The baron’s face flushed. “He will not cast that spell.”
“Thuragar!” Marasa said in an exasperated voice. “Your daughter is missing. Surely a chance at finding her, no matter how slim it might be, is more important than—”
“Lord Foesmasher,” Arvin interrupted. “Be at ease. I assure you that, whatever I might see, I will be… discreet.”
“For Glisena’s sake, Thuragar,” Marasa said. “Let him cast the spell.”
Arvin smiled to himself. Marasa, so doubtful of his powers at first, now seemed willing to believe in them.
The baron stood in silence for several moments, conflicting emotions in his eye. At last, reluctantly, he nodded. “Very well.” His hand fell away from Arvin’s shoulder. “Begin.”
Arvin looked around the chamber, sizing up its contents. Though the power could provide glimpses into the past of any event that happened in the immediate area—up to three dozen paces away from the manifester—it was most effective if it was concentrated on a specific item—a bed that an angry young woman might have flopped down onto after an argument with her father, for example.
Touching one of the lace-trimmed pillows, Arvin manifested the power. Psionic energy awoke within two of his power points: his throat vibrated, and a coil of energy slowly unwound within his abdomen, tickling the area around his navel. The baron and Marasa glanced uneasily at each other as a low droning filled the air—part of the secondary display. As the power manifested fully, Arvin felt the pillow dampen with ectoplasmic seepage where his fingertips touched it.
The vision came almost at once. Suddenly the bed was occupied by two people thrashing against one another—a man and a woman making love. The figures were transparent, almost ghostly, and seemed to be writhing on the neatly folded-down sheets without ever mussing them.
The woman was young and somewhat plain in appearance; her face was a little too square to ever be pretty, though her naked body was sensuously curved. Her head was thrown back in rapture, her long loose hair splayed against the pillow Arvin was touching. Arvin felt a blush warm his face as he realized he was looking at the baron’s daughter, soon to peak in her passion.
The man on top of Glisena had his back to Arvin. His lower torso was hidden by the bedding. But when he tossed back his long, dark hair, Arvin caught a glimpse of slit pupils and snake scales, and a face he recognized at once. Dmetrio ran the forked tip of his tongue along Glisena’s breast, and as her mouth fell open in a low, shuddering moan, he began to laugh. The look in his eyes was harsh, triumphant. He suddenly withdrew from her, levering himself up off her body, and spoke in a sneering hiss. “If you want more,” he taunted, “you’ll have to beg for it.”
“Please,” Glisena gasped, clutching at Dmetrio and trying to draw him back down to her. “I’d do anything for you. Please.”
“That’s a good start,” Dmetrio said, a look of triumph in his slit eyes. His feet were visible now, protruding out of the bedding. They were rounded and scaly and looked like snake tails; each foot ended in a single large, blunt toe. Dmetrio wrenched himself free of Glisena and sat up in a kneeling position, then twined his fingers in Glisena’s hair and yanked her forward. Dmetrio, like many yuan-ti males, had a slit at the groin, inside which his reproductive organs rested. Arvin, staring, was horrified to see emerging out of it not one, but two….
With a shudder, Arvin yanked his fingers away from the pillow. He felt sullied by what he’d seen. If he did manage to find the baron’s daughter, it would be hard to look her in the eye.
“Well?” the baron asked. “What did you see?”
Arvin hesitated. The baron had closed the gate long after the horse had bolted from the stable—or rather, into the stable, in this case. The wardings on the palace had been in vain, but how to tell the baron that diplomatically?
“Your daughter was quite… passionate about Dmetrio, wasn’t she?” Arvin began.
The baron’s face purpled as he realized what Arvin was implying. “Here? In this room?”
Marasa glanced sharply at the baron.
“I saw Glisena and Dmetrio kissing,” Arvin said. “The vision must have been more than a month old—from before the wards were set. It wasn’t the one I was hoping for. I’ll try again.”
Before the baron could reply, Arvin retreated into a second manifestation. As the droning of his secondary display filled the air once more, he looked around the room, this time trying to pick up general impressions. As he glanced at the baron, he once again saw a double image—a ghostly baron standing just behind the first, his face also twisted with rage. He was shouting something. Curious, Arvin extended his hand in that direction, willing the vision to come into focus.
It did, with a volume that startled him.
“You will never see him again!” the ghostly image roared.
