Sorcerer's Shadow

"Alright," I concurred. "It is inconsequential to me, anyway." I had crossed paths with Verill, or more accurately, his ghost, in the Paths of the Dead. Our meeting was marred by mutual dislike, which extended to Drevolan because he was in my company—a testament to how well Verill and I got along.

I continued, "I presume it isn't empathy you're seeking with this invitation."

"You're correct," he confirmed.

"Well?" I urged.

Turning his head to one side, he gave me a curious glance. "What is it you gifted me, Viktor?"

I burst into laughter. "Is that it? Is that what this is all about?"

"Actually, no. I'm simply curious," he replied.

"Oh. Well, stay curious." In truth, I had infused him with the blood of a goddess for reasons too complex to delve into at the moment, and at that time, I was too incapacitated to explain anything.

"As you wish. Verill, as I mentioned, passed away. In examining his belongings—"

"What? Already? He hasn't even been brought to Necro-gate yet."

"And—?"

"Well, that seems rather swift for you long-living folks."

"There are reasons," he vaguely replied.

"You're just teeming with insights, aren't you?" I retorted sarcastically.

"Should I share matters related to the internal politics of the House of the Dragon, I would only bore you. And then, I would have to end your life for possessing such knowledge. So, my thought is not to burden you with such information."

"That's a fair perspective," I responded.

Opal squirmed on my shoulder, clearly growing impatient. "As I was mentioning, while sifting through his belongings, we found certain things."

He paused. I waited. Then he continued.

"He owned a significant array of Norsanti weapons. An extensive collection. Hundreds of them."

Suppressing a chill, I replied, "I assume why he had them isn't my concern, too."

"That's correct. Furthermore, I don't have that answer."

"Well, what's the issue with them?"

"I devoted a considerable part of yesterday examining them. I have a fascination with such artifacts."

"Typical."

A brief flash of annoyance crossed his eyes before he decided to disregard my remark. "These weapons," he continued, "symbolize power. Some desire power, some fear others who do."

"Which one are you?"

"The first."

"I figured," I retorted. "I didn't think you'd confess."

"Why not?"

Unable to answer, I avoided the question. "Proceed," I urged. "Who's the adversary?"

"You have sharp insight."

"Sure, but my doctor says it's manageable."

"He's saying you're sharp, Boss."

"I'm aware, Opal."

"Indeed," said Drevolan. "I predict that I'm likely to clash with someone over these weapons."

"Who might that be?"

"I don't know. Several suspects come to mind. The most probable one is—well, it's irrelevant."

"Very enlightening."

"For what I require from you, you don't need that information."

"Lucky me. So, what do you need?"

"I want you to facilitate tracing the stolen weapons."

"So, some weapons have been stolen?"

"Not yet," he responded.

"I understand. How sure are you?"

"Fairly."

"Why so?"

"That's inconsequential. I'll be safeguarding them, as will others. Whoever plans to steal one or more will have to hire a professional thief, and that implicates the Vorgan, and that means—"

"I might be able to uncover its whereabouts. I get it."

"Boss, this could land you in hot water."

"I realize."

I leaned back, observing Drevolan. He returned my stare. After a moment, I confessed, "That isn't my area of expertise, Drevolan. And honestly, even if I found out, I doubt I could bring myself to inform you. It's a Vorgan code, you understand?"

"I believe I do, yes." He frowned, seemingly contemplating.

"However," he added, "if I correctly comprehend how you—that is, the Vorgan—operate, the actual thief would likely be merely a pawn, hired by someone else, correct?"

"Yes," I agreed, feeling uneasy about where this was heading.

"So, could you discover—"

"Potentially," I conceded.

"What would it take?"

"Funds. A substantial amount."

"I have the means."

"I still need to mull it over. It could place me in a predicament I'm not sure I'd appreciate."

"I get it. But do ponder it. I can provide—"

"Don't say it. I prefer not being lured. I'll inform you."

He nodded, refraining from pushing further, which earned him a bit of my respect.

"There's another issue," he announced.

Suppressing my sarcasm, I waited.

"The conditions surrounding Verill's demise—"

"Which are none of my concern."

"—have, among other effects, made me conscious of Nocturne Castle's vulnerability."

"I beg your pardon?"

"The conditions of—"

"I heard you, I just don't comprehend. How is a castle hovering half a mile or so above the ground vulnerable? Aside from the risk of collapse, of course."

"That's improbable."

"That's a relief. Speaking of which, why don't my ears get affected when I teleport up?"

He appeared pleased with himself but refrained from explaining. "Clearly," he said, "the castle can be infiltrated by anyone who can teleport and evade my guards."

"You don't have any security measures?"

"Some, but insufficient. It strikes me that you could help identify where enhancements are needed."

I pondered on it and realized that I knew exactly how to do that. "Yes, I can assist you with that." I thought about asking for compensation, but instead decided it would be more lucrative to deliver quality work and let him exhibit his magnanimity.

He looked thoughtful for a while, seemingly deep in contemplation.

"Telepathic interaction, Boss."

"I'm aware of that, Opal."

"You're fibbing, Boss."

"Well, true."

Around then, a Dragonlord walked into the room and paid respects to Drevolan. He was a bit shorter and more solidly built than an average Imperion, with cropped, light-brown hair and pale eyes. He didn't strike me as a warrior type, but the sword he carried suggested he was on duty in some form.

Drevolan said, "Kuragin, this is Baronet Viktor Dravos. I know you don't mind collaborating with Terrans, but would you take instructions from a Vorgan?"

Kuragin queried, "My lord?"

Opal asked, "What did he say?"

I responded, "Umm?"

Drevolan announced, "I've just engaged Lord Dravos as a security advisor. That places you under his supervision, under certain conditions."

I felt my jaw drop open then shut again. Drevolan had done what? And when did he decide this?

Kuragin assured, "That won't be an issue, my lord."

"Excellent," Drevolan approved.