Jackal Among Snakes

Durran stepped into a hovel on the edge of Sethia, leaning against his glaive. Once he passed the barrier, he shut the rickety wooden door behind him. He stood there, breathing heavily, almost as though wounded.

“Did you—” a man’s voice called out, and then the sound of plate boots against wood sounded out as someone moved up to Durran. “What’s the matter? You’re pale. What happened?” the man insisted. He wore a helmet depicting a boar, though most of him was covered by heavy plate armor.

Durran said nothing, merely waving the concerned knight away. “My brain’s on… fire,” he said, shaking his head. “Need to sit.”

He pushed into the room, eventually leaning against the wall. He slid down, sitting. Though the knight stood over him, concerned, Durran’s mind was lost in introspection.

How could he know? My uncle, I’ve never told anyone—not my father, not any of my friends, not anyone. No one knows. No one knows, I’m sure of it. But he does. I’m glad my uncle’s dead—I’m proud I killed him. But no one should know!

Durran could still recall those gray eyes, cold and dead as stone, staring him down. There was a heartless fury in Argrave’s eyes as he rattled off Durran’s deepest secrets one by one. His words had enough accuracy it was as though Durran himself was spilling his secrets. It was a summary of his essential qualities, all from a man he’d never met before.

“What’s wrong with you?” Boarmask insisted, kneeling before Durran. “Is someone in danger? Is the operation… if so, we’ve no time to waste.”

“In your land… can any know your thoughts? Can any see your memories? With magic, faith, I don’t give a damn, can they?” Durran lifted his head, breathing brought under control.

Boarmask said nothing. “I’ve never seen you like this.”

“Way to answer the question,” Durran growled.

“No, no one can explore your mind,” said Boarmask. “If they can, I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“No tales, no myths?” Durran queried hopefully.

“…that’s the realm of the gods, not mere mortals,” Boarmask shook his head.

Durran lowered his head against the wall. “You have no idea how little comfort that brings me.”

Boarmask grabbed the man’s robes, shaking him. “What happened?”

“He knew you,” Durran free himself of the knight’s grip easily. “And he knew me—way too damned well. Uncomfortably well. Things I’ve never shared with anyone, he knew them like he did them.”

Boarmask stayed kneeling for a moment, and then he sat down. “He knew me?”

“Your name, epithet, whatever. He knew you were at the raid. Not so hard to guess your name, ‘Boarmask.’” Durran settled against the wall, getting comfortable. “Real genius name. Definitely not something a child would conjure.”

“…my old title was much worse,” Boarmask shook his head. “He knew me…? What did he look like?”

“Extremely, uncomfortably tall—could touch the ceiling with his head, that kind of tall. Midnight black hair. His companions were elven. The northern elves. Snow elves, I think you people call them. There was a female with him—one more elf than the southron elves said,” Durran rattled off quickly and idly.

Boarmask looked at Durran intensely. “What color were his eyes?”

“Gray,” Durran said immediately.

Boarmask raised a hand to his

thin, yeah,” he confirmed nervously. “Why? Why are you

of Vasquer, Felipe III, has a son named Argrave.

confused. “Is he not a real human? Some kind of freak, half-ghost

of

his head. “All children are ‘legitimate.’ Whatever—I

continued, “The king’s son matches your description. And he has the

silence for a second, digesting that, then questioned, “What does that do

Boarmask shook his head. “I don’t know much about him. He allegedly halted an invasion from the snow elves. I don’t know the truth of

different language right now. These things mean

head. I’ll think on it. All you need to know—he’s the son of one of

we need to talk with Titus,” Durran said. “And I’m pretty

“Titus told us—”

contact him except in dire cases,” Durran

posited, “Titus may not be entirely forthright, then. He might be our primary deceiver. How well do you

for certain. Titus won’t rest until each and every Vessel is dead or dying. Now I’m thinking that he might

#####

he was worried the man might do something foolish, he hoped that their conversation had

half-relaxing at this point, glad to be returned

in our room,” he informed Argrave, staring at the wall which hid the room

only idly cleaning her tableware after serving a meal to the others.

only other person in the room. The

just before a table.

incredulously. “What

worse for wear than when they had left. As ever, the well-built former southern tribal wore an extravagant set of red and gold clothing. He gripped the edge of a chair, staring at the three

was not expecting

matter of the people in their room still weighing at his mind. That the two were here

“And you work for Mistress Tatia. Why

greeted her.

answer her question,” Argrave interrupted, feeling

shifted, adjusting his grip on the chair. He pulled back the chair and sat. “I

to sit. “You’ve found

the three of them. “Have

up at the place we’re staying, for starters,” Argrave spoke. “The odd time of your arrival. Let’s skip the preambles, shall we? Why are

his fingers against the wood. Eventually, he lifted his golden eyes to Argrave and said, “Mistress Crislia, the Lord of Gold, would like to speak to you.

a lot of people that he didn’t really want to be involved with, and now

you worked for Mistress Tatia,” Argrave

held Argrave’s gaze.

we asked, and you nodded,”

recall ever…” Titus