'Because the spells you have are not especially difficult.'
'They tend toward action, not reaction, as would seem to be your intent with this project.'
'The reaction we'll achieve here will be greater than any you've known before.'
'One would hope so, considering the effort involved.'
To this he gave out with a snort bordering on contempt, this implication being that what I viewed as effort, he thought of as trivial. Fortunately-and far too often-I practiced the habit of shrugging off my personal reactions to his slights, for it would seem a shame to begin a war based solely on my losing patience with his bad manners.
He had overlooked-or rather left out-the fact that my kind of spell work was quite different from his own, relying less on props and cumbersome constructions and more on verbal commands to summon and manipulate power. Not that he lacked in knowledge of that particular school, this was only his grating boorishness showing.
Most of the time he was not such trying company, which was fortunate when winter set in, effectively restricting him within the castle walls as the snow drifts smothered the mountain roads for weeks at a time. Then would he-in keeping with our pact-impart to me detailed instruction in the Art. I was glad to have had the wisdom to persuade him to abide by the sacred custom of host and guest else things might have gone badly for me. In a very short while I came to see his magical skills were vastly superior to mine. Without our agreement I would have come to a swift end, for he was of a type to be bold enough to take advantage of a convenient opportunity. The rule of Barovia-and my subsequent removal as a threat-must have certainly tempted him.
Beyond that, though, he was an excellent teacher and I became his apt student. Once past personal animosities and entrenched in the intricacies of the Art he was a transformed personality. There we found common ground based on a fascination for the successful weaving of spells. My self-taught ways had barely been adequate to the task, now did I begin to truly fulfill my potential. After a few months under his tutelage I tripled my learning, taking myself to new heights I hadn't dreamed myself capable of reaching before.
All my waking time I devoted to the practice and perfection of what he imparted, discovering as I mastered each new casting that my proficiency over the spells I already knew increased by that much more in effectiveness and surety. So far did I pursue my knowledge that more and more I delved into the realms of devising and developing new magicks. They were often based on the spells learned from him, but carrying them a few steps beyond what he gave me. He was not adverse to this and watched my work closely, but was strangely reluctant to experiment as well, even with those that he designed himself. He would pass the experiment to me to run for him.
'Why not test it yourself?' I once asked when he gave me a sheet of fine vellum, the new spell he had composed inscribed on it in gold lettering. I was to follow its instruction and see if it succeeded.
'Is it too complicated for you to learn?' he snapped back.
'Hardly, but I have never heard of any master of the Art who was so willing to give his work to another to try.'
In all the dissertations in the treatises I'd read and according to the few people I'd spoken with on the subject, such deference was comparable to having someone substitute for you on your wedding night. Most spell-casters are bluntly penurious about sharing their secrets with any but their chosen apprentices and even then are careful over how much they are willing to bestow when it comes to new castings, but Azalin seemed unconcerned with such restraints.
'I am busy enough with other projects,' he said. 'I have taken it this far, now it is your turn to convey it to completion or to failure. Execute the spell and then report to me the results, but until then bother me not with your idle questions.'
Indeed, he was extremely busy laying the groundwork for our escape, so I pushed my puzzlement and annoyance aside for the moment. After all, I too had better ways to spend my nights than to ponder all his eccentricities. As long as his peculiarities did not seem to be a threat to our balance of power I was content to hold my questions for a more propitious occasion, though more often than not I simply forgot to raise them again.
When not instructing me he spent nearly all of his time in the library poring over my books. I was uncomfortable about it, but it was necessary and one sure way of keeping an eye on him and discovering his areas of interest. I couldn't help feeling I was arming him with knowledge he could use against me, but at this point I was the only one who knew of the possibility of a future conflict. He, as yet, did not. I hardly need mention that no hint of this ever came to his ears from my lips, and I could trust the Vistani to keep quiet about it.
Over the dark winter months I studied Azalin as he studied the books. Certainly he must have returned the favor, for he was very interested in the history of Barovia and my place within it. When he wasn't in one of his superior moods, he would ply me with questions about this point or that, always the ones not covered in the official history of Barovia, which I filled in as best as memory would allow. He was particularly interested in the blood- letting ceremony I'd performed to take possession of Castle Ravenloft along with the rest of the country.
'It is a very ancient custom,' I told him in response to a question he put to me on the subject one especially chill evening.
Though unable to feel the cold, I had a great blaze going in the library fireplace to take the damp from the air, as well as add to the lighting of the chamber. We worked on opposite sides of my vast study table on the preparation of a future magical experiment. Each of us had pen, ink, and parchment at hand to make notes, and between us lay a formidable collection of bottles and jars containing an assortment of rare ingredients necessary to the spell Azalin had in mind to try.
Outside an utterly freezing wind blew steadily and strongly through the towers and battlements of the castle. I was thankful not to have to be abroad on wing or afoot in search of food, having supped in the dungeons already. Azalin was not given to any form of socializing or making idle questions for the sake of conversation, so I assumed he had some hidden purpose of his own in trying to draw me out on this and cautiously played along.
'The ritual has been modified and gentled over the centuries,' I continued. 'In the dim times before history was properly recorded the ceremony was said to be a much more… strenuous… observance.'
'Most things were,' he observed. 'Our progenitors often went to great lengths to portray themselves as being an improvement over the previous order.'
'That is the way of things, but only if they were vain enough to bother.'
'Not so much vanity as an easier means of placating the rabble. If the new ruler is viewed as being better than what came before, then maintaining control over them is one less concern for him to deal with.'
'Particularly if it's the truth. Was that the case with your own rule?'
'Mine was-is-a hereditary office, but it was true. I was looked on as a savior to the land-indeed, as an extension of the land itself. I brought order and the word of my law to the chaos I found, winning the favorable acclaim of everyone there.'
'Not everyone if you were forced to flee into the Mists.'
I absolutely could not resist throwing that imaginary gauntlet on the floor between us. He'd told me very little about the exact circumstances that compelled him to blindly run into the Mists seeking refuge and finding entrapment, but I knew enough to be able to prod him about it-and perhaps by his reaction learn more. That he was unpopular with at least some portion of his people I had no doubt; his personality was not such as to inspire unconditional love and loyalty even from the most simple-minded of traditionalists.
'Those traitors were an aberration,' he said, all righteous disdain.
'Yet their numbers must have been great for them to dare to challenge you.'
'Numbers are no match for sheer foolishness of intent. The greater the fools the greater their delusion they could truly harm me. Had I but a few more moments of time to plan a course of action, things would have gone quite differently for me. In order to gain that time I had to seek concealment in the Mists… and you know the rest.'
'One's enemies are rarely accommodating to one's needs. Had they been planning this assault against you for long?'
Before answering he took time to write something onto his top sheet of parchment. 'They did not precisely confide to me the workings of their plans.'
'You must have had some hint. Usurping a throne, no matter how minor, is not a light task.'
'I didn't rule some petty principality,' he snarled. He gave a slight lift to his chin, a sneer curling the edge of his mouth, and if I read the meaning aright the implication was that Barovia was just such a place.
I held my face in a blandly amused expression, which seemed to annoy him. Barovia might be small compared to what he had left behind, but at the moment it was the only place around, which made it the center of all
