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It took some hours of walking -- out of the temple, out of Bevelle, and well into the Calm Lands -- before Isaaru had enough distance to think clearly again. Trema's speech about erasing the past to serve the future-- the plan to destroy the spheres-- the angry words he had shouted back-- the implied threat in Trema's reply-- Isaaru had forced himself to fight back the impulse to murder Trema and send him on the spot, which would have done little to stop the man's allies. Instead, he'd stalked out of the room without another word, not waiting to see what the others would do. He was not yet sure what anyone could do, beyond getting as many spheres as possible out of the temple.

But that goal, at least, provided him with a place to start. And so Isaaru had slipped into the Seekers' quarters on his way out of the city, stuffed half a dozen spheres into a sack, and spirited them away. The Calm Lands made as good a hiding place as any, with all the small caves and hollows in the hills forming their southern boundary. So he walked for a short while more, hiking up into the cliffs to a shallow cave he had spied from the valley. A brief exploration led him to a good-sized niche in the wall; he dumped the spheres into the hollow, then turned to a likely pile of rocks, intending to shift them to camouflage the hiding place.

But it turned out that the rocks were already being used as a hiding place. Isaaru jumped back with a soft gasp at the sight of a snake, curled up in a circle around one of the stones, and snatched his robes around himself. "A Coastal Taipan?" he said, speaking aloud in his surprise, the words ringing softly through the cave. "Here, so far from the ocean?"

The snake lifted its head and tasted the air with a lazy flick of its thin tongue, its green scales flashing in the dim light. No, Isaaru realized, the snake was not a Coastal Taipan but rather its docile Inland cousin -- smaller, thinner, its colors more muted. The differences were clear on this second look, but still much subtler than they had appeared from the pictures Isaaru had studied in the Bevelle library. He had researched these creatures extensively, just as he had studied all the animals and fiends that might have been a threat to him on his pilgrimage. It would not have done to fall to a nest of poison vipers on his way to defeat Sin. Of course, his journey had been ended by vipers of another kind entirely. Isaaru frowned. The vipers were still with him, with all of Spira, and they had to be driven out.

"How do you fight a snake?" Isaaru contemplated the Inland Taipan for a moment longer, noticed its elegant coils, the pattern of green scales on gray. The shifting colors put him in mind of someone, someone who was very much like this snake, now that he thought on it. Quiet. Unpresuming. And capable of being just as deadly while hiding in plain sight. "You fight a snake with another snake."

Yes. "Protect," he murmured with a slight wave of his fingers, willing the magical shield to concentrate around his hands as he slid them beneath the snake and lifted it up from the ground. The snake did not strike, however, but only looked back at him, placid, tongue flickering. Slowly, carefully, Isaaru let the snake fall into the sack which had held the spheres, then tied the top shut. This would do nicely.

When Isaaru returned his rooms, glass tank balanced on his arms, he was not surprised to see Pacce there, thrown back against the cushions of the tall arm chair, kicking its legs with his small booted feet. It concerned Isaaru, that Pacce spent so much of his time here -- he ought to be out and about, exploring Bevelle or in his lessons. Pacce turned, looked up at Isaaru, and launched himself out of the chair.

"Hey, big brother. I didn't think you would be home this soon. What's that?" Pacce pointed at the tank, then widened his eyes as he caught a glimpse of its occupant. "Ooh, a snake! Can I see it?"

"It's not for you," Isaaru replied with a pointed stare before turning away and out of Pacce's reach. "It's a gift for one of the acolytes."

"Is it for Baralai? I bet it's for Baralai."

Isaaru allowed himself no outward reaction, but he did set the tank down on his desk before looking back at Pacce, one eyebrow raised. "What makes you say that?"

Pacce shrugged. "He's so quiet all the time. He could use a friend to talk to."

It took a bit of effort not to laugh at the image of Baralai sitting next to the tank and holding a one-sided conversation with it, but Isaaru managed to keep his expression stern. "Well, you are correct in one respect: I am meeting with Baralai this evening. Alone. " He crossed his arms and looked down at his brother. "Please go."

