Chapter 3 – Snake in the Grass
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This chapter has adult content denoted with ** and the beginning and end**
One year later…
Razikale sighed as she lazily draped her arms across the gilded banister, watching the growing crowd with a wry smile. The deep blue curtains cast a shadow over the landing, hiding her from the prying eyes below, so she took advantage of this position to silently study of the parade of Magisters in the grand reception hall. Clad in deep black silks and the twirling lace, they all looked like pompous fluttering birds.
She noted that fashion had not changed overly much since she was last awake; people tended to lean towards darker colours now compared to her time though. Her own silk suit had long since been taken from her and subsequently burned by the slaves. Sometimes she wished she had the clothes even if they were the simplest in her wardrobe. It would have been nice to have at least something to remind her of her previous home.
This Tevinter… it was so foreign to her that she might as well have been placed in another world. She had to continuously watch herself, make sure that she did not slip back into her native tongue – something they now called Arcanum. It startled her to find that her language was long gone and only spoken fluently by a few dedicated scholars. She could never use it, as it was her accent turned enough heads. Most people thought her accent quaint and endearing – but they knew nothing, and spoke a poorer version of her great language.
Her fist tightened in frustration and she quickly felt the cool metal bend under her grip. With great care she slowly removed her fingers one by one from the rail and inspected the damage. Perfect indentations of her fingers could be seen. She tilted her head down to let the curtain of her dark hair hide her satisfied smile. Despite the tortuously slow return of her magic, it seemed her strength was returning at last. Her fingers glided over the metal railing back and forth until the marks were barely visible to a passerby. She had avoided detection for more than a year and she could not be lax in her activities – not when she was so close to her previous mana levels.
It seemed her care was for nought though, as she was alone on the wide balcony for the most part – no one really counted slaves as company. She eyed the three stoic elves standing quietly against the wall. Like statutes, unmoved and unaffected, they peered straight ahead and at attention, waiting for a command. Despite their distant appearance, Razikale knew better than to discount their ability to observe and retain information. She had overheard enough gossip to last a lifetime in her short period at court. The Archon himself often canvased the slaves for any information he could use to his advantage – and she knew for a fact, the most prominent Magister families had at least one elven slave who reported back to the Archon personally.
A slow and easy heartbeat could be heard coming down the hall towards her. No one but the Archon himself was ever this at ease at this sort of affair. Everyone below stank of stress and sweat, their heartbeats quick like little rabbits. Who would not be nervous? The Archon had decided to host the annual Magisterium meeting at this own estate this year.
The Archon's hands were cold as they rested on her shoulders.
"So….I am finally permitted to attend the Magisterium meetings as your consort, am I?" she questioned in a wry tone. It had been an argument between the two of them for the past months. He was eager to leave her at this summer estate, while Razikale insisted that she at least view the initial social gathering.
He squeezed her arm and let out a small chuckled as he guided her around the pillar, "This…" he gestured to the winding pillars and marble floors below, "Is just where my business begins, rarely do we ever conduct the important matters in the public eye."
She let out a delicate laugh, "I would imagine."
He gently massaged her shoulders as Razikale leaned back into his chest, "I acquiesced to your demands only for tonight, my dear. You must understand that my wife is here – surprising yes, but ultimately required for appearances sake. It would be poor form for you to be overly visible over the course of this week. Besides, it is not like you are unaware of the activities of the Magisterium. I often find myself wondering who is more popular, you or me?"
It was true, she had garnered quite the reputation for herself over these last months she had resided in the Archon's estate. He hosted grand affairs filled with only the most influential people from across Tevinter and even (on the very rare occasion) Orlais. Lively and charismatic, half the time the Archon's guests paid more attention to her rather than the man himself. Sometime the Archon used this to his advantage, but most of the time Razikale could tell it irritated the man.
He pulled her by the shoulders and led her further into a dark corner and stopped, all mirth gone from his face, "I do hope you know what is expected of you. You are here as my guest, as an honoured companion. I would hate to have to punish you later for any misstep."
Her eyes flashed at the word punish, but she quickly lowered her eyes and swallowed her retort. She could not let her pride get in the way of her goal, and these past months had been a never ending lesson on humility and patience. In a demure voice she whispered, "Of course, I remember your wishes."
He let out a wistful sigh and stroked her face, "It is my wish we could stay in bed all day, but I can deny you nothing Raza."
"And I thank you most humbly, My Lord, for entertaining the whims of a lowly servant, such as I."
"In my service you may be, but 'lowly' would not be a word I would ever use to describe you." He caressed her face again and tilted her chin up, "You are far too beautiful and educated for your station." His eyes sharpened as they searched her face, "Sometime I wonder about you…"
"What could you possibly want to know…I am an open book?"
