31 Chapter 31

Cedric finished inspecting the gems, his gaze returning to Silver. The pirate captain fascinated him.

"You're not unfamiliar with magic."

It wasn't much of a guess—his attitude gave it away, though Cedric doubted he hid the truth in the first place.

"The Red Bones keep a few, I suspect. Or perhaps it's the other way around—the Red Bones are the ones being kept by someone more powerful..."

Cedric walked over to a shelf and fetching a glass vial, filled with a brownish liquid.

"…and you don't like that very much, do you? Though, as the saying goes, 'better the devil you know than the devil you don't'. I'm curious why you'd throw your lot in with me."

Silver's pale, blue eyes flickered. His 'young master' hit the nail on the head—without shoving a nail into his own. His cooperation indeed went beyond compulsion.

"You're correct, master warlock. If one attempts to rise up in the underworld, it's impossible to go far without meeting… them. If you pardon my saying so, I caution you against… making a nuisance of yourself. They don't take kindly to anyone encroaching on their territory."

Silver hesitated briefly toward the end, anticipating some reaction from Cedric after being lectured. However, no punishment was forthcoming.

The mage chuckled.

"You're an interesting one, captain. That you'd actually look out for me after everything, even having lost two fingers… naturally, I'm aware it's purely out of self-interest. Yet, most wouldn't be able to set aside their emotions to do as much..."

Cedric unscrewed the vial, carefully holding it away from his face. Taking a strange substance from somewhere - similar in appearance to a handful of metal shavings - he added them to the vial.

"…and you don't see me as a child, unlike the rest of your crew. They're certainly afraid of me, but my age does seem to have dulled some of their caution. Very unwise."

Screwing the top back on, he shook it until the liquid started bubbling, changing from brown to blue.

Silver watched the process cautiously.

"Most pirates suffer under the illusion of them being invincible, considering others as marks. They think the world is theirs for the taking, that it's only a matter of time until fortune favors them."

Cedric watched until the reaction calmed down, then restowed the vial.

"No need to be so long-winded. Just speak your mind."

The pirate captain nodded, absentmindedly straightening his jacket. It was all very strange—neither his speech nor bearing suited his 'occupation'.

"They're being kept in check, but it's only a matter of time until a mutiny. They're afraid of you, master warlock, but they've had precious little contact with the supernatural. That level of ignorance is dangerous—it makes them bold. They assume certain limits to your abilities."

Cedric's expression turned thoughtful. It seemed the rest of the crew wouldn't remain useful in the long-term. Well, more bodies were always welcome.

"Still, you've not said anything about your own views. Why do you intend to cooperate with me? Looking for vengeance on some powerful pirate-witch, perhaps?"

Silver hesitated, his eyes flicking toward Cedric's own.

"…that's not the case. If you're amenable to it, I'd prefer to keep certain things to myself. My motivations… are irrelevant to my serving you."

Before Cedric could comment on that, he continued.

"When I was a youth, I thought as the crew does—that the world awaited my arrival. Admitting as much might once have been humiliating, but in my old age, such things bother me less and less. Regardless, I've since learned the error of my ways: there are indeed an exceptional few, destined to hold the world in their hands. However, I… do not count among their number."

Cedric listened quietly to the pirate's speech. His level of honesty was remarkable—at least, skimming Silver's surface thoughts suggested as much. After thinking things over, he made an observation.

"You've not entirely lived the life of a pirate, have you?"

It wasn't really a question. Everything about Silver was off. He was too disciplined, and his manner of speech was far too formal and educated. And the desire to keep his past hidden…

The pirate didn't confirm his suspicions, but neither did he deny anything. He just stood there, hands folded behind his back.

Cedric snorted. He really was intrigued.

Of course, he could force everything out of Silver, but that came with his own risks. Like Chalk, who'd been subjected to rigorous mental shake-downs, there was a chance of ending up a vegetable. And if Cedirc did want him as a right-hand man, it wouldn't do much for loyalty.

"Good help really is hard to find. You should be thankful of that fact. I'm letting you keep your secrets, but if you step out of line…"

Cedric's eyes travelled to a certain door, locked and barred. Behind it, slow, heavy breathing sounded. The noise was closer to that of an animal than a human.

"…well, there are worse fates than death."

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Run ragged by Brom, undergoing reading lessons and physical training, Eragon found himself perpetually exhausted. He half-suspected the old man did it on purpose to keep him out of trouble. Consequently, he'd been unable to scry the dark-haired woman during the past few days.

However, it seemed his opportunity finally came. Brom and Jeod were gone, on their way to meet the Varden's messenger.

Taking a deep breath, Eragon calmed himself, sitting at a small table. He was in his room, hunched over a silvery bowl of water. A reflective surface was needed as a medium for the spell—the more mirror-like, the better.

"Draumr kopa."

Muttering the incantation, he felt a large portion of strength leaving him. It was like he'd run ten miles, exhaustion seeping into his limbs while his eyelids fluttered. The consumption seemed disproportionate. For a moment, Eragon wondered if he did something wrong.

Suddenly, he felt a familiar mind pressing against his, lending him strength. It was Saphira.

'How did you-…?'

'Not now. Remember what Brom taught you.'

Eragon swallowed his questions. Instead, he considered Brom's instruction—to keep his target's image fixed in his mind. Having dreamed of the mysterious woman nearly every night for two weeks, it wasn't a difficult task.

