Arvin groaned. He’d have to rely on his wits alone to convince Naneth to let him out of this prison. He thought frantically, trying to come up with a story that would sound plausible. Should he drop Sibyl’s name and claim to be working for one of the factions allied with her? Claim to be one of Talos’s worshipers? Neither was likely to work. He had only the vaguest of ideas of what Sibyl was up to; he’d probably say something that would give him away.
Suddenly, he realized there was one story that would make sense—and that would throw Naneth off track, way off track.
“You’re too late,” he told Naneth. “Chondath has claimed Glisena.”
“You’re one of Lord Wianar’s men?” Naneth asked.
Arvin smiled. She’d taken his hook. Now to set it.
“I’m Wianar’s eyes and ears within the Sespech court. Three days ago, Baron Foesmasher captured a satyr who had come to Ormpetarr to fetch you; the satyr told him his daughter was in the Chondalwood. It wasn’t in Chondath’s best interests that Glisena be found, so I sent you the warning. Just in case you didn’t heed it, I made my way here. I was surprised to find the girl had not been moved. I was ordered to take advantage of that oversight.”
“Where is Glisena now?” Naneth asked. “In Arrabar?”
“All you need to know is that Wianar has her.”
For several moments, Naneth was silent. Then she replied—in a strained voice that instantly told Arvin how desperate she was, and how willing to bargain. “Tell your master that keeping the girl would be a terrible mistake. One that could prove fatal for him.”
“What do you mean?” Arvin asked.
There was a long pause. When Naneth at last spoke, her voice sounded reluctant. “The child in Glisena’s womb is… dangerous,” she began.
“Go on,” Arvin prompted. He held his breath, praying that Naneth would expound upon what she’d done to the baron’s daughter—that she’d reveal the nature of the thing she’d put in Glisena’s womb. “What is it?”
“A demon.”
“A demon?” Arvin gasped, horrified. “How—”
“Magic,” Naneth said smugly. “A unique form of binding no other sorcerer can perform.”
“But why?” Arvin asked, still struggling with his horror at what Naneth had done. He felt queasy, as though he were going to be sick.
A gloating smile crept into Naneth’s voice. “Lady Dediana is anxious to see the birth of her first grandchild,” she said. “What a surprise it will be when she sees the new heir. The shock alone will kill her—and if it doesn’t, the ‘child’ will. Now do you understand why it’s in Chondath’s best interests not to keep the girl? Wianar has much more to gain by letting us place someone more „ . agreeable on Hlondeth’s throne. Someone who would turn her back on Sespech, and instead form an alliance with Chondath.”
Arvin’s eyebrows rose. At last he understood what Sibyl had planned. The thing inside Glisena was part of an elaborate assassination attempt against Lady Dediana. Sibyl, once again, was making a bid for the throne—and this time, she was going to claim it herself, instead of merely installing a puppet. Naneth must have been in Hlondeth, these past three days, setting the whole thing up.
“Glisena will give birth soon,” Naneth continued. “When she does, she’ll need a midwife. One who knows how to deal with what’s inside her. Lord Wianar’s best interests lie in turning the girl over to me.”
“Who do you serve?” Arvin asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.
“Sseth’s avatar,” Naneth answered. “In this incarnation, he is known as Sibyl.”
“Where is this Sibyl?” Arvin asked, hoping that Karrell was listening. “In Hlondeth?”
“Why?” Naneth asked—suspiciously enough that Arvin’s guess might have been on the mark.
“Lord Wianar will insist on dealing with her personally.”
“That won’t be necessary. Deliver the girl to me, and I’ll convey her to Sibyl.”
“Why should Lord Wianar trust you?” Arvin asked. “The hiding place you chose was compromised; be thankful that I found it before Foesmasher did. No, I think he will want to deal with Sibyl, in person.”
There was a long pause. “What is it Wianar wants?” Naneth asked.
“What do you mean?” Arvin asked.
The egg shook, making Arvin dizzy. “Don’t play with me,” Naneth spat. “Wianar wants something from Sibyl, in return for the girl. But he doesn’t realize the consequences of the delay he’s causing—or of angering Sibyl. Only a fool would dare to blackmail a god. And you are a greater fool, to serve him.”
“I may be a fool, but I know where Glisena is, and you don’t,” Arvin countered. “And unless you want to face the wrath of your god, you’ll have to do something other than threaten me. What can you offer, in return for Glisena?”
“I’m not so foolish as you think,” the midwife growled. “I held a playing piece back from Sibyl—one that will prove valuable, if Dediana survives. I’m willing to offer it in trade for the baron’s daughter. But I’m obviously wasting my time with you. I’ll talk to Lord Wianar myself.”
