deeds seem celestial by comparison.
All the little clues, his lack of breathing and heartbeat, his never eating, the abnormal, biting cold of his mere presence, the burning red glow of his eyes-they should have told me the truth far sooner than this. Had I been so wrapped up in the preparation for escape that I had overlooked their importance?
Not likely. No. Impossible. I knew how my own mind worked and this sort of mistake was quite out of the ordinary for it. The only explanation was that Azalin had cast a very subtle spell upon me, one that prevented me from seeing what was now painfully obvious. Only when the aftermath of our explosive escape attempt had stripped him of all guise and spell work had the truth finally dawned. His cleansing of the books had been to prevent me from stumbling accidentally upon the subject which would likely have negated his spell. The more I considered it, the more obvious it became. It was the only way I could account for such a tremendous lapse of perception on my part.
In some twisted way I could take it as a compliment. He must view me as being a real danger to him once I found him out. Certainly I did have lethal means at hand to use against him, possessing any number of captured magical weapons that might do the job, except for those with auras that repelled me as well.
If it came down to a fight, he was my superior in many areas of magic, and I was all too vulnerable to supernatural injury from him-especially during the day. On the other hand, were we to engage in face-to-face physical combat, I could destroy him. Or at least his outer body. An important detail I recalled about liches had to do with them placing their life-force in some object or container for safekeeping. If their bodies were disposed of they could use it to magically transfer themselves into another vessel, a corpse being the preferred receptacle.
There were plenty of those in Castle Ravenloft. But Azalin would not be like my mindless servitors with no will but my own. He would be capable of thinking and acting for himself.
Another dim recollection concerning their weaknesses had to do with knowing the lich's true name. Azalin was a mere title. He had admitted as much. Even in the times when we had been forced to communicate with spells while we learned one another's language, he had always skirted the issue of the meaning of 'Azalin,' saying merely that it was a title of respect bestowed upon great rulers. But Azalin could not have been part of his name much less his entire name, and one would need that to deliver any sort of effective controlling spell. He would be very careful to avoid providing me with that kind of a weapon. As for a spell which would effectively control him, I knew several of that type, but whether any of them would affect him with or without the use of his name I couldn't speculate.
I had been deluding myself by comparing him to a pet mountain bear; only this thing's word had held him in check all this time. I was his keeper merely so long as he chose to be kept.
In his first weeks here he'd needed a protector and guide and had held back his hand, but as I paced around the outer crypt there occurred to me other, more solid reasons why he hadn't yet challenged me.
I was his best hope of leaving Barovia. He needed my help in the spell work, since he seemed unable to learn new ones. For that he required my willing cooperation in order to raise my knowledge up to a point where I'd be useful to his endeavors. The problem with that ploy was that now I was powerful enough in my own right that Azalin could not compel me into anything against my will. If he made the attempt and forced things, he would have to kill me, for I would refuse to submit; I was stubborn enough for that.
Then there was my link to the land. Destroying me would destroy Barovia, and by default, Azalin. He had come to believe this as much as any of the Vistani, which had always surprised me, for I was not all that certain I believed it myself, though I had used the legend to my advantage often enough. So what was I to do with this disaster awaiting a time to happen?
I had no doubt that I could keep up my fiction of ignorance about his true nature. It was necessary to my continued safety and our continuing work. Though I could press forward on my own with the research, it would go much faster with his contribution. Because of his labors I had seen a glimpse of another world, and to break through to it I needed him as much as he needed me.
It was an unpleasant and highly delicate balance of power to be sure, based on mutual deception and an archaic sense of teeth-on-edge courtesy, but I could live with it. I had to live with it. For like it or not, he was my only hope of escape.
Several nights passed and I heard nothing from him, though I kept an eye on things by means of my crystal. He was busy with repairs to the tower, and it seemed to take the whole of his time and concentration. Well and good, for I had need to make a quiet and unobserved journey from the castle.
Once I had ascertained that Azalin was fully occupied at his tasks, I went to the library and began a special casting. By the time I'd finished, an exact double of myself appeared sitting at my library table poring over a book, lost in study. It was detailed enough to accurately reflect candlelight and even turn pages on a regular basis. The illusion would not stand up to a close inspection, but I was willing to risk that Azalin, with whatever Sight spell he favored, was not likely to do more than just check on my general whereabouts.
The casting in place, I donned a thin gold chain from which hung a special amulet that would completely obscure my presence from the various Sight spells which I had seen him employ. For me to simply disappear was not enough and would rouse his suspicion, hence the necessity of having a double where I might be expected to be found. Azalin was probably too caught up in his repairs to even bother to look, but I had never regretted being overly cautious. When it came to a foe like this lich, there was no such concept.
All things ready and smoothly running, I executed my traveling spell. One instant I was in my library and the next standing just outside the circle of Vistani wagons by the Tser Pool, the night wind warm upon my face.
The air carried the scent of my presence to their mongrel dogs who set up an immediate row in reaction, as did their other animals. The preparations for that evening's meal stopped abruptly. Children fled to their mothers, and the men stood looking about-alert, their hands going to the big knives which they carried in their broad sashes. The focus of their attention eventually came around to me as I emerged from the forest darkness into the firelight.
'Madam Ilka,' I said, 'take me to her.'
There was a slight hesitation on their part. Perhaps I had startled them for once; they certainly acted like it. One of the older men finally gave a short nod and snapped an order to the others. There was no relaxation of their fear, but at least they were no longer frozen in place by it.
I was given a loose escort to Ilka's vardo-nobody wanted to venture too close to me-and one of them knocked on the door, getting a faint reply from within. He opened it and a look of shock crossed his features as I took to the narrow steps and boosted myself inside without further invitation. My errand was more important than observing the ridiculous courtesies surrounding the entry of a gentleman to a lady's boudoir. In the pursuit of the sating of my appetite I'd found countless women in all states and stages of dishabille; they could hold few surprises for me now, and Ilka proved to be no exception. She was seated in her pillow-padded chair as before, the beginnings of a tarokka reading spread in front of her on the table. Once again I was struck at her remarkable resemblance to her predecessor. She looked up, dark eyes flashing mild amusement, and jerked her chin in the direction of a small stool, probably the same one I had used on my previous visit.
'Welcome, Lord Strahd. Sit and take your ease.'
I left the door open. The men outside were within earshot, but I cared not. Before the night ended they would all hear of what I wanted from them and their whole tribe throughout Barovia.
I took my seat, and Ilka turned over the next card in her reading. It was the Darklord.
'It seems I've no need to see farther,' she said, gathering and shuffling the lot into a neat pile.
'Do you know why I have come?'
'The cards have only hinted, and my dreams have not been so clear. I know it has to do with the Necromancer.'
'It does.'
She gave me a long look. I heard the fast, light beating of her ancient heart drumming in its cage and I could smell her fear. 'Does the war come now?'
'I hope not, for I am not yet prepared.'
'But I thought-'
'Were he a mere necromancer then would the war stop before it could ever begin for I would kill him-but he is more than you or I ever expected.'
