by Lisa Smedman
A shrill noise squealed from the pipes, but nothing happened. Neither the satyrs nor the wolves fell asleep. The nearest satyr, however, did twist around in the brambles, earning himself several scratches, to say something to his fellows. His voice sounded worried.
Arvin lowered the pipes. Only a satyr could evoke their magic, it seemed. But if that was the case, why did the satyrs sound concerned? He glanced closely at the pipes, noting for the first time that they were made from individual reeds, bound together with twine in a series of intricate knots.
Magical knots?
Grinning, Arvin slid the point of his dagger under one of the knots. He held the pan pipes out where the satyrs could see them. "Do as I say!" he shouted. "Or I'll destroy them."
A babble of voices broke out as the satyrs conversed in their own tongue. Then one of them shouted. "What want you?"
White Muzzle had begun to slink forward again, the rest of the pack following.
Arvin spoke quickly to Karrell. "Can you loosen just a few of the brambles?" he asked. "Enough to let one of the satyrs go?"
She nodded.
"Translate what I say for the wolves," Arvin told her. Then he turned his attention back to the satyrs. "We're going to release one of you," he shouted. "That one will go back to the clearing and fetch Theyron's body, and bring it to me."
Karrell translated, and White Muzzle gave a satisfied growl. The satyrs, however, seemed reluctant. Arvin held the pan pipes a little higher, and started to saw with his blade.
"Stop!" one cried. "We shall bring him."
Arvin smiled. He tipped his head in the direction of the satyr who had spoken. "That one," he told Karrell in a low voice. Loosen the brambles around him."
As the vines untwined themselves from him, the satyr leaped to his feet. He gave Arvin a fierce glare, then trotted back in the direction of the satyr camp. While he was gone, the brambles around the other satyrs began to loosen. Karrell recast her spell.
The satyr returned a short while later, dragging Theyron's body. He paused just before leaving the brambles, catching his breath, then readjusted his grip on the body and continued dragging it toward Arvin. The wound in the dead satyr's neck was still leaking blood; it left a trail of red. The wolves moved forward, licking their lips in anticipation. Then, at a yip from White Muzzle, they moved forward in a rush. The satyr bleated and scurried back into the brambles. The wolves converged on the corpse, growling at one another as they tore bloody chunks from it.
"Let's get moving," Arvin said in a low voice, eyeing the wolves. "Before they finish eating and decide they're still hungry."
Tanglemane nodded and knelt, motioning for Arvin and Karrell to get on his back. Arvin started to climb on then heard the creak of a bow being drawn. He turned his head just in time to see one of the satyrs-the one who had dragged Theyron's body back-standing inside
the brambles with a bow held at full draw. Arvin ducked as the satyr let his arrow fly.
The satyr wasn't aiming at Arvin however, but at the wolves. One of them yelped as the arrow struck it.
"Let's go," Arvin shouted, boosting Karrell onto Tanglemane's back.
Tanglemane, however, crumpled to his knees, spilling her to the ground. The centaur staggered to his feet a moment later, clutching his chest. A thin line of blood trickled out from beneath his hands.
"Tanglemane," Karrell said, alarmed. "What's wrong?"
Even as she asked the question, Arvin realized the answer. The arrow had struck White Muzzle, and the fate link had caused Tanglemane to suffer an identical wound.
The satyr shot another arrow. This one struck another wolf in the head, instantly killing it.
The pack bolted, White Muzzle in the rear, limping.
Arvin silently cursed his stupidity; he should have guessed that the satyr would pick up another bow when he returned to the camp.
The satyr nocked another arrow. This time, he turned toward Arvin as he drew his bow.
"Wait!" Arvin shouted. "If you shoot me, you'll never get these back." He flourished the pan pipes then vanished them into his glove.
"The pipes are inside my glove," he told the satyr, splaying his fingers wide to show that they had truly vanished. "And I'm the only one who can work the glove's magic. Kill me, and you'll lose the pipes forever." He paused to let that sink in then added, "Let us leave the forest, and I'll give the pipes back to you. They're useless to me-I have no interest in keeping them. I'll leave them at the forest's edge for you. Do we have an agreement?"
