Jackal Among Snakes

Corentin sat in a group of near eight others, in the same house that he had just had his discussion with Argrave. The other southron elves were grizzled, scarred warriors just as he was—obvious war veterans. They were in a loose circle, some standing, some sitting.

“So, just as Durran did, this new arrival claims to have met my daughter?” one asked, a man with a missing nose.

“Yeah,” Corentin nodded, looking out towards the door. “Same tale as Durran, too. Gebicca was crushed beneath rocks. Same accounts. Only difference…” Corentin turned his head back. “Argrave brought Brumesingers with him. Seems to have tamed them, too.”

The warriors all looked greatly intrigued by this. One, who leaned against Corentin’s wall, asked, “How?”

“I don’t know,” Corentin shook his head.

“You didn’t ask?” the man pressed.

“What am I, a damned interrogator? You ask him,” Corentin crossed his arms and shook his head.

“What good are you, old bastard?” the man with the missing nose asked.

“Least I can still smell things, Morvan,” Corentin returned with a laugh. “You go outside, that cavity you call a nose fills up with sand. What kind of desert warrior loses to sand?”

Some of the others joined the man in laughter.

“You one-eyed prick,” Morvan leaned forward, a smile on his face.

“Let’s stay serious,” another man interjected—though he seemed the oldest, he was the least scarred. All of the others heeded his words at once. “Save the banter for when we don’t have an unexpected visitor. This man, Argrave, claims to be working with the Lord of Copper. This deserves serious treatment.”

Corentin raised his hands. “Of course, Florimond.”

Florimond looked about. “What is he doing right now?”

Someone stalked to the door of Corentin’s house. “Looks like… he’s letting the Brumesingers play with the children.”

That brief little description immediately made everyone stir.

“Either he’s not a bad guy, or he’s damned good at tugging the heartstrings,” Morvan shook his head.

“This is someone working for the Vessels,” another warrior posited. “With the intent to betray them, too. Maybe he’s a paragon. Maybe he’s a good actor.”

That sobered some of the warriors up, and their smiles faded somewhat.

“But what he’s saying—that the southern tribals are going to attack with the help of the Lord of Copper—it does match with what Durran told us. Everything matches,” Corentin ceded.

“Did you tell him anything about Durran? About the proposition the man’s made to us?” Florimond questioned.

“You think I’m stupid?” Corentin put a hand to his chest. “I kept my mouth shut, tried to let him say his piece.” Corentin lowered his hand.

“And that warrior with him?”

Corentin nodded. “Looked… I don’t know. Probably the type of guy I’d avoid on the

from anything, craven moron,” Morvan

before that damned giant and tell me how brave you are,” Corentin gestured towards the no-nosed elf. “His hand’s bigger than your head. Maybe that’s

Morvan sunk back into his chair, shaking his head

going to say to this guy?” Florimond looked around. “Do we tell him

would we?” Corentin crossed

to gain from that. I do think we need to hear more from him—ask questions, work

this ‘grand plan’ of his,” Morvan raised his hand. “Doesn’t matter if he can manipulate the Lord of Copper if he’s a drooling imbecile. If he’s stupid, we

should regardless. But…” Corentin began. “Didn’t want to say this, because it’s just conjecture on my end. I brought this,” he pulled out the black cube with glowing purple runes

might have told him,”

those,” Morvan disagreed. “Smart girl, but… too young,” he shook his head, then lowered his gaze to the

the man’s loss. Someone patted him on the shoulder, but

the silence, shaking his head. “Keep talking, you

chuckled. Florimond heeded Morvan’s advice, continuing, “So—we ask him questions, try to get a clearer picture of things—everyone

the entire room

#####

travel strangely in this place. I can hear nothing,”

Argrave explained. “They help with privacy. Don’t worry

Brumesingers dashed about the open area like little balls of lightning, the southron elven children watching them and playing with

you like children?”

“No,” said Argrave immediately.

looked down. “You

“I don’t want to deal with other people’s

“Sons, daughters?” he pressed.

his head. “Wrong time to even consider considering

the mind wanders,”

crossed his legs.

ready, either,” he

looked up at him. He bit his lip, considering a question. Before he could ask it, he spotted a decent crowd moving

age, injuries… these men are

they skilled?” Argrave questioned,

a man’s skill by sight alone. None can,” Galamon shook his head. “But

told Galamon. “Frighteningly

eye on

Argrave could not bring himself to pity any of them. They seemed too proud to be pitied. Some were missing

or simply tired of playing with the southron elf children, rushed across the

Brumesingers, who kept their golden eyes on the southron elf suspiciously. “…they

Morvan. “You must be Gebicca’s father,” he stepped forward, swallowing. “I’m sorry to be

know,” Morvan held up his hand. He was missing a pinky.

process his grief since Corentin had informed him… but

He’s known for a while

but nothing came, and the only thing Argrave could conjure was that Morvan had been informed a long time ago. The southron elf locked himself away for a week in ‘Heroes of Berendar.’ Considering