of Helm's clerics stood. They were gathered in a circle, praying in low voices, their gauntleted hands extended toward a bed where Glisena lay. Nine shields, each embossed with Helm's eye, floated in the air behind their backs, forming a circle that turned slowly around them. Marasa sat on a stool next to the bed, holding Glisena's hand. She glanced up, kissed Glisena, and rose to her feet, motioning for the baron to take her hand. He crossed to the bed, a strained smile on his face as he kneeled at his daughter's side. "Little dove," he whispered. "Father is here."
Glisena turned her head away from him.
Marasa's face was grim as she approached Arvin. "Helm be praised," she said. "The giant found you."
Arvin stared at Glisena. She was still pregnant-and looked even worse than before. Despite the ministrations of the clerics, her face had a sickly yellow pallor. She had been bathed-a ceramic tub filled with scented water stood in a corner of the room-and was wearing fresh night robe, but the odor of vomit lingered in the room. She twisted restlessly on the bed, her free hand scrabbling at the blankets, shoving them aside. Her stomach was an ominous bulge.
Arvin swallowed nervously. There was a demon in there. He met Marasa's eye. "Does she know?" he asked. "About-"
"We told her," Marasa said. Her expression grew pained. "But I don't know if she believes us. Not after what her father tried to do." She sighed heavily, not looking at Foesmasher.
"The cleric who teleported us here said you wanted me to listen to the demon's thoughts," Arvin prompted. "Are you going to try to banish it?"
"We can't," Marasa said, her voice low. "It is linked to Glisena by the blood cord. If we banish it, Glisena will be drawn into the Abyss with it. We will have to try to kill it, instead."
Arvin, suddenly remembering the vision he'd had in Naneth's home-of a woman, linked by a thread of blood, to her own death-felt his face grow pale. "That might kill her," he whispered. Quickly, he told Marasa of his vision.
Marasa listened quietly, a strained look on her face. Then she gave a helpless shrug. "There is nothing else left to try," she said. She stared at Glisena. "The demon is small, and Helm willing, will succumb to High Watcher Davinu's holy word. It can then be birthed-or removed-in the same way as a stillborn child. But if the demon does not succumb-if it tries to trick us by feigning death-we need to know what it is thinking. Perhaps it will give us some clue that will tell us what will harm it."
"I see," Arvin said, not wholly convinced. His eyes remained locked on Glisena's distended belly. It was taut as a drum-one that might tear open at any moment.
"Prepare yourself," Marasa said. "And we will begin."
Arvin took off his cloak and draped it over a chair. Sending his awareness down into his muladhara, he was relieved to see that it contained enough energy to manifest the power Marasa had requested. He walked across the room, steeling himself for what he was about to experience. The thought of contacting the demon's mind a second time terrified him, but-he glanced at Glisena's pale face-if it would help, he would do it.
He crossed the room and stood at the foot of Glisena's bed. "I'm ready," he told Marasa.
She nodded at one of the clerics-an older man with pale blue eyes and hair so white and fine that the age spots on his scalp could clearly be seen through it. He seemed hale enough, however; he wore the suit of armor that was the priestly vestment of Helm's clerics with the upright posture and ease of a much younger man.
"Give High Watcher Davinu a signal, Arvin, when you have made contact," Marasa said. "Once you have, he will begin."
Arvin smiled to himself. Using the silent speech, he could have described, moment by moment, exactly what was happening as he manifested his power. Bathe didn't want anyone to know he was Guild… ex-Guild. "I'll raise my hand," he said.
As he prepared to manifest his power, Glisena caught his hand. Startled, Arvin looked down at her. She was straining to speak, her eyes imploring him. Concerned, he moved to the side of the bed and leaned over to hear what she was saying.
"Where did it go?" she whispered.
"Where did what go?" Arvin asked.
Glisena glanced warily at her father then continued to whisper in Arvin's ear. Her breath was fever-hot. "My baby," she said. "Naneth had to take my baby out before she put the demon in. She had to put her somewhere. Find my baby for me. Promise you will. Please?"
Arvin blinked. It hadn't occurred to him, until now, to wonder what had happened to the child Glisena had been carrying. He'd assumed it had died or been subsumed when Naneth summoned the demon into Glisena's womb. Either that, or teleported elsewhere- the Abyss, perhaps-and had died a swift death outside the womb.
But what if it had been teleported into another womb?
If it had, Glisena's unborn child might still be alive. And Naneth would have an extra playing piece to haggle with.
An extra playing piece she had offered to trade for Glisena earlier, when she thought Arvin was Lord Wianar's man.
Foesmasher leaned forward, stiff with tension. "What is Glisena saying?"
Arvin straightened, shaking his head. "She's delirious," he said, trying to ease his hand out of Glisena's. She clung to it with a grip tight as death. Her eyes begged a silent question of him.
He nodded. "I'll do it," he promised her.
Glisena's hands relaxed.
"Do what?" the baron growled.
Arvin didn't answer.
Glisena sighed and released his hand, closing her eyes. When she opened them again, she nodded at High Watcher Davinu. "I'm ready," she announced in a faint whisper. Then, in a stronger voice, she said, "You may begin."
Arvin smiled. Despite Glisena's faults, she was her father's daughter.
As Davinu prepared to cast his spell, Arvin sent his awareness down into the power points at the middle of his forehead and base of his scalp. Linking them, he manifested his power. Sparkles of silver erupted from his eyes and drifted gently down toward Glisena's stomach; as they settled there, vanishing, the thoughts of those in the room swam into his mind. Marasa was relieved that Arvin was finally here, and praying for Helm's mercy on the innocent Glisena. High Watcher Davinu was concentrating on the spell he was about to cast. He would channel Helm's glorious might into a single word so powerful that it would snuff out even a demon's life. The other clerics were focused on their prayers.
And the demon-dark, malevolent, seething, and gloating. Soon, it thought, the words reverberating like the growls of a dragon in its cave. I will be free soon. The bindings… fade.
Arvin shuddered. He raised his hand and signaled for Davinu to begin.
Davinu raised one gauntleted hand above his head. Praying now-evoking Helm in a low chant as the other clerics whispered their own prayers in the background- he slowly closed his hand into a fist. He caught Marasa's eye-she nodded-and that of the baron. Foesmasher squeezed Glisena's hand. His free hand was clenched in a white-knuckled fist and trembling.
Soon, the demon thought, its voice an evil chuckle. "Do it," Foesmasher croaked.
Davinu's hand swept down toward Glisena's stomach, creating a sound like that of a sword sweeping through the air. "Moritas!" he cried.
Glisena's eyes flew open. She gasped, arching her back.
Foesmasher's eyes squeezed shut; his lips moved rapidly in silent prayer.
Soon, the demon whispered. I will be-Arvin heard a wet thud-a sound like a blade striking flesh. For the space of a heartbeat, everyone in the room was silent, their minds blank with suspense. Even the demon was still. Arvin searched desperately for its mind, hope bubbling through him.