Elenore saw nothing at all, as she ever did.
Yet she could hear them. Multiple strangers, emerging from one of the secret passages she had installed to facilitate her agent’s activities. It felt like her sanctuary had been violated—not the greenhouse, but her existence as the Bat. Though she always felt disconcerted by Argrave’s unpredictable activities, she was confident it would be a long, long time before she ever spoke to him face-to-face, if at all.
Elenore did not know why he had come here. Perhaps Induen had told him something. All of her servants would be away for a long while. She might call for help, yet none would hear her most likely—even if they did, it would only seal her fate. But then… if Argrave intended to kill her, that would already be done.
Still, she knew she could not wait passively.
“My servants will be by soon,” she lied at once. “If you wish to speak, you might take me to a more private location.”
“That seems—” Argrave began, and Elenore thought he was agreeing. She heard something—a scrape of leather, what she presumed to be a boot tapped against a boot, and Argrave grew quiet. “No, let’s stay here. I’ll take my chances,” he said, leaving no room for argument.
Someone here knows I lie, and they told him. A traitor? Elenore thought of all near her, listening to the way they breathed, walked, for any hint it might be someone close to her. If it is a traitor, it is no wonder this is so well-timed.
Someone moved a little closer, and Elenore resisted the urge to tense. Argrave continued, “Well, I think introductions are in order. I’m here with Galamon. He’s a snow elf. There’s Durran—he’s a tribal from the south, the Burnt Desert. And then there’s Anneliese, my fiancée. Maybe you knew all this, but…”
What he said matched with what Elenore knew, but she couldn’t place why he was saying this. Maybe he was lying to disguise who was truly here… but his tone didn’t betray dishonesty. But then, all her reports placed him as someone who was skilled at manipulation. She couldn’t say for sure.
All of the people that Argrave introduced greeted her—a deep, guttural voice from a man, a calm and smooth woman’s voice, and a somewhat deep voice from another man. She didn’t recognize any of them.
“May I sit?” Argrave asked.
Elenore stayed silent for a few moments, then decided to probe his temperament with a minutely combative statement. “Would it matter if I said no?”
“Well, I would have to stay standing. My legs might get tired,” Argrave returned. “I suppose that isn’t the end of the world.”
His levity frustrated Elenore. She couldn’t glean any of his intentions. But… given all of his actions, she could assume that he wasn’t here for a wholly negative purpose, such as vengeance for spurring conflict between him and Induen.
“You may sit,” Elenore agreed, seeing no merit to refusing.
She heard the scrape of the metal chair against the stone, and then the brief movement of the wind as Argrave moved to sit. “Thank you,” he said.
“What did you wish to speak of?” she got to the point, ceding the conversation to Argrave’s direction. It was not the thing she was most eager to know—she wished to learn of how he’d found that entrance, primarily—but it was the question she thought would yield the most information. Gaining knowledge of the situation was the most important thing to gaining control of it.
She heard Argrave shift ahead of her, remaining silent. He did not hasten to speak—it showed experience in conversation, she thought. Eventually, he said, “I brought a gift for you. Galamon, could you please…?” She heard something heavy collapse to the ground—by the jingling, a bag or box full of loose metal pieces. “Careful with that…” Argrave’s voice tightened.
After a few moments of metal jingling, Elenore’s discomfort rose. “Perhaps you had best tell me what it is.”
“You’ll s—” he stopped guiltily. ‘See,’ he had meant to say, Elenore knew. “Well, it’s jewelry. Experimental enchanted jewelry. I… well, I can’t fully describe what it does. This piece… thanks, Galamon…” she heard the light clinking of metal as something was passed to him. “This piece is a… sort of a bronze claw ring, covers the whole finger. A bit ungainly, I suppose… may I put it on you?”
She didn’t know the answer to that question. Was he toying with her? Was it some foul implement? He had called it ‘ungainly.’ Or was it genuinely a gift?
“Let me hold it,” she requested after an uncertain moment. She held out her hand.
She heard movement. “Sure,” he said, and then something dropped into her hand.
Elenore held it close, moving her fingers across it. It was a segmented ring that did indeed cover the whole finger, with a point at the end. From the feel and hardness of it, she judged it to be bronze as he said. It had some carvings on the side. She could feel no gemstones. Its insides had no spikes. Whether or not it was enchanted, she could not know.
After a moment to muster herself, she slid the ring over her finger. Once it slid on…
Pale beige. Her hand.
Elenore recoiled from the strong sensation she felt, holding the hand with the ring out. Her breathing quickened involuntarily. For some strange reason, she had a sense of the space around her far enhanced beyond what it usually was. She lowered her hand ever so slowly. Her finger hovered. Some indiscernible sensation told her that the table was not an inch away. And after an inch lower…
Steel painted bright pink. A table.
Elenore held her finger there for a long, long time, taking hold of the sensation. It was not as though she could see once again. And yet… she knew what was there. She understood the table, could grasp it completely. She could perceive the pink like she truly saw it. It was like some sixth sense that was, in a way, far more accurate than she ever recalled her sight being. She could barely distinguish the ground beneath the table, or Argrave’s elbow resting atop it.
“Are you okay?” Argrave asked. “Maybe you ought to take it off…”
Elenore only now reflected back on herself. She was breathing quickly and sweating. Yet even still, this sensation pulled at her. It was like a drop of water to a man who’d hiked the desert without.
