Ivan stepped past the inebriated patrons of "The Silver Trout," taking a place in the corner farthest from the burning hearth. He called for a pint of their watered down ale when a barkeep attended him. A scowl crossed the podgy face of the barkeep, but soon dissolved when Ivan pressed a copper coin into his palm. The man bumbled off, to return a few moments later with Ivan's pint. Ivan brooded over the lip of his tankard, trying to plan out his next step. The manor, along with most of his arcane materials, were likely now in the possession of the Inquisition. He had but three vials of various powders and a single tome which he had taken in the hasty flight from the abode. There were few friends he could call upon, all of which would turn him into the Inquisition. No path forward; no path back. Morbid thoughts crept through his mind. Perhaps he could cross the veil of life and death himself, to find his beloved.<br/><br/>As he stewed over his second tankard, a youth sat at his table. Ivan looked up from the swirling bubbles at the lad.<br/>"I'm not looking for friends," mumbled Ivan.<br/>"Are you Ivan Cane?" asked the boy, ignoring his question. Ivan's thoughts sobered quickly. Had the Inquisition found him already? No. They would already be kindling the pyre if they had. This lad was someone else's errand runner. Ivan doubted that he had any business with the youth, and that he was probably here on behalf of someone else.<br/>"Who's looking?" retorted Ivan.<br/>"Malovo de Rosini," answered the boy. Malovo was an Italian practitioner that Ivan had blackmailed into surrendering the<span style="font-style: italic">Necros Malificarum</span>, a tome from which he derived the ritual he performed last night, and the only book which he now carried. Ivan realised that this youth was likely Malovo's apprentice.<br/>"Do you know what your master has sent you to retrieve?" questioned Ivan. The youth sat silently for a moment before answering.<br/>"No, but given the Inquisitors that I encountered north-west of here near where my master instructed me to find you, I suspect it is a Forbidden text." Ivan was impressed with the youth's sharp mind.<br/>"And what would your master want with such a book?" Ivan hoped to drive a wedge between Malovo de Rosini and his young debt collector. He had enough issues with which to contend without adding Malovo's ire to that list. Without missing a beat, the lad replied.<br/>"To bring back my mother." Ivan then knew of this boy's relationship with Malovo de Rosini. He was more than just an apprentice. He was the whelp of Malovo's lover. To those with power, death was but another obstacle to be overcome, and Malovo had drawn the same conclusion that Ivan had.<br/><br/>"Tell Malovo to meet us in the port of Dover twelve days hence," Ivan said as he stood up. He made for the wooden stairs of the inn that led to the rooms. The youth called out.<br/>"Will you bring that book?"<br/>"I'll bring more than that." This was Ivan's second chance. He no longer had the facilities to conduct the ritual again, but Malovo did. He just needed to find a way to "convince" de Rosini to comply with his ideas. Ivan came to the room he had taken and burst in more loudly than he intended. Perhaps the barkeep did not water down his ale as much as Ivan thought.<br/>"We're leaving."