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 existence for us both.

"If any hint of their intent had come to me earlier, I would have dealt with it then," he added, but there was a defensive tone-albeit a highly suppressed one-in his harsh voice. I had, it seemed, stung a tender spot.

"No doubt," I said. "Happily such problems don't plague me here. I can count on the loyalty of my subjects."

"Even the ones in your dungeons?"

"They forsook any privilege of my protection when they broke my law, but their crimes have to do with murder and thievery and the like, not treason. Treason is not unknown here, but it's very rare. I haven't seen a case of it in some two hundred years."

"Then you are a most fortunate ruler, that, or your people have no spirit to them."

To this blatant insult I simply smiled-or rather showed my teeth. "They have spirit enough, their blood is hearty with the very life of the land beneath them."

"And if my reading on the subject is correct, then you are yourself part of the land?"

"What do you mean?"

"The possession ceremony?" he prompted. "Does it mean they feed as much from you as you do from them?"

"Only in a philosophical sense, and I have no desire to put much effort into such musings. The ceremony was for the sake of symbol only. The meaning is to indicate that by binding my blood to the land, I willingly defend it from all invaders."

"Yes, I have seen how you have dealt with past intruders. I suppose I should count myself fortunate you did not attempt the same policy with me." Emphasis on the word "attempt." Hardly subtle of him.

"Those others were the same as the filth in my dungeons, deserving of their fate."

"But I was an exception."

"Because you chose not to violate my laws and wisely sought my protection."

Here followed a long silence on his part. I glanced up at him from tipping some spider dust into a small measuring spoon. Azalin's face was quite unreadable, yet the impression I got had to do with strongly repressed anger. The only obvious sign of his inner agitation was the way his gloved fingers clenched a bottle full of rat's blood as though to break it. With me suddenly looking on he immediately relaxed his grip and kept quite still, but he could not hide the searing fire in his red glazed eyes. Another tender spot stung.

I pretended not to notice, though it was a solid confirmation to me of something I'd long surmised, based upon how my own reaction would be were our positions reversed. I was thankful that they were not, for he would not have been so kind a host to me.