Venom's Taste - Lisa Smedman [42]
“They have?” Arvin asked, all thoughts of the dream driven instantly from his mind. He looked up at the sky and saw that it was past Middark. “Was my friend with them?”
“I saw two men. Neither was your friend. It looked as though they were waiting for something-or for someone.”
She gave him directions to the sewer entrance he would use. It was just a short distance away, inside a slaughterhouse-one that had recently been shut down by the militia after its owners were caught butchering cattle that had succumbed to the rotting hoof disease and passing it off as quality meat.
“How appropriate,” Arvin muttered. He slid his dagger into the sheath at the small of his back and picked up his backpack. He pulled out one of the potions he’d purchased earlier, a clear liquid with a sweet scent that lingered in the air even though the tiny bottle that held it was stoppered. The rogue who had sold it to him had assured Arvin it would purge any disease from his body, even ailments that were the result of clerical magic.
Arvin transferred the bottle to his gloved hand and whispered the word that made it disappear into an extra-dimensional space where it could neither be seen nor smelled. The last thing he needed was for one of the Pox to spot the bottle and recognize what it held.
He put on the backpack and nodded at Zelia. “Tymora be with me, I’ll have some answers for you soon,” he said. Then he realized something. “How will I get a message to you?” he asked. “Do I meet you back here?”
“No,” Zelia replied. She opened her belt pouch and pulled from it a stone that glittered in the moonlight. It was dark blue, flecked with gold, about the size and shape of a thumbnail, and flat on one side. Arvin nodded, recognizing it by its distinctive color: lapis lazuli, with inclusions of pyrite. He extended his right hand, palm up, for the chip of stone.
Then he stiffened in surprise. He was no gem cutter. How in the Nine Hells had he known what type of stone it was?
Zelia tipped it into his palm. Arvin used a finger to flip it over. Its rounded surface was cool and smooth, but the flat surface was warm.
“When you have something to report, this will allow you to manifest a sending,” Zelia said.
Arvin gave her a puzzled look. “What’s a sending?”
“A psionic power-one the stone will allow you to manifest, even though you haven’t learned it yet,” she continued. “You can send a brief message to me-no more than two dozen words, and only once per day-and I can reply to you, in turn. The distance separating us is not a factor; your message will reach me, no matter where I might be.”
“And no matter where I might be?” Arvin asked.
Zelia nodded.
“I see,” he said. “It’s a contingency plan. In case something happens to… prevent me from returning.”
Zelia’s answer was blunt. “Yes. In order to use the stone, you must place it over your third eye.”
“My what?”
“You used it earlier tonight, when you manifested your telekinetic power. Place the flat surface of the stone here”-she touched a finger to a spot between her eyes, just above her nose-“and it will adhere.”
Arvin stared at the lapis lazuli, wondering if there was more to it than Zelia was telling him. “Can I put it on later?” he asked. “If the Pox see it-”
“They won’t know what it is. Only another psion would recognize it. But put it on and take it off as you wish. You need only think the command word-atmiya-and it will adhere or release. Just don’t lose it.”
“Why? Is it expensive?”
Zelia’s lips twitched in what might have been a smile. “Yes.”
Arvin stared at the stone. If he did run into trouble-if he wound up a captive, bound hand and foot and without his dagger to cut himself free-having the stone already in place on his forehead would allow him to call for help.
The question was would Zelia answer?
“All right,” he said. “I’ll use it-but I won’t put it on until I need to contact you.” He slipped the stone into his shirt pocket, tucking it safely inside