Chapter 5

The meeting with the elder of Brack had gone poorly. I found myself with precious few details about what the lamia had actually done. Conversations with the other villagers were equally frustrating. I came away with a vague description of the location of the lamia’s lair, which was a long-abandoned fortress, and the information that two women, a dwarf named Menelcab and an elf named Oltos, were in her clutches but believed to be alive.

That is how I found myself at the edge of the forest, looking at the old keep of the fortress. It was built from the gray stone of the nearby mountains.

I pulled the false visage from my pack. Heeding Argeia’s warning, I intended to use it as little as necessary, so I had not yet tried it on. I held it up to my face and pressed.

I felt the initial touch of the material, but then I felt nothing. At least physically.

My art sometimes requires me to act dispassionately and so suppress my emotions and reflexes. The false visage felt somewhat like that and more. There was a gate between my mind and my body, and I could select from emotions as if from a menu. This was potentially dangerous in a fight, where reflexes can be vital. I needed to use the visage with restraint.

I left my pack behind; it would be useful if the lamia knew as little about me as possible.

I walked out of the trees. I had seen evidence of the outer walls out in the forest, which had obviously been used as a source for stone and were largely gone. The stone of the keep, however, was intact. I wondered if it had been used for something else during times of peace, or if the local population viewed it with suspicion.