Viper's kiss hos-2

by Lisa Smedman

  Envious though he was, Arvin couldn't help but glance at her. She was exquisite, with eyes so dark it was difficult to see where pupil ended and iris began, and long lashes that fluttered each time she blinked. Her cheekbones were high and wide, and the hair that framed her face was lustrous and thick, with a slight wave. 'Arvin imagined brushing it back from her face

  and letting his fingers linger on the soft skin of her cheek. The riverboat wouldn't be leaving until tomorrow morning; perhaps she could be persuaded to…

  She shifted on the wagon's hard wooden bench, at last shaking the snowflakes from her hair. Arvin caught a glimpse of an earring in her left ear-a finger-thick plug of jade, its rounded end carved in the shape of a stylized face with drooping, heavy lips. Then her hair covered it again.

  Her eyes met Arvin's. Realizing he was still staring at her, he blushed. "Your earring," he stammered. "It's pretty."

  She stared at him for several unnerving moments. Then her gaze shifted to his forehead. "That stone. Is it your clan?" She spoke in the clipped accent of the southern lands, each word slightly abbreviated.

  "This?" Arvin touched the lapis lazuli on his forehead. The fingernail-sized chip of stone was a spot of warmth against his chilled skin, joined by magic with his flesh-and joined with his thoughts, when its command word was spoken. He'd put it on as soon once the ship was safely away from Hlondeth and had left it in place since. There didn't seem to be any reason to hide it anymore. Zelia-the stone's original owner-was far behind him now, gods be praised.

  "It's just a decoration," he answered at last.

  "I see." She glanced away, seemingly losing interest.

  "You're from the south?" Arvin asked, hoping to continue the conversation.

  She nodded.

  "I'm from Hlondeth, myself."

  That got her attention. She studied him a moment. "You are i t a yuan-ti."

  "No. My name's Vin," he said, using an abbreviation that was as common as cobblestones in Hlondeth. "And yours is…?"

  She paused, as if deciding whether to answer. "Karrell."

  "You're going to Ormpetarr?" It was an unnecessary question, since the only reason anyone would be taking this wagon would be to reach the riverboats that plied the Lower Nagaflow.

  She nodded.

  "Me too," Arvin continued. He plunged into the carefully rehearsed story that would explain his presence in Sespech. "I'm an agent for Mariners' Mercantile. I hope to encourage Baron Foesmasher to buy from our rope factories. Those new ships he's building are going to require good strong hemp for their rigging." He patted the backpack on the seat beside him. "I've brought samples of our finest lines to show him."

  Karrell raised an eyebrow. "You are meeting with the baron?" She glanced at his cloak-woven from coarse brown wool-and the worn boots that protruded from the blanket draped over his legs.

  Behind her, the driver chuckled into his beard and flicked his reins.

  "These are my traveling clothes," Arvin explained. She obviously thought he was a braggart, trying to impress her. He drew himself up straighter. "I'll change into something more suitable once I arrive in Ormpetarr, before going to the palace. Ambassador Extaminos has graciously agreed to introduce me to-"

  "Dmetrio Extaminos?"

  Arvin blinked. "You know him?"

  "I know his work. He has a great love of architecture. He restored the Serpent Arch, the first Hall of Extaminos, and the Coiled Tower." She paused to stare at Arvin, as if expecting a reaction.

  He shrugged. "Old buildings don't interest me."

  It was the wrong thing to say. Karrell tossed her head. They interest me," she said. "That is why I came north: to study architecture. The yuan-ti have a particularly graceful style, with their arches, spirals, and towers."

  Arvin realized there might be more to the woman than just a pretty face. "Are you an architect?" He glanced at the bag at her feet. Like him, she was traveling light.

  "Architecture interests me," she said. "I make sketches of buildings." She tilted her head. "Old buildings."

  Arvin scrambled to salvage the conversation. He dredged up what little he knew about the subject, casting his mind back to the "lessons" the priests had given at the orphanage-lessons that were delivered to the backs of the children's heads while they worked. The lessons helped the priests convince themselves they were educating and instructing the children, not just profiting from their labors.

