jungle floor, the only thing that was moving-swiftly enough to make him dizzy-was the blood rushing through his veins. Over the thudding of his heart, loud in his ears, he heard the rustle of wings arid the prolonged thud of a serpent body settling on the ground.
A tic of despair tuggod at the corner of Arvin's eye. He waited for Sibyl's fangs to strike.
"Arvin?" a familiar voice said. It sounded surprised.
Arvin could move again. He scrambled to his feet. When he turned around, he saw Pakal. The dwarf had an odd expression on his face. It looked as though he was trying to decide whether he was glad-or angry-to see Arvin again.
Coiled on the ground beside Pakal was the winged serpent Arvin had mistaken for Sibyl. Arvin saw that it was no abomination-or at least, unlike
any abomination he'd ever seen before. From its wedge-shaped head to the tip of its tail, the serpent was covered in feathers that glowed at the touch of sunlight. Midnight blue shaded into indigo, then into red, orange, yellow, and green. It had wings white and lacy as fresh frost, each feather tipped with vivid turquoise. Its face, though that of a serpent, was set in a kindly expression. Its smile was neither sly nor gloating but serene.
A rosy glow emanated from Pakal's body, turning his skin a ruddy brown. He had one hand raised, two fingers extended in a forked position; claws were visible at their tips. He'd lost his blowgun, probably to the river, but his dart pouch was still attached to his belt. Pakal had obviously homed in on the Circled Serpent just as he had in Sibyl's lair. Smashing the statue had been a big mistake.
The winged serpent next to him stared at Arvin with eyes like twin moons. Without opening its mouth, it spoke to Arvin, mind to mind. Its voice was a soft female trill. Which half of the Circled Serpent do you carry?
Denial would have been pointless. The winged serpent radiated power. Even with a chance to perform his meditations, Arvin doubted he could counter it.
"The lower half," he said. "The one Dmetrio had."
Show me.
Compelled, Arvin's hand slipped inside his shirt. It pulled out the lower half of the Circled Serpent. The serpent nodded.
Arvin stared up at the feathered head. "What… are you?"
A couatl, the voice trilled. One of those Ubtao
known as Ts'ikil.
Karrell's friend. Supposedly. "Are you an avatar?" Arvin asked.
Laugher rippled into his mind. No. A servant of the god, nothing more. The couatl nodded at the artifact in Arvin's hand. Where is the other half?
"It was lost in the river."
Was it? The voice sounded bemused. Let us see.
Arvin felt the couatl sifting through his thoughts, like a finger idly stirring sand. He clenched his hand around Karrell's ring. Without any energy to fuel his psionics, it was his only defence. The familiar rush of magical energy up his arm didn't come.
It does not block me because I made it, the couatl said.
The couatl rummaged a little longer in Arvin's mind then withdrew.
Arvin felt sick. He knew the couatl must have found what she was looking for: a memory of the cave where he'd hidden his backpack.
Pakal nodded in response to an unheard command and stepped forward. He held out a claw-tipped hand.
"Don't make her force you," he warned.
Reluctantly, Arvin handed the Circled Serpent to him. The dwarf tucked it into his belt pouch.
"Please," Arvin said, his eyes locked on Ts'ikil's. "I need to rescue Karrell. She's in Smaragd, pregnant, and about to give birth. I have to get her out of there. Just open the door that leads to Smaragd long enough for me to slip inside; I'll find my own way out."
For a moment, Pakal looked sorrowful. Then he snorted. "You really expect us to trust you?" The ruddy glow that surrounded his body intensified. The claws on the hand that held the lower half of the Circled Serpent lengthened.
Arvin tensed, ready to counter the attack he knew was coming.
The dwarf, however, turned toward Ts'ikil. "No," he said. "He might tell the Se'sehen where-"
The couatl must have given him a silent rebuke; Pakal backed down.
Ts'ikil turned to Arvin. Karrell's plight fills me with great sorrow, she said. If I could shift to the layer of the Abyss she occupies, I would have attempted a rescue myself, but it's just not possible to reach her.
Arvin's heart beat a little faster. His eyes were locked on Pakal's pouch. "It is possible. Now that we have both halves, we could-"
The risk is too great.
Pakal gave Arvin one last glare then climbed obediently onto the couatl's back. Ts'ikil coiled her body beneath her, unfurled her wings, and sprang into the air.
"Wait!" Arvin called. "Take me with you!"
Too late. Ts'ikil burst through the trees into the open sky and flew away.
Arvin didn't waste his breath cursing. Instead he threw himself into the bhujang asana. It took all the willpower he possessed to still his mind and enter a meditative state. Frantic thoughts of Karrell filled his head.
He had to hurryStay calm! he growled at himself.
To fill his muladh ara and morph into a flying snakeBreathe in through the left nostril, out through the right.
To beat the couatl back to the cave where he'd hidden his backpackBreathe! Draw in energy. Force it down. Coil it into the m uladhara.
Before Ts'ikil got there. Before she found the other half and destroyedStop it! Still your mind! Control!
He completed his meditation then whirled through the five defence poses and five attack poses like
a manic dancer. Sweat flew from his body as he thrust with his hands, twirled and kicked. At last he was done.
He yanked a mental fistful of energy into his navel-nearly making himself sick in the process- then up into his chest. The scent of saffron and ginger exploded into the air as he morphed. He did it clumsily, not caring that his serpent tail ended in two human feet or that his head, though tiny, was still human. What mattered were the wings. He thrust them out and muscled his way into the air, bursting out of the treetops like an arrow loosed from a bow. He wheeled, getting his bearings, then flew toward the rising sun. Ts'ikil was a black dot, silhouetted against its bright yellow glare.
Despite having learned how to extend his metamorphosis well beyond its normal duration, Arvin had to land several times and remanifest the power. Each time he rose from the treetops, Ts'ikil was farther away. An ache clutched at his throat as he saw Ts'ikil dive down toward the sinuous break in the jungle that was the river. The couatl would recover the other half of the Circled Serpent long before Arvin would reach the bluff himself.