"Wait," Arvin said. "Karrell's coming. I don't want to leave her behind."
"I can teleport no more than three people at a time," the baron whispered back. "Myself, Glisena… and one other."
Arvin's jaw clenched. Foesmasher had neglected to tell him this important detail. "Teleport us just outside the brambles, then," Arvin whispered back. "There's a centaur waiting there for us: Tanglemane."
The baron's eyebrows rose at the name.
"He and I can watch over Glisena while you come back for Karrell," Arvin continued.
The baron shook his head. "I am also limited to teleporting no more than three times per day. If I return for you, it will be a day before I can get back to Ormpetarr." He nodded at Glisena. "My daughter needs me."
Arvin's eyes narrowed as he realized what Foe- smasher was saying. "You won't be back."
"No."
"Send someone else then," Arvin insisted. "One of your clerics. I know they have teleportation magic; I've seen them use it."
"Only the most powerful of them can teleport without the gauntlets to aid them-and Glisena will need their prayers." He held out his hand. "Come with me-or stay. Choose."
Arvin folded his arms across his chest. There really was no choice. Arvin couldn't just abandon Karrell, or Tanglemane. "I'm staying."
"I'll send help as soon as I can," Foesmasher promised. "In the meantime, Helm be with you." Then he teleported away.
The other satyrs had started walking toward the hut. One of them called out-to Theyron, Arvin presumed- and nocked an arrow when he received no reply. The others did the same, fanning out and training their arrows on the doorway. Arvin, trapped inside a but with only one exit, tried feverishly to decide what to do. There were too many satyrs for him to charm. And it would only take one arrow to kill him.
What was keeping Karrell?
Arvin moved to the side of the doorway, readying his dagger.
A hairy hand gripped the door flap. It started to open.
A new voice sounded outside the hut: a woman, speaking the satyr tongue. She barked what sounded like an angry question at the satyrs-one they answered with a babble of voices.
Arvin peeked outside. As he saw who the newcomer was, his mouth went dry.
Naneth:
CHAPTER 12
Arvin's heart pounded as he stared out of the satyr but at Naneth. For the moment, the satyrs were busy talking to her-which was bad. They'd be telling her about the human who claimed to be her assistant. Arvin had to act quickly. Energy awakened at the base of his neck, sending a prickling through his scalp as he manifested a charm. The midwife, however, didn't cock her head; the power seemed to have had no effect on her.
She turned toward the hut and gestured.
The inside of the hut filled with an explosion of color. Arvin was still staring at Naneth and saw the swirling colors only in his peripheral vision, but his eyes were drawn to them like moths to a flame. He turned to watch the rainbows that danced and rippled in the air then took
a step closer. It was like standing inside the crisscrossing rays cast by a thousand prisms. "Beautiful," he whispered, reaching up to touch one of the rainbows. It twisted away through the air like a snake, leaving a blur of red-violet-blue in its wake. "So beautiful," he breathed.
Dimly, he was aware of the door flap opening and Naneth stepping inside. She glanced around the hut-at Theyron's body, the empty sheepskin where Glisena had lain, and Arvin-and her lips pressed together in a thin line that made her mouth all but disappear in her heavy jowls. Fear flickered in her eyes. It was clear what she was thinking: she'd lost Glisena, and now would have to face Sibyl's wrath. Whatever punishment Sibyl dreamed up would probably make the suffering Naulg had gone through look trivial.
A distant part of Arvin's mind screamed at him that this was the moment to throw the knife he held loosely at his side, to manifest a different psionic power, to run, but the colors held him. His gaze drifted back and forth, watching the rainbows.
Naneth ignored the shifting lights. Above and behind her, Arvin saw a snake peering in through a gap in the rear wall of the hut. It, too, was staring at the beautiful lights, tongue flickering in and out of its mouth as if it hoped to taste them. For some reason, that concerned Arvin, but only briefly. The lights were fascinating, scintillating, and beautiful.
More beautiful than any snake.
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.