Venom's Taste - Lisa Smedman [90]
Arvin pulled the lapis lazuli out of his pocket and stared at it, trying to penetrate its gold-flecked surface. Meanwhile, the morning grew hotter. Arvin hooked a finger under the collar of his shirt, fanning himself with it. For just an instant, his mind brushed against something cool and smooth-and multifaceted, like a crystal. But though he tried for some time to connect with it, he was unable to get beyond this point. Eventually, thirst-and the knowledge that time was sliding past-made him put an end to the experiment.
He touched the lapis lazuli to his forehead. Atmiya, he thought, and felt it adhere. Then he imagined Nicco’s face. It took even less time to contact the cleric than it had to contact Naulg or Tanju-within heartbeats, Arvin felt a tingle of psionic energy at the base of his scalp as his visualization of Nicco solidified. Arvin was surprised to see the cleric’s face twisted in a mixture of grief and barely controlled rage. Nicco was staring at something Arvin couldn’t see. Whatever it was, it didn’t seem to be an opportune time for Arvin to be asking a favor. Quickly, he amended the message he’d been about to send.
Nicco, it’s Arvin. I’m a day’s journey from Hlondeth. I need to meet with you-tonight. Where will you be at Sunset? And… what’s wrong?
Nicco startled. A moment later, however, his reply came back-terse and angry. You want to meet? Then be at the execution pits at Sunset-if you dare.
Abruptly, the connection was broken.
“Atmiya,” Arvin whispered. The lapis lazuli fell into his palm.
The execution pits? Arvin shuddered. That was what Nicco had been staring at with such a look of grief and loathing on his face. Someone was being publicly executed-and Arvin could guess who.
CHAPTER 15
26 Kythorn, Fullday
Hot, footsore, and thirsty, Arvin hurried through the city. Hlondeth lay under a muggy torpor; the storm clouds that were gathering over the Reach had yet to break. The public fountains he passed tempted him with their cool, splashing water, but he passed them by, wary of drinking from them. Instead he wiped the sweat from his brow and trudged on.
Though Arvin had returned to the city as quickly as he could, it was almost Sunset. But before he met Nicco, there were two stops Arvin had to make. The first was the bakery up the street from his warehouse.
As he drew near the warehouse, he noticed a half-dozen militia standing guard outside. At first, he thought they were looking for him-then he saw the yellow hand painted on the door. Someone had finally reported the stench of the dead cultist. A crowd of people stood across the street from the warehouse, murmuring fearfully to each other in low voices. From inside the building came the sound of a chanted prayer. Arvin found himself making an undulating motion with his right hand-the sign of Sseth. He jerked his hand back and thrust it in his pocket.
He circled around the block to the bakery. Kolim stood on the sidewalk, crumbling a stale loaf of bread for a cluster of tiny brown birds at his feet. They took flight as Arvin approached. The boy looked up, and a wary expression came over his face. He tossed the bread aside and backed up a pace.
“Hi, Kolim,” Arvin said, halting a short distance from the boy. “What’s wrong?”
“They found a dead guy in your warehouse.”
“Really?” Arvin asked, rubbing his aching forehead.
“They say he died of plague.”
Arvin looked suitably grim and glanced up the street. “That’s bad. That means I can’t go back to my warehouse. I wonder what he was doing in there.” His breath caught as the militia turned in his direction. When they glanced away again, he hissed in relief.
Kolim stared up at him. “Why are