The satyr lowered his bow a fraction and turned to speak to his fellows. Low murmuring followed. As the satyrs conferred, Arvin glanced at Tanglemane. The centaur's face was pale; his legs trembled. Only a trickle of blood seeped from the wound; the arrow must have still been buried in White Muzzle's flesh. Given her limited, animal intelligence, she would probably flee from the pain until she dropped, until she died.
"Agreed!" the satyr shouted back. "You may leave."
Cautiously, Arvin and Karrell backed away from the brambles, leading the injured Tanglemane. The satyr held his fire.
Tanglemane was able to walk, but he gasped with each breath.
Arvin touched the crystal at his throat. "Nine lives," he pleaded.
Tanglemane was going to need them. Even if the satyrs kept their end of the bargain, the centaur was unlikely to make it out of the woods.
CHAPTER 13
Arvin squatted beside Tanglemane, gently repositioning the blood-soaked bandage he'd made earlier from pieces torn from his shirt. The centaur had proved stronger than Arvin expected; he'd walked for some distance through the forest before crumpling to his knees. Karrell had cast a healing spell on him just after they'd left the satyr camp, but it had only helped a little bit. The wound in the side of his chest was still open, still seeping blood. It was a hollow hole that, on White Muzzle, would have been filled with an arrow shaft. It was a wonder the wolf had survived this long, with an arrow still in her. Every now and then the flesh around the puckered hole quivered; Arvin realized that White Muzzle must have been licking her wound, jostling the arrow around.
He hoped that meant she had found somewhere safe to hole up-somewhere predators wouldn't find her.
"Hang on, Tanglemane," Arvin urged, one hand on the centaur's shoulder. "It's almost sunset. The fate link will end soon." For the hundredth time, he wished he could dispel the power, but once manifested, a fate link endured for its full duration.
The centaur's breathing was labored now. He sat with head bowed and eyes screwed shut, as if trying to block out the pain. Had he been human, Arvin and Karrell might have carried him, but the centaur must have weighed three times their combined weight.
Karrell beckoned Arvin to her and nodded at the darkening forest. "The satyrs are still following us."
"It's not the satyrs I'm worried about," Arvin said. "I keep wondering where Naneth is-why she hasn't teleported back to squeeze more information out of me."
"She would have to find us first."
Arvin jerked a thumb in the direction of the dark shapes flitting through the forest. "Easily done. She just has to ask them where we are."
"Perhaps," Karrell said in a low voice, "that is what she is doing. She must hope we will lead her to Glisena."
Arvin nodded. It made sense for Naneth to allow them to think they had escaped. While the satyrs kept an eye on them, she could check up on the story Arvin had told her. But for all Naneth knew, Arvin might have teleportation magic-magic he'd used to spirit Glisena away. She was taking a big risk-for all she knew, Arvin might just vanish from the forest.
He paused to rub his forehead; his wound was itching again. The lapis lazuli was still in place; he'd used it just after they left the satyr camp to let Tanju know that Glisena had been found, that there was a demon inside her-and that Sibyl's plans had been thwarted. Tanju had commended Arvin for a job well done. After speaking to his mentor, Arvin had left the lapis lazuli where it was; removing it would have meant tearing op
en the scab that had already formed over it. Now he wondered if that had been wise. On two other occasions during their flight through the forest he'd felt a peculiar sensation behind the stone, deep in his "third eye"-a soft fluttering, like an eyelid rapidly blinking. He felt it again now. It was almost as if his third eye were trying to focus on something it couldn't quite see.
Along with it came an uncomfortable sensation of being watched. Arvin had assumed this was because the satyrs were following them, but now he began to wonder if there was something more to it. Was someone trying to manifest a sending?
No, that wasn't quite right. A sending created, in the recipient's mind, a mental image of the person dispatching the image. A failed sending produced no sensation at all. It simply… failed. This was somewhere between the two. It was almost as if someone had manifested the link that made a sending possible… without conveying any message.
Suddenly, Arvin realized the cause: Naneth was using her crystal ball to spy on them.
