“Her illness was minor,” Foesmasher said. There was a testy edge to his voice. It sounded, to Arvin, that the baron and his advisor had gone through this argument at least once before. “It was a slight upset of the stomach. Nothing that required magical healing.”
“A stomach upset?” Arvin asked, confused. “I thought you said she had a headache.”
Neither the baron nor Marasa was listening to him. Marasa bristled at Foesmasher. “A simple laying on of hands would have saved Glisena much discomfort.”
“The headache was an excuse to dismiss the servants!” the baron growled. “Glisena ran away.”
Marasa glared right back at him. “How can you be so sure? Wianar’s agents may have infiltrated the palace and kidnapped her. Whether the headache was feigned or not, if you’d summoned me that night—”
“That’s enough, High Watcher Ferrentio!” Foesmasher shouted. He looked away, refusing to meet the cleric’s eye. He glared at the far wall, visibly composing himself.
Marasa gently touched his hand. “You and Glisena were arguing again, weren’t you?”
Foesmasher sighed. “Yes.”
Arvin’s eyebrows rose. A “quiet evening,” the baron had said. Given the baron’s propensity for shouting, it had probably been anything but. No wonder Glisena had fled to her chamber. “So the headache had only come on that evening?” he asked.
The baron turned to Arvin, a suspicious look in his eye. “Why are you so interested in my daughter’s health?”
Arvin paused, considering whether to tell the baron about Zelia. Foesmasher was a powerful man, with an army at his disposal. That army included clerics of Helm—clerics who had proven themselves capable of dealing with the yuan-ti. They could arrest Zelia and throw her in prison. On the other hand, Zelia’s presence in Sespech might be mere coincidence; she might not be searching for Arvin, after all. If she was hauled before the baron for questioning and was able to probe his thoughts, she’d be alerted to the fact that Arvin was alive, and in Sespech. If she later escaped….
Arvin decided it was worth the risk. Perhaps Zelia would resist capture, and the clerics would kill her. The thought made Arvin smile.
“There is a power that psions can manifest,” he told the baron, “one that plants a seed in the victim’s mind that germinates slowly, over several days. During that time, the victim suffers head pains and experiences brief flashes of memory—the memories of the psion who planted the seed. On the seventh day….” He paused, revisiting the dread he’d felt at slowly losing control of his mind. For six days and nights, Zelia’s mind seed had warped his thoughts and slithered into his dreams, turning them into nightmares. Under its influence, Arvin had lashed out at people who tried to help him, had even killed an innocent man. Only on the seventh day, when he’d been within heartbeats of having his own consciousness utterly extinguished, had the mind seed at last been purged.
“On the seventh day?” the baron prompted.
Arvin chose his words carefully; he was about to impart what might be very bad news, indeed. “On that day,” he said slowly, “the victim’s own mind is destroyed, and replaced it with a copy of the psion’s mind, instead.”
Marasa’s face paled. “Helm grant it is not so,” she whispered.
The baron leaned forward, his eyes intent on Arvin. “You know someone who can cast this spell,” he said. “Someone here, in Sespech.”
Arvin met his eye. “Yes.”
“Name him.”
“It’s her, not him,” Arvin answered. “Her name is Zelia. I spotted her three days ago, at Riverboat Landing. She’s a yuan-ti.”
Arvin expected the baron to immediately demand a description, but Foesmasher seemed disinterested. Beside him, Marasa looked visibly relieved.
“Aren’t you going to arrest Zelia?” Arvin asked. “If she planted a mind seed in your daughter—”
“She couldn’t have,” the baron said. “Glisena has had no contact with yuan-ti for… some time.”
“How can you be so sure?” Arvin asked. “Yuan-ti can assume serpent form. Zelia could have slithered into the palace undetected and—”
Marasa interrupted him. “Tell him, Thuragar,” she said, giving the baron a hard look.
Baron Foesmasher sighed. “You will, no doubt, have heard that I disapproved of Ambassador Extaminos’s courtship of my daughter?” he said.
Arvin nodded.
“A little over a month ago, I forbade my daughter from seeing Ambassador Extaminos again. I took precautions against him… contacting her. It is no longer possible for a yuan-ti to enter certain sections of the palace. The hallways, doors, and windows—every possible entrance to those parts of the palace that Glisena would have any cause to enter—have been warded to prevent serpents from entering. All serpents. Even yuan-ti in human form.”
He gave a heavy sigh before continuing. “Glisena has not… had not,” he corrected himself, “set foot outside those sections of the palace since this was done. She’s had no contact with serpents since that time. That is how I know this Zelia person could not have planted a mind seed in my daughter.”
“I see,” Arvin said. He understood, now, why the baron was so certain his daughter had run away. Anyone would, after being placed under what was, essentially, a prison sentence, however sumptuous and comfortable the prison might be. Arvin was starting to have second thoughts about the baron. If he ruled his own daughter with such a domineering hand, how did he treat his hirelings?
“You’re certain the wards were effective?” .Arvin asked.
It was Marasa who answered. “I oversaw their placement myself.” The look she gave the baron suggested she’d been unhappy with this task.
Arvin nodded. Even if Zelia had relearned the mind seed power, it wouldn’t have been possible for her to plant a seed in Glisena—she wouldn’t have been able to get close enough to the princess.
Marasa leaned closer to the baron and spoke, interrupting Arvin’s thoughts. “This “mind seed’ could be used to create the perfect spy,” she told him in a voice that was pitched low—but not quite low enough that Arvin couldn’t overhear.
“Yes,” the baron agreed. “It could.” He gave Arvin a level stare. “Is that why you told us about Zelia? Is this a warning from Lady Dediana—that she has ears within my court?”
Arvin met the baron’s eyes. “I didn’t come to Sespech to play at politics, Lord Foesmasher,” he answered. “I’m here for one purpose only: to find your daughter. Whether Zelia has seeded anyone in your court is a question that’s best put to her. But be careful; Zelia’s dangerous. This I know, from personal experience.”
“She’s your enemy,” the baron observed. “Yet you serve the same mistress.”
Arvin took a deep breath. Now was the moment he’d been waiting for, the moment to make a commitment—one that would affect everything that was to follow in his life. He reminded himself that this wasn’t like his incarceration in the orphanage, or his obligation to the Guild. He was choosing this alliance.
“I don’t serve Lady Dediana,” he told the baron. “I’m a free agent; I choose who I work for. It is my belief that working for a human—especially a man of your stature—will be much more… rewarding.”
The baron gave a low chuckle. “I see.” He exchanged a look with Marasa. “I think that, after Arvin has found my daughter, he and I will have a chat about mind seeds and spies… and rewards.”
“Will you arrest Zelia?” Arvin asked.
“That wouldn’t be expedient at the moment,” Foesmasher replied. “There was an… unfortunate incident a few days ago. It seems that the new ambassador from Hlondeth had an altercation with one of the less reputable citizens of Mimph—an altercation that resulted in his arrest. If I simply order his release, it will appear that certain people are above Helm’s law. Yet if I allow the Eyes to place Helm’s mark on him, it may fracture the alliance. I have to tread carefully, where yuan-ti are concerned. I can’t afford to ruffle any more scales.”