jackal-among-snakes-16091326
chapter-72

“What is this? I’m on human soil not a day and already I have you groveling at my feet?” Rowe asked mockingly. All of Argrave’s party was crowded into his room, and the aged elf himself still sat at his bed, walking stick leaned up against his shoulder.

“I think it's warranted. All I need is for you to come with me to meet with these people, keep the peace.” Argrave spread his arms out. “You want me to help with your business here in Jast, I think you should return the favor first. Where I’m from, we call this a ‘transactional relationship.’”

“You owe help to me,” Rowe refuted. “Practically handed all the secrets of Veiden’s magic to you, and that warrants some gratitude. You think I’m a fool? Been around too long to be yanked about. This stick here is older than you,” Rowe tapped it thrice.

“We’ve established that it’s got a sword inside. It’s more a concealed weapon than a stick.” returned Argrave, which made Rowe frown once more. “And as far as I’m concerned, I don’t owe you anything. We had a trade. You did me no favors. When all is said and done, you and Veiden got more out of the deal than I did.”

“I’m not stupid, boy,” shot back Rowe.

Argrave shook his head in annoyance. “Yes, we’ve—”

“You’re playing both ends against the middle,” outlined the old S-rank spellcaster. “Extorting both sides—human and Veidimen—for your own needs. You used the books from Veiden to secure liberties in your mage order. Just because that ‘middle’ is Gerechtigkeit doesn’t change the fact that we’re being played.” Rowe pointed a bent, arthritis-deformed finger. “That’s why you owe me.”

Argrave said nothing for a time. He considered if Rowe was trying to get a confession out of him by presenting speculation as fact.

“Where’s your proof?” Argrave denied, trying to feel out if it was a bluff.

“You think Veiden wouldn’t pay attention to you after what happened on our soil?” Rowe questioned. “We have people keeping tabs on you. We’d notice, naturally, what you did.”

In the silence, Argrave heard Anneliese whisper something to Galamon, but he couldn’t distinguish what it was.

“Listen, the meeting is this morning,” Argrave said with some urgency. “There’s an A-rank mage there. He chose an unusual method to become an A-rank mage, and he has [Minor Truesight] consequently. He might notice either Galamon or me being out of the ordinary, cause problems. I’m happy to help you after, but I need this now.”

“I don’t see how this is my problem,” Rowe shook his head. “Offer me something or give it up.”

Argrave pushed his tongue against his cheek, brain working quickly. A grating, guttural voice drew him from his thoughts.

“Rowe. Do this for me as a favor,” Galamon asked.

Argrave turned his head back to Rowe, waiting to hear the response. The old elf looked perplexed. He scratched one of the liver spots on his bald head.

“A favor? Really?” Rowe repeated disbelievingly.

“Yes.” Galamon nodded.

“Fine,” Rowe grunted, standing from his bed. “I’ll call in that favor now. You have to answer that question I asked you all those decades ago before you were exiled. That one you refused to answer.”

The sound of Galamon’s teeth grating was audible, and Argrave took a step away, unpleasant memories surfacing. After a few seconds, Galamon slowly nodded.

“So it shall be.” After Galamon’s answer, Rowe looked pleased, and the elven vampire added, “But only once the task is finished.”

Argrave looked back to Anneliese and muttered, “That your idea, his interjection?”

She said nothing in response, merely smiling. Argrave nodded and gave her a thumbs up.