I’m with Glisena, he told her. I’m inside her hut. Slip in through the back, where the brambles touch the wall. I’ll contact Foesmasher.
Karrell stared back at him, tongue flickering in and out of her mouth. Arvin couldn’t read her expression—it was impossible, with that unblinking stare—but he could hear the concern in her voice as she stared at his forehead. You are wounded! I am sorry; I fell to a magical slumber. I will come. Her mouth parted in what might have been a smile. At once.
Her image faded from his mind.
Immediately, Arvin concentrated on the baron’s face. When it solidified in his mind, Foesmasher was talking to someone, emphasizing his words with a pointing fork; Arvin must have interrupted his midday meal. From the scowl on his face, he was issuing a reprimand, or arguing with Marasa again. He halted abruptly in mid-sentence as he recognized Arvin.
I found Glisena, Arvin told him.
Relief washed across the baron’s face. His eyes closed a moment; when he opened them, he blinked rapidly, as if clearing away tears. He whispered something Arvin couldn’t hear; probably a prayer of thanksgiving.
Arvin chose his next words carefully. Even with the brooch for Foesmasher to home in on, Arvin needed to pack as much information as possible into the brief message the lapis lazuli would allow. I’m with her inside a hut. Satyrs armed with bows are outside. And wolves. Bring—
I’m on my way, the baron said.
Arvin silently cursed. Now that Foesmasher had replied, there was no way for Arvin to interrupt, to tell him to bring meat for the wolves. Foesmasher continued speaking as he yanked on his helmet and drew his sword. Tell Glisena I’ll be there at .
“… once,” said a low voice from Arvin’s immediate left.
Arvin couldn’t help but be startled, even though he’d been expecting the baron. He raised a finger to his lips. “Quietly, Lord Foesmasher,” he cautioned. “The satyrs are just outside.”
The baron immediately fell to his knees beside his daughter. “Glisena,” he said in a choked voice. “Father’s here. My little dove, I’m so sorry. May Helm forgive me for what I’ve done.”
The thing inside Glisena kicked, bulging her stomach. She screwed her eyes shut and groaned.
“What’s wrong?” the baron asked, looking up at Arvin. “Is the child coming?”
“It’s… not a child,” Arvin said. Quickly, he told the baron his suspicions. He expected the baron’s face to blanch, but Foesmasher proved to have more mettle than that. “Why would Naneth do such a thing?” he asked in a pained voice.
Arvin didn’t answer.
The baron stared at his daughter. “Marasa will tend to it,” he said firmly. “Whatever it is.”
Arvin nodded, relieved.
Outside, the satyrs had resolved their argument. One of the combatants lay unconscious on the ground; the others stared at him, shaking their heads disdainfully. One, however, was staring suspiciously at the hut, his ears perked forward, listening. He turned to the others and said something to them. Arvin, watching, tightened his grip on his dagger.
Foesmasher must have seen Arvin tense. He sheathed his sword, lifted Glisena into his arms, and stood. He gestured for Arvin to come closer.
Arvin was still staring outside. He’d spotted a movement across the clearing in the brambles, well behind the satyrs: a snake, slithering along the ground.
Karrell was circling around the clearing to reach the hut.
“Wait,” Arvin said. “Karrell’s coming. I don’t want to leave her behind.”
“I can teleport no more than three people at a time,” the baron whispered back. “Myself, Glisena… and one other.”
Arvin’s jaw clenched. Foesmasher had neglected to tell him this important detail. “Teleport us just outside the brambles, then,” Arvin whispered back. “There’s a centaur waiting there for us: Tanglemane.”
The baron’s eyebrows rose at the name.
“He and I can watch over Glisena while you come back for Karrell,” Arvin continued.
The baron shook his head. “I am also limited to teleporting no more than three times per day. If I return for you, it will be a day before I can get back to Ormpetarr.” He nodded at Glisena. “My daughter needs me.”
Arvin’s eyes narrowed as he realized what Foesmasher was saying. “You won’t be back.”
“No.”
“Send someone else then,” Arvin insisted. “One of your clerics. I know they have teleportation magic; I’ve seen them use it.”
“Only the most powerful of them can teleport without the gauntlets to aid them—and Glisena will need their prayers.” He held out his hand. “Come with me—or stay. Choose.”
Arvin folded his arms across his chest. There really was no choice. Arvin couldn’t just abandon Karrell, or Tanglemane. “I’m staying.”
“I’ll send help as soon as I can,” Foesmasher promised. “In the meantime, Helm be with you.” Then he teleported away.
