Skolvor slithered into the Mage Guild of Ansa`fel. A few of the acolytes gave him a pleasingly terrified look, but most of the mages appeared to take little notice. No doubt they saw all manner of strange creatures. He made his way up the winding staircase to the study hall on the top floor and looked around. He recognised a few faces and saw that they recognised him. Urgent whispers were exchanged as he held himself upright on his strong tail in the middle of the room.
"You can't be here." The voice was loud and authoritative and came from one of the corners. Sitting on an easy chair was Systrom, a former arch mage of the city, who knew the snake well. "You aren't welcome, Skolvor."
Skolvor turned his huge body to face Systrom and gave him a toothy smile. Rows of needle-sharp teeth glistened in the torchlight. "Oh ssssshut up, Sssssysssstrom," he hissed, his deep, whispery voice like sandpaper being scraped over granite. "I am not here for troublessssss."
"Even so," the old man retorted, "you are not welcome, Skolvor. The School of Än'vakor has long been forbidden and I doubt you've given it up."
Skolvor shook his reptilian head from side to side. "Your welcome doessss not interesssst me, Ssssyssstrom. I ssseek Sssssilmariel."
"Ha! Do you now?" the former arch mage snorted. "Do you now indeed?" He was indignant and had stood up from his easy chair in his outrage. "Well you won't find her here. She only visits when we summon her. And even then she doesn't come. She's a law unto herself!"
"It musssst be challenging being ssssso angry and ssssso impotent," Skolvor observed. He held up a hand to silence Systrom's protests. "Doesssss sssshe sssstill work at the bank?" he asked, slightly more genially.
"Why should I tell you?"
"Becausssse if you don't, I sssshall raze your little sssschool here to the ground."
"You wouldn't. The whole kingdom would turn against you... the High King himself would hunt you down."
Skolvor smiled. He had long mused over matching his own power against the High King’s. He’d lose, no doubt, but he sometimes wondered how long he’d last. “Jussssst tell me sssso we don’t have to find out,” he said.
Systrom shook his head, but a young girl piped up while the old mage turned red. “Lady Silmariel does work at the bank,” she said. “And she’ll destroy you.”
Skolvor wheeled on the girl. “Will sssshe now?” he said. He brought his yellow eyes level with hers and raised his staff in front of her face. The gem set within it began to glow, giving off a sickly purple light as the casing revolved with wisps and sparks of magic. “And who are you, girl?”
“Vallen,” she said, apparently unimpressed by his show of magic. “And I know a bully when I see one.”
Skolvor stared at her for a moment, weighing his options, and then distinguished his staff. “I will remember you Vallen,” he said. “And you, Sssssysstrom.” And with that, he slithered back down the stairs and out onto the walkway.