Stories about this were also mainstays of the taverns, but one cannot always direct everything to one's advantage.

  ***

  543 Barovian Calendar

  By the time the spring thaw was well advanced, the manor house was ready for Azalin. It was a relief to us both. With each passing week the castle seemed to get smaller for us, particularly the laboratory. I had many experiments in progress, testing and practicing the spells I'd learned, and his own work vied for space with my own. On one memorable night the magical energies became too intense to be contained when his concentration wavered in a casting. A tendril of the power lashed out, noisily connected and combined with my work, and when the smoke dispersed I discovered a man-sized hole in the wall. The stone work hadn't been destroyed so much as melted. Neither of us had been too terribly pleased over that incident.

  The job of moving him out was larger than I'd anticipated. For someone who had arrived with just the clothes on his back he'd accumulated an astonishing amount of equipment in the relatively short space of a few months, much of it very fragile. Safe overland shipping of the glass work was possible, but we both elected to magically transfer it to the house. My barrier wall only functioned in one direction to keep things from entering, so it was no problem to me to get things out.

  The job fell to me to do all the translocation work, giving me the idea that this was yet another spell Azalin did not know and wasn't going to bother learning. The impression which he continued to give was that he was too busy, which was nonsense to me. When the fever to know is inside you, nothing prevents you from seeking and learning more. That same fever possessed Azalin, but he never seemed to give in to it.

  Once more was I tempted to ask the why behind his eschewment of new spells, but I was in a hurry to convey him from the castle and the summer nights were short. I had to save my energies for the transferrals, not waste them plying him with questions he was obviously too occupied to address. Later, I promised myself. When the time was right… later.

  The process took longer than expected, for I had to rest between each casting, but eventually the last of it was out of Castle Ravenloft, including Azalin himself. As a courtesy—and to get him out faster—I saved him the long trip by land around the mountain and sent him along with the final shipment. With his permission, of course.

  The instant he was gone I hurriedly took myself off the premises and set into motion a series of detection and cleansing spells I'd stored away just for this moment. They spun and hurled through every crack and corner of Castle Ravenloft, their purpose to find any hidden magical traps Azalin might have devised. During one of his interminable stories he mentioned doing that to an enemy once, and there was no reason to think he wouldn't repeat the ploy.

  As his style of magic was different from mine I'd designed the spells to react specifically to it. I was surprised, perhaps even a little disappointed, when nothing turned up. I thought he would at least have some sort of scrying contrivance in place, but then he would anticipate that I would be looking for problems. He wouldn't be so foolish as to leave anything obvious lying about. It would have to be the hard way, then, requiring me to go over the entire castle inch by inch to make sure it was clean and secure.

  In the meanwhile, until I was satisfied that all was safe, I would take my daytime rest not in my crypt beneath the castle as usual, but in a small cave I'd carved into an inaccessible crevice on the wind-blasted north face of Mount Ghakis. The wards and traps I'd placed there were the equal of those around my crypt, but with the added advantage that Azalin had never been near it. Not even the mountain goats went that high up. I could only reach it myself in bat or mist form. Perhaps he knew about it, for I suspected he had some kind of Sight magic which he had not deigned to share, but with the protections I had in place he would be hard-pressed to take effective action against me without being there in person. Somehow the picture of him in mountain climbing gear precariously dangling from a rope, his illusionary robes flapping up around his ears in the wind while trying to cast a spell, wasn't one I thought I would ever witness in reality.

  After a week of thorough searching I decided the grounds, castle, and even the spiky outcrop of the mountain it stood upon were safe and clear and moved back in. I also reinforced the area against intrusion, casting fresh new spells over the old and making sure my servitors were completely unpoisoned by Azalin's influence.

  Throughout all this I kept an eye on the manor house by means of the crystal ball Ilka had given to me, being careful not to bring myself too close to Azalin's immediate presence. More than once he started and looked around, causing me to retreat. When not dodging him, I was able to get a good view of the progress he made with his laboratory.

  Impressive was the best word to describe it. The ranks of glass works, when properly lodged in their carved wooden holders along the curving walls of the tower made sense to me now. When filled with certain fluids and linked by a mile or so of twisted copper wire he had ordered from the mines of Immol, they would amplify the energies we would summon. The round shape of the structure would confine the power into a concentrated form large enough for us to walk into. The problem with working in my own laboratory, he said, was the opening created would be far too small to use, no more than a hand span. Not a hardship for me, since I could slip through in the form of a bat, but I kept that snippet of news to myself, knowing it would only annoy him. There were other ways of doing that.

