Venom's Taste - Lisa Smedman [74]
With a start, Arvin realized he knew what they were: a “crystal capacitor,” a device for storing psionic energy. The capacitor was charged using a complex series of asanas, which directed energy from the muladhara up into…
Arvin shook his head. He was doing it again. Linking, thanks to the mind seed, with Zelia’s memories and drawing information from them.
He saw that his wanderings had carried him to the vicinity of Zelia’s rooftop garden. He could see the tower between the buildings up ahead. How in the Nine Hells had he allowed himself to wander so near to it?
He turned abruptly, intending to stride away in the direction from which he’d just come and nearly collided with a man who had been walking a few steps behind him. The fellow had his neck craned to look up at the buildings ahead of him and saw Arvin only at the last moment. He gave an irritated hiss-which made Arvin take a second glance at the fellow. All Arvin needed was to run afoul of a yuan-ti. But this fellow appeared wholly human-and he had four chevrons branded into his arm. Yuan-ti were never called for militia service.
Muttering his apologies, Arvin walked on. He’d gotten no more than a few paces before a hand reached out of the shadow of a ramp to grasp his arm.
A hand covered in fine green scales.
“Zelia!” Arvin gulped as she stepped out into the street. “What a coincidence. I was just heading back to the tower to look for you.”
Her lips crooked in a smile. “I can see that,” she said. “Obviously you have something to report, something important enough to have come in person, rather than using a sending.” She stared unblinkingly at him. “What have you learned?”
Arvin thought furiously. What could he tell Zelia? “You were wrong about the flasks,” he began. “They don’t contain plague.”
Zelia merely stared at him. “No?”
“They contain a potion.”
“What kind?”
“One that transforms humans into yuan-ti. It comes from the Serpent Hills, possibly by way of Skullport. A contact of mine saw a flask similar to the ones the Pox carry, a few months ago in a potion seller’s shop. He tried to buy it, but before he could, it was purchased by a slaver.”
“What was the slaver’s name?” Zelia hissed.
“Ssarmn.”
Zelia hissed thoughtfully. Apparently she recognized the name.
“That’s all I’ve been able to learn so far,” Arvin concluded.
“Is it?” Zelia asked.
“Yes,” Arvin answered evenly. He stared at Zelia. The last thing he needed was for her to question him, to force him to tell her about the Extaminos connection to the Pox. If he did, he’d be a dead man. Deliberately, he forced Osran’s name out of his mind-but not quickly enough.
Zelia’s eyes suddenly flashed silver. She gave a long, slow hiss. “Osran? I suspected there was a bad egg in the brood.”
As she spoke the name aloud, Arvin felt a stabbing pain in his throat. Doubling over, he began to cough. Dark droplets flecked the ground; when he swallowed, he tasted blood. He felt a chill of fear course through him as he realized what was happening. The geas was taking hold, even though he hadn’t spoken the name aloud-hadn’t even intended for it to be overheard. He swallowed again, his throat raw. Hoar, he pleaded silently. I didn’t mean to. Please don’t kill me.
Zelia didn’t even ask what was wrong with him. She just stood, smiling like a snake that had swallowed a mouse. Arvin, meanwhile, felt the pain in his throat ease-just a little. Then his coughing stopped. Hoar, it seemed, had heard his plea and spared him.
Arvin touched the bead at his throat. “Nine lives,” he whispered. He followed it with a silent thank-you to Hoar.
At least it was Middark. Tymora willing, the assassination would already have taken place and the Secession