"Aw, I never get to hear the good stuff." Pacce's lower lip crept forward, threatening to break into a pout, and he let out a heavy sigh. "Fine, I'll go." He turned on his heel and stalked out of the suite and into the hallway, letting the door slam behind him. Isaaru did not move for what felt like a long time, considering how many cares seemed to weigh on Pacce's head, these days. Then he shook his head and turned back to the tank, contemplating the creature inside. The snake curled around the bed of rocks Isaaru had provided, lifting its head and waving it from side to side, examining its new environment.

On the return trip to Bevelle, Isaaru had felt his rage returning, rising with every step, and with it came visions of talking Trema's life in dramatic fashion, of letting the snake loose in the man's quarters and stepping back to watch the chaos. But would killing Trema help accomplish any of Isaaru's goals? On more sober reflection, he thought not; it seemed certain Trema would have to be discredited first, flung from power, replaced by someone with the preservation of Spira's past and future both firmly in mind.

Besides, the more he considered it, the more Isaaru suspected that Trema might be an Unsent, like Seymour and Lord Mika before him. Not much even the strongest venom could do against an enemy who was already dead.

He pulled the white linen runner off the top of his dresser and dropped it over the snake tank. This plan was a better way. Perhaps the only way. A soft knock on the door, and he turned to see the acolyte who had finally appeared in response to his summons, a quizzical expression on his face. "Did you carry out my instructions?"

"Yes, my lord." The man bowed, and Isaaru tried not to wince. Not outwardly, at any rate. "He should be here shortly."

"I thank you," Isaaru responded with a nod and then turned away, resting his hand on the top of the glass, cool through the thin cloth that covered it. He could place his own hand in the tank, he realized, free himself from this problem and the yawning emptiness, the silence in his head that oppressed him more with each day. Letting his hand hover there, he entertained temptation, then snatched it away. True, he would free himself, but what of Pacce? Maroda, the acolytes, the rest of Spira.... No.

Another knock, then, and Baralai was there, dark eyes curious. "Hello, Lord Isaaru. You summoned me here?"

"Yes." The title somehow bothered him less coming from Baralai. Isaaru came away from the tank and into the center of the room. He bowed to Baralai, who returned the gesture. "Shut the door."

Baralai complied, then took a few steps into the room. "I presume you wish to discuss the situation with Lord Trema."

"Yes." Isaaru took a few steps backward, drawing Baralai further in as he followed. Glancing at the tank, he let out a quiet sigh of anger, allowing himself to speak his true feelings at last. "I could just kill him."

Baralai said nothing, only buried his hands in the sleeves of his green robe.

Isaaru looked up to the ceiling and took a deep breath. "I wish I could pretend to share his beliefs, make him believe that I have shed the past for his vision of the future. I could curry favor with him and keep him as close as an enemy should be." He let out a sharp breath, his head falling forward.

"But the unfortunate truth is, I cannot." He shook his head. "When the time came, I would refuse to help him destroy the spheres. There is something about the man... I simply can't control my feelings in his presence. You saw, in that last meeting." He turned enough to meet Baralai's eyes, see his brief nod of answer. "Every time I see him, I feel my control slipping away, and my outrage would be the death of me..." And not only of me, he thought, but did not say. Still, Baralai seemed to take his meaning, glancing at the chair where Pacce had been sitting, then out the window. Was Pacce hiding in those bushes, listening in? It seemed likely, but Isaaru avoided looking closely enough to check. Best not to know for certain, to pretend that Pacce's innocence might remain untarnished for just a little bit longer.

He stepped over closer to Baralai. "But for you, I think there is a chance."

At that, Baralai finally reacted, turning away from the window to look at him, eyes widening. Between his unblinking look and his silence, he reminded Isaaru even more of the snake, testing the air with his eyes, placid expression hiding the tension as he prepared to strike, perhaps.

"I know that you have gained favor from many of the younger members of the party." Isaaru focused on Baralai's face, daring him to look away. "