“A book,” she said. “Please, give me a book. On the table, over there. My maid was reading from it earlier.”
She heard Argrave move. Now, she was more aware of him—she had an image of someone leaning forth, stretching their arm out. “Here it is,” he narrated, setting it just before her.
Elenore grasped the book, opening it to a random page. Slowly, tentatively, like everything would blow away if she moved too fast, she pressed her ringed finger against the top of the page.
Some nobles chose to offload the burden of collecting taxes to agencies. These agencies had tremendous influence in the past, often abusing the power vested in them by the lord to extort subjects out of things not ordinarily taxed, cows being the most prominent example. So long as the arrangement was mutually beneficial, the lords—
Elenore lifted her finger up. She could read again. She could see the letters, comprehend them, process them, all on her own. No longer did she have to rely on another for everything. Her world was no longer one consisting of trusting another. She felt a strong pull at her throat. It had been such a long time since she felt this feeling… parts of it were missing, of course. The tears were the most recognizable part of crying, and she could not spill them.
But Elenore did not forget herself. Gifts often costed more than gold. She could not allow herself to be overcome, not ever. She could not let anyone see her emote. Being overcome was the reason she had become as she was. It was the reason this ring affected her so to begin with.
Princess Elenore took a long moment, steadying her breathing and ensuring her voice would come out clearly. She acted as though she was reading along with the book. When next she spoke…
“Why are you giving this to me?” her voice came out smoothly.
“Well…” Argrave scratched something—she couldn’t tell what. Almost by instinct, she moved her hand closer, and the perception became clearer. He scratched his chin. “That’s only one piece of a set. The rest of it will augment what you’re feeling now tremendously. Durran, could you put the rest of the stuff down?”
“What, Galamon gets a nice ‘please,’ but I don’t?” Despite his protests, the man quickly placed some things on the table. When his hand moved by hers, she noticed something.
“You’re missing fingers,” she whispered, then scolded herself. She was rattled. She hated feeling this way.
The man laughed. “Huh. Guess the ring does work. Strange place to see from, but if it works, it works.”
“Be polite, Durran,” Argrave reprimanded.
“Come on,” Durran said disbelievingly. “I didn’t say anything bad. Even if I did, she’s a tough lady. She’s gotta be.”
Elenore cradled the ringed finger to numb the new sensations she was experiencing. “You still did not tell me why, Argrave.”
“I need your help,” he said outright.
The words were sobering, and helped Elenore master her emotions. “With what?” she pressed, her mind falling back into its usual mode of risk-reward analysis.
“I need to prove something,” he said. “To you. To a select few people besides you. And later, to everyone.”
Elenore was puzzled. She contemplated his meaning—was it a metaphor? Did he intend to prove his mettle? Did he wish to prove some magical theory? She had heard whispers of something called Blood Infusion originating from Argrave—was it related to that?
Considering his geniality thus far, Elenore asked outright, “What do you want to prove?”
“I know you pretty well. I don’t think I’m as smart as you, but I’ve got a good grasp on what you’ve been doing.” She heard the chair shift—he likely leaned back. “Obviously, you’re wondering how I learned of your secret passage. To that, I say this: I know about all of them. The drainage gate by the glass. The one in the shed for the gardeners. The emergency exit in your bedroom, behind your nightstand. I know you’re the Bat, and I know your principal businesses—the brewery and alchemist partnerships, the sponsored enchanters, and probably more recently, the smiths and crafters.”
The extent of his knowledge did unnerve her. If his source was a traitor, it was someone extremely close to her. It might be Therese, Elenore reasoned. Considering all that happened to her, it would not surprise.
“I’m going to be frank with you, because I think you can appreciate that,” Argrave said. The chair shifted once again, and his voice grew closer. “I didn’t learn about any of this stuff through subterfuge or research. Everything I’ve done—maybe I’m getting an ego suggesting this, but I think you’ve noticed how seemingly random and omniscient it is. The Veidimen invasion, that business in the Burnt Desert, or the plague and how to end it… my source of knowledge is not of this world.”
Elenore processed Argrave’s claims quietly.
“I hope you can give me a chance to prove that,” Argrave said. “And at the same time, prove that there’s something extremely big coming on the horizon. Something that can turn this entire continent upside down.” She perceived Argrave reaching out, but he hesitated to touch her and moved his hands back. “I very desperately need your help. I can keep rattling off obscure factoids we both know to prove I’m being honest, but at the end of the day it boils down to that. I need your help.”
Elenore rubbed her hand against the claw ring on her finger. As Argrave said, it was ungainly, and the point was sharp and uncomfortable. Yet even as she sat there, she perceived her skin. She had grown much paler, she realized. When last she remembered seeing her skin, it had been so much tanner.
Sentimentality at the gift made her wish to say yes, she consciously realized. Yet… she could not think this way. It only led to suffering. Induen had been led by his sentimentality, his emotions. She could not allow herself to meet the same fate.
Yet… rationally speaking… Argrave, too, was another opportunity. She would have to discern, study, and evaluate how this unexpected happening fit into her plans. She had done so with all of her agents once before—this was merely another to fit into the design. She could not turn it away. He’d already proven himself to be capable of gaining things of great value.
“Let’s talk specifically,” Elenore finally said.