He let out a sarcastic laugh, "My dear, being humble does not suit you at all. You and I both know that there is much more to you than you let on…in fact, I am sure you are lying to me."
"Then why tolerate me?" Razikale challenged.
"Besides your obvious physical attributes? There is something about you…something so very mysterious. I couldn't bring myself to end you before your puzzle was solved."
A tense minute went by as both master and servant stared at each other, neither one willing to break the exchange. Bells rang in the main hall, echoing through the corridor and signally the start of the grand reception ball.
He pulled away, "Move along now Raza, I expect to find you with the higher ranking servants." He kissed her lightly on the cheek, his hands smoothing down her gown.
Despite the fact she had been permitted to attend the ball, Razikale was still bared from mingling with the high ranking Magisters while the Archon's wife was present. She slipped past the Archon and swiftly made her way towards the back entrance, the indignity of the whole situation making her hands curl into tight fists.
"Raza"
His stern voice froze her in her tracks and she slowly turned to face him.
"I humour your proclivities to disregard the proper protocols when alone with me. I will not however, be so inclined to do so in public." The Archon made an exaggerated gesture towards the ground, "do not forget to show proper respect when addressing me."
Clenching her teeth, Razikale bent her back into a low sweeping bow, "Greatest apologies Lord Archon."
He smiled at her patronizingly, "Well done Raza. In the future, let us not forget who our betters are, shall we?"
She waited until his footsteps were far away before she rose from her bowed position. In a rage, her eyes flashed iridescent purple, "It is not I who has forgotten who their betters are."
The man's stillness was what caught her attention. He stood away from the rest of the Magisters, slowly sipping a goblet of wine and resting lazily against one of the upper level walls. He was clad in flashy robes – not a Magister, but something close to it.
Perhaps she ought to speak with the man? She was bored beyond measure with the other courtesans and servants. She was better than them and they knew it – it caused her to be ostracized as they purposefully moved away from her every time she tried for conversation. With the Archon and his wife on full matrimonial display, she was also socially barred from entering the higher socially ranked groups.
With a languid flick, Razikale opened her lace fan and moved away from her group. She slowly fanned herself as she made her way up the marble staircase. The closer she got, the more she recognized the human above. After all, he was almost as infamous as her.
"My, my, what do we have here, a handsome man hiding away from the glittering masses below? I would think someone like you would be basking in the glow of such affairs."
Nimble fingers twirled an impressively curled and immaculate mustache as he regarded her over his glass of wine. With a faux aghast flare he exclaimed, "My dear woman!" He pointed over to a tall Magister on the other side of the room, "That man over there, he is handsome," he gestured to another man, "That man over there is also handso - well …maybe not handsome," He paused and pointed to himself," ButI, on the other hand, am striking, beautiful, even pretty will do if you are short on adequate adjectives."
A true laugh bubble up from her throat – it was refreshing, "Please call me Raza."
He returned her mirth with a brilliant and charming smile, "Dorian Pavus, at your service." He took a sip of wine and a wicked glint entered his eye, "or should I ask if you are at my…'service'?"
The euphemism was thinly veiled and they both knew it. Still, Razikale hardly found herself insulted at his cheeky greeting, "I doubt you will want the things I can provide. I have heard from several little birds that you prefer a more masculine form."
"Oh you are just as sharp and pointy as my flashy shoulder straps." He leaned in and pretended to whisper conspiratorially, "All self-respecting Magisters must have at least one pointy object on them, didn't you know?" Dorian leaned back and regarded her, "I like my shoulder straps, and I think I will like you too."
Minutes turned into hours as the pair conversed into the night, hidden away from the machinations below. Dorian was both clever and amusing, something she infrequently came across.
"My Lady,"
The timid voice of a slave interrupted her conversation. Irritated, Raza turned away from Dorian "What is it?"
"The Lord Archon requests your presence in his solarium."
Raza let out a laugh and threw a dismissive wave toward the waif of a girl, "I was just finishing a conversation with Altus Pavus here. I will meet him in a few moments."
She turned back to continue conversing with Dorian, but his expression gave her pause. He gave the wide-eyed slave a fleeting look before turning back to her. "My dear, do you really think it is wise to keep the Archon waiting?" his handsome brow was pulled down into a playful frown, "I can assure you with utmost certainty that I will survive our separation." Despite his playful tone, she could see true worry in his eyes.
She turned at a light touch to her arm. With her head bowed in submission, the servant whispered, "Please my Lady….the Archon is not in the mood to suffer disobedience tonight." The last part was said so quietly that Razikale doubted Dorian heard it.
