Jackal Among Snakes

Mial, High Priestess of the Ebon Cult, stepped away from her position beside the other four top people at the Ebon Cult and went to kneel beside her father’s palanquin. She pulled back the curtain on the side, out of view from their front-facing position, and then listened to orders relayed—orders that reached no one’s ears beside Mial, not even Orion’s or the Alchemist’s.

As they talked, Argrave looked around at the horde of purple-masked people around them. He spotted elven ears, dwarven physiques… even some of the more reclusive races persisted in their number—southron elves or the subterranean humans, for instance. The majority of them were combatants.

Elenore’s voice entered his mind, telling him, “Anneliese says that there are users of shamanic magic in the crowd. Mozzahr himself seems to have the most spirits, however.”

Argrave gave a curt reply, too on-edge to engage further. Finally, Mial looked at them, clearing her throat to indicate her intent to speak.

“The Castellan asks if you have ever wondered what occurs in the event Gerechtigkeit succeeds,” Mial said, her voice ringing out with a clear echo in this vast cavern.

Argrave narrowed his eyes. Mozzahr had spoken through another like this in the past, but that had been because he was injured. His injury was obvious in Heroes of Berendar, visible even in the silhouette behind the curtain. Argrave could see no such injury. Mozzahr had not fought Sataistador, and consequently sustained no injuries. In simple terms there was no good reason for him to speak via proxy. No reason except haughtiness.

Argrave looked at Durran and briefly questioned speaking through him just as Mozzahr did his daughter, but thought it might be tedious and abandoned the idea at once. Besides, rising to provocation would close off their options.

“Well, I imagine the cycle of judgment ends. And I came here to discuss that ending, if on a different possible manner than seeing it through to completion,” Argrave opened diplomatically.

“Gerechtigkeit is described as two things; as a man, and as a calamity. But there is truth in both,” Mial carried on as though Argrave had not even spoken. “He is an intelligent being, capable of reason. And just as Mozzahr commands the Emptiness, Gerechtigkeit commands his calamity. It is formless malignance, capable of adapting to whatever its owner needs to fill his purpose.”

“You speak from ignorance.” The Alchemist stepped forward, his footfalls heavy enough to shake the square. “There is no reason in Gerechtigkeit.”

“Then how, pray tell, did he know to corrupt Argrave’s father? How have his methods continued to adapt, and to grow, if he cannot reason?” Mial flattened out a crease on her robes as she kneeled there.

“The contention is that he cannot be reasoned with,” Anneliese smoothly interjected. “And that is indisputable.”

“Fair enough. Let us not get lost in semantics.” Mial raised her hands in surrender.

Argrave thought she was going to speak again, and so quickly interjected, “Speaking of my father and his corruption—that was the reason Georgina was trying to kidnap him, right?” He raised his finger and pointed. “Well, we started the job that you wanted. And finished it, too. And I think that’s because we’re on the same path. Namely, you’re not content to let this cycle go another cycle.”

Mial consulted with her father once more.

But Felipe died—Georgina was certain of

after death,” the Alchemist cut in. “And it decays what it touches rapidly, doubly so by resistance by the

you’ve been doing independent research. And it benefits us

didn’t trust Mozzahr overmuch, but he did trust the man’s capabilities. If he had learned something, getting him to disclose that information could be invaluable later down the line. But his—and the Alchemist’s, to

more difficult

busy, it seemed, if

first one is certain: upon his defeat in

pigs are fed,” Argrave interrupted, knowing the quote well. “I know

so accurate as words heard around the world… but they speak of his claims about ‘time and other thieves.’ The third is only one word—a name, truly. Sandelabara, or by some accounts, Candelabara

add to that. But lore, all of that—that isn’t what I need. We have fundamental information—we have a complete analysis

his hand

where

of information, if genuine, would be an invaluable

pushed calmly, keeping

foremost among which is pinpointing the location of his descent,” Mial disclosed hesitantly, casting glances at her father to be sure she did not err by telling so much. “This is why heading to the surface is a non-negotiable issue—something you seem to be

about to apologize for caution, but he elected to sidestep that

might’ve disclosed that publicly enough for these people to know. As it did, she continued, “Specifically, in a

this fact—Elenore, Anneliese, and the Alchemist. None would’ve leaked it. This information was their own—and even scarier yet, it was usable. That meant this little parley had larger stakes than

arms out. “We both can benefit from this. Our knowledge becomes

the secular purpose behind this meeting. We brought up Gerechtigkeit not to exchange information, but to illustrate a point. Mozzahr, the Castellan of the Empty and Leader of the Ebon Cult, is Gerechtigkeit’s better in every fashion. It is the will of the universe—and even more importantly, our Castellan’s will himself—that

pointed a finger, saying quickly,

then you will aid Mozzahr at your own free will. You and all of yours will be welcomed. They will not be harmed or face any imposition so long as they accept the Castellan of

spiraling above, but it stayed still even despite Mial’s coercion. Though things were tense, until that

that bind. But even still, they’d have to permit the Ebon Cult to come to the surface,