Jackal Among Snakes

Anneliese followed the man who called himself Pawn, descending into the sterile obsidian fortress belonging to the Alchemist. She thought for half a second that Argrave had been returning when this Pawn emerged from the home, but only a second’s scrutiny broke that illusion. She didn’t enjoy whatever game this thing was. It had emotions, true enough, but it could not be human given its resemblance to Argrave. It had to have been made.

When this seemingly endless stairway finally ended, Pawn stepped aside and held his arms out. “Welcome. This is my home. Plus my extended family. I live in that box up there.”

Anneliese looked past him and his ramblings, searching for Argrave. She saw the Alchemist, and she saw Argrave. He was sitting on a chair, his clothes folded neatly at his feet… and his skull was split open.

“You’re here!” Argrave called out.

“Quiet,” the Alchemist reprimanded, a familiar and sleek scalpel moving through his fingers.

Anneliese stepped closer in worried frenzy, coming upon Argrave. She looked upon him. He was smiling broadly like he’d discovered some secret. She feared for his health, but he showed no pain, no aversion… instead, the Alchemist peered inside his skull with eyes on his fingers, examining every nook and cranny of Argrave’s brain and skull.

After what was a brief yet insufferable time, the Alchemist closed shut his skull, leaving not a single wound. The hulking monstrosity said, “Lay on your back. You may talk. Better you than I.”

With that, the Alchemist enclosed his ears in a ward. Argrave obediently laid down on his back, staring up at Anneliese.

“First off—no danger. You look a little nauseous, so let’s get that out of the way,” Argrave assured her, holding up his hand. She held it with both hers. “As a matter of fact… I got the Alchemist to swear never to do us harm, so long as we never wittingly steal from or assault him or his various Pawns strewn throughout the world.”

“But what is he doing—what are you doing? This is far removed from our discussions,” she insisted, kneeling beside him.

“I decided to stop running from a question. That question being why I’m here on Berendar, what my purpose in arriving here is. I was too scared, and maybe too proudto confront it. But given all the things I’ve been through, and after some advice from Castro… I think I’m ready to tackle this question. And I cannot think of anyone better to do so than the Alchemist.” He squeezed her hand. “I have no idea where this will take us. But whatever the case, I’m resolved to get some answers. Whether that I’m insane, or a simple lead… this has to tell us more.”

by piece… skin, muscle, bone, and then organ. Each part of him was taken out, scrutinized meticulously, measured, observed… and then placed back.

asked, trying her best to focus only on his face

if I got Ingo’s blessing as he wanted, it wouldn’t change anything. Millions of others before me have gone through this—gods, even! —and still the cycle of judgment persists. But there is something unique about me,

to release her grip. She continued to stare as she said, “…and what if there

burden. Talking with you about Earth has helped more

sighed. “You do not need to express it. I know it. I

This is why we work.” Argrave smiled, and when his arm was reconstructed held it back out for her to

simply that,” she chided him, but took his hand in hers once more. She almost feared to touch him, but his hand felt as firm

to see what he can learn of my situation. We can

the mirror?”

come in time. He is rather thorough, isn’t he?” Argrave marveled, looking upon the Alchemist as he worked. “For now, let’s sit and talk.

#####

worked. Anneliese had to give him credit—this creature was very clearly the best imaginable person to do this. The way that he went about things possessed a certain detached logic to it that worked to codify every little bit of Argrave. She was uneased as the Alchemist wrote—the idea of her husband being so totally documented

after another. Various people climbed down out of their compartments—chimeras, Argrave explained, one and all named Pawn. Larger compartments went unopened, for they

to aid in him is writing, growing ever more feverish in his study by the second. Finally, like a hive come alive, all of the Pawns collected the vast sprawling paper, organizing them into piles and binding them into white-backed books. In no more than a few hours, there was an eleven-volume series about

one at a time. She had seen him read many books at once before, but this was different. It was the abstract side of the cold

of unease… the Alchemist set all of the books aside,

cheekily—Anneliese could tell he

came from somewhere else.” The Alchemist held out

taking the mirror back as he rose to his feet.