As Arvin stood stupidly, blinking—how had Windswift known?—Karrell gave his hand a quick squeeze and pressed something into his hand: her ring. He hid his surprise and slipped a finger into it, using her hand to shield the action. And just in time. A heartbeat later Windswift manifested a psionic power. Shielded by Karrell’s ring, Arvin no longer had cause to fear Windswift listening in on his thoughts. What did send a shiver of fear through him, however, was the power’s secondary manifestation.
A hiss.
By the gods, Arvin thought, feeling his face grow chill and pale, Windswift isn’t just any psion.
He’s one of Zelia’s mind seeds.
Arvin’s hands trembled, and his thoughts stampeded in all directions. Should he throw up a defensive mental shield? Launch a psionic attack? Had the centaur-seed realized who he was yet? Arvin had just identified himself as a rope merchant from Hlondeth, and Windswift had heard Arvin’s own, unique secondary manifestation, and yet the centaur-seed hadn’t attacked him. He didn’t seem to know who Arvin was.
Arvin’s racing heart slowed—a little. Zelia must have planted the seed in Windswift more than six months ago, before she’d met Arvin.
The hissing of the centaur-seed’s secondary display faded. One hoof pawed the snow-covered ground in irritation.
Arvin nodded to himself. Windswift must have been the person Zelia had been waiting to meet at Riverboat Landing; the centaur-seed must have been spying, on Hlondeth’s behalf, on Chondath.
It all fit. The centaur-seed couldn’t have come into the inn without giving himself away; his appearance was too distinctive. And the fact that he hadn’t reacted to Arvin must mean one of two things. Either he hadn’t made it to his meeting with Zelia—or Zelia hadn’t come to Sespech in search of Arvin, after all.
If the latter, Arvin’s secret was safe. Zelia still thought he was dead.
Arvin could see only one way out of his current predicament, and it involved taking a gamble—a big gamble. He caught the centaur-seed’s eye and lowered his voice. “Zelia.”
Windswift drew in air with a sharp hiss.
“I, too,” Arvin said. “Three months ago.” He nodded first in Karrell’s direction, then toward Tanglemane, turning the motion into the sort of motion a yuan-ti would make: swaying, insinuative. The mannerisms came to him easily—disturbingly so. “We three,” he continued in a low, conspiratorial voice, “must reach the Chondalwood.”
Karrell, thankfully, kept her silence. The gods only knew what she was thinking about the odd turn the conversation had taken, but she had the good sense not to interrupt. Tanglemane also stood quietly, a puzzled frown on his face. The other centaurs, however, were getting restless. Stonehoof took a step closer to Arvin and Windswift, only to prance back when the centaur-seed launched a warning kick in his direction.
“Why was I not told?” Windswift hissed. “I was just….” He glanced out of the corner of his eye at the other centaurs, whose ears were twitching as they strained to listen, and thought better of continuing.
Arvin smiled to himself. So Windswift had met with Zelia. “I was at Riverboat Landing recently, too,” he answered in a low voice. “And I was not told about you, either. We like to play our pieces behind our hand, don’t we?”
Windswift tossed his head. “That we do.” He arched one eyebrow. “You’re not as handsome as we usually pick,” he chided.
Arvin gave a mental groan. What was Karrell thinking of all this? He returned the centaur-seed’s coy look. “We needed someone less… distinctive for this mission, this time. A mission I should be attending to:’ He glanced pointedly at the Chondalwood. The sky was brightening over the forest; it was almost dawn.
“Yes. You’ve been delayed long enough.” Windswift turned and addressed the other centaurs in their own language. There was more than one murmur of protest, and Stonehoof reared up, challenging the centaur-seed a second time, but an instant later he clapped Windswift on the back, as he had before.
This time, Arvin was close enough to the centaur-seed to hear the hiss of the charm power’s secondary display.
Stonehoof whinnied an order, and the centaurs lowered their bows. They handed Karrell’s club back to her—and very pointedly ignored Tanglemane when he held out his hand for his knife—then allowed a gap to form in their ranks. Tanglemane stiffened then, eyes darting back and forth and tail lashing, trotted through it. Arvin and Karrell followed.
When they were well away from the centaur-seed, Arvin slipped the ring off his finger and pressed it back into Karrell’s hand. “Thanks,” he whispered. “Now let’s get out of here before Stonehoof changes his mind.”
