Naneth reached into a belt pouch at her hip and pulled out an egg painted with a blood-red symbol. She held it out toward Arvin, but he barely glanced at it; the shimmering colors still held his eye. Then she spoke a word in what sounded like Draconic.
The rainbows disappeared.
So did the hut.
Arvin found himself curled in a ball inside something smooth and leathery that pressed against him on every side. Warm, sticky fluid surrounded him, soaking his clothes and hair. With a start, he realized he was breathing it in and out like air; it felt thick and heavy in his lungs. His mind was his own again, but he was unable to move. He couldn’t even lift his chin from his chest. Suddenly claustrophobic, he kicked at the wall of his prison. It didn’t give. He jabbed it with his knife. The blade bounced off it without making a dent. Trapped—he was trapped in here! It took all of his will to keep himself from panicking.
Karrell was out there somewhere, he told himself, in the hut, with Naneth. She’d do something to rescue him.
Unless she was still staring at rainbows.
A muffled voice came from outside Arvin’s prison. “Where is the girl?”
“Naneth!” Arvin exclaimed. “You got my warning. Let me out of here, and I’ll tell you what’s going on.” His voice sounded only slightly muffled, despite the fact that he was exhaling liquid. The cloying taste of raw egg lingered on his tongue.
The egg shook violently. Arvin, dizzy, tried not to throw up.
“Where’s the girl?” Naneth repeated.
Arvin tried to manifest the power that would let him listen in on Naneth’s thoughts, but though silver sparkles erupted from his third eye, briefly illuminating the liquid that surrounded him, the link could not be forged. Whatever magic had protected Naneth from being charmed was also preventing Arvin from reading her mind.
Arvin groaned. He’d have to rely on his wits alone to convince Naneth to let him out of this prison. He thought frantically, trying to come up with a story that would sound plausible. Should he drop Sibyl’s name and claim to be working for one of the factions allied with her? Claim to be one of Talos’s worshipers? Neither was likely to work. He had only the vaguest of ideas of what Sibyl was up to; he’d probably say something that would give him away.
Suddenly, he realized there was one story that would make sense—and that would throw Naneth off track, way off track.
“You’re too late,” he told Naneth. “Chondath has claimed Glisena.”
“You’re one of Lord Wianar’s men?” Naneth asked.
Arvin smiled. She’d taken his hook. Now to set it.
“I’m Wianar’s eyes and ears within the Sespech court. Three days ago, Baron Foesmasher captured a satyr who had come to Ormpetarr to fetch you; the satyr told him his daughter was in the Chondalwood. It wasn’t in Chondath’s best interests that Glisena be found, so I sent you the warning. Just in case you didn’t heed it, I made my way here. I was surprised to find the girl had not been moved. I was ordered to take advantage of that oversight.”
“Where is Glisena now?” Naneth asked. “In Arrabar?”
“All you need to know is that Wianar has her.”
For several moments, Naneth was silent. Then she replied—in a strained voice that instantly told Arvin how desperate she was, and how willing to bargain. “Tell your master that keeping the girl would be a terrible mistake. One that could prove fatal for him.”
“What do you mean?” Arvin asked.
There was a long pause. When Naneth at last spoke, her voice sounded reluctant. “The child in Glisena’s womb is… dangerous,” she began.
“Go on,” Arvin prompted. He held his breath, praying that Naneth would expound upon what she’d done to the baron’s daughter—that she’d reveal the nature of the thing she’d put in Glisena’s womb. “What is it?”
“A demon.”
“A demon?” Arvin gasped, horrified. “How—”
“Magic,” Naneth said smugly. “A unique form of binding no other sorcerer can perform.”
“But why?” Arvin asked, still struggling with his horror at what Naneth had done. He felt queasy, as though he were going to be sick.
A gloating smile crept into Naneth’s voice. “Lady Dediana is anxious to see the birth of her first grandchild,” she said. “What a surprise it will be when she sees the new heir. The shock alone will kill her—and if it doesn’t, the ‘child’ will. Now do you understand why it’s in Chondath’s best interests not to keep the girl? Wianar has much more to gain by letting us place someone more . agreeable on Hlondeth’s throne. Someone who would turn her back on Sespech, and instead form an alliance with Chondath.”
Arvin’s eyebrows rose. At last he understood what Sibyl had planned. The thing inside Glisena was part of an elaborate assassination attempt against Lady Dediana. Sibyl, once again, was making a bid for the throne—and this time, she was going to claim it herself, instead of merely installing a puppet. Naneth must have been in Hlondeth, these past three days, setting the whole thing up.
“Glisena will give birth soon,” Naneth continued. “When she does, she’ll need a midwife. One who knows how to deal with what’s inside her. Lord Wianar’s best interests lie in turning the girl over to me.”
“Who do you serve?” Arvin asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.
“Sseth’s avatar,” Naneth answered. “In this incarnation, he is known as Sibyl.”
“Where is this Sibyl?” Arvin asked, hoping that Karrell was listening. “In Hlondeth?”
“Why?” Naneth asked—suspiciously enough that Arvin’s guess might have been on the mark.
“Lord Wianar will insist on dealing with her personally.”
“That won’t be necessary. Deliver the girl to me, and I’ll convey her to Sibyl.”
“Why should Lord Wianar trust you?” Arvin asked. “The hiding place you chose was compromised; be thankful that I found it before Foesmasher did. No, I think he will want to deal with Sibyl, in person.”
There was a long pause. “What is it Wianar wants?” Naneth asked.
“What do you mean?” Arvin asked.
The egg shook, making Arvin dizzy. “Don’t play with me,” Naneth spat. “Wianar wants something from Sibyl, in return for the girl. But he doesn’t realize the consequences of the delay he’s causing—or of angering Sibyl. Only a fool would dare to blackmail a god. And you are a greater fool, to serve him.”
“I may be a fool, but I know where Glisena is, and you don’t,” Arvin countered. “And unless you want to face the wrath of your god, you’ll have to do something other than threaten me. What can you offer, in return for Glisena?”
“I’m not so foolish as you think,” the midwife growled. “I held a playing piece back from Sibyl—one that will prove valuable, if Dediana survives. I’m willing to offer it in trade for the baron’s daughter. But I’m obviously wasting my time with you. I’ll talk to Lord Wianar myself.”
Arvin’s breath caught. Would she kill him now? Then he realized that Naneth was bluffing—trying to make Arvin sweat a little. As if being trapped in an egg wasn’t doing that readily enough.
“Lord Wianar knows better than to trust you,” he countered. “But he trusts me.” He paused. “What can you offer me, if I help you?”
“Your life,” Naneth said, relief evident in her voice, “and the gratitude of a god.”
“That’s a good start,” Arvin agreed. He rapped on the inside of the egg with the hilt of his dagger. “But I’m not going to negotiate from inside an egg. Let me out of here, and we’ll talk.”
Arvin was jostled back and forth, and a seam of light shone in through a rip in the egg. He saw Naneth’s pudgy fingers—impossibly large—tear the egg, widening the rip, and felt the liquid drain away. Suddenly he was breathing air once more. The egg parted into two halves, and he fell. The floor of the but rushed up to meet him….
Before it struck him, he returned to his full size. His feet hit the floor with a thud. He staggered then regained his balance. As he looked up, he saw that the rainbows were gone—and that Karrell was hanging from the ceiling, just behind Naneth. She was swaying back and forth, hissing softly. No, not hissing, whispering the words of her charm spell.