Vanity's Brood - Lisa Smedman [115]
"Do not inform her… quite yet," Arvin said.
The cleric, straightening, arched an eyebrow.
"There is someone else I must speak with first."
Her thoughts bubbled with curiosity. She held her tongue-but not her magic. Arvin felt energy surge from Karrell's ring, up through his arm and into his mind, shielding it. For just an instant, he slipped the ring from his finger and concentrated on a familiar face-Zelia's-filling his mind with it until the image crowded every other thought out. Then the ring was back on his finger again.
The cleric's lips parted in a smile, baring the tips of her fangs. She hid it behind a bow. "I will escort you, Lord Extaminos. During the attack by the Se'sehen, a number of humans took the opportunity to… cause some problems. The streets are still not entirely secure."
She was thinking about Gonthril. The rebel leader and his followers had been stirring up trouble, it seemed. More than that, several sections of the city, including a stretch of its waterfront, had fallen into human hands, but once the militia returned from down south, she was thinking, all that would end. The uprising would be crushed and the slaves who had dared to claim their freedom would be put back in their place.
"You will show me to the surface, then resume your duties here," Arvin commanded.
"As you wish," the cleric demurred.
Her thoughts told him much more. Lady Dedian a had grown suspicious of Zelia of late, suspicious of the hold the mind mage seemed to have over the royal son. The queen suspected a plot-and "Dmetrio's" insistence on not telling his mother about his return had confirmed it. He would be watched. Carefully.
Arvin smiled to himself. Years of working for the Guild had taught him how to slip away from even the most persistent watchers, and his psionics would take care of any who was armed with magic. Meanwhile, the cleric would confirm Lady Dediana's fears. If Arvin was unsuccessful in his bid to take Zelia down, House Extaminos would surely finish the job.
For the moment, however, there was someone he needed to make contact with, someone he needed to persuade to help if his plan was to come to fruition.
"Your concern for my well being is… appreciated," he told the cleric, "but also unfounded. I can take care of myself."
–04.0 -0
Arvin stared across the table at Gonthril. The rebel leader hadn't bothered to disguise himself, save for the cloak hood he'd just allowed to fall back against his shoulders. His rebels-for the moment-had control of the waterfront, including one particular tavern.
The Mortal Coil.
Arvin smiled when Gonthril had suggested it as a meeting place. When Arvin had used a sending to contact Gonthril, he'd wondered if the rebel leader would bother to reply. It had been a year since they'd last seen one another. That they were meeting in the place where Arvin's troubles had begun was ironic. The head of the serpent was closing in on the tail.
Though the harbor outside was nearly empty of ships-most had fled when the Se'sehen attack began-the tavern was just as Arvin remembered it. Pipe smoke had stained the coiled-rope ceiling that had given the place its name, and the air still smelled of unwashed sailors and ale. The circular walls were still damp and the benches were as hard as ever. The only "patrons," however, were Gonthril's people, who stood alert and ready, crossbows in hand. Nobody was behind the bar-and nobody was drinking.
Gonthril looked the same but somehow older, aged by a year of hiding and fighting. Arvin, too, had aged. The two men still looked as close as brothers. Gonthril's eyes, however, were blue, and the little finger of his left hand was whole.
"You said you had something to offer me?" he asked. "Something I would find valuable?"
Arvin nodded and leaned forward in his chair. "Information."
"About what?"
"House Extaminos. Its secrets… and its weaknesses. Everything your uprising needs to succeed."
Gonthril's eyes glittered. "Tell me more."
"There's a yuan-ti," Arvin began, "a mind mage named Zelia." ye never nearu Lae name.
Arvin smiled. "That doesn't