Jackal Among Snakes

Argrave judged Traugott with cold, calculating eyes, the two of them standing atop opposite roofs with the city square between them. Though they’d not had time sufficient to interrogate Orion as to the source of the humanoid monster lying dead between them, no one else could reasonably be responsible for bringing the Shadowlander to this city. That he helped put an end to it after it’d killed hundreds of Sumner’s men and devastated both the city and the palace only stoked his rage.

But he’s got no magic left, and all my men are around him. I don’t know what effect Ebonice will have on his little shadow, but… Argrave’s eyes jumped around, searching for a way to neutralize this man. He didn’t trust him. When the Magister reached into his pocket and pulled something out, Argrave watched cautiously even as people below cheered for their victory over the Shadowlander.

Traugott folded a piece of paper into a plane, then gingerly cast it forward. It glided perfectly towards them. Argrave was skeptical to the point where he considered conjuring a ward to block it, but Anneliese grabbed his arm.

“It’s harmless,” she assured him quietly, then caught it out of the air.

In that second of distraction, Traugott vanished. Even as Anneliese unfolded the paper, Argrave jerked his head about in paranoia. “This guy…” he muttered beneath his breath.

“Your Majesty!” a voice called out, and Argrave looked down to lock eyes with Sumner. “Elenore has told me about some rats trying to escape from the palace. With your leave, I would catch them,” he promised.

“Rats?” Argrave repeated, kneeling down. “Those loyalists, I imagine. Did she mention anything else? Have they succeeded in their activity?”

“She mentioned nothing of it,” Sumner shook his head.

“Alright. Time is of the essence. Hurry,” he nodded, then rose to look to Anneliese. “What’s on it?” he questioned her, looking at the paper fearfully.

“It is…” Anneliese trailed off, confusion causing her to err. “He wrote an apology.”

Argrave frowned at once. “You’re serious?”

Anneliese handed it to him in way of explaining it, and he took it after hesitating a beat. As her eyes scanned the city, she said, “We have much to do. I saw Galamon on the way down. He might need assistance. And Elenore…”

Just as Anneliese said, it was an apology. In it, Traugott claimed responsibility for what he did, expressed willingness to make amends, and further hoped that he and Argrave could talk about the information he

as he read, Argrave crumpled the paper in his tight grip. “Total

behind his actions. What exactly did Traugott want? How much was he responsible for? And squirming in the back of his head, Argrave considered that all of this might be his

day is young, and there is much

right,” he nodded. “But this can’t go on. Once things have settled down here… I don’t know. I’ll put out a bounty, spread word, enlist Castro’s aid…” Argrave turned his head, where he witnessed a soldier kneeling before

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through the streets of Dirracha, escorted by some guards of her own capable of casting magic. The city felt such a foreign place in her eyes now, even after her experience with the ancient snake Vasquer. It had been so long since she saw it with

roofs or crashed into the cliffs of the mountain. The latter was more dangerous as the debris dislodged other rocks, provoking chain reactions that took dozens of lives in minor landslides. Some buildings were entirely

the Shadowlander was the pertinent matter, and she would sooner focus all efforts to that front for an assured victory than restrain two decidedly less dangerous people while endangering the other front. And besides… the loyalist incursion had turned out rather

sun with four snake heads as rays. Argrave had enchanted it with B-rank wards and distributed it to key military members. This one was Durran’s, but he had given his to her after he returned from his expedition to break the stalemate in Atrus. She thought that was stupid of him—even with this

the ring to prepare for whatever would come. As she walked around the rest of the way, she saw a body. Easily seven feet tall, broad frame, emaciated, missing hands… it was Felipe, no doubt. His long gray hair drifted with the light winds,

laid eyes on her father, dead. Her already-pained head danced wildly, and she held her hand to the wall to ensure she didn’t pass out then and there. She had seen it all from her connection

Felipe, he breathed. She watched him with her gray eyes gleaming with caution. After a few moments,

there?” Levin

She looked to her escort, then back to Levin. He remained still.

he concluded. His voice was weak,

looked like a flying squirrel with a vengeance. It

still remaining eerily still. “No… I…

her foot atop his fingers, trying to make sure he could

father… is he dead?”

weight on her foot, but Levin

a wild satisfaction, then