The surface of the water rippled, colors swirling like splashes of paint. Eragon's eyes were wide open, glued to the bowl. Slowly, he saw something taking form. Shades of grey and brown sharpened into walls, a window through which watery sunlight filtered, a rickety bed and… the woman.

Unlike his dreams, she was perfectly visible. Her dark, unruly hair still covered her face, but Eragon saw a sliver of nose, lips and chin. The glimpse was more than enough to suggest her breath-taking beauty.

He felt himself becoming lost, staring slack-jawed at the tall, slender and long-limbed figure. To him, she seemed like a fallen angel—something that didn't belong in the mortal world.

Suddenly, something inconceivable happened. The woman stirred, her elegant fingers pressing against the bed. Weak from mistreatment, she strained, lifting herself off the wooden frame. A curtain of dark hair covered her face, but a single emerald eye stared piercingly ahead, boring into Eragon's own.

Shocked, he reeled backward, uttering a surprised cry. His knees knocked against the table's underside, causing water to splash everywhere. His concentration broken, the spell dissipated.

'She saw me!'

He could sense Saphira's own roiling emotions. Occupying his mind, she'd watched the scrying through Eragon's eyes.

'It certainly seemed so.'

There was a period of silence as both considered what just happened.

'However, there's something you missed, Eragon. She… wasn't human.'

Saphira pushed her own memories toward him. In the last moment before the spell's dissolution, the woman's hair parted, revealing a single pointed ear.

Eragon was shocked. She was an elf!

'What on earth is going on? Why would an elf be appearing in my dreams? Who captured her? Where could she be? I don't understand…!'

His hands went to his temples, rubbing firmly. He'd thought his life was upended enough, but seemingly that wasn't the case. It was so frustrating, being forced to wallow in ignorance, and his inability to extract answers from Brom only added to that.

Saphira's own emotions were equally complex. She recalled her conversation with Cedric, where he'd all but confirmed knowing the woman's identity.

She never had much patience for mysteries. The sooner this issue was resolved, the better. If Cedric was indeed knowledgeable, securing his assistance didn't sound like a bad idea.

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In a subterranean lair - a repurposed section of forgotten tunnels and drainage systems – a stone tub rose out of the floor. It was filled with water, the surface faintly illuminated by a single torch, flickering in the darkness.

It was in the hand of a familiar pirate, clean-shaved but with grey hair hanging to his shoulders. He stared into the water unblinkingly. It was perhaps five minutes later that the water rippled, sloshing and parting as someone emerged from beneath the surface.

Lean, muscled and handsome, Cedric brushed hair out of his face, extending a hand and receiving a cloth from Silver. Given the context, an outsider wouldn't be to blame for thinking this was some sort of perverse ritual.

The truth was far more mundane—after dealing with a troublesome opposing gang, Silver pulled on a few threads, following wherever they led. Their origin was this place, a nexus point connecting to hideouts for all sorts of scums and villains.

Needless to say – given his ever-growing need for money and materials – Cedric set the pirates to clearing them out, assisting from the shadows. Silver's warning not to ruffle feathers ended up falling on deaf ears.

As things stood, Cedric itched to measure himself against a few hostile witches. It would make good training. Given the amount of powerhouses out there, he couldn't afford to be scared by a few entrail-readers and knucklebone-tossers.

Regardless, half-and-hour ago, he'd taken a sedative, submersing himself in a cold bath. The purpose was to induct the same half-awake-half-asleep state he'd familiarized himself in the past. Reaching a bottle-neck in his biomancy-research, he wanted to recover some scientific knowledge from his past life. A more fluid mental state was conductive to that.

"The subject is secure?"

After wiping his face, Cedric turned and stood. A pile of clothes had been placed in one corner, prepared beforehand.

Silver looked away while his master dressed.

"Yes. The boy's in charge of keeping an eye on it, but… I'd advise against having him handle it. He's not keeping his head well. It's only a matter of time before an incident."

Cedric chuckled while drying himself, half-naked in the dim light.

"Do we have anyone more suitable, aside from yourself?"

Silver remained silent. Indeed, Suffisticuts might be a weak-minded lad, but he was far more loyal than the rest of the gang. The surviving ones, at least.

"…I see. I'll keep looking for a replacement. That aside, would you like me to keep the bodies?"

Cedric shrugged, slipping on a plain shirt and a pair of trousers. When he was done, he sat on the table, refastening his boots.

"You should ask yourself. I have no use for the dead, if you were asking—not yet. They were your comrades. Wouldn't you want to at least give them a decent burial?"

Silver seemed to think it over. In the raid, the gang's numbers had diminished further. Some were done in by enemy pirates, while others, well… suffered the consequences of their actions.

The captain had suspected they'd act against their new master, but he hadn't expected treachery so quickly. It seemed that they'd let slip information about their burglaries to other gangs. Given how territory was divided, those 'in charge' of the areas took issue.

Essentially, the traitors hoped to use opposing gangs to rid themselves of their witch-boy master. It backfired spectacularly, but the result wasn't unexpected. Common pirates were hardly the sharpest tools in the shed.

When Cedric was done, he made for the room's door—a moldy, swollen thing, hanging on rusted hinges.

"Well, suit yourself. Just have the remaining two men dump them somewhere. Can't have corpses stinking up the place."

He opened it into an entirely black hallway, but after taking a single step, he paused.

"By the way, did you remember to-…?"

However, before he could finish, Cedric felt a consciousness pressing against his, both alien and familiar. It was Saphira.

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