Viper's Kiss - Lisa Smedman [99]
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.
He found only silence. He closed his eyes in relief.
Stupid mortal, the demon suddenly roared. You thought you could kill me? Its mind erupted with laughter: a sound like thick, hot, bubbling blood.
Arvin opened his eyes. Davinu, Marasa, and Foe- smasher were staring at him expectantly, their faces filled with cautious hope.
"It's… not dead," he croaked.
Their faces crumpled into despair.
I hear you, the demon growled into Arvin's mind. I will remember your voice. It gave a mental shove… and the manifestation ended.
Arvin sagged.
Marasa caught his arm, steadying him. "Did you overhear anything?" she asked. "Anything that might help?"
"The demon is bound," Arvin said. "But the bindings that hold it are fading. It thinks it will be free. 'Soon' was the word it used."
Marasa looked grim. She stared at Glisena's distended stomach. "Does that mean it will be born?" she asked softly. "Or…"
Foesmasher dropped his daughter's hand and rose to his feet. "Abyss take you!" he gritted at Davinu, his fists balled. "And you," he said, pointing at Marasa. "You assured me the prayer would work."
"I don't understand why it didn't, my lord," Davinu protested, backing away. "Something so small… yet so powerful? We expected a minor demon-a quasit, given the size-but it appears we were wrong. Naneth seems to have reduced a larger demon-many times over-without diminishing its vital energies in the slightest."
Marasa stood her ground before the baron's verbal onslaught. "Thuragar," she said, her voice dangerously low. "If Helm has forsaken your daughter, you have only yourself to blame."
Foesmasher glared. His hand dropped to the hilt of his sword.
Marasa glared back.
The other clerics glanced warily between baron and cleric, waiting for the storm to break.
When it did, it came as a flood of tears. They spilled down Foesmasher's cheeks as he stared at his daughter. His hand fell away from his sword. He turned away, his shoulders trembling with silent sobs.
Davinu turned to Marasa. "What now?" he asked in a weary voice.
Marasa sighed. She looked ready to collapse herself. One hand touched Glisena's forehead. "We wait," she announced at last, "until it is born. And banish it then."
"The birth will be… difficult," Davinu said, his voice a mere whisper.
Marasa's eyes glistened with anguish. "Yes."
Arvin shuffled his feet nervously.
Marasa turned to him. "Go," she said in a flat voice. "Rest and meditate-but do not leave the palace. We may have need of your mind magic later."
Arvin nodded. He wanted to wish Marasa and the other clerics luck, but if Helm had forsaken Glisena, so too might Tymora. His heart was heavy-could he do nothing to stop Sibyl's foul machinations? Giving Glisena one last sorrowful glance, he left the bed chamber and walked wearily down the corridor, back to the reception hall where he'd left Karrell.
She wasn't there.
Arvin turned to