The guard frowned. “That’s a strange-looking rope.”
Arvin hurried to his pack and began rummaging inside it, searching frantically for the dorje. He breathed a sigh of relief as his fingers brushed against the cloth-wrapped length of crystal.
“What I don’t understand is what the naga was doing this far north,” the guard continued, turning back to the elf. “Nagas never come north of the barrier. And why did it attack? We did nothing to provoke it.”
“Yes, we did,” Karrell said softly. “We crushed her nest.”
The guard snapped his fingers. “That snag,” he said. “The one we grazed.”
Karrell nodded. “She had laid her eggs in its roots.”
Startled, Arvin looked up at Karrell. He’d seen the “rock” in the snag—but Karrell hadn’t. “How did you know that?”
“I asked her.”
“That was the spell you cast?” he asked, incredulous. Karrell shrugged. “I thought I could talk to her. But she was too angry.”
Arvin shook his head. “You can’t reason with a gods-cursed serpent,” he told her. He gestured at the weapon that still hung from her belt. “Next time, use your club.”
Karrell’s face darkened, but before she could snap back at him, Arvin turned to the elf. “What now?” he asked. He wanted to pull the dorje out of his pack and check it, but not in front of the others. “Do we wait here for the next riverboat?”
“There won’t be another until tomorrow morning,” the elf said. “But I can air walk back. With a magical wind to push me, I’ll be swift.”
Arvin stared at the elf’s unfocused eyes. “How will you find your way back?”
“Hulv will guide me,” the elf said, gesturing in the general direction of the hook-nosed guard. “I can cast the spell on him, as well.”
Karrell nodded down at the injured woman. “Can you take her with you?” she asked. “She needs more healing than I can provide.”
The elf nodded. “Hulv will carry her.”
“What about my husband?” the woman asked in a trembling voice. She stared at the spot where his headless body floated, next to that of the merchant. The lookout and gray-haired guard floated a short distance away, but the captain’s body was nowhere to be seen; it must have been dragged below by the boat. As for the barrel-chested sailor, he had completely disappeared.
“Lady, your husband’s body will be recovered later, together with the others who died,” the elf told her. He tilted his face in the general direction of Arvin aid Karrell. “I don’t have enough magic to cast the spell on all of us, so you two will have to wait here. I will get them to send another riverboat—it should reach you by midday.”
“Fine,” Arvin said. He pulled his cloak tighter as a breeze started to blow—a natural wind, this time. Arvin squinted up at the overcast sky, hoping it wasn’t going to start snowing again. If it did, the riverboat would have a hard time locating them.
The elf cast the spell on himself then on the sailor. Hulv picked up the injured woman and followed the elf into the air, as if climbing an invisible staircase. They walked swiftly away and soon were no more than specks in the distance.
Arvin glanced at Karrell, who had her back to him. She was staring at the bodies, which were slowly drifting away from the island, back in the direction of Riverboat Landing.
“We should recover them,” she said. “Before the current carries them away.”
“I suppose,” Arvin agreed reluctantly. Despite the fact that the spell Karrell had cast on him was keeping him warm, he was nervous about entering the river again. “But what if another naga happens along?”
“None will come,” Karrell said. “The naga was alone—an outcast, hiding from the others of her kind. She thought this would be a safer place to lay her eggs.”
“Ah,” Arvin said. He glanced again at the bodies. The river had only a sluggish current; it wasn’t as if they were going to vanish in the next few moments. “I need to check something in my pack first. Just give me a moment; then I’ll help.”
Karrell didn’t reply. She seemed to still be smarting from his critical remark about the spell she’d used on the naga. Arvin gave himself a mental kick for being so sharp with her—especially after she risked her own life to save that of the woman—and tried to stammer out an apology, but she dived into the water alone.
“Uh I’ll be right there,” Arvin called to her.
He pulled the dorje out of his pack—then stiffened as he felt something shift inside the cloth in which it was wrapped. He tore the cloth open with fumbling fingers and groaned as he saw what lay within. The dorje had snapped cleanly in half. The lavender glow of psionic energy that had once filled it was gone.
Cursing, he slammed a fist against his leg. Now that the dorje was broken, Arvin would have to rely on his own, limited, psionic powers.
Finding Glisena wasn’t going to be easy.