A chill ran through him as he wondered what he'd already given away. Had he said anything that would indicate the baron had teleported Glisena back to Ormpetarr while Naneth had been scrying on them? He hoped not.
Karrell was staring at Arvin, her brow creased. "What's wrong?" she asked.
"The satyrs," Arvin told her in a low voice-one just loud enough for Naneth to also hear. "They're listening. Say nothing, or Wianar will have our heads. And keep up the pretense in front of the centaur. Pretend that we're headed for Ormpetarr; if the satyr lives, he'll help throw Foesmasher off the scent."
Karrell's frown deepened, and for a moment Arvin worried that she was going to blurt out something that would give the game away. Then she nodded-though there was still a hint of confusion in her eyes.
A moment later, Arvin felt the fluttering in his forehead fade away. He waited, making certain it was gone, then whispered urgently to Karrell. "Naneth was just scrying on us. I can sense when she's doing it. If it happens again, I'll signal you. If 1 do this"-he formed a V with the first two fingers of his right hand and touched his shoulder: the sign, in silent speech, that someone was spying-"it means Naneth is listening. Be careful what you say."
"I will."
Behind them, Tanglemane gave a loud groan and tried to rise to his feet. Arvin and Karrell hurried to his side.
"What's wrong?" Arvin asked.
Tanglemane's nostrils flared. "Giant," he gasped. "Coming this way."
Arvin's jaw clenched. That was all they needed- another hostile creature to contend with. No wonder humans avoided these woods. Already he could feel the ground trembling and hear the snap of branches.
He caught Karrell's eye. "Shift form," he urged her. "Hide."
Her dark eyes bored into his. "And you?" she asked. She gestured at Tanglemane. "And him?"
Arvin drew his dagger. "Tanglemane doesn't have that option-and I can't just leave him. Fortunately, a little of my psionic energy remains." He grinned. "Perhaps the giant will find me… charming."
"Be careful," Karrell urged. She shifted into snake form and slithered under a bush.
Arvin, meanwhile, laid a hand on Tanglemane's shoulder, steadying him, and turned toward the direction the crashing sounds were coming from.
A moment later he spotted the giant lumbering through the woods. The giant was more than twice the height of a man and had skin as gray and pitted as stone. His head was nearly level with the tops of the trees, which he parted with massive hands as he shouldered his way through the forest. He wore a tunic that had been crudely stitched together from the skins of a dozen different animals, and a wide belt into which was tucked an enormous stone club. His bare feet crushed bushes and snapped deadfall branches with each step.
Arvin watched nervously. That club looked heavy enough to crush him with a single blow.
The giant spotted Arvin and Tanglemane and came to an abrupt halt.
"Hello!" Arvin called, waving up at him. Swiftly, he manifested a charm. "It's good to see you, friend."
The giant cocked his head. "Baron Foesmasher told you I was coming?" he asked.
Arvin's eyebrows rose. "The baron sent you?"
The giant shrugged. "One of his clerics sent word to find you. She said you might be having trouble with the satyrs, and by the smell of it, she was right." He glanced down at Tanglemane then rested massive fists on his hips. "What can I do to help?"
Karrell reassumed human form and rose to her feet, clothing in hand. She gestured at Tan glemane. "Can you carry him?" she asked. "Gently?"
The giant grinned, revealing teeth that glinted like quartz. "I can, snake-lady." He dropped to his knees, and the earth trembled. Slipping broad hands under Tangle- mane, he lifted the centaur as easily-and gently-as a man lifting a kitten. "Where to?"
"Fort Arran," Tanglemane gasped. "There are healers there."
Arvin stared at the centaur and whispered a prayer that Tanglemane would be able to hold on that long.
The fate link wore off just after darkness fell, as they were leaving the woods. Tanglemane gasped as his chest suddenly started to bleed again, and the giant lowered him to the ground. Arvin stripped off what remained of his shirt and tore it into pieces, tying a fresh bandage against the wound to staunch the bleeding and Karrell cast a healing spell that partially closed the wound. Then the giant picked the centaur up once more.
Before following, Arvin summoned the pan pipes into his gloved hand. The satyrs had kept their side of the bargain by not attacking-though the giant's presence probably had a lot to do with that decision-and now Arvin would keep his. He set the pipes down on a rock, where they would be easy to spot.
They walked toward the bridge that spanned the river, Arvin and Karrell leading, followed by the giant. Arvin kept looking nervously around, hoping the centaur herd wouldn't return. He didn't want to face the centaur-seed a second time. Even in proxy, Zelia was formidable.
Karrell took his hand and gave it a squeeze. "Stop worrying," she said. "We are nearly there."
They walked on, holding hands. The air had turned colder as night fell; here and there puddles of water had developed a thin skin of ice that crunched underfoot. Moonlight glinted off the broken shards, making them sparkle like a scattering of diamonds. "I had heard about ice before I came north," Karrell said. "But I never knew it could be so beautiful."
Arvin nodded. He snuck a glance at Karrell, remembering the serpent form that lay beneath her human skin, then fixed his eyes on the far shore. In the distance he could see a wagon setting out from Fort Arran. It was moving across the bridge; the two horses drawing it were running at a good clip. The giant cradled
Tanglemane in the crook of one arm and waved at it. Figures in the wagon waved back.
"What will you do, once we reach the fort?" Karrell asked.
Arvin touched his forehead. "Contact the baron, as soon as I'm able. Find out how Glisena is doing. Hopefully, the clerics have been able to… purge… what's inside her."
Karrell gave him a startled look. "They will kill her child?"
"It's no child," Arvin said. There hadn't been time, until now, to tell Karrell everything he'd learned. When he did, her face paled.
"Helm's clerics will deal with the demon," Arvin reassured her. "Lord Foesmasher seemed confident that they could. And once they have, we won't have to worry about Naneth looking over our shoulders anymore. In fact, we can turn her scrying to our advantage. If we let it "slip' that Glisena's womb is empty, Naneth will realize her scheme has failed. Glisena will be safe from her."
And, Arvin added silently, he would be able to collect his reward. The baron would no doubt be pleased with his work; Arvin had done everything he'd promised, and more. Not only had he located Glisena, he'd provided vital information that would help the clerics save her. The baron's emotions ran high when it came to his daughter. No doubt he would be as generous with those who had saved her as he was merciless against those who threatened her.
He realized that Karrell hadn't answ
ered. She walked in silence, one arm wrapped protectively across her stomach. Arvin supposed it only natural; what had been done to Glisena would hit a woman harder.
"I too have been thinking about what we might say the next time Naneth scries on us," Karrell said at last. "I think it would be a mistake to reveal that Glisena is no longer pregnant. If we choose our words carefully-make her think that Glisena is in.a location of our choosing-we can lure Naneth to us."
"Are you sure that's wise?" he asked. Naneth was a powerful sorcerer-he wasn't keen on facing her spells a second time.
"I must find Sibyl and recover the Circled Serpent," Karrell said. "Naneth is the one thread that will lead me through the maze. I must follow it," She leveled a challenging look at Arvin. "If, however, you no longer wish to help me…"
Arvin stared at the approaching wagon, wishing he could just board it, return to Ormpetarr, and collect his reward. Then he thought of what Sibyl's minions had done to Naulg and to Glisena's unborn child. He met Karrell's eye. "You kept your end of the bargain," he told her. "I'll keep mine. Whatever I can do to thwart Sibyl, I will."
Karrell gave him a long look. "If we find that Sibyl is in Hlondeth, will you return there with me?"
"Hlondeth isn't a healthy place for me to be," Arvin said. He clenched his left hand, remembering. By now, the Guild would be wondering where he'd gone… and asking questions-questions that might lead them to a realization that he'd been feeding Tanju information on their activities over the past six months. Arvin had been forced to trade his mentor something, in return for the lessons in psionics. If the Guild found that out, they'd cut out Arvin's tongue. "I have enemies there."
"You have enemies here," Karrell said softly. "Zelia."
"True," Arvin agreed. Then he smiled. "And Zelia, according to the baron, is in Ormpetarr-which makes my decision easier."
