Vanity's Brood - Lisa Smedman [17]
Dancing backward, Arvin reached for the dagger sheathed at the small of his back. He drew it but didn't use it. Instead he manifested another power, stamping his foot down on the floor.
More sparkles erupted from Arvin's forehead, and a low droning filled the air as the stomp sent the dwarf staggering sideways. He caught himself against the wall. His illusionary fingers looked like snakes but scritched against the stone. Claws?
Wincing against the pain of the wound in his hip-the slash was deep, soaking his pants with blood- Arvin at last was able to manifest his charm. He was thankful to see the dwarf frown as if listening to a distant, half-heard sound. The fellow could hear the power's secondary display.
"I'm an enemy of Sibyl," Arvin continued, backing away and still holding his dagger out to the side. "I came here to kill her."
The dwarf looked at him with a blank expression.
"Friend," Arvin repeated, tapping his chest. He was worried the dwarf didn't seem to speak his language. His charm wouldn't be any help if the dwarf couldn't understand him. Arvin spoke slowly, raising his dagger to make a violent cutting motion. "I want to kill Sibyl. Kill." With his free hand, he mimed a wing flapping, then a snake, as he repeated the cutting gestures, pretending to stab his own hand.
The dwarf shook his head like a dog throwing off water. His long, ropy hair whipped back and forth across his face. Then he charged.
Arvin dodged, still not using his dagger. He stared at the nimbus of red that continued to surround the dwarf, flickering like an angry flame. By concentrating, he could see where it was most prominent: around the smaller shape that was the dwarf's actual body. Arvin pretended to stumble, and as the dwarf leaped forward, caught him by the hair. Arvin touched the point of the dagger to the dwarf's throat, held it there for a heartbeat, then leaped away. Backstepping again, holding his left hand in a "wait" gesture, he returned the dagger to its sheath.
"Friend," he said again, in as loud a voice as he dared. He prayed that Sibyl wasn't just down the corridor, close enough to hear.
The dwarf halted, frowning. He said something in his own language and pointed at Arvin's extended hand.
Arvin spread his hands and shrugged. "I don't understand you."
The dwarf whispered something, raising his hands to his lips. Arvin tensed, but the spell produced no harmful effect. Instead the dwarf's words became intelligible. His illusion vanished-but the nimbus of red that had surrounded him didn't.
He grabbed Arvin's left hand and asked, "Where did you get this ring?"
"It belonged to a woman named Karrell."
The dwarf's grip on his hand tightened, and his claws pricked Arvin's flesh. "Where is she now?"
"She's-" the word stuck in Arvin's throat- "dead."
The dwarf's eyes blazed. In them, Arvin saw a mirror of his own grief.
"You knew her?" Arvin asked, incredulous. He thought quickly back over what Karrell had told him of her past-and her affiliations. "Are you one of the K'aaxlaat?"
The dwarf's eyes shifted at the question-answer enough. "Do you know what the ring does?"
Arvin nodded. "It shields thoughts."
The dwarf stared a challenge at him. "Take it off. Then tell me how you know Karrell-and how she died."
Arvin glanced warily around. "Here? Right now? What if Sibyl-"
"She is not that close. Speak quickly; there is still time."
Reluctantly, Arvin eased the ring off his finger. It felt like a part of Karrell-a part of him now. Speaking in a quick whisper, Arvin told the dwarf how he'd met Karrell, how they'd decided to join forces to fight Sibyl, and about how one of Sibyl's minions-the marilith-had yanked Karrell into the Abyss when it had been banished.
"It was my fault," he concluded. "I manifested the power that did it."
"Did what?" the dwarf asked.
Throughout