Lisa Smedman - Viper's Kiss

A pool of blood spread around someone’s feet. And a finger-thin stream of red flowed away from the pool, toward a dark shape Arvin couldn’t quite make out. Yet somehow he knew that it was something evil, something monstrous. The creature looked down then lifted the stream of blood from the ground with one hand—the hand of a woman—and began drawing the blood toward itself like a fisher hauling in a line.

Arvin’s ears rang with an anguished scream—a woman’s scream. Startled by it, he jerked his hand away. Only after his heart had pounded for several moments did he realize the sound had been part of his vision.

The snake shifted, covering its eggs once more. It looked at Arvin through the glass, tongue flickering in and out of its mouth, and gave a soft, menacing hiss.

Shaken by the premonition, Arvin stood.

Someone was going to die. Naneth?

He forced his mind back to the job at hand. Had Naneth still been in this room when the baron kicked the door in? If so, the room might hold a clue as to where she’d gone.

For the fourth time that evening, Arvin manifested the power that made him sensitive to psychic impressions. The snakes hissed as a low droning noise filled the air. Allowing the energy that lay just behind his navel to uncoil, Arvin held out a hand and turned in a slow circle, scanning the room. Ectoplasm blossomed in his wake on the containers that held the snakes, covering their glass with a translucent sheen.

Arvin focused on the saucer Naneth had dropped. A vision flashed before his eyes—of Naneth, startled, releasing it. The image was faint and ghostly, at first, but grew in detail and solidity as Naneth listened and responded to the warning Arvin had sent. By the end of the sending, the midwife was visibly agitated. She ran from the room, into the bedroom across the landing, and returned an instant later with something tucked in the crook of one arm. Slamming the door behind herself, she quickly locked it. She shoved aside one of the glass containers, ignoring the agitated hissing of her snakes, and placed the item on the tabletop. It turned out to be a wrought-iron statuette of a rearing serpent holding a fist-sized sphere of crystal in its mouth.

Arvin felt the blood drain from his cheeks. He’d seen a crystal ball identical to it once before. It had belonged to a yuan-ti named Karshis—a yuan-ti who had served Sibyl.

Sibyl, the abomination who had killed Naulg, Arvin’s oldest friend.

Painful memories swam into Arvin’s mind—of Naulg, barely recognizable as human, his body hideously transformed by the potion Sibyl’s minions had forced him to consume. Driven insane by his transformation, Naulg had glared at Arvin after his rescue, frothing and snapping his teeth, not recognizing his friend. And Arvin, staring down at one of the few people to have shown him kindness without wanting something in return, had realized that there was only one thing he could do for his old friend, one final kindness.

He could still hear Naulg’s final choked gasp as the cleric’s prayer took effect . and the silence that followed.

Together with Nicco and the others in the Secession, Arvin had thwarted Sibyl’s plan to turn the humans of Hlondeth into mindless semblances of yuan-ti. But the abomination herself was still at large. Though the Secession had been searching for her, these past six months, they’d turned up no trace of her. Arvin had bided his time, hiding from Zelia and slowly learning new psionic powers from Tanju. He’d told himself that, when Sibyl did rear up out of her hole again, he’d be ready to avenge himself on her. That was something he’d sworn to do—sworn in the presence of a cleric of Hoar, god of retribution.

The god must have been listening. Why else would he have placed another of Sibyl’s followers in Arvin’s path?

As if in answer, thunder grumbled somewhere outside, rattling the shutters of the windows.

Arvin swallowed and nervously touched the crystal that hung at his throat.

The vision his manifestation had conjured up was still unfolding. In it, Naneth raised a hand to her mouth and pointed her forefinger at the crystal ball. “Mistress,” she said in a tight, urgent voice, one hand stroking the crystal. “Mistress, heed me.”

A figure took shape within the sphere—a black serpent with the face of a woman, four humanlike arms, and enormous wings that fluttered above her shoulders. The abomination twisted to look at Naneth with eyes the color of dark red flame, her forked tongue flickering.

“Sibyl,” Arvin said in an anguished whisper, speaking the name at the same time the ghostly figure of Naneth did.

“Speak,” the abomination hissed.

Arvin watched, horrified.

“I have just received word, mistress,” Naneth said, addressing the figure that stared at her from inside the sphere. “The baron has learned of our plan.”

Sibyl’s eyes narrowed. “Who told you this?”

“A man I’ve never met before. A spellcaster—he used magic to deliver his message.”

“Describe him.”

Arvin’s breath caught.

“He was human. With collar-length brown hair, and….” Naneth paused, frowning. “And an oval of blue stone attached to his forehead.”

“Do you have any idea who he might be?”

“None.”

Arvin laughed with nervous relief. The description Naneth had just given was vague enough that it might have been anyone—aside from the lapis lazuli, which he’d be careful to keep out of sight from now on.

“What, precisely, did the spellcaster say?”

Naneth frowned. “Only this: ‘He knows what you did.’” She paused. “It’s a ruse, isn’t it? One designed to get us to tip our hand.”

“You humans are not always as stupid as you seem,” Sibyl answered, her tongue flickering in and out through her smile.

From behind the closed door came the sounds of a man shouting. Then footsteps pounded up the stairs. For a moment, Arvin thought the baron had returned, but then he realized that this was part of the vision. To his eyes, the door was still closed and locked—and shuddering as the baron pounded on it and shouted at Naneth to open it.

The midwife gave a quick glance over her shoulder then turned back to the sphere. “The baron is here,” she whispered in a tight voice. “Should I—”

Sibyl’s wings flared. “Do nothing rash,” she hissed. “Do not go to the girl; if this is a ruse, they will have a means of following you. Avoid the baron, for now. Continue your preparations.”

Naneth bowed her head. “I am your servant, oh Sibilant Death.”

As the baron shouted what sounded like a final warning, the image of Sibyl vanished from the sphere. Scooping up the crystal ball, Naneth spoke several words in a foreign language. Then she vanished, leaving only swirling dust motes behind.

A heartbeat later the door crashed open, propelled by the baron’s boot. He stormed into the room and glared around it, nose crinkling as he caught the odor of snake. Then he whirled and stomped out of sight.

Devoid of emotion to feed it, the manifestation ended.

Arvin knocked a fist against his own forehead, chastising himself in the silent speech. Stupid. If only he hadn’t sent that warning to Naneth, they might have learned where Glisena was—but now Naneth was gone.

It was no consolation to Arvin that, until a few moments ago, Naneth had seemed nothing more than a helpful midwife. Marasa had been right all along. Glisena had been kidnapped, albeit without her realizing it. The baron’s daughter had unwittingly placed herself—and her unborn child—in the hands of servants of an utterly ruthless and evil abomination. What terrible scheme was Sibyl up to this time?

Whatever it was, it had to involve the child.

Six months ago, Sibyl had attempted to install Osran Extaminos, youngest brother of Lady Dediana, on Hlondeth’s throne. She would have succeeded, had Arvin not thwarted her plan to turn Hlondeth’s humans into Osran’s private slave army. This time around, Sibyl must have been planning to use Lady Dediana’s grandchild.