Jackal Among Snakes

A knock came at the door to the guest house, and Galamon stepped away to answer it. Once he did, Vasilisa stood on the other side. She looked about the room and then declared, “I won’t act unless I’m confident in what you plan to do.”

Argrave had been reviewing some of his writing in his notebook about Llewellen’s lecture on the dwarven musical cube. He closed the book, rose to his feet, and stated, “That was rather prompt. Not as though that’s a bad thing, of course. I don’t think confidence in my plan is going to be a problem, unless you’re someone who is unusually timid. I made it this far.”

The blonde Magister shook her head. “I don’t get your optimism, Silvaden. I do hope it’s worth more than just words. They’re all you’ve given me thus far—promises that Ivan stole the flame, promises that we can take it back, promises that we can beat the Magister in his own territory…” Vasilisa trailed off as she spotted Argrave putting a backpack over his shoulder. “Are you… already packed?”

Argrave nodded. “Well, I was rather optimistic about your answer. And would you look at that? I was right.” He smiled broadly. “I think you can take that as a sign of what’s to come.”

#####

They traversed back over the mountains outside Quadreign on foot. It was a harsh journey and the steep climb brought Argrave close to exhaustion. By this point, it was obvious Vasilisa had some regard for their abilities, for she did not slow her pace at all for any reason. Her regard was warranted, though, for they kept pace all of the way.

Beyond a certain point, the road levelled out. There was a small village they passed by that had a stables—though they briefly contemplated buying horses, none of the ones they had were large enough to accommodate the sheer size of either Galamon or Argrave.

And so, with nothing but determination, they travelled the roads south. Eventually, the North Sea entered into sight once again. There was a settlement in view—not Prenviania, where they had initially docked. No, instead this was a low-lying island just off the coast, a grand tower rising up out of the center of it. Even from a distance, one could see the abundant farmland and the well-constructed homes. It was clearly a place of the wealthy.

“That island… it’s called First Hope. Ivan makes his home in that tower,” Vasilisa pointed. “It was constructed in the same manner as the Tower of the Gray Owl by the Order after their organization was permitted access to these lands. Well… you probably haven’t seen that, being from Veiden,” she considered. “Needless to say, each and every stone is enchanted. The building was meant to withstand earthquakes, storms, magical assaults all.

“The coast,” she continued. “It’s lined with settlements, each quite wealthy individually. Fishing and trading make them their living. Right there… that’s Whiteden. They collect pearls there,” she outlined. “Of late, a great deal of spellcasters have made their home on the coast and on the island. This place is secluded enough to allow them to commit to their research and close enough to a center of Order activity to make it ideal for other magically oriented activities.” Her eyes wandered. “I can think of half a dozen High Wizards that make their home here. No other place is particularly conducive to the Order.”

Argrave could see why. The coast was quite the beautiful place to live. The North Sea, at least in this area, was rather bright blue and beautiful. The pine trees were not so dense as they were elsewhere, but their snow-covered needles still made an interesting sight. In the far distance, there was a view of ridiculous scale. They were grand towers of wood, so high that it baffled the mind. It seemed a land made for giants placed in a land made for humans.

“Are those… trees?” Anneliese questioned. “There, in the distance. They… make the tower look stunted. They must be hundreds of feet tall.”

Vasilisa followed his gaze, then nodded. “Indeed. You see redwood trees. Most call that forest the Bloodwoods. Those lands… they don’t belong to Vasquer. They belong to the centaurs and the elves. They were the only peoples able to repel King Felipe III in his conquests. People that wander there seldom return. It’s said that giants and worse still roam those woods. Most learned long ago not to test that theory.”

“We stray from the subject,” Galamon reminded them.

“Vulras is right,” Vasilisa agreed. “The point is this: this prosperous territory you see before you? There’s much more of it inland, and all of it belongs to Margrave Ivan. Those castles in the mountains…” she pointed them out. “Lords of the local villages, and all sworn to Ivan. Say what you will of loyalty, but know this: contentment beats it out at most every point. Wealthy and happy… what chance do we have of prompting people to break the peace even if the truth should come out?”

“First Hope…” Argrave said the island’s name. “Does it bar our kind entry?”

“I don’t… I think not. I’d never considered it,” the Magister admitted.

“Only one way to find out, isn’t there?” Argrave said, stepping forth.

I… I mean, if I come with, Magister Ivan might… every time I

“Tell you what… let’s see if we

narrowed, and she said darkly, “Speak

know it might disgust you to feign ignorance of what he’s done to you and your

and then you soften the blow with sweeter words. Well… fine,” she conceded. “I guess we haven’t even established that Ivan has our flame. Once again, we’ve only

at it, that works for me,” Argrave nodded. “So long as you

#####

them besides Vasilisa. Argrave rather enjoyed being one nameless face amidst many. Everyone stared at him because the three of them were tall, but none stared at him because he was king, and that was a welcome reprieve. As Vasilisa predicted, the

entry from the city. They walked by the farmland on the outer portions of the island, heading towards the denser urban area near Ivan’s tower. Once there, Vasilisa led them

settled their things in a local inn, Galamon

repeated, perplexed. “What’s this

it’s on a ship in the North Sea,” Galamon told him. “And I think it comes here, to this

us. That could also be terribly

bowl… drinking my blood from it…” Galamon left a

at Galamon, Argrave could tell it made him uncomfortable. Galamon hated his vampiric beast, and loathed being better connected to it—the bowl did precisely

it looks like,” Argrave patted his arm. “If he’s coming here… you can lay off. Anneliese and

Galamon nodded.

he was

Anneliese asked quickly. “I mean… not to be condescending,

considered her point. “I made all of Veiden believe I was an agent of Erlebnis. What’s the

point,” she conceded, releasing

north with that booklet I wrote for Castro, I can think of a few places he might visit. I’m not sure of his intentions… and I’d like to

#####

his companions went downstairs. Vasilisa waited for them there, already with drink in hand. He was starting to realize the

has agreed to having you three come along to our meeting,” Vasilisa said before Argrave even came to stand beside her. “I arranged a conversation under the pretext of a conversation of the debt Quadreign owes. I mentioned you three, and his messenger

asked, making it

her head. “That’s why I

course,” Argrave said accommodatingly, tapping his fingers against the table to vent his desire to

finish my drink,” she looked at him with cold eyes, as though

at his lips, choosing his words carefully. “Aren’t you… don’t you have a loose

cup,”

took a deep breath, feeling

#####

Argrave’s feet growing colder the more brew Vasilisa downed, they did eventually depart from the inn and head for the tower. Unlike most of the other places associated with the Order, this place was a private residence, meaning it did not have the same restrictions that barred non-members from