The cool, damp breeze shifted the changing leaves, sending the rain slanting across the mouth of the shallow cave. Angor glowered at the cloudy skies; it almost felt too cold to rain, and each night the plummeting temperatures spun icy filigree along the edges of the puddles. He could survive much more easily here than in the bitter north, but it still wasn't a pleasant ordeal without the protection of underground tunnels or other structures.

He'd been squatting in this empty cave for the past few days, recovering after his grueling, almost-lethal trek through the far north. This land had plenty of waterfowl to hunt, but even the taste of roasted meat had a limited impact in improving his mood. Baba Yaga had not bothered him during his reprieve, but it was only a matter of time before she intervened again and spurred him after the Trollhunter. He supposed he owed her double now, once for the errant magic that flared and retreated at uncontrollable intervals and again for her intervention during his near-death experience. He snorted. The idea of owing her for anything felt obscene to him; he'd only asked for one of the two favors, and he couldn't even control that.

He scowled, focusing on his anger. Sometimes the magic manifested when he did this, if he was lucky. Today, apparently, was a lucky day, because violet fire began to flicker along his arms, the flames much smaller than their initial appearance. He thrust out a hand experimentally, as he had done in his fight against the wolves. His palm smoked like a sputtering candle, but nothing else happened. He growled and cast a glare at his cooking-fire, crackling merrily. Was she watching from the flames?

The fire hissed and stuttered, as though amused by his withering stare.

"I know you're watching," he snapped at the burning logs.

The fire did not respond, and it took him a second to realize what he was doing. He gave his head a shake and let his gaze wander aimlessly over the shadows cast by the flickering flames. He was getting paranoid. She couldn't be watching him all the time.

I am always watching, little hunter, a voice purred.

He sat bolt upright.

It is one of the powers your soul-ring, the Inferna Copula, gives me.

He snarled in disgust. "I came to you, sacrificed myself, for my people. And for what? Magic I cannot control and intervention I did not ask for?"

Something invisible struck him across the face like a fist-sized rock, snapping his head to one side. Do not forget your position, fool. I am far more powerful than you will ever hope to be.

He rotated his jaw, blinking back stars. He had no idea she was capable of punishing him like that. "If I am so weak, why keep me at all?" he challenged. "Why not let me die in that forest?"

Cold, soft, laughter filled the cave and his ears, chilling him more effectively than the frigid rain. Did you forget you were bound to me, hunter? Letting you die would be a waste of a servant.

He shuddered, horror clawing at him. How binding was this contract?

Fear not, Argante told him softly. A gust of wind brushed his face like a soothing touch, cold but gentle. As you prove yourself, I will grant you greater freedoms.

"When will you return my soul? There is a void…" He put a hand to his chest. Void was not the right word. It felt more like he'd been hollowed out, as if a thin layer living stone was the only thing left of him, as if even that might shatter at the slightest breeze into nothing.

When I am satisfied, she responded simply.

He glowered at the flames.

Come, come, little hunter, she crooned. Be not dour about your contract. In time you will learn to enjoy the hunt.

He glanced at the fire moodily, doubt dampening this twisted promise. Only a monster enjoyed hunting one's own kind.

"Be that as it may," he responded. "Your magic still does not obey me."

You are yet new to magic. As you grow more experienced, it will obey. There is one nearby who might help you. Tonight, you will go and begin your studies in the arcane.

He eyed the rain and the ever-darkening sky gloomily. He didn't think it would let up by nightfall, and he did not relish the thought of walking in this rain. But if he did not go, he knew that Argante would not leave him alone.

He got to his feet, collected his staff, and made sure his book was protected against the rain, then stood just inside the cave entrance, waiting for the gray daylight to fade.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

A sharp knock on her door spurred Lybran to her feet. Sure, it might be night, but the night was still very young and the weather was poor, so she hadn't thought anyone would really be out and about yet.

The individual knocked again, pounding more insistently. She snatched a candle from the table and ran to the door, opening it cautiously. Captain Kaius and a small group of other guards clustered around her door, and in their midst stood another troll, draped in a heavy white fur that looked totally soaked. His slim, athletic body belied youth, but the cracks around his eyes and the deep scarring in his stone told her he was far older than he first appeared. Kaius clutched a gaggletack by his side, eyeing the stranger with suspicion as he spoke.

"M'Lady, we found this intruder wandering up the main road. No one claims to recognize him, so we figured he might be a changeling spy."

She peered at the stranger suspiciously, studying him. He peered back, and she got the oddest impression he was studying her.

"These are his." Kaius tucked the magic item back into his belt and produced a walking stick and a bone-handled knife, sheathed in dark leather. The stranger scowled at the captain, his golden eyes narrowing to slits. He might be cooperating for now, but he was not happy about it. She put her candle down and took the weapons.

"Well, you tested him already. He has not changed, Kaius?" She asked.

"No, M'Lady."

"Let him go, then."

"You aren't concerned about him?" Kaius gave the stranger another suspicious look.

"I can defend myself, thank you, Kaius," she told him briskly. "If you are concerned, you may linger. I will call you if I require assistance."

Kaius looked like he was about to argue, but then decided against it, loping off into the rain and taking the other guards with him. The stranger remained standing on her doorstep, his gold eyes still penetrating her, even as she handed him his weapons back.

"I need help." The stranger spoke for the first time, his avian-sharp gaze piercing her. He had a deep voice like splintering gravel, his accent indicating he came from somewhere distant, but again, she could not determine where.

She paused on her doorstep, her jaw tightening. "Oh?" A lot of trolls that came her way needed help, but she could not help them all. "And what is it you need?"

"I came here searching for a magician. Where might I find one?"

She started at this. What could have prompted him to come so far? Troll wizards were rare, but not that rare. "I am she," she ventured. "Do you need a book? A spell?"

He looked her up and down, but his unreadable expression did not change. "Neither," responded the other. "I need training."

She hesitated, then stepped aside. "Come in."

He stepped inside, trailing water from his dripping cloak, and hung the sodden fur from her coat rack, revealing a small pack that looked like it could barely carry anything at all. It bulged from the mass of objects inside, the corner of a book peeking out of the pack's flap. She closed the door and made to pick up her candle, but it had gone out.

"Sit," she said, indicating the worn chairs at the table. The stranger sat, looking about. None of his previous tension had left his body.

"Before I do anything for you, you need to tell me who you are and why you're here," she told him stiffly.

The stranger's eyes narrowed again, but he began his story.