jackal-among-snakes-16091326
chapter-109

Argrave shut the door to their room, taking a breath before turning around. The rolled-up piece of paper that had been delivered to them sat in the center of a table, each of them hovering about it as though it was something dangerous that needed to be watched.

After glancing between his two companions, who remained silent, he stepped up to the paper. He removed the purple sash, unrolling the paper gingerly with his gloves. He read through it.

“Huh.” He lowered it. “It really is just an invitation. Thought there’d be more, maybe. Secret message, a death threat, something…”

“Do you know the sender?” Anneliese asked.

“Sure,” Argrave nodded. He placed one hand to his chin as he recounted, “This Mistress Tatia is a mage, relatively stable and pacific, yet quite… detached and inhuman.” Argrave looked up and added, “Just like most of the Vessels, come to think of it.”

“And her rank?” Anneliese pressed further.

“Not applicable,” Argrave shook his head. “Their source of power isn’t magic. They’re associated with Fellhorn. ‘Vessel’ isn’t a metaphor—they’re conduits for Fellhorn’s aspects. They’re capable of taking and expunging waters in oceanic proportions, and with far more freedom than most magic offers. Each Vessel is an oasis in and of themselves, each with variable capacities.”

“Then perhaps mage is not the best term,” Anneliese posited.

Galamon held out a hand. “All that matters—we can refuse this without consequence?”

“I mean… reasonably, yes,” Argrave said, holding his hands out. “But we wouldn’t earn any friends. If I learned anything from Jast, having Elaine as an ally was helpful in ways I hadn’t even predicted. And with the sandstorm, traveling is impossible anyway.”

Galamon crossed his arms, looking completely neutral at the prospect. Anneliese, though, shook her head.

“Provided there are no ulterior motives, no other forces at work…” Anneliese looked to Argrave, who confirmed this with a relatively confident nod. “If there are no others involved, we were clearly invited as a spectacle—a passing amusement, just as we were for most of the people in this… Delphasium.”

“Is that really problematic?” Argrave questioned. “I can trust that they won’t force us to do anything: Mistress Tatia won’t do anything to threaten her peace. A few laughs, a few jeers… and it isn’t as though we can’t embarrass them in turn.”

Anneliese crossed her arms. “I know what I saw. And those that this Mistress Tatia thinks less of are sitting outside the walls, no food or drink.”

Argrave nodded. “I see your point. But… harsh as it is to say, those people refuse to bend… and so they break.” Argrave held his hands out as though it were a pity and shook his head. “I’m willing to be flexible to get what I need—I’ll work in the system instead of struggling to exist without it. So, unless either of you two disagree, I think we have no reason to refuse.”

Both stood around, considering his words without making any final decisions.

“Come now,” Argrave encouraged. “We have little else to do besides wait out the storm, reading books. We’ll have plenty of that to do in the times leading up to the feast, and plenty more to do after.”

“Okay,” Anneliese nodded, and Galamon soon joined her in the gesture.

“Then it’s settled. Let’s—"

“And what of me?” Garm asked. “You don’t intend to bring me with, I hope.”

Argrave looked down at him. “That’s a good point.”

“You’d forgotten about me,” Garm accused.

“No,” Argrave insisted, lying. “I just think that you would be best suited to staying here, watching over our things.”

Garm closed his eyes. “I… could you make it so I can see outside, at least?” he looked up at Argrave. “I do not wish to endure the monotony of staring at a wall, or a cloth blanket, for hours unending. Let me see people.”

He seemed pitiable in that moment, and so Argrave nodded.