  "The Coiled Tower was built in…" Damn, the date had eluded him. Was it 641 or 614? He could never remember. "In the year of the city's independence," he continued, reciting what he remembered of his lessons. "The Extaminos Family erected it to honor the snakes that saved Hlondeth from the kobolds. The ones Lord Shevron summoned with his prayers. The snakes, that is-not the kobolds."

  Karrell's lips twitched. A smile?

  "The year was 614," she said. "Eighty-five years after your people and mine first made contact."

  "Your people?" Arvin prompted.

  "My father's tribe." Karrell made a dismissive gesture. "You will not know their name."

  "I might," Arvin said. "Where did you say you were from?"

  "The south."

  She was right. He knew little of the people to the south and probably wouldn't have recognized the name of her tribe. But he wasn't completely ignorant

  of geography. "By your accent, I'd say you were from the Chultan Peninsula," he commented. "That's where the flying snakes come from, isn't it?"

  She gave him a sharp look.

  She obviously didn't like snakes-they had that much in common, at least. Arvin quickly changed the subject. "You must have been traveling a long time," he continued. "What places have you visited?"

  "I was most recently in Hlondeth, sketching the buildings that Dmetrio Extaminos was restoring. I had hoped to meet him and talk to him about his project but learned he had returned to Sespech to take up the ambassador's post."

  "Is that why you came to Sespech?" Arvin asked.

  Karrell shook her head. "No. I came to sketch the palace at Ormpetarr. But I am glad to have met you." She leaned forward and rested a hand on Arvin's knee. "Will you introduce me to Dmetrio Extaminos?"

  Arvin hesitated. Karrell's answers to his questions had been short and evasive. What if she was a spy, or even an assassin? Even if she was exactly what she claimed to be, he could think of a dozen reasons to say no. Dmetrio didn't know about Arvin's mission- to him, Arvin would be nothing more than a "rope merchant's agent" that he was to introduce to Baron Foesmasher. This would give Arvin an excuse to chat informally with Dmetrio, to find out-with a little prompting, in the form of a psionic manifestation-if Dmetrio knew anything about Glisena's disappearance. Dmetrio had been courting Glisena for several months; there was a chance that her disappearance was part of an illicit elopement. If it was, the alliance between Sespech and Hlondeth would unravel as quickly as a frayed rope.

  Arvin didn't need a stranger hanging about while he asked Dmetrio delicate questions. Nor did he want her tagging along behind him in Ormpetarr. The next thing he knew, she'd be asking for an introduction to Baron Foesmasher and a tour of the palace.

  On the other hand, Karrell was the most beautiful woman Arvin had ever met. And the touch of her hand on his knee-even through the thick wool blanket-was sending a welcome flush of warmth through him.

  Karrell raised her free hand to her chest, making a brief, imploring gesture that reminded Arvin of the silent speech. She leaned closer still, whispering a plea in her own language, and Arvin caught a whiff of the scented oil she must have combed into her hair to make it shine so. She smelled of the exotic flowers of the south, of orchids underlaid with a hint of musk. A snowflake landed at the corner of her upper lip, and Arvin was filled with an urge to kiss it away.

  "Please," she breathed. "It would mean so much to me to meet Ambassador Extaminos, to share my sketches with someone who appreciates the subject as much as I do."

  Arvin swallowed. "I'd like to see your sketches, too
."

  Karrell's dark eyes shone. "So you'll introduce me?"

  Arvin tugged at the neck of his cloak, loosening it. The snow was still falling thick and fast, and the air had chilled as the sun went down, but he was suddenly very warm. "I…"

  The wagon jerked to a halt. "We're here," the dwarf grunted-the first words he'd spoken since their journey began. "Riverboat Landing. The Eelgrass Inn." Bells tinkled as the horses shook their heads, taking advantage of the slack reins.

  Arvin glanced around. The wagon had pulled up beside the largest of the half dozen inns that lined the bank of the Lower Nagaflow. Several piers splayed out into the river like fingers. Tied up to them were the riverboats-wide-hulled sailboats with tall masts, canvas sails furled tight against their yards. Snow had blown into drifts on the decks of most, but one had been swept clean. Aboard it, two men were fitting a repeating crossbow to the port rail amidships. A second repeating crossbow was already mounted on the starboard rail.

