Nicco’s eyebrows rose.
“It’s a psionic power,” Arvin said. “In seven days, it-”
“I know what a mind seed is,” Nicco answered.
Hope surged through Arvin. “Do you know the restorative prayer that will get rid of it?”
Instead of answering, Nicco stared into the distance. “Whether you meant to betray them or not, four members of the Secession are dead: Kiffen, Thrond, Nyls… and Kayla.”
“Kayla?” Seeing the ache in Nicco’s eyes, Arvin dropped his voice to a sympathetic murmur. “But she was so young…”
“She died swiftly-and bravely. Her father would have been proud of her. Ironically, by now he will have turned into the very thing he fought against-one of the foul creatures who condemned his daughter to die-a yuan-ti.”
“Kayla’s father was among those handed over to Osran Extaminos by the Pox?” Arvin asked.
Nicco nodded sadly. “Kayla hoped to save him. In that endeavor, she failed. But she did succeed in exacting Hoar’s retribution for what was done to her father. It was she who dispatched Osran with her knife.”
“Osran’s dead, then?” Arvin asked.
“Gonthril saw him die.”
Arvin wet his lips nervously as Nicco continued his story. Zelia had surprised the assassins as they were preparing to leave Osran’s chambers. Only Gonthril, thanks to one of his magical rings, had been able to escape. Hearing this, Arvin realized that Zelia had arrived too late to question Osran. She wouldn’t have been able to learn if additional yuan-ti were involved with the cultists. Without this information, she wasn’t going to remove the mind seed from Arvin’s head any time soon…
If she had ever planned to at all.
Nicco stared at Arvin, his face dimly illuminated by the glow from the wall beside him. “You said you knew where Talona’s clerics were hiding.”
Arvin reached into his pocket with his left hand, at the same time whispering his glove’s command word, and felt the key appear between his fingers. “Not only do I know what building they’re in,” he told Nicco, pulling his hand from his pocket. “I have a key that will get us inside.” He held it up where Nicco could see it. “So what do you say? Is a chance at vengeance against the Pox worth a restorative prayer?” He held his breath, waiting for Nicco’s answer.
Nicco stood in silence for several moments before answering. “It is…”
Arvin let out a hiss of relief. Nicco was going to save him, after all.
“… if that key leads where you say it does,” Nicco concluded. “Shall we find out?”
“Now?”
Nicco scowled. “Have you given up on rescuing your friend?”
Arvin shook his head. “Not at all. I just thought that maybe you could say the restorative prayer first.”
Nicco shook his head. “After,” he said firmly.
Arvin hissed in frustration, but managed to hold his temper. At least the solution to his problem was in sight. He and Nicco would sneak into the crematorium, make certain the Pox were indeed there, and sneak out again. Then Nicco would remove the mind seed and Arvin could go on his way, leaving it up to the Secession to deal with the cultists.
Arvin reached for the bead at his throat for reassurance. “Nine-,” He stopped abruptly as his fingertips brushed the bead. The clay he’d used to repair the crack was crumbling, falling out. The bead felt as if it was ready to break in two. Was it an omen that he’d used up the last of its luck?
He didn’t want to think about that just then. Not when every moment that passed brought him closer to his doom. The throbbing ache of the mind seed was slowly, inexorably spreading throughout his head. The sooner they explored the crematorium, the better.
“Let’s go,” he told Nicco.
CHAPTER 16
26 Kythorn, Middark
Arvin and Nicco stood in a doorway across the street from the crematorium, staring at what appeared to be a blank stone wall. Earlier, Nicco had whispered a prayer, one that allowed him to see through the illusion that had been placed on the building. He’d assured Arvin that there was, indeed, a door-one with a lock. But instead of trying the key in it right away, Nicco had insisted upon waiting. And so they had stood, and waited, and watched, hoping to see one of the cultists enter or leave the building.
None had.
Nor had anyone walked down the street. And no wonder-all of the buildings in the area, including the one behind Arvin and Nicco, bore a faded yellow hand on their doors.
Arvin was getting impatient. The throbbing in his head wasn’t helping. “This is useless,” he griped. “We’ve got the key; let’s use it.”
Nicco nodded. “It looks as though we’ll have to. But first, a precaution.”
The cleric began a soft chant. When it ended, he vanished from sight. The only way Arvin could tell that Nicco was still standing beside him was by the sound of his breathing and the rustle of Nicco’s kilt as the cleric shifted position.
“Your turn,” Nicco said. “Ready?”
When Arvin nodded, Nicco repeated his prayer. Arvin felt a light touch on his shoulder-and suddenly couldn’t see his body. It was an odd sensation. Being unable to see his own feet made Arvin feel as if he were floating in the air. He touched a hand to his chest, reassuring himself he was still corporeal.
“Is the key in your hand?” Nicco asked.
Arvin held it up. “Right here.”
Instead of taking it, Nicco grasped Arvin’s arm and steered him across the street. When they reached the crematorium, Nicco guided the jagged-toothed key up to what, to Arvin, appeared to be solid stone, and Arvin felt the key enter a keyhole. Nicco let go of his arm. The cleric was obviously wary about whatever traps might protect the door. Wetting his lips, Arvin turned the key in the lock and heard a faint click. With a hiss of relief-the poisoned needle he’d half-expected to emerge from the lock mechanism hadn’t-he eased the door open. Then, pocketing the key, he whispered the command that materialized the dagger from his glove.
“You first, this time,” he told Nicco. He waited until he had felt Nicco brush past him then closed the door behind them.
They stood in a round, empty room as large as the building itself. At its center was a circular platform, about ankle high. Around its circumference were dozens of tiny, finger-sized flames that filled the room with a flickering light. They burned with a faint hissing noise and seemed to be jetting out of holes in the platform.
Arvin hadn’t known what to expect a crematorium to look like, but this certainly wasn’t it.
Beside him, Nicco murmured the prayer that would allow him to see things as they truly were.
“Is there a way out of this room?” Arvin breathed.
The tinkling of Nicco’s earring told Arvin the cleric was shaking his head. “My prayer would have revealed any hidden doors. It found none,” he whispered. “I’m going to search the platform.”
“Be careful,” Arvin warned. “It might teleport you to the Plane of Fire.”
“That would require a teleportation circle-something only a wizard can create,” Nicco answered, his voice moving toward the platform. “We clerics must rely upon phase doors, which merely open an ethereal passage through stone.”
Arvin saw the flames flicker as the cleric walked around the platform. “Are you certain the cultists use this place?” Nicco asked.
Arvin was starting to wonder the same thing. He fingered the key in his pocket. Then his eye fell on something-a small leather pouch that lay on the other side of the platform. He strode over to it and picked it up, and felt something inside it twitch. He raised the now-invisible pouch to his nose and caught a faint leafy smell he recognized at once-assassin vine.
“Nicco,” he whispered. “The Pox were here-or at least, they kept their victims here. I’ve just found my friend’s pouch.”