Jackal Among Snakes

Elenore saw nothing at all, as she ever did.

Yet she could hear them. Multiple strangers, emerging from one of the secret passages she had installed to facilitate her agent’s activities. It felt like her sanctuary had been violated—not the greenhouse, but her existence as the Bat. Though she always felt disconcerted by Argrave’s unpredictable activities, she was confident it would be a long, long time before she ever spoke to him face-to-face, if at all.

Elenore did not know why he had come here. Perhaps Induen had told him something. All of her servants would be away for a long while. She might call for help, yet none would hear her most likely—even if they did, it would only seal her fate. But then… if Argrave intended to kill her, that would already be done.

Still, she knew she could not wait passively.

“My servants will be by soon,” she lied at once. “If you wish to speak, you might take me to a more private location.”

“That seems—” Argrave began, and Elenore thought he was agreeing. She heard something—a scrape of leather, what she presumed to be a boot tapped against a boot, and Argrave grew quiet. “No, let’s stay here. I’ll take my chances,” he said, leaving no room for argument.

Someone here knows I lie, and they told him. A traitor? Elenore thought of all near her, listening to the way they breathed, walked, for any hint it might be someone close to her. If it is a traitor, it is no wonder this is so well-timed.

Someone moved a little closer, and Elenore resisted the urge to tense. Argrave continued, “Well, I think introductions are in order. I’m here with Galamon. He’s a snow elf. There’s Durran—he’s a tribal from the south, the Burnt Desert. And then there’s Anneliese, my fiancée. Maybe you knew all this, but…”

What he said matched with what Elenore knew, but she couldn’t place why he was saying this. Maybe he was lying to disguise who was truly here… but his tone didn’t betray dishonesty. But then, all her reports placed him as someone who was skilled at manipulation. She couldn’t say for sure.

All of the people that Argrave introduced greeted her—a deep, guttural voice from a man, a calm and smooth woman’s voice, and a somewhat deep voice from another man. She didn’t recognize any of them.

“May I sit?” Argrave asked.

Elenore stayed silent for a few moments, then decided to probe his temperament with a minutely combative statement. “Would it matter if I said no?”

“Well, I would have to stay standing. My legs might get tired,” Argrave returned. “I suppose that isn’t the end of the world.”

His levity frustrated Elenore. She couldn’t glean any of his intentions. But… given all of his actions, she could assume that he wasn’t here for a wholly negative purpose, such as vengeance for spurring conflict between him and Induen.

“You may sit,” Elenore agreed, seeing no merit to refusing.

then the brief movement of the wind as Argrave moved to sit. “Thank you,” he

to Argrave’s direction. It was not the thing she was most eager to know—she wished to learn of how he’d found that entrance, primarily—but it was the question she thought would

she thought. Eventually, he said, “I brought a gift for you. Galamon, could you please…?” She

jingling, Elenore’s discomfort rose.

meant to say, Elenore knew. “Well, it’s jewelry. Experimental enchanted jewelry. I… well, I can’t fully describe what it does. This piece… thanks, Galamon…” she heard the light clinking of metal as something

toying with her? Was it some

she requested after an uncertain moment.

and then something

held it close, moving her fingers across it. It was a segmented ring that did indeed cover the whole finger, with a point at the end. From the feel and hardness of it, she judged it to be bronze as he said. It had some carvings on the side. She could feel no gemstones. Its insides had no spikes. Whether or not it was

the ring

Pale beige. Her hand.

a sense of the space around her far enhanced beyond what it usually was. She lowered her hand ever so slowly.

painted bright pink.

could grasp it completely. She could perceive the pink like she truly saw it. It was like some sixth sense that was, in a way,

okay?” Argrave asked. “Maybe you ought to take

still, this sensation pulled at her. It was like a drop

a book. On the table, over there. My maid was

move. Now, she was more aware of him—she had an image of someone leaning forth, stretching their arm out. “Here it is,” he narrated,

a random page. Slowly, tentatively, like everything would blow away if she moved too fast, she pressed

the burden of collecting taxes to agencies. These agencies had tremendous influence in the past, often abusing the power vested in them by the lord to extort subjects out of things not ordinarily taxed, cows being the

again. She could see the letters, comprehend them, process them, all on her own. No longer did she have to rely on another for everything. Her world was no longer one consisting of trusting another. She felt a strong pull at her throat. It had been such a long time since she felt this feeling… parts of it were missing, of course. The tears were the most recognizable part of crying, and she could not spill

Gifts often costed more than gold. She could not allow herself to be overcome, not ever. She could not let anyone see her emote. Being overcome was the reason she had become as she was. It was the reason this ring

ensuring her voice would come out clearly. She acted as though

this to me?”

couldn’t tell what. Almost by instinct, she moved her hand closer, and the perception became clearer. He scratched his chin. “That’s only one piece of a set. The rest of it will augment what you’re feeling now tremendously. Durran, could you

don’t?” Despite his protests, the man quickly placed some things

herself. She was rattled. She

man laughed. “Huh. Guess the ring does work. Strange

polite, Durran,” Argrave