Arvin breathed a sigh of relief. That should keep them busy for a while.
When he turned around, Glisena had forced herself up off the sheepskin. Eyes wide and terrified, she held herself in a seated position with trembling arms. As Arvin took a step toward her, she bleated and tried to crawl back, but only managed to collapse. She opened her mouth to scream.
Arvin leaped forward to clamp a hand against her mouth. "Don't," he said. "I'm not here to hurt you. I've come to rescue you."
Glisena's lips moved under Arvin's palm. Cautioning her with a look, he lifted them slightly, allowing her to speak.
"From what?" she gasped.
"Naneth tricked you," Arvin said. "Her spell didn't just hasten your pregnancy along. It affected the child inside you in other ways. The child was transformed into something… else."
"No," Glisena whispered.
Arvin couldn't tell if she was hearing his terrible news-and denying it-or simply reacting with horror to his words. "I'm afraid so," he said. As he spoke, he plucked the stone that was circling her head from the air. It resisted him for a moment, straining to free itself from his palm. Then it went still.
"Naneth wouldn't-"
"Yes she would," Arvin said, tossing the stone aside. "Naneth isn't just a midwife. She's an agent of a powerful yuan-ti who is an enemy of House Extaminos. Naneth used you; she only pretended to help you after your father asked her to-"
"To kill my child," she said in a flat voice. Her hands cradled her belly.
"Yes."
She stared at her stomach a moment, groaned as the thing within kicked, and gave Arvin a defiant look. "I won't let him hurt my baby."
Arvin sighed. She was forcing him to be blunt. "Whatever's inside you isn't your baby anymore. We need to get you back to Ormpetarr. Someone there will know what to do."
Glisena's jaw tightened. "I won't go back." Exhausted as she was, with dark circles under her eyes, she had the determination-and stubbornness-of her father. "Dmetrio-"
"Isn't coming," Arvin said, finishing the sentence for her. "He's leaving for Hlondeth. Without you."
"That's not true," she whispered again. "He loves me. He'll take me with him."
"He won't."
"He will." The determination was still in her eyes, but something else had joined it: exhaustion. Fresh beads of sweat broke out on her forehead. She sank back onto the sheepskin, trembling. "My father sent you… didn't he? You're lying. About Naneth. And Dmetrio. So I'll… go back."
"I'm telling you the truth," Arvin insisted. "Much as I hate to do it."
Glisena turned away, not listening to him. Even when she was down, she wouldn't admit to defeat. Arvin had to admire that.
He'd been naive, to think that he could convince Glisena of the truth. It was simply too much, too hard. He peeked outside again-the satyrs were still butting heads, Tymora be praised-then turned his attention to the dead satyr's belt pouch. Opening it, he found his mother's crystal inside. He tied it around his neck with a whispered, "Nine lives," then recovered his lapis lazuli, which still had a jagged, coin-sized flap of his skin clinging to it. He spoke the stone's command word, and the skin fell away. Then he touched the stone to the raw wound on his forehead and spoke the command a second time. The lapis lazuli sank into the wound, attaching itself to the lacerated flesh. Fresh blood trickled from the wound; he wiped it away from his eye.
Not knowing how much time he had before the satyrs ended their contest, he decided to manifest a sending. He started to imagine the baron's face then changed his mind. Instead he pictured Karrell.
Nothing happened.
Arvin's heart thudded in his chest. He could visualize Karrell's face clearly, but he couldn't contact her. Was she dead?
Then he realized what was wrong. He was visualizing her human face. He shifted his mental picture of her, imagining her snake form instead. Instantly, the image solidified.
I'm with Glisena, he told her. I'm inside her hut. Slip in through the back, where the brambles touch the wall. I'll contact Foesmasher.
Karrell stared back at him, tongue flickering in and out of her mouth. Arvin couldn't read her expression-it was impossible, with that unblinking stare-but he could hear the concern in her voice as she stared at his forehead. You are wounded! I am sorry; I fell to a magical slumber. I will come. Her mouth parted in what might have been a smile. At once.
Her image faded from his mind.
Immediately, Arvin concentrated on the baron's face. When it solidified in his mind, Foesmasher was talking to someone, emphasizing his words with a pointing fork; Arvin must have interrupted his midday meal. From the scowl on his face, he was issuing a reprimand, or arguing with Marasa again. He halted abruptly in mid-sentence as he recognized Arvin.
I found Glisena, Arvin told him,
Relief washed across the baron's face. His eyes closed a moment; when he opened them, he blinked rapidly, as if clearing away tears. He whispered something Arvin couldn't hear; probably a prayer of thanksgiving.
Arvin chose his next words carefully. Even with the brooch for Foesmasher to home in on, Arvin needed to pack as much information as possible into the brief message the lapis lazuli would allow. I'm with her inside a hut. Satyrs armed with bows are outside. And wolves. BringI'm on my way, the baron said.
Arvin silently cursed. Now that Foesmasher had replied, there was no way for Arvin to interrupt, to tell him to bring meat for the wolves. Foesmasher continued speaking as he yanked on his helmet and drew his sword. Tell Glisena I'll be there at.
"… once," said a low voice from Arvin's immediate left.
Arvin couldn't help but be startled, even though he'd been expecting the baron. He raised a finger to his lips. "Quietly, Lord Foesmasher," he cautioned. "The satyrs are just outside."
The baron immediately fell to his knees beside his daughter. "Glisena," he said in a choked voice. "Father's here. My little dove, I'm so sorry. May Helm forgive me for what I've done."
The thing inside Glisena kicked, bulging her stomach. She screwed her eyes shut and groaned.
"What's wrong?" the baron asked, looking up at Arvin. "Is the child coming?"
"It's… not a child," Arvin said. Quickly, he told the baron his suspicions. He expected the baron's face to blanch, but Foesmasher proved to have more mettle than that. "Why would Naneth do such a thing?" he asked in a pained voice.
Arvin didn't answer.
The baron stared at his daughter. "Marasa will tend to it," he said firmly. "Whatever it is."
Arvin nodded, relieved.
Outside, the satyrs had resolved their argument. One of the combatants lay unconscious on the ground; the others stared at him, shaking their heads disdainfully. One, however, was staring suspiciously at the hut, his ears perked forward, listening. He turned to the others and said something to them. Arvin, watching, tightened his grip on his dagger.
Foesmasher must have seen Arvin tense. He sheathed his sword, lifted Glisena into his arms, and stood. He gestured for Arvin to come closer.
Arvin was still staring outside. He'd spotted a movement across the clearing in the brambles, well behind the satyrs: a snake, slithering along the ground.
Karrell was circling around the clearing to reach the hut.