01-05-2025, 04:04 PM
The boy delved into a predictable but not particularly welcome tirade the moment they left the room. Sören glanced back at the closed door, jaw tight, and gave the ghost of a displeased grunt for the disturbance he knew Kemala was bound to hear. But his thoughts were already on the shard and the creature – piecing together what had happened, and considering his next moves. Elias’s angry buzzing was something he was fully prepared to ignore until Elias clamped a skinny hand on his arm.
He sighed, unimpressed to be pulled from the puzzle of it, but he did patiently halt. Elias was not one of his students, but Sören had taught enough of them to understand the bluster and frustration coming off him in waves. It was not his responsibility, nor one he ever took on lightly, but if Sören was ruthless it was not because he was heartless. The carnage and chaos wrecked here today was precisely the reason their kind was hunted, and Sören could easily leave Elias to battle that fate alone. But even in the short term, making an enemy of him now would be careless for the sake of simply sparing him the attention he craved.
“No, I think it is over because our contract has come to an end,” he said. “The trinket you hired me to find here, Elias. It is gone. Perhaps irretrievably given your stunt on the lake. The creature will be long gone by now.”
His arms had folded, and he did not move away from Elias’s crowding. For a moment he watched for signs of a second tantrum, mild-eyed and patient. Inside something suddenly clicked though – the shape of a question, a link, a lead to chase. Because the only thing he knew, or thought he knew, was that the monster was lured by a woman’s gift, and Kemala was not the only channeler he knew lurked in the lake’s vicinity. He had considered even at the time that the creature’s absence to the second summons might mean something had changed in that short time. That victory had been stolen.
Nimeda, he realised suddenly.
The artist she was connected to was a strange woman, flighty as a bird on the wing, and he’d given no real consideration towards why she was now here of all places. Sören had siphoned the prophecies from Thalia’s artwork for years, and had always believed her oblivious to what she did – or how she did it. Yet she left Moscow on a ponderous journey, and he already knew she had stolen the artefact Nimeda had helped him to hide. That was something he fully intended to retrieve, but not in a way that compromised her use to him.
Elias had already proved his disregard for life, even when it came to the girl he was travelling with. Was there really an ally worth cultivating here?
He might have left it there. Elias certainly deserved no more, and this had only ever been a business transaction. But as the layers of anger peeled away to reveal something truer, and far more vulnerable, Sören recognised like a reflection that desperate need for answers. It was a tenacity he could admire, if little else. And thinking of the woman behind the door, and of the ferocity with which she stepped into the breach, he found his trajectory shifting. Not with an intention to soothe, but with a desire to settle a wrong he had played some small part in. If Elias were not too proud.
“Alvis is a name I use for business – and it is business you arranged with me. If you want to talk, we’ll talk – but if you want to do so as equals now, it will not be because you are about to have another tantrum. I’ll not work with a child. What you did today, Elias, it was not calculation, it was pure rage you will wrap up now as a threat because it suits you. Fetch the doctor for your friend, and be glad we were here to take care of her. Then we’ll talk.” Looking down into that dark expression, he was not sure the words would penetrate, but they were not meant for Elias alone. He glanced back at the door.
“And if you wish to know who Kemala is, I suggest you ask her yourself.”
He sighed, unimpressed to be pulled from the puzzle of it, but he did patiently halt. Elias was not one of his students, but Sören had taught enough of them to understand the bluster and frustration coming off him in waves. It was not his responsibility, nor one he ever took on lightly, but if Sören was ruthless it was not because he was heartless. The carnage and chaos wrecked here today was precisely the reason their kind was hunted, and Sören could easily leave Elias to battle that fate alone. But even in the short term, making an enemy of him now would be careless for the sake of simply sparing him the attention he craved.
“No, I think it is over because our contract has come to an end,” he said. “The trinket you hired me to find here, Elias. It is gone. Perhaps irretrievably given your stunt on the lake. The creature will be long gone by now.”
His arms had folded, and he did not move away from Elias’s crowding. For a moment he watched for signs of a second tantrum, mild-eyed and patient. Inside something suddenly clicked though – the shape of a question, a link, a lead to chase. Because the only thing he knew, or thought he knew, was that the monster was lured by a woman’s gift, and Kemala was not the only channeler he knew lurked in the lake’s vicinity. He had considered even at the time that the creature’s absence to the second summons might mean something had changed in that short time. That victory had been stolen.
Nimeda, he realised suddenly.
The artist she was connected to was a strange woman, flighty as a bird on the wing, and he’d given no real consideration towards why she was now here of all places. Sören had siphoned the prophecies from Thalia’s artwork for years, and had always believed her oblivious to what she did – or how she did it. Yet she left Moscow on a ponderous journey, and he already knew she had stolen the artefact Nimeda had helped him to hide. That was something he fully intended to retrieve, but not in a way that compromised her use to him.
Elias had already proved his disregard for life, even when it came to the girl he was travelling with. Was there really an ally worth cultivating here?
He might have left it there. Elias certainly deserved no more, and this had only ever been a business transaction. But as the layers of anger peeled away to reveal something truer, and far more vulnerable, Sören recognised like a reflection that desperate need for answers. It was a tenacity he could admire, if little else. And thinking of the woman behind the door, and of the ferocity with which she stepped into the breach, he found his trajectory shifting. Not with an intention to soothe, but with a desire to settle a wrong he had played some small part in. If Elias were not too proud.
“Alvis is a name I use for business – and it is business you arranged with me. If you want to talk, we’ll talk – but if you want to do so as equals now, it will not be because you are about to have another tantrum. I’ll not work with a child. What you did today, Elias, it was not calculation, it was pure rage you will wrap up now as a threat because it suits you. Fetch the doctor for your friend, and be glad we were here to take care of her. Then we’ll talk.” Looking down into that dark expression, he was not sure the words would penetrate, but they were not meant for Elias alone. He glanced back at the door.
“And if you wish to know who Kemala is, I suggest you ask her yourself.”
![[Image: odinraven.png]](http://thefirstage.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/08/odinraven.png)