Arvin heard the sound of weeping behind him. He turned and saw Glisena—fully clothed, this time, and sitting on a neatly made bed—wringing a lace-trimmed handkerchief in her hands. Tears were sliding down her cheeks and a strand of her dark hair had fallen out of the pearl-studded net that held her hair in a bun at the nape of her neck. “But we’re in love,” she sobbed.
The baron snorted. “You’re in love. That… snake is as cold-hearted as any of his race. He cares nothing for you, girl. Nothing.”
Glisena shook her head fiercely. “That’s not true. You’ll see. When I tell him about—”
“You’ll tell him nothing.” The baron strode forward and loomed over Glisena. “Nor will you tell anyone else what’s happened. We’re going to take care of this… quietly.”
Anger blazed in Glisena’s eyes and flushed her cheeks. “You only care about your stupid alliances. If Dmetrio marries me—”
“He won’t.”
“Yes, he will,” Glisena shrilled. “And when he does, your hopes of an alliance with Turmish are over. You can’t force me to marry Lord Herengar’s son. He’s as stupid as he is ugly.”
“At least he’s human,” the baron spat back.
“What do you think I am?” Glisena wailed. “A child? I’m a grown woman. You can’t do this to me.”
The baron’s voice dropped dangerously low. “You did this to yourself,” he growled. “And now you’ll face the consequences.” Turning on his heel, he wrenched open the door, startling the guard who stood in the hallway outside. “Make sure she doesn’t leave,” he snapped at the guard then slammed the door behind himself.
The vision—and Glisena’s faint sobbing—faded.
“What did you see this time?” the baron asked. His voice startled Arvin; it took a moment for Arvin to realize that he was back in the here and now. A fine sheen of ectoplasm shimmered in the baron’s hair. He didn’t seem to notice it.
Arvin swallowed nervously. The last thing he wanted to report was that he’d listened in on a family argument—a very private family argument.
“I didn’t see much this time,” he said, “just Glisena sitting on her bed, crying. But I think I’m getting closer to the night of her disappearance. I’ll try again.”
The baron gave a brief nod. His hands, Arvin noticed, were white-knuckled. What was it he was so afraid of?
Arvin manifested his power a third time, scanning the room, and out of the corner of his eye saw a movement near the hearth. There were two ghostly women there, one standing, the other kneeling in front of her. Concentrating on these, he brought them into focus.
The standing woman was Glisena. She held her night robe slightly open, revealing her stomach. The look on her face was one of acute apprehension.
The woman who knelt in front of her touched Glisena’s stomach with a forefinger and chanted in a language Arvin couldn’t understand. Her finger moved back and forth across the bare flesh as if sketching, but left no visible marks. She was casting a spell of some description, but Arvin had no idea what its purpose might be.
This second woman had her back to Arvin; all he could tell was that she was large and was wearing a dark green cloak. He moved across the room—closer to the hearth, which began to sweat a sheen of ectoplasm—and got a view of her face.
The spellcaster had heavy jowls, a double chin, and brown hair with a streak of gray at one temple. Her small eyes were screwed shut as she concentrated on her magic. Arvin looked for a brooch or pendant that might be a cleric’s holy symbol, but saw none. The only item of jewelry the woman wore was a ring, a band of brownish-red stone around her pudgy little finger. A band carved from amber, Arvin thought, identifying the stone from the lingering bits of gem lore Zelia’s mind seed had left him with.
When the spell was done, the woman stood. Glisena closed her robe and stood with her palms lightly pressing against her belly. “When will it take effect?” she asked.
The spellcaster gave her a motherly smile. “Some time tomorrow.” She tugged at the ring on her little finger. “This,” she said, working it back and forth to pull it free. “Will convey you to me.” She held the ring out to Glisena. “Use it as soon as you feel the magic of the spell begin.”
Glisena took the ring with what looked like reluctance. A tear blossomed at the corner of one eye and trickled down her cheek. “Did he really tell you to end it?” she asked.
“He did.” The spellcaster said in a grim voice. Then she patted Glisena’s cheek. “But all’s well now. We’ll fool him.” Glisena nodded and clenched her hand around the ring. “Yes.”
“Now listen closely, and I’ll tell you how the ring works,” Naneth said.
