Vanity's Brood - Lisa Smedman [88]
She smiled up at the demon, hiding her fear behind a mask. "Don't worry," she told the marilith. "When my labor does begin, you'll feel it."
As she spoke, she sent out a silent plea. Arvin, she thought, if you're listening, come quickly. I'm running out of time.
*****
Arvin eased his head out of the cave and stared down. He'd had the net ready to throw, but lowered it again. It wasn't Sibyl who had returned to the cave, but Ts'ikil.
The couatl sat coiled on a ledge beside the river at the bottom of the bluff, her head drooping with exhaustion. Her body was badly burned in several places. Scorched feathers stood stiffly out from seared red flesh. Sibyl's black cloud had left oozing brown patches elsewhere along the couatl's length. Her remaining feathers had lost their rainbow luster and her wings were tattered. She held one wing at an awkward angle, as if it were broken.
Arvin opened his mouth to call out to her then hesitated. Maybe he should just sneak away while his invisibility lasted, strike out on his own and try to find the Dmetrio-seed. Unfortunately, even though Arvin had learned his psionics from HI ondeth's best tracker, he didn't have any powers that would allow him to hunt the seed down. He'd concentrated, instead, on learning powers that would help him infiltrate Sibyl's lair.
For what must have been the hundredth time, Arvin wished he hadn't broken the dorje Tanju had given him the winter before. It would have pointed, like a lodestone, directly at the Dmetrio-seed. What Arvin needed was a power that could do the same thing or-he glanced at Pakal's still form-a spell. Pakal had been able to track down the upper half of the Circled Serpent back in Sibyl's lair. Perhaps he could do the same with the seed.
The trouble was, he'd probably continue to insist on destroying the artifact.
Ts'ikil, on the other hand, had at least seemed sympathetic to Karrell's plight. Perhaps she might yet be persuaded.
Arvin negated his invisibility. "Ts'ikil!" he called. "Up here!"
It took several more shouts before the couatl raised her head. Either the cascade of the river below was drowning out Arvin's voice, or she was as far gone as Pakal was.
Arvin! Her voice was faint, weak. What has happened?
"Pakal is badly wounded," Arvin shouted. "Dmetrio has taken the Circled Serpent. He has both halves."
Arvin knew he was taking a huge gamble. If Ts'ikil_ had magic that could locate the Dmetrioseed, she might go after him and leave Arvin behind, assuming she could still fly.
He felt Ts'ikil's mind slide deep into his awareness. Her mental intrusion was a mere tickle-far gentler than the pummeling Zelia had given him in her rooftop garden as she rifled through his thoughts. Momories flickered past in reverse order: the psychic impressions Arvin had picked up from the cavern, his encounter with the dog-man, Pakal's battle with the shadow asps.
"He looks bad," Arvin told her. He spoke in a normal voice, certain she was still listening in on his thoughts. "He's… alive, but his skin's turning black. Can you help him?"
I will try. Can you lower him to me?
"Yes."
That said, he uncoiled his trollgut rope. He repositioned Pakal's belt across his chest, just under the arms, and made sure it was securely buckled. He attached his rope to it, passing a loop under each of the dwarf's legs to turn it into a sling. He carried Pakal to the mouth of the cave, eased him over the edge, and stood holding the end of the trollgut rope. "Augesto," he commanded. It lengthened, slowly lowering Pakal to the ledge below.
When the rope went slack, Arvin tossed the other end of it down. He stowed the magical net back inside his pack and slipped the pack on, then activated his bracelet. By the time he climbed down to the ledge, Ts'ikil was bending over Pakal, touching his wounds with a wingtip. She hissed softly as her feathers brushed across the puncture marks. In full daylight, Arvin got a better look at