Vanity's Brood - Lisa Smedman [117]
Arvin did and passed it back to Gonthril. The rebel leader slipped it back on the chain and hung it around his neck.
"What's the Seccession's part in your plan?" the rebel leader asked. "What do you need us to do?"
"Not the Seccession," Arvin said. "You. I need someone who can pass as me without having to resort to magical disguises. I'll be playing the part of one of Zelia's spies-a spy that has 'captured' Arvin. It will be dangerous and unpleasant, but if Zelia reacts as I expeot her to-and believe me, I know her well-it will give me the chance to take her completely by surprise."
"I see," Gonthril said. For several moments, there was silence. Gonthril glanced at one of his rebels. The man gave a slight shrug then nodded.
Arvin waited for the rebel leader's reply.
"I'll need to know more details, of course," Gonthril said, "but so far, you've got my interest."
Arvin heaved a mental sigh of relief. He hesitated then decided to broach the question that had been nagging at him for some time. "Before we get into the details, there's one thing I neglected to ask the last time we met," he said, his voice low enough that Gonthril's people wouldn't hear it.
"Go on," Gonthril said.
Arvin waved a hand between them. "We look enough alike to be brothers," he whispered. "Is there any chance that we might be?"
Gonthril gave a tight smile. "My mother had a very strong spirit. When I was growing up, I often heard her tell my father she wouldn't be bound to any one man. We may-you and I-very well have been fathered by the same man."
"Did your mother ever mention a bard named Salim?"
"No."
"Then your father-"
"The only man who earned the right to be called `father' was the man who raised me," Gonthril said in a stern voice. His expression was grim. For a moment, Arvin was worried he'd offended Gonthril.
"That man is dead," Gonthril continued, "as is my mother. They died in the so-called 'Plaza of Justice' the year I turned thirteen, executed for a crime they did not commit, but that didn't matter. They were human, and "insolent to their betters.' Even as they were led to their deaths, they refused to go quietly and shouted insults at the yuan-ti who had condemned them." His eyes grew fierce. "I decided to carry on that tradition of defiance. That same year, I joined the Secession."
Arvin listened quietly, surprised by how much he and Gonthril had in common. Each of them had been forced to make his way in the world alone. Their lives, however, had taken very different paths.
Gonthril shrugged. "You don't need to convince me that we're related," he said. "I'm helping you for the good of Hlondeth-for the benefit of humans everywhere-not because of some blood tie we may or may not share."
Arvin nodded, his face neutral, but his heart was beating quickly. Was the man across the table from him really his brother? Arvin's mother had believed that Arvin was the only child Salim had ever fathered-but what if the bard had been lying to her-or simply hadn't realized that a previous liaison had produced a child?
It would be ironic indeed if the leader of a group dedicated to returning Hlondeth to human hands turned out to be part yuan-ti.
Gonthril had already moved on; he leaned across the table in a conspiratorial hunch. "Now tell me your plan. In detail."
CHAPTER 13
Arvin walked toward Zelia's tower, herding his captive ahead of him. Gonthril had a blindfold over his eyes and his hands were bound behind his back. His feet were hobbled, so he staggered when Arvin shoved him forward. The bonds looked and felt tight but were special knots that could be loosened in an instant by tugging the right strand. The rebel leader played his part to perfection, never once complaining about Arvin's rough handling.
When they reached the door, Arvin waited. Tension knotted his stomach. The seed Pakal had killed in Karrell's village had told him of the tower's defences-about the strip of copper hidden within the doorframe that would manifest a catapsi on any psionicist who entered and the invisible