She sighed and snapped her fan shut, "Very well, let us depart." She turned and swept into a flirty bow to Dorian, "It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance Altus Pavus."
Dorian followed with an equally gallant bow and picked up her hand. His mustached tickled her as he laid a very chaste kiss on her hand, "Call me Dorian, please. And believe me when I say this… the pleasure was most certainly all mine. I sincerely hope we will meet again."
Her silver heels clacked against the marbles floors as Razikale slipped away from Dorian and quickly walked through the corridors and elven slaves scuttling out of her way when they took in her stormy expression. Her dark blue and black skirts dress robes billowed around her like some magnetic dark storm.
She curled her lip in annoyance and turned to elf known as Avelia, "Why is he in such a foul mood?"
Avelia's head lowered even further at Razikale's sharp tone, "He just finished a meeting with Maginster Alexius."
"So he is sitting with Gereon, I fail to see what could have made him upset. From what I gather Magister Alexius is quiet the sycophant."
Silence was her only response. Razikale often forgot that these elves were expected to remain silent – the poor girl probably did not even know what Razikale was talking about.
She swept into the room in a twirling mass of dark blue silk. The colour was not her favorite, but the Archon did prefer her in it. She watched as the Archon poured himself some wine, drinking it in great gulps before pouring more. The fact that he was too impatient to wait for the serving slaves was a bad sign. Perhaps Avelia was right and he was in a foul mood.
With quiet steps she walked over to where he sat by the roaring fire place. Tenderly prodding his tense shoulders and offering a gentle massage. The Archon groaned and leaded back into her touch, relaxing at her attentions.
"Have you had a troubling day?" at his sharp look of reprimand she added, "…my Lord."
He motioned for her to sit on the lounge seat next to him, "It was tedious-as is every such meeting each year." He took another generous sip of wine and contemplated the fire, his voice turning sour, "They are nothing but vipers and back stabbing deceivers."
Razikale hummed in agreement and took a spot next to him. He reached out and grabbed her hand. Surprisingly, the Archon was very affectionate when the mood struck him. Tonight it seemed that he required a certain level of comfort and understanding and she had spent enough time with the man to understand the things which pleased him. She could be tempting and vexing, submissive and plaint, and even considerate and caring when the situation called for it. Her ability to adapt had been difficult for her to reconcile with at first, but had ultimately helped her stay in his good graces. The last thing she needed was for the Archon to become suspicious of her activities - of the often mysterious and unexplained disappearances of slaves and lower ranking mages.
In a relaxed voice she asked, "Which particular snake was bothering you today?"
Sharp grey eyes pinned her to her seat, "Funny you should phrase it that way." It was obvious from his tone that it was not funny at all.
The Archon reached into his robes and pulled out a tattered piece of red cloth and tossed it at her, "My men have been coming across this symbol quite often lately." He continued to watch her as she looked at the fabric, "As you see, this twisted snake, within a fist, symbol is very striking. But not only that, it has become a very prominent image as of late…and I wonder if you had any knowledge of it."
The Archon's words were smooth and composed, but an undercurrent of a threat lingered between them. This very real danger forced Razikale to school her features into one of our uneducated ignorance. After all, what whore off of the Minrathous streets was well educated enough to recognize ancient Tevene symbolism?
So she smiled apologetically, "I do not recognize this ghastly image." But Razikale did recognize it – it stirred an old and forgotten memory of hers.
He continued to scrutinize her face, grey eyes bright in the firelight. After a very tense moment he signed and gently took the fabric from her, "Of course you don't know" he smiled at her, and for a moment Razikale found him beautiful.
Massaging his temples the Archon inhaled, "Gereon advised me this afternoon that he would be out of Tevinter for an extended period of time…leaving the management of his affairs to his apprentice for the time being. He petitioned that this stand-in be acknowledged in the Magisterium until his return from the South to resume his role."
How peculiar, Razikale thought. "Magister Alexius has a son, doesn't he?"
"Oh yes he does. One with a very respectable reputation."
"And yet he chooses to leave the handling of his affairs with a previous unknown apprentice rather than his heir?"
The Archon's smile was cold and calculating, "You can see why my curiosity was peaked. Alexius is not known for such audacious activities and yet here he is…planning to traipse around Thedas, with his son no less, and leaving his estate in the hands of a stranger."
The Archon started to get up to get another goblet of wine, but Razikale waved him down and rose herself and went over to the side table listening as he continued with his story, "Not only are Alexius' recent travel plans of interest, my men have also seen him traveling the streets at night in various places across Monstrous."
