“Thanks,” Arvin said. “You’ve been a big help.”
He walked down the street, turned a corner, and circled around the block to the street at the rear of the ambassador’s residence. He walked the length of the building, glancing up at the residence only when the two militiamen who were standing out back weren’t watching. The last two windows of the second floor were dark, but light glowed through the next two; that must have been Zelia’s suite. The curtains on one of the windows had been drawn but not quite all the way; a slight gap remained. It was impossible, however, to see inside from this angle.
The militiamen watched Arvin as he walked the length of the block but lost interest in him as he turned the corner. Making his way to the rear of the building that was directly behind the ambassador’s residence, he walked up a short flight of stairs to one of its doors. Pretending to be fitting a key into the lock, he glanced up and down the street. No one was watching. Then he activated the magic within his bracelet and climbed the wall.
Arvin swung himself up onto the roof. Crawling to the far side through patches of wet snow, he stared across the street at the window that had caught his attention a moment ago. Through the gap in its curtains he spotted Zelia. She was seated in a chair that had its side to the window. She was leaning forward in hungry anticipation, her forked tongue flickering through a smile that sent shivers through him. She’d smiled at Arvin in just the same way when she gloatingly told him about the seed she’d planted in his mind. She leaned forward more, gesturing at someone who sat opposite her.
A sudden dread filled him. Who was Zelia talking to?
He crawled farther along the rooftop, ignoring the discomfort of the slush that had soaked through his pants and shirt. No matter what angle he viewed the window from, however, he couldn’t see the second person. Working his way back to his original position—a spot directly opposite the window—he sent his awareness into his third eye. He was taking an enormous chance by manifesting a power—if Zelia detected his psionics, he would give himself away—but he had to know if Karrell was inside.
As the energy stored in his third eye uncoiled, a thread of silver light spun out into the night, toward the window. It penetrated the glass and touched the curtain inside, weaving its way into the fabric. Then, one tiny tug at a time, it began to pull.
Slowly, the curtain eased back. After each tug, Arvin waited for several heartbeats, terrified that Zelia might hear the soft slide of the curtain on its rod or notice the gradually widening gap between the curtains. She didn’t.
Finally, Arvin got a glimpse of the person she was talking to. It wasn’t Karrell.
It was Naneth.
Arvin blinked in surprise. He’d expected Naneth to come to Ormpetarr in an attempt to recapture Glisena, but he’d also expected her to show up at the palace. He did not expect her to be here, inside the ambassador’s home.
He had to find out what was going on.
With all that remained of the energy in his muladhara, he manifested one last power. Sparkles of light streamed out of the center of his forehead then curled around his head. With them came a heightened awareness. The lighted windows in the ambassador’s residence became a babble of overlapping sounds; the lights elsewhere in the city, a distant hum. Even the stars in the night sky emitted a faint, crackling hiss.
Those, however, weren’t the sounds Arvin was interested in.
He curled both of his hands into loose fists then held both of them up to his left eye, forming a tube. Through it, he peered at Zelia’s window with his other eye shut. The waves of noise that had been pouring into his mind were stopped down to a trickle; now he “saw” only the sounds emanating from Zelia’s room. He had to shift, slightly, to screen out the light from the hearth, which filled his mind with a sharp crackle. The fire had been well stoked; like all yuan-ti, Zelia liked her rooms at basking temperature. At last he managed to narrow his field of view to include just Zelia and Naneth. As he did, their voices sprang into focus.
“… to be done tonight,” the midwife said.
“Why?” Zelia asked.
“Because Foesmasher has summoned his clerics,” Naneth said urgently. “He’s convinced them to do his dirty work. This time, the child will be killed.”
Zelia arched an eyebrow. “Surely he wouldn’t slay his own grandchild?”
Naneth snorted. “He doesn’t have the same respect for life that Lady Dediana does. To him, the child is just a serpent. I’ve heard it said that he refers to it as ‘the demon.’” She shook her head in a parody of sadness, sending a ripple through her double chin.
Zelia lounged in her chair, her expression confident. “I’ll get the girl out.”
“How?” Naneth asked. “Glisena’s chamber is warded against serpents.”
Zelia smiled. “There are ways of getting around wards.”
Naneth leaned forward, pudgy hands on her knees. “Just so long as you can do it. Remove her from the palace, and I’ll teleport her to Hlondeth.”
“Directly to the House Extaminos compound?” Zelia asked.
Naneth nodded. “Yes. Tell your mistress the girl will be delivered, as promised.”
Arvin waited, tense with anticipation.
“I’ll contact you as soon as I have her,” Zelia promised.
“This needs to be done sooner, rather than later,” Naneth urged. “As swiftly as you can.”
“Swift as a striking serpent,” Zelia agreed with a hiss of laughter. She leaned forward as she spoke, playing with a strand of her long red hair. It parted, revealing a finger-long chunk of crystal that hung from a silver hoop in her ear. Judging by its faint glow, it was a crystal capacitor or power stone—which was strange, since Zelia had always before scorned the use of psionic “crutches.”
Something must have made Naneth nervous; the midwife raised a hand to her temple to wipe sweat from her forehead.
Zelia settled back into her chair, staring at Naneth through slit eyes. Her tongue flickered out of her mouth, as if she were savoring the midwife’s discomfort.
Naneth wiped her temple, glanced in the direction of the hearth, and moved her chair a little farther from it. Arvin gave a mental nod; he felt the same discomfort in the yuan-ti’s overheated rooms.
“Will you be staying on in Sespech once our business is concluded?” Naneth asked.
Zelia smiled. “Only for a few days,” she said. “Then we really must leave.”
“Who is ‘we’?” Naneth asked.
Zelia smiled. “You’ll find out—seven days from now.” A soft, satisfied hiss of laughter followed.
Arvin’s eyes widened as he realized what he’d just witnessed. Naneth hadn’t been wiping sweat from her brow. She’d been wiping away a sheen of ectoplasm. Zelia had just seeded her. The earring—a power stone—must have contained a copy of the mind seed power.
The power that Arvin thought he had stripped from her for good, six months ago.
Arvin closed his eyes, blocking out both sight and sound. Bile rose in his throat; he swallowed it down. He could guess what must have happened. He’d relayed his warnings about Naneth being one of Sibyl’s minions to Tanju, who in turn had conveyed them to Lady Dediana. And she, in turn, had passed the information along to Zelia, her agent in Sespech. Together, no doubt, with an order: that Zelia try, once again, to plant a spy within Sibyl’s ranks.
Thunder grumbled from a clear sky: the laughter of Hoar. Naneth had placed a demon in Glisena’s womb, and Zelia had just planted a mind seed in the midwife. The god of poetic justice was, beyond a doubt, pleased.
Arvin shuddered.
He watched as the two women in the room exchanged good-byes. Zelia promised to use another sending to contact Naneth the instant Glisena was out of the palace. Naneth nodded then teleported away.
Zelia turned and stared out the window, her eyes flashing silver as she manifested a power. Fearful that she would detect him, Arvin immediately ended his power. For several terrible moments he held his breath, bracing himself for her attack. Then he saw Zelia shiver.