Vanity's Brood - Lisa Smedman [89]
"That's not good, is it?" Arvin said. Despite the wound in his shoulder, he bore the dwarf no ill will. Pakal had only been doing what he felt he must just as Arvin had been.
For several moments, Ts'ikil said nothing. The river surged past them, a pace or two away, sounding like one long, constant sigh. From somewhere in the distant jungle came a faint scream: a monkey's cry. The stone of the ledge felt hot, even through the soles of Arvin's boots. He wondered if they shouldn't be moving Pakal into the shade.
No, Ts'ikil said. Sunlight will hasten the cure. She gave Pakal's wounds one last touch, trilled aloud-a melody as beautiful and haunting as that of a songbird-then sank back into a loose coil. There. I have done all I can.
"When will he regain consciousness?" Arvin asked.
A day. Perhaps two.
Arvin frowned. "That's too long. We need him to find Dmetrio now." He glanced up at Ts'ikil. "Can you-" No. Pakal and Karrell were my eyes.
"Aren't there others you can call upon?"
None close by.
Arvin closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. "So that's it, thon. The Dmetrio-seed has gotten away." We will find him.
"How? You said-"
He will go to the door.
"Yes-but there's just one problem," Arvin said. "We don't know where the door is." He paused. "Do we?" No mortal does.
Her choice of words gave him a surge of hope. "What about the gods?" he asked. "Can they tell us where it is?"
We have petitioned both Ubtao and Thard Harr. They do not know its location.
"What now?" Arvin asked.
We rest and gather strength. And wait.
"Here?" Arvin said. He glanced up at the sky. "What if Sibyl returns?"
She won't, not for some time. She was even more grievously wounded than I.
"She's not dead?" Arvin said. Part of him felt disappointed by the news, but another, larger part of him was glad. He wanted to be the one to kill Sibyl. To exact revenge for what she had done to Naulg, and for what her marilith had done to Karrell. He shrugged off his pack and set it on the ledge by his feet. "What, exactly, are we waiting for?" he asked.
You already know the answer to that question. We await a dream that Sseth will send to the yuan-ti. When it comes, we must act swiftly.
Arvin snapped his fingers. "The dream will provide the location of the door, won't it?" he said. "Then all we have to do is beat the Dmetrio-seed to it and lay an ambush."
Yes.
"A good plan, except for one thing," Arvin said. Feeling a little foolish-surely he was pointing out the obvious-he made a gesture that included Ts'ikil, Pakal and himself. "None of us is yuan-ti." He hesitated, looking at the couatl's serpent body. "Are we?"
Laughter trilled into his mind. Not me, Ts'ikil said. You.
Arvin blinked. "You think I'm yuan-ti?" he asked. He shook his head. "I'm human."
Yuan-ti blood flows in your veins.
Arvin snorted. "Why do you think that?" That should be obvious,
"Well it isn't-and I'm not yuan-ti," Arvin said, "unless the potion the Pox forced me to drink left some lingering traces." He stared at Ts'ikil. "You know what I'm talking about, right? You saw that in my memories?"
The couatl nodded.
"That potion was purged from my body a year ago," Arvin continued. "Zelia neutralized it the night she found me in the sewers."
I was not referring to the potion.
Arvin thought a moment. "Ah. You mean the mind seed. It was purged, too, but a little of Zelia's knowledge still remains. Gemstones, for example. I know their value, both in coin and as raw material for constructing dorjes and power stones." He realized he was babbling, but oouldn't stop himself. "Is that what you mean? Will my having been seeded a year ago enable me to receive Sseth's dream-message when it comes?"
Despite the couatl's frail condition, there was a twinkle in her eye. I thought