"It sounds as if this Magister has gotten himself involved in affairs he would rather keep secret," Razikale took a sip of his wine, "How mysterious."
Booming laughter filled the chamber, "Raza, if anyone has a monopoly on being mysterious it would be you."
She smiled sweetly and learned over to kiss him, "What do you plan to do about him? Will you send in a spy, perhaps bribe a slave?"
"None of those people. I am sending someone with him…to keep an eye on him and report back to me. Someone who can also be seen, but raise few suspicions."
She wondered who the Archon had in mind. Most slaves were invisible, but they were also limited in their ability to read and write. Perhaps The Archon would send Lavicius, he was a loyal guard in the palace. Though, the scandal with Lavicius and his elven lover had endeared him to very few.
"Do you believe this approach will actually work? Magister Alexius will know that anyone you send with him will be reporting back to you. It would not surprise me if nothing comes off this moles presence at all."
"Your lack of faith in me is startling – do you forget who I am?"
She handed the glass to him, "Of course not, my Lord."
He took it from her and swirled its contents, "I would hope so. I plan to send someone I have great faith in their abilities to wheedle out the truth of these matters."
She waited patiently for the answer and was most surprised by his choice, "I will be sending you to Ferelden with Magister Alexius."
Frozen with surprise, Razikale could do little more than stare at the man. This was definitely not something she anticipated facing, the fact that she would have to leave Tevinter. It was too soon, there was so much for her to learn about these modern times. Razikale went to open her mouth, but was silenced by the Archon's finger gently tracing her lips.
"Before you open your pretty little mouth, you should know that there is no room for negotiation here. You will be going with Alexius next week. Do not give me that look! At most you will be gone a few weeks while he settles his business in Ferelden."
Frustrated she questioned, "How did you convince Magister Alexius to take me? I have no experience in the Southern lands and I am no scholar."
The Archon shifted closer to her as he traced her jawline, "Oh, I simply told him a half truth, that my wife was back from our summer estate and that having you around at the same time was more trouble than it was worth."
"And he just agreed like that?" Razikale could not believe the Magister would be so naïve as to believe the Archon's excuse.
Tone tight, the Archon lifted his head from where he was nuzzling her neck, "Do not forget I am the Archon, my requests are not to be taken lightly. This is something you too often forget, my dear." She could smell the heavy scent of wine in his breath, "Besides, Gereon seemed eager enough to have you as a companion on the trip."
His fingers glided from her face down to her shoulders as he pulled Razikale onto his lap. Incensed by the high handedness of the man and his total disregard for her desires, she stiffened and went to lean away from him.
The Archon's reaction was immediate and violent. He shifted so suddenly that she was thrown under him on the lounge chair. His knees pushed painfully between her thighs as he spread her legs open in her robes. His weight pressed against her core and she was forced to bend her knees on either side of him. Lean fingers curled loosely around her neck as he brought his face down to hers, flushed in anger "Do. not. forget…" He punctuated each word with a small shake of her neck, "who you belong to."
Despite his firm hold of her throat, it was hardly threatening. She would have no marks in the morning and she could easily breathe. It had however, caught Razikale off guard and excited her. She sucked in a startled breath when cool air hit her exposed chest – when had he ripped her dress? She watched in amusement as he feverishly reached down into her unclasped robes, a greedy hand grasping and needing her breast.
"I may be sending you with Alexius," his fingers painfully twisted her nipple, forcing it into a hardened peak. Soon his mouth followed, slowly sucking in her flesh as his hand trailed from her chest down past her hips. Raziakle relaxed into his attentions, sighing at his smooth motions against her body. She moved closer to his fingers as they slipped past her folds. He worked her slowly and Razikale moaned at the sensation, "but our arrangement still stands."
Razikale was distracted for a moment when the Archon electrified his fingertips -a trick he knew she was very, very fond of. It zipped straight from her groin and up into her lower abdomen, causing a delicious sort of pain. She arched her back and spread her legs further apart, eager for his touch.
"Do not think you can fuck the man." He worked faster, slipped two fingers into her and set a punishing pace. With the pressure building, she was so focused on feeling him inside her that she did not hear her name being called until his hand stilled.
"Raza!"
Hooded eyes gazed down at her, cloud over over with desire, "You belong to me and only me. No other lover will come from this little jaunt in the southern lands, is that understood?"
In response to his demand, she tilted her hips up and squeezed her inner muscles around his fingers. Delighted in the darkening of his eyes, "Of course my Lord."
Of course Razikale would take whatever lover she desired, whenever she desired it. The Archon could go die for all she cared.