his back-purely in the figurative sense, mind you. It was my expectation that any normal weapon would have little effect on him.
'You would work with me on this escape?'
'Yes.'
'I would want to set down additional rules before agreeing to this.'
I gave a gracious nod. Anything he could come up with would only be for his own self-protection and likely have little consequence against me. I was quite serious about my duties as host. Getting him to accept that fact would effectively place him under my rule and once there, I could play on that point to my best advantage for as long as necessary.
Most people pace around or let their gaze wander as an aid to thought. He continued to look steadily at me with those strangely cold red eyes. It might have disconcerted a lesser being, but I had faced the personification of Death itself and survived. At this point, Azalin inspired no fear in me.
'Very well,' he said.
I strove not to let my satisfaction show, but in those two words he had just delivered himself to my tender care.
'You have my sworn word to abide by your laws for so long as I am here-and so long as you return in kind.'
'I swear to return in kind.'
'The chances are,' he added, as if to discount the profound importance of what he had just done, 'that this is but a temporary situation.'
On that I could offer no comment.
From Azalin's private commentary notebooks, contd.
542 Barovian Calendar, Barovia
One's hindsight is always clear, and after but a month in the company of Von Zarovich mine confirms to me what my inner voice had urged on the first night of our meeting: that I should have killed him then.
Certainly I am more than capable of doing it, but curiosity and caution stayed my hand then. I knew nothing about him, and the fact that he had survived the otherwise lethal force of the first spell I had flung at him was enough to school me against additional assaults.
He was-so it seemed-coolly unconcerned toward me, something I am not used to; since the moment when I initiated my own change the reaction of mortals in my presence is ever that of fear. I had grown so accustomed to seeing it that its sudden lack drew my instant attention. If he was not as other men, what then was he?
Since he had thrown off my attack and seemed immune to fear I had two choices before me: that he was a mage of deadly power equal to or greater than myself, or that he was some sort of supernatural creature. It did not seem likely he could be both, for talent like mine is rare, and I had to purposely effect my own supernatural change. I can account for my deficiency of perception by the fact that I had many distractions that night and could not bestow my full consideration equally upon each. I only realized the possibility of the combination after it was too late to do anything about it. By then I was bound by my own oath to his laws.
I see now that he had bluffed his way through the whole business. He has magical power, but it is nothing to compare with mine. He must have known that, yet played expertly upon my need for aid, maneuvering me into a position with his sly bargaining so that I was forced to put myself at his mercy.
I could feel the fool, but at that point his act was as complete as one of my own illusions, so there is little purpose in self-reproach. I take pride in being able to know when anyone lies to me, but Von Zarovich proved to be the one exception capable of immunity to that ability. The why of it eluded me until I came to reside in his castle while he made improvements to the manor house which I have chosen to reside in for the duration of my stay.
That he was not human in the normal, mortal sense was soon obvious, but the exact nature of his difference was not immediately apparent, but easy enough to discern with time. He took pains to conceal the pointed tips of his ears, but beyond that-at least while in my company-bothered to do little else. Of course, once I was in regular contact with him his undead nature became quite conspicuous: the lack of mirrors, the dusk-to-dawn hours and so forth-not that I was particularly disturbed by any of it. My own nature was such that he would be disappointed by the contents of my veins, so I was safe enough from that feeble threat.
What most concerned me was the extent of his magical knowledge. Should he prove to be superior in talent to me, then I would have to be most careful in my dealings. Our first weeks together might be construed as laughable to those indulging in grim amusements as we oh-so-cautiously fenced around one another, each imparting as little information to the other as possible, while at the same time trying to extract it. This was in spite of our noble pact.
He acted wisely in entrapping me into promising to abide by the laws regarding host and guest. By the time I knew his true limits it was too late to do anything about him. I will be honor-bound by my word. Though I may break it in an open challenge, I am not yet in a position to do so. I am yet a stranger in his land and he my only 'friend.' I use the word as a form of contempt. He is in actuality a necessary evil I must endure until such time as I can effect an escape.
That is what is foremost in my mind, to return to my own land and deal with the traitors who pursued me into that damned mist in the first place. I judge that I can put up with Von Zarovich for whatever length of time it takes to effect the spell; it should not be long, but one impediment worries me.
I have discovered a truly devastating obstacle: I am unable to learn new magic.
It has to be the single most unpleasant surprise I have faced in the last century, and I refuse to accept its permanency. Not a day goes by that I do not attempt to break the barrier that prevents me from learning even the simplest of new spells. Thus far it remains intact. Until and unless I can breach it I will have to preserve the peace between myself and Von Zarovich, since he has no such limitation.
What an intolerable situation this is. For he is ever eager to exploit my fund of knowledge, yet I am unable to improve my own concerning the practical application of a spell. I must be very careful never to allow him to suspect this weakness of mine, lest he gain greater power over me. How this will affect the swiftness of my escape I do not as yet know. Until then I can make no move against Von Zarovich, for I need him to cast spells I cannot learn for myself.
The other secret I must preserve is that of my own true nature.
Mortals and uncanny night creatures alike have a universal revulsion to what I am. It is an instinctual thing that goes beyond all reason with them and the usual reaction is to attempt to destroy me-which has yet to happen. Von Zarovich might be able to countenance the truth, but it is not my intention to test him. To that end I have very carefully cast a spell upon him, preventing him from determining what is beneath my concealing illusion. It is a much subtler version of one I took care to employ on my own servitors; anything more and he would notice the spell. Thus far there has been no change in his manner to indicate that he is aware of the spell on him or my secret.
He may harbor curiosity about my peculiarities but hopefully will never be able to answer his questions. The core of the spell has to do with preventing his mind from making certain key connections. The danger for me is if he accidentally stumbles upon the answer, but now that I have the free run of his library I have been taking steps to prevent such an event from happening.
I am spared from the necessity of additional castings on those around him, since his dealings with living mortals are infrequent. His castle servitors, guards and the like, are already dead and altogether mindless, being one of his best lines of defense against an ordinary attack. He takes advantage of the fact that people who can think are so frightened by those who cannot-the dead.
I, of course, am the exception to that.
End of Excerpt
