The vision shifted then. The spellcaster disappeared, and Arvin had a palpable sense of leaping forward in time to a moment when Glisena stood in just the same spot in front of the hearth. As before, the moment was emotionally charged. Tears were streaming down her face. She wore clothes instead of a night robe, as well as a heavy cloak pinned at the shoulder and high leather boots. And her stomach was no longer flat. It bulged, visibly pregnant. Very pregnant.
Arvin whistled under his breath. No wonder Glisena and her father had argued. Glisena was carrying Dmetrio’s child. A child that was only partly human. He watched as the ghostly Glisena toyed with something she held in her hands—the spellcaster’s amber ring. A knock at the door caused her to startle, nearly dropping it.
“Glisena?” a muffled male voice called. “I’m sorry we argued. Can we talk?”
Glisena’s eyes flew open wide. She glanced down at her belly then back at the door, and she drew her cloak around herself, as if to hide her pregnancy. Then her lips pressed together in a determined line. Tossing the ring on the floor, she spoke a word: “Ossalur!” As the ring hit the floor, it grew, expanding into a hoop fully two paces in diameter within the space of an eye-blink. Glisena jumped into the center of it—an awkward hop while holding her belly—and vanished. The ring contracted to its normal size then disappeared.
The door to her chamber opened. Baron Foesmasher poked his head tentatively into the room. “Glisena?” he called softly. He glanced at the empty bed—then looked wildly around the chamber. “Glisena!” he shouted. “Glisena!”
The vision faded.
Arvin let out a long, slow sigh and stood for several moments with his eyes closed. Then he turned to the baron. “I have news,” he reported. “I’ve seen how Glisena esca—ah, that is, how she fled from the palace.”
The baron ignored Arvin’s slip of the tongue. “Tell me,” he said.
“Your daughter was given a ring,” Arvin said. “One that gave her the ability to teleport.”
“Who gave it to her?” Marasa asked, her voice low and tense.
“A spellcaster,” Arvin said. He started to describe the woman, but Marasa interrupted him after he’d barely begun.
“The midwife?” she asked. Then, to the baron, “What was she doing here, in the palace?”
Arvin was wondering the same thing. What had the spellcaster been doing to Glisena?
The baron stood rigid, his shoulders tense. The words jerked out of him. “Glisena was pregnant. By that… serpent. By Ambassador Extaminos.”
Marasa’s mouth dropped open. “Pregnant?” she whispered. Then she nodded to herself. “Was that why she’d been feeling unwell?”
The baron stared at the far wall, not answering. “And Naneth?” Marasa prodded.
“She came to cast a spell,” the baron began. “A spell that….” His voice trembled. He sank onto the bed, head in his hands, unable or unwilling to say more.
Marasa’s face paled. “Naneth came to end the pregnancy, didn’t she?”
The baron refused to look up.
Marasa flushed with anger. “Killing an innocent is a grievous sin! And nothing is more innocent than an unborn child.” She pointed a trembling finger at the baron. “Helm will never countenance this. Never! He will demand retribution. He—”
The baron looked up, his face twisted with remorse. “Helm has punished me already. Glisena is gone. Gone.”
Marasa lowered her accusing hand. “Oh, Thuragar,” she said, her voice anguished. “What were you thinking?” She turned her back on him and paced across the room to stare at the hearth, shaking her head.
Arvin shifted uncomfortably, wishing he were someplace else. He stood in silence, debating whether to tell the baron what he’d seen in that last vision. The spell Naneth had cast on Glisena hadn’t ended her pregnancy. Instead, it had hastened it to term. In that first vision, Glisena had not been visibly pregnant—she was at most two to three months along. And in the second vision, the one in which she’d used the ring, she’d been full-bellied, close to giving birth. Yet only a day had passed.
The spell must have taken effect on the evening that Glisena disappeared. That was why she’d dismissed her servants that night—she could feel the spell starting to work its magic. That was why she’d hidden her belly from view when her father knocked at her door.
The baron didn’t know that Glisena was still pregnant.
But he would, once Arvin found her.
Sickened, Arvin stared at the carpet, unwilling to look at the baron. The last thing he wanted to do now was return Glisena to him.
Foesmasher balled his fist. “She’s with Naneth,” he said in a low voice. He sprang to his feet and crossed the room, wrenching the door open. “Stand aside,” he shouted at someone as he stomped down the hall.
Marasa had whirled at the sudden motion. As the baron’s heavy footsteps faded down the hall, she ran after him. “Thuragar! Wait!”
