I moved closer, but with much caution. He was very engrossed, then abruptly looked up, his eyes glowing red, and I was sure he could see me. Then his gaze went to one side and the other, quite missing me. He closed the book and stood, his posture all alert. His lips began to form words, and I could hear them, actually hear them. They were magical in origin and I recognized them despite the fact he placed the accents differently from the ones I knew. It was a location spell- and my cue to leave. I pulled back and opened my eyes, shaking the image from my mind.

Dizziness, but not so bad as before.

"Can he follow me here?"

"Who?"

"I was watching the Necromancer and he sensed me then attempted to find me."

"No. He won't know it was you unless you tell him."

"I could hear him speak. If I'd stayed would I have been able to talk to him?"

"Yes-but to do both will tire even you overmuch if you do it all the time, it requires much effort. Listening is easier, but also tiring. You will learn to select when it is right to listen as well as look."

"Can all people sense when I am watching them?"

"Those who are perceptive will notice. But there's little they can do about it. A word of advice-do not abuse this privilege. Some things are meant to be private."

"Madam, I am not accustomed to peering through bedroom windows and am not likely to do so."

Her face crinkled and she chuckled softly. "I am glad to hear it. This is not an entertainment, but a weapon. Use it wisely and do not allow him near it."

"You have my solemn word as a Von Zarovich." While I lived-and I took that concept very seriously indeed-Azalin would never know about her gift to me.

From Azalin's private commentary notebooks, contd.

What a barbaric place Barovia is, backward and fearful. I can hardly fathom how Von Zarovich is able to bear to stand residing here, much less get anything done in regard to his Art. Perhaps it is a silent testament to his stubbornness that he has accomplished even this much in terms of establishing and holding his rule here.

The great castle Von Zarovich seems so proud of is hardly more than a primitive pile of stones pretending to be a fortress. It is most inconveniently located on a spire standing next to one of the country's mountains, connected only by a drawbridge in poor repair. Formidable, but nearly impossible to get to except by a single winding road. I can already anticipate that the transport of supplies for my needs is going to be an infuriatingly slow process.

The castle's isolation may be good for fighting off an invading army but works against it in times of peace. My own fortress in Oerth was in the center of all things, my power alone being more than enough to defend its walls. Strahd apparently lacks that and must rely on such basic means to preserve his safety.

He has adequate defenses, but why he would even bother to defend the hulk is a mystery to me. He would be better served to simply knock the lot flat and begin again, but I doubt he has the resources to achieve such improvements.

He claims that it has been in a minor decline for the last two hundred years-a clue to his actual age there-but if this is his idea of minor I should be interested to know what a major setback is to him.

His own rooms are fairly comfortable and in order, but the so-called "guest suite" he ushered me into is hardly fit for one of my station. Perhaps he hopes I will remove myself from Barovia that much faster. There is nothing that would give me greater pleasure, but that would hold true with or without his slights.

Apparently Castle Ravenloft is the best the whole miserable land has to offer, and if so, then it is hardly worth my notice-unless he is lying to me again. That is something I intend to investigate if my experimentation does not prove to be immediately successful and I am stranded here for a time. I shall have to strengthen my position with the creation and recruitment of allies. This should not be overly difficult if Latos is any example. He and others like him can be controlled easily enough.

I believe Von Zarovich rules by fear and playing upon whatever old loyalties still exist by tradition (and force) between himself and his boyars. My interrogation of Latos and his woman seemed to confirm this. Though they were reluctant to say anything against Von Zarovich, it seemed obvious to me that he is not a kind-weak-lord, being more feared than loved. I shall have to determine just how deep that fear runs and make plans to exploit it should the need arise.

Miserable as this parcel of stones and mud is, assuming the rule of Barovia is a distinct likelihood in my future.

542 Barovian Calendar, Barovia

Azalin elected to make the manor house his home for the duration of his stay, a decision I met with mixed feelings. On the one hand it was a place of sorrow for me, on the other, I could not have picked a better location in which to put him. It was little more than an hour's flight from Castle Ravenloft, yet nearly half a day's journey for him by horseback along the twisting roads of the mountain-when the weather was good.

I liked the disproportion. He'd be close enough to watch, but far enough away that I could feel moderately secure in the castle from immediate danger. I would set up so many magical defenses that even if he tried a spell for disappearing from one place to appear in another he would not find it a great success.

Years before I had devised an invisible buffering wall around the castle for just that purpose to foil other, lesser mages who had had grievances with me. When any of them tried to effect an entry into the keep, the force of their spell reflected off the buffer wall, sending them elsewhere. I heard one was lucky and ended up in Krezk on the far western border; another landed in isolated Immol. A third had the very bad fortune to reappear in the cave den of some of my mountain wolves. I only discovered this incident by accident when I happened to use that cave for daytime shelter once and found the remains of his shredded clothing and distinctive jewelry amongst the gnawed bones. My four-legged children had made quite a thorough celebration of their unexpected feast.

But for all that, I still felt only moderately secure. Azalin was cut from a different bolt of cloth than the other mages I'd faced. He would be far away in the manor, yet not nearly far enough. That would only happen by getting him out of Barovia entirely.

Because of its past tragedy the house had enjoyed an evil reputation for a very long time and most of the locals-barring that one idiot scion and his three henchmen-avoided it. The town council of Berez had never needed to approve of any new construction within a mile of the grounds, for its people found other sites more appealing. I was glad of this, wanting to keep Azalin as removed from the Barovians as was possible.

The edicts I unofficially passed down to them through Zorah Latos would make an impression, but whether it would last I did not know. Ambition can cause people to be incorrigibly half-witted at times. Sooner or later someone might put me to the test, and I would have either another addition to my larder or a head on a pike, depending on the state of my temper at the time. I could also have a political problem as well depending on the importance of the transgressor. I would just have to wait and see and let things work themselves out in my favor as they usually did.

Massive repairs to the house were required, of course. Azalin made it very clear that if he was to have any success at all in finding an escape for us he would need a properly equipped working area, or laboratory as he called it, an unfamiliar word to me, though the root word of "labor" helped to clarify its meaning.