  Arvin caught the eye of the dwarf, who had climbed down to tie the reins of the horses to a hitching post. "Why the crossbows?" he asked. "Are they expecting trouble?"

  The dwarf's feet crunched in the snow as he walked back to open the door of the wagon. "Slavers," he said as Arvin climbed down from the wagon. "From Nimpeth." He pointed across the river at the far shore. "They have their own boats. Sleek and fast."

  Arvin caught Karrell's eye as she rose and gathered up her bag. "Don't worry," he assured her. "If the slavers do attack, there will be more than just crossbows to stop them. I'm armed with a magical weapon-and I'm very capable in a fight."

  Karrell gave him a bemused glance. She swept back her cloak, revealing an ironwood club, with a knobbed, fist-sized ball at one end, that hung from her belt. "So am I."

  Arvin's eyebrows rose. "But you're-"

  She stared down at him, eyes narrowed. "A woman?"

  "No," Arvin said quickly. "I mean yes. You're clearly a woman." He realized he was staring not at her weapon, but at the curves the drawn-back cloak had revealed-at weapons of a different sort. "And there are lots of women in the Guil-" He caught himself just in time and took a deep breath. "I meant that you're… an artist," he finished lamely.

  "And you, so you say, are a rope merchant's agent," she said, giving the final word a slight emphasis, as if to imply she thought he was an agent of a different sort.

  Arvin swore to himself. What had he been thinking, bragging to this woman? To a complete stranger. She might have been anyone-even a spy from Chondath. She seemed to have guessed that he was more than he was pretending to be, but then, so was she. Arvin glanced at her bag. It didn't look big enough to hold an artist's ink pots, quills, and scroll tubes. Even so, he had a feeling he could trust her.

  A gust of wind caught his cloak, and he shivered. The inn the wagon had stopped in front of was two stories tall, with walls made of roughly squared logs and a roof whose eaves were crusted with icicles. A signboard hanging above the front door was painted with a picture of a snakelike creature winding its way through submerged river grass. The door opened briefly as a man-one of the sailors from the riverboats, carrying a hand crossbow-exited the inn and headed for the piers. The smell of stew flavored with winter sage and onions drifted out in his wake.

  The dwarf grunted and marched back to the hitching post, his feet crunching in the snow. "I need to rub down my animals," he grunted. "When you're done chatting." He untied the reins and stared pointedly at the stable that adjoined the inn.

  Karrell nodded. "Of course." She stepped down from the wagon, glanced up at the inn's signboard, and picked her way gracefully toward the door.

  Arvin trailed after her. "You're taking a room here?"

  Karrell nodded.

  "Maybe we could share it," he suggested. "To save some coin."

  She paused, one hand on the door latch, and tilted her head. "We have only just met. Perhaps once you have introduced me to Ambassador Extaminos "

  Arvin nodded eagerly. Then he realized something. Once he got to Ormpetarr, he was going to be busy with his mission. And he didn't think he could wait until then. Karrell was an amazing woman, as quick-witted as she was beautiful. If he didn't win her over now, someone else surely would.

  Karrell opened the door, releasing a gust of warm, savory-scented air that was thick with conversation. At least two dozen people were inside. Several glanced up from their meals as the door opened. More than one man raised his eyebrows appreciatively or whistled under his breath at the sight of Karrell.

  "Listen," Arvin said, desperate now. He dropped his voice to a low, confiding whisper. "I won't have time to spend with you once we reach Ormpetarr. I'll be too busy. You were right-I'm not really here to sell rope. I actually came to Sespech to find someone. She-"

  The words froze in his throat as he saw who was seated at one of the tables. A woman with long red hair, slit eyes, and skin freckled with green scales. She lifted from her plate what looked like a raw egg that was still in its shell, swallowed it whole, and licked her lips with a forked blue tongue.

  For the space of several heartbeats, Arvin stood rooted to the spot, unable to breathe. The chill that filled him was colder than the thickest ice.

  Zelia-here?

  She glanced up.

  Arvin jerked back, putting the half-opened door between himself and Zelia. He stared at Karrell, who was hesitating in the doorway. Suddenly, Arvin saw her in a new light. The flame of desire that had almost driven him to confide his mission to her had been snuffed out the instant he'd spotted Zelia. He recognized it now for what it was-a magical compulsion.