  When they'd done all they could do, he dismissed the few remaining workers and finished the final setting up himself—not that he deigned to shift anything or so much as hold a paintbrush in his gloved hands. He employed spell work. Furnishings darted about the rooms like birds as he directed them to their designated places. By merely pointing his finger he traced sigils in silver fire along every square foot of wall space in the laboratory, each sign meant to amplify and focus the power we would raise. When illuminated by candles or magical light they shimmered, sending bright reflections into every comer of the room.

  When it was done the place was indeed impressive, and I held a certain amount of envy for it. When once he was gone I planned to take it over. Though I hoped to be gone as well, I did not intend to leave permanently. My main hope and desire was not to abandon Barovia altogether, but reunite it with the plane from which it had become separated. The arrival of Azalin had brought home the hard fact that Barovia was yet very provincial and further progress on many levels of development was all but stagnated by its utter isolation. Locked away in this pocket of the Mists it might die for want of external stimulus and trade. And if Barovia died, then how long would I be able to linger, futilely trying to feed upon its rotting corpse?

  ***

  From Azalin's private commentary notebooks, contd.

  Free at last, at least of the frustrating, stultifying atmosphere of Castle Ravenloft. It has been nearly a year since my arrival and long past time for me to leave it and Barovia behind.

  I had initially considered taking over the land from Von Zarovich, but only, only on condition that it could somehow be shifted from this small pocket of a plane to the larger one where I originated. To trade my rule there for rule here would be demeaning for one of my capabilities. One would as soon ask a hawk to trade the free flight of his hunting range for the mastership of a cage. To make an annexation of that cage into the hawk's larger territory is quite something else again.

  Toward that end I have tried to secretly establish some form of regular contact with members of the Barovian nobility, beginning with Baron Latos, who seemed most obligingly tractable to my influence. This proved to be a waste of time. Von Zarovich, I discovered, had already imparted strict instructions against anyone contacting me, and as is in my own land, his word is law in Barovia—the whole of the law that no one dares to violate lest they end in his infamous dungeons. While I can agree with the reasoning behind this policy, it has proved damnably inconvenient to my purposes.

  His nobles fear him, and their fear could be something I might be able to turn to my advantage but for the fact they fear me even more. I know not exactly what he said to them, but they avoid me whenever possible and it's left an immutable impression that even I would be reluctant to try changing as it would be ail too obvious to Strahd. I could do it, but forcing them all, one by one, to rally to my banner would consume much time, and Von Zarovich would notice and stop things long before I could make any significant progress.

  Far better that I focus on the primary work toward an escape, then worry later about how to take over his office if it is still something I wish to pursue. The best way to do that—when the time comes—is to simply assassinate him. He has the nobility so firmly under his hand that they wouldn't know what to do with themselves without him. A strong leader stepping into his place would likely be well received, so far as I can determine. None here have the courage to even think of challenging his authority.

  As an alternative I have thought of using the peasantry, but they too have little inclination to change. They have a vast distrust of strangers, and it is widely known by now that I am from outside of Barovia. Like the nobles, they fear me, so the only power in their numbers would seem to be that of complete inertia. Von Zarovich has also taken it upon himself to circulate wild stories about me meant to increase their uneasiness. It would seem that where I am concerned he is loath to allow me even the most unlikely of openings. Perhaps, should the occasion demand, I might find a use for a single, easily led individual within their ranks. Much more simple than trying to convert an unwilling—and unskilled—army to do my bidding. For that I can just re-animate a few thousand corpses. Barovia certainly has no lack of these, thanks to the lord of this miserable land.

  As for his precious Vistani, I've had no contact with them whatsoever, though I am often aware of their close presence watching me. I've since amended my opinion that he fears them. When conversation touches upon them, he seems to see himself as a condescending patron rather than the Vistani as manipulated pawns. However, I suspect that both qualities are in operation at once in their interactions together. It hardly matters to me, since it is not likely I can make allies of them to oppose him. Should things come to a conflict I shall just have to count them as being with the enemy and deal with them as such.

  Von Zarovich knows nothing of these musings, or if he does, then he is better at bluffing and lying than is humanly or inhumanly possible. I have observed him in every phase of mood and know that I would recognize any false note he might care to strike with me. When it comes to it, he isn't that much different from the rabble he rules, much as he would like to think otherwise. It only takes a bit more effort on my part to keep my deceptions in place, but he can be fooled and misled the same as the rest.

  Though rife with weaknesses he would nonetheless make a formidable opponent should we have a falling out. Our agreement still holds and must continue as such until I can effect my escape.

  So far the spell I cast to prevent him from seeing beneath my outer illusion appears to be working. Often when we're busy at certain types of new spell work a puzzled expression passes across his face, and I can almost hear the slow grinding of his thoughts as the questions come to him. He tries to hide it, doubtless wishing to conceal this vulnerability from me. Many times I have observed him drawing breath to voice a query, but never has he actually been able to bring himself to make it thanks to the spell's influence. I am almost moved to laughter for his futile strivings to put the facts together, but I sensibly maintain self-control.

