Jackal Among Snakes

Argrave and Anneliese both stared at the number that had come up on the die. The first winner of the lottery had been acceptable, but the second…

“…I didn’t think that…” Argrave babbled, searching for justification for his choice. “I mean, the people I put on the lottery were the ones that evoked a strong impression during our journey. I thought that the fruit would filter out the outliers.”

Anneliese looked at him. “Evidently not.”

Argrave stared at the inscribed number one. “What do I do? I mean, this can’t be right, can it?”

Anneliese chewed on her lower lip. “Reroll it,” she encouraged him.

“Reroll it?” He repeated incredulously. “That defeats the whole integrity of the lottery! How can anything be sacred if—”

“The whole reason you did this was to let the fruit choose, right?” Anneliese looked at him. “If that’s true, it’ll repeat the result.”

Argrave was hesitant to follow through with the reroll for the principle of the thing, but her words made sense. With his eyes closed, he dropped the die to the floor once more. After it settled, they looked at the number. Four. They shared a glance, and their faces hardened. Anneliese knelt down and picked up the die, then dropped it again.

One. Put four and one together, there’s forty-one—the same as last time.

“…good lord,” Argrave muttered, hand held up to his mouth. “I don’t know what to say.”

Anneliese looked at him pointedly. “Respect the fruit,” she repeated his earlier words. “Let it guide you.”

Argrave twisted the top of the pyramidal die, and it split open. He extracted the fruit from within, then looked around. “I, uhh… I think I’ll deliver the first one. I need to think about what I’m going to say to the second. I need to think about what I’m going to do.”

#####

Argrave knocked on the door, and a female’s voice answered, “Come in.”

He entered, looking upon where Elenore and Durran had their dinner. It seemed a rather soothing atmosphere, and both looked upon him as if he had disturbed something. He held the fruit behind his back as a world-bending surprise. Hopefully, it might be a pleasant dessert after their meal.

“I’m sorry to interrupt the two of you,” he said, looking between them. “Hopefully, the news that I bring will make you a little more able to suffer my presence.”

“Pull up a chair,” Elenore offered. “We were discussing the strange shenanigans you pulled today. That little box.” She shook her head. “I don’t think you intend to conscript me for the draft, so it must be something else. I think it’s a task of some kind—something unpleasant, but something that doesn’t require physicality.”

“I’m the optimist. I imagine it’s something nice,” Durran countered. “Honestly I agree with her, but I’m taking the opposing side because it’s more interesting.”

Fruit of Being. “I’d

stared at it, then her gaze turned to Argrave with eyes sharp enough to bore a hole through his head. “You’d better be joking, Argrave.

her, pointing at the fruit.

a four-sided die, fit it inside, and

eyes with her hand, pushing aside her dinner with her elbows as she leaned against the table. Durran simply started

we redid it, it chose the same numbers,” Argrave told them, adding conviction to his words. “Every roll, it came up with the same result. That means something. That means

the die was badly balanced. Or, it was simply random chance. And even if it did choose,

looked between them. “Look. Everyone was asking me to choose who to bestow a tremendous gift upon. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life questioning if I made the right or wrong

we’ve lost?” Elenore’s voice cracked. “Forget fair. The world isn’t

we can’t be,” he said softly as he met

hands on the table, her temper cooling somewhat. Durran placed his hand over

won? If you say Melanie…”

at the last moment. Maybe Elenore was right. Maybe this entire idea

held the fruit out to Durran. “You

his head with a grin on his face. “Oh, I get it. This is a test—it has to be. You’re checking if… hell, I don’t know. You’re checking if I’m willing to be selfless enough to

misappropriated; report

sound demented,” Argrave chuckled. “Why can’t

piece of good luck—your sister. The chances of getting luckier after that…

had vanished like morning dew now that she knew its recipient. Argrave assumed she had protested so vigorously because she suspected she had gotten it instead

not astronomically low, it’s 1/16 odds. Actually… 16/16. The fruit chose you, Durran.” Argrave held it out

was trying to pet a flighty bunny, then grasped the fruit gently. He weighed it in his hand, then

even notice a difference, but I

this on my bed, then. Yeah.” He made for the exit, and he started

“I

give it to the next…” he sighed. “Good lord… trust the fruit. Trust the fruit. Just trust the fruit,

#####

the building ahead of him. He looked to Anneliese

fruit chose,” she reminded him almost mockingly by this point. “You told me to let it guide us. And so it has

Anneliese giggled before

for prey. Their prey, however, was any mistake in the production process. Here, Artur, formerly a Magister of the Gray Owl, had carved this hall in the mountain of Blackgard, converting it into a workshop that elevated Blackgard into a bastion of wealth. Enchanted items left

the Gray Owl, there had been a huge vacuum. Artur had filled that vacuum alongside government subsidies. He was a capitalist through-and-through, born in the wrong era. Argrave had merely made it the

supervisors didn’t actually do any work, so it was strange. There wasn’t even someone waiting to greet him. Argrave knew where

stone platforms as seen in Order elevators carried everyone everywhere. Offices lined the two side walls in long rows, all of them reachable only by levitation. Argrave was about to transport himself to Artur’s office before

“I’ve made it distinctly clear we have quotas to meet. At this rate, you cannot meet them. If we can’t have things prepared before the research team is fully assembled, our Hall of Enchantment will be an embarrassment in front of all spellcasters of any esteem. The queen herself, Her Highness Anneliese, will be presiding over it. I’m paying you good money, aren’t I? Each and every one of you nitwits is earning ten times you ever did plying your trade in Dirracha or Jast. It stands to reason you should