Lisa Smedman - Viper's Kiss

As Rillis warmed his back at the fire, sighing his relief, Karrell moved toward what Arvin had at first taken to be a painting that rested on the mantle. He saw that it was a hollow pane of glass, filled with viscous red, turquoise, and indigo liquids that rose and fell in a swirl of ever-changing patterns.

“It’s a slitherglow,” Rillis said. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen one before.”

“It is beautiful,” Karrell answered. She held out her hands to the fire, warming them, and stared at the slitherglow as if mesmerized. Arvin shook his head. She certainly wasn’t acting like a rogue casing the residence. Her eyes should have been darting around the room, noting the exits and appraising its contents. The larger boxes, for example, probably held breakables, judging by the sawdust packing that had trickled out of the corner of one of them—ceramics, perhaps, or statuettes. And the rug was bulged slightly; something was rolled inside it. Judging by the boxes and the bare appearance of the room, the ambassador was planning a move from the residence, probably in a few days’ time. Arvin wondered where he was going.

A door at the top of the ramp opened. The militiaman standing next to Arvin stiffened, and Rillis ushered Karrell back to Arvin’s side then stood flanking her. Neither had a weapon in hand, but Arvin didn’t want to make any sudden moves. Rillis was probably new to the militia, but the second man looked tougher, more experienced—and the House Extaminos bodyguards were rumored to coat their weapons with yuan-ti venom.

A man in a red silk robe stepped through the door and began making his way down the ramp. He appeared human, at first glance. He had dark hair that swept back from a high forehead; a long, narrow nose; and a thin, muscular body. His walk, however, immediately gave him away as yuan-ti. Instead of stepping, as humans did, he turned each footstep into a slither, sliding his slippered feet along the stone. His body swayed as he walked, his head moving gently from side to side. As he drew closer, slit pupils and a flicker of a forked tongue confirmed his race. Despite these attributes, he was a handsome man, full of poise and self-confidence. No wonder the baron’s daughter had fallen for him.

In one slender hand, he held Arvin’s letter of introduction. The other hand was hidden by a silk sleeve that hung past his fingertips.

Arvin bowed. “Ambassador Extaminos.”

Dmetrio stared at him. “Vin of Hlondeth,” he hissed, his voice as devoid of emotion as dry leaves. “Agent of the Mariner Mercantile House.”

Dmetrio shifted his gaze to Karrell, who also bowed. He stepped closer to her as she rose, his tongue flickering in and out of his mouth as he drank in her scent. “And who is this?”

Arvin rose. “An… acquaintance of mine,” he said slowly. Threat or no threat, he wasn’t going to call Karrell more than that. “We met on the journey here, and she insisted on meeting you. Her name is Karrell. She—”

Out of the corner of his eye, Arvin saw that Karrell’s hand had curled in what was, by now, a familiar gesture to him. She was whispering her charm spell. Arvin thought about grabbing her hand and putting a halt to the spell, but she finished it before he could react.

“I’d like to show you something,” Karrell said to Dmetrio, reaching under her cloak.

“Guards!” Dmetrio hissed.

The militiaman behind Karrell reacted with the speed of a striking snake. He grabbed Karrell’s arms, yanking her elbows behind her back.

Karrell yelped. She dropped a piece of parchment she’d been holding; it fluttered to the floor. It landed faceup, revealing a rendering, done in ink and charcoal, of the cathedral in Hlondeth.

Arvin stared at it. The drawing was good—really good. Maybe Karrell was an artist, after all.

That, or she’d stolen the picture.

Belatedly, Rillis reacted, yanking out his sword and stepping back to give himself room to swing it, if need be. He glanced between Arvin—who carefully stood with his hands open and away from his sides—and Karrell.

Karrell tossed her head. “I simply wanted to show you a drawing,” she said. Her face was flushed—she was obviously angry that Dmetrio had not succumbed to her spell. She had to nod at the picture on the floor, since the militiaman held her arms. “A sample of my work. I also do portraits. I have drawn a number of members of noble yuan-ti houses.”

Dmetrio stared at her, unblinking. “Name one.”

“Mezral Ch’thon, ssthaar of the Se’sehen.”

Dmetrio’s eyebrows rose. “You are from Tashalar?” Karrell nodded.

“Are you Se’sehen?” Dmetrio asked. He added something in a language filled with soft hisses.

“N’hacsis—no,” Karrell said, shaking her head. “I speak only a little Draconic. The language is difficult for me. It requires a serpent’s tongue.”

“You are human?” Dmetrio asked, giving the word a derisive sneer. He flicked his fingers, and the militiaman holding Karrell released her. Rillis reacted a moment later, sheathing his sword.

Karrell gave a slight bow in Dmetrio’s direction then gathered up the parchment. “It is true that I invited myself here today, but I could think of no other way to meet with you. I had hoped to do your portrait.”

“And gain a healthy commission from House Extaminos, no doubt.” Dmetrio gave a hiss of laughter. “Your trip to Ormpetarr was a waste of time. I’m leaving—and have no time for portraits.”

Arvin raised his eyebrows. Dmetrio was leaving Ormpetarr? That was interesting. “Ambassador Extaminos,” he said, wresting the conversation away from Karrell, “my letter of introduction included a request that you—”

Dmetrio’s upper lip twitched, revealing just the points of his fangs, a subtle sign of irritation. “I have no time for meetings, either,” he said. He thrust the letter of introduction in Arvin’s direction.

Arvin caught it just before it fell. “But I was told you would introduce me to the baron,” he protested. “My merchant house is counting on me to—”

“Introduce yourself,” Dmetrio said curtly.

Karrell stepped forward. “Your Excellency, I—”

“Show them out,” Dmetrio hissed.

As they were hustled back to the street, Arvin fumed. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to have gone. If Karrell hadn’t butted in, he would have been talking to Dmetrio still, subtly nudging the conversation around to Glisena as he talked about his “trade mission” to Sespech. Now, in order to question Dmetrio, Arvin would have to be blunt. He’d have to reveal his real reason for coming to Ormpetarr. If Dmetrio was involved in Glisena’s disappearance, he would be on his guard. Charming him would be that much more difficult—maybe even impossible.

As the wrought-iron gate clanked shut behind them, Karrell turned to Arvin. “It seems you are a merchant’s agent, after all, and I have ruined your chances to—”

“Not another word,” Arvin said, a quiver in his voice. He pointed down the street. “Go.”

Karrell opened her mouth to say something more then thought better of it. She turned and walked up the street.

Arvin closed his eyes and sighed. Karrell had really gotten under his skin. He wished he’d never started that conversation with her in the sleigh in the first place. He’d been stupid—and had shown a pitiful lack of self-control.

When he opened his eyes, she was gone. He stared at her footprints, which were starting to fill with falling snow.

“All for the best.”

Arvin turned. It had been Rillis who had spoken—he was still standing just on the other side of the wrought-iron gate. The sergeant was at the far corner of the building, making his rounds.

“You’re better off not having the ambassador introduce you,” Rillis added in a confiding tone.