  I should not underestimate him, for his grasp of magic is dangerously quick and firm. Over the last few months he has all but soaked in every scrap of knowledge I have been willing to share. I have kept some things from him, lest he outstrip me in those areas, but his progress, compared to my own training in the Art, has been terrifyingly fast. In this short space of time he has learned and mastered what took me many, many decades to perfect.

  How he enjoys to lord it over me, too. He is very aware of his genius and is often insufferable, always finding petty amusement for himself by trying to pick away at me. In Oerth, some rulers actually paid for this to be done to them by having a foppishly dressed fool in their court. I never bothered with such idleness, but I am forced to endure it now—was forced to endure it. Since I am now in my own house, I shan't have to suffer his company as often as before.

  I must always remember that no spell seems too complicated for him, and his development and command over them is truly astonishing. This is a decided threat and my only way to guard against him turning the skills I have imparted back upon me is to always conduct myself as still being his superior in the Art. So long as he thinks he can learn more from me, then he'll not be too inclined to make a nuisance of himself. In truth I am still more skilled and powerful, yet I keenly feel the disadvantage of not being able to take in new spells. He has no such limits, having become accomplished at the design and invention of new castings and the boldness to put them to use.

  Perhaps it was a mistake to teach him so much, but for an escape to be successful we both must have an equal sharing of knowledge in certain areas, so it could not be helped. I have taken steps to build certain protections into the structure to prevent him from spying on me without my knowledge, though. I am certain he has some sort of scrying spell or device and have often felt his presence peering over my shoulder. He does not peer too closely, I think, for fear that I would discover his game. Too late for that. He is found out, but I let him continue for now. Knowing in what he is interested will help me to defend against him in the future should it be necessary.

  I can now find little fault in the manor house. My initial complaints I weeded out during its reconstruction. It is small compared to what I was used to in Oerth, but will serve well enough here. The laboratory is what is most important about the place and despite the primitive conditions here it is the equal of any I have used in the past. The only complaint I can make is the length of time it took to construct it in the first place. The limits of Barovia's resources, skilled workers, the miserable weather—all seemed to conspire to keep me trapped in Castle Ravenloft throughout the whole of the winter. Von Zarovich was also too soft on his workers; whenever I endeavored to press them to greater speed and productivity he would undermine what little authority I had over them. This would never have happened had I been in complete charge of the project. I would have had them at labor day and night and damn the weather and weariness; the undertaking would have been finished in a quarter of the time.

  Though it was a struggle I held back my temper, partly because of our agreement and partly because I still need Von Zarovich to cast the spells which I cannot learn. But I did not squander the extra time, and used it to enrich my mind by plundering his library. It is amazing to me that he's been able to amass such a quantity of books given his situation. They also serve as another reason to annex Barovia into my rule once I have returned to my own land. I should not care to leave behind so excellent a collection to molder to nothing once their owner is no more.

  End of excerpt.

  ***

  543 Barovian Calendar, Barovia

  Mid-summer arrived again and Azalin announced that he was finally ready to execute his escape spell.

  He had been busy for months with the preparations. These last stages were quite complicated and so extended my magical abilities in certain areas that with constant practice what had once been difficult now became second nature to me. It was a different style of spell work than what I had grown used to, requiring new mental disciplines and a great deal of stamina. Had I been an ordinary man the drills alone would have exhausted me to the point of collapse. The local peasantry bore the brunt of my proportionate increase in hunger since my dungeon supplies were rather thin just then. I'd been so busy with the project that neglecting my duties of keeping the law had become the norm.

  As for Azalin, his work had taken an experimental turn, combining my travel spell—the one I had used to deliver him to the house from the castle—with a summoning one in his store. I say experimental because the mixing of spells is a dangerous practice. The least glimmer of incompatibility could be disastrous—such as that incident with the hole melted through the rock wall—and I would be the one in the line of fire. Though he was a master of such a difficult Art, it would be up to me to actually execute. Again he did not learn the spell himself, but insisted that I be the one to cast it.

  "The timing is delicate; this task should be yours," I said as he made a last check of the wiring and fluid levels in the glass containers.

  "I shall be occupied holding and sustaining the energies."

  "I can do that just as well, more easily."

  "Is the work too much for you, then?"

  "Not at all, but I am thinking that it is rather too much for you." I was very curious why he hadn't bothered to school himself in the new conjuration as it would have been safer for each of us to be fluent with it.

  He continued as though he had not heard me.

  "You have no answer for that?"

  "For what?" he snapped. "If you want to have another theoretical discussion I shall be pleased to accommodate you, but not just now. The solstice takes place in less than an hour and I have no time to waste. You should be preparing yourself for the effort as well."