  He'd been charmed by Karrell. And she'd led him straight to Zelia.

  Or… had she? Karrell glanced once at Arvin, then back through the open door, her eyes ranging over those within. She obviously realized that Arvin had spotted someone inside the inn who terrified him-but she'd made no move to force him inside. Instead she had a thoughtful expression on her face.

  She wasn't in league with Zelia. But if Arvin didn't act quickly, she'd give him away.

  "Go on," Arvin said, flicking his hands at Karrell, frantically motioning her inside. Sharing a room with her was the last thing on his mind now. "This place looks too expensive. I'll find a room somewhere else."

  Karrell frowned. "Will I see you in the morning?"

  "Perhaps," Arvin said. "If not, safe journey." He turned and walked swiftly away. Thank the gods that it was dark. The night's gloom hid his face-and, most important, the lapis lazuli on his forehead. He spoke the word that would loosen it and peeled it from his skin. Then he vanished it inside his magical glove. He ducked around the corner of the building, his heart still pounding at his narrow escape. Why hadn't the sixth sense that had been plaguing him, ever since he'd begun a serious study of psionics under Tanju, given him any warning that the person he most feared was lurking within the inn? All his premonitions could do, it seemed, was give him unsettling glimpses of the dangers that other people faced. The vision he'd had on the ship-of a sailor falling from the ratlines and snapping his neck on the deck below-was a prime example.

  Keeping low to avoid being spotted through the inn's windows, he made his way to the rear of the building. What now?

  Every instinct screamed at him to flee, to put as much distance between himself and Zelia as possible. Should he steal a wagon and return to Mimph? Or maybe try for Fort Arran? He stared at the falling snow and realized he would only get lost in the darkness.

  No, there were only two ways out: as a passenger on one of the wagons back to Mimph or on tomorrow morning's riverboat. Either way, he'd have to be careful

  not to be spotted. If by wagon, he could hide overnight in the stables then board at the last moment after making certain Zelia wasn't also catching a wagon back to Mimph. Bundled in a heavy blanket, he'd be indistinguishable from any other passenger. There was always the risk that some stable hand or driver would find him in the stables, but he could give the simple excuse of not having enough coin f
or an inn, and charm the fellow into agreeing to let him sleep in a stall.

  If by riverboat, he'd also have to find a way to board without Zelia seeing him.

  Two men were approaching-the sailors who had been mounting the repeating crossbows on the boat earlier. Fortunately, the snow was still falling. Screened by its mottled white curtain, Arvin stepped into the shadows at the rear of the Eelgrass Inn and watched the men enter another of the inns. He glanced at the boat they'd just come from. Of the dozen tied up to the piers, it was the only one with a guard-Arvin could see him moving on the boat's raised stern, beside a dull red glow that must be a brazier. The guard obviously wasn't going anywhere, which meant the riverboat had cargo loaded on board. It was the one that would sail in the morning. It would be an easy matter for Arvin to use his psionics to distract the guard then slip into the hold and hide. That would ensure that Zelia wouldn't see him. Then, with Tymora's blessing, Arvin would be on his way to Ormpetarr. Zelia would never even know that he'd nearly blundered into the inn where she was staying.

  Unless she, too, was planning on leaving by riverboat.

  Arvin couldn't very well hide in the hold for the whole of the two-day journey to Ormpetarr. He had to know whether Zelia was planning on being aboard the riverboat tomorrow morning. More important, he needed to learn what she was doing here. Had she heard

  that Arvin was alive and on his way to Ormpetarr, then positioned herself at the one place he was sure to pass through on his way there?

  In order to find the answers to his questions, Arvin had to take a risk.

  A very big risk.

  Taking a deep breath, he placed a hand on the rough wooden wall next to him. He withdrew into himself, drawing his consciousness first into the "third eye" at the center of his forehead and deeper, into the spot at the base of his throat. Tightly coiled swirls of energy were unleashed in each location; a heartbeat later he heard the low droning noise that accompanied his manifestations of this power. Silver motes of light sparkled in his vision then flared out around him, sputtering into invisibility as they moved away from him.