Viper's Kiss - Lisa Smedman [52]
The satyr sprinted up the street, darting nervous glances behind himself as he ran. His hood had fallen away from his head, revealing his ram-like horns and dark, flowing hair. He skidded around a corner, slipping a little on the snow, and Arvin narrowed the gap between them. Arvin pelted around the corner.
A hoof lashed out, narrowly missing his groin. Pain shot through Arvin's thigh as the hoof gouged into it-and the satyr was off and running again, this time down an alley.
Biting his lip against the throbbing of his thigh, Arvin stumbled after him. He shoved his ungloved hand into his pocket and pulled from it a fist-sized knot. He skidded to a stop and threw the monkey's fist at the satyr, shouting the command word that activated its magic.
The ensorcelled knot unraveled in flight, splitting into four trailing strands. The main part of the monkey's fist struck the satyr in the side as he rounded another corner, and immediately two of the strands of twine wrapped around his waist. The others encircled his legs. The twine yanked his legs together, immobilizing them, and he tumbled to the ground.
Arvin approached cautiously, dagger in hand. He halted just outside the flailing arc of the satyr's bound legs. He glared down at the fellow, manifesting the power that would allow him to listen in on the satyr's thoughts. "Who… are you?" he panted, a spray of silver sparkles erupting from his forehead as the power manifested. He turned his dagger so that its blade caught the light. "Do you serve Sibyl?"
The satyr's ears twitched. He tossed his head. "Leave me be, thief. I carry no gems-not a single sparkle." Behind the words was a faint, panicky echo: his thoughts. They were in his own language, but Arvin heard them as if they'd been spoken in the common tongue. What has he done to Naneth? If he has caused her harm…
"Sibyl," Arvin repeated sternly. "The abomination. Do you serve Sibyl?"
Who? The satyr struggled against the twine and tried to rise to his feet, but tripped and fell backward. His thoughts tumbled over one another. What game does he play? What does he want of me?
Arvin sighed and vanished the dagger back into his glove. "I made a mistake, it seems," he told the satyr. "I thought you were the thief."
The satyr paused in his struggles. "You were not the mischief-maker who trampled Naneth's home?" Who is he, then?
Arvin shook his head. "I came to consult Naneth," he said, answering the unspoken question. "I found her door open, her home disrupted."
"Ah." The satyr relaxed. That is why he was there. His woman is with child.
Arvin knelt beside the satyr and grasped the monkey's fist firmly. He repeated the command and the twine instantly unwound from the satyr's limbs and re-knotted itself back into a monkey's fist.
A sorcerer, the satyr thought. They are thick as brambles here.
"Was that why you came to Naneth's house?" Arvin asked, extending a hand to help the satyr up. "Is your woman also pregnant?"
A troubled look crept into the satyr's eyes. The female, he thought. She is unwell. If Naneth does not attend her, she may lose her child. "Yes," he answered aloud.
Arvin barely masked his startle. The satyr was thinking in his own language, but the power Arvin was manifesting allowed him to understand the subtle nuances of each word. "Female," he'd said, not "woman." He wasn't referring to one of his own kind-he was talking about a woman of some other race.
Glisena?
"Is the birth not going well?" Arvin probed. "Is that why you came to fetch Naneth?"
The satyr nodded.
"Perhaps I could help. When my first child was born, I assisted the midwife. I know some healing spells-I used them to help my wife." He paused, pretending to think of something. "Of course, my wife is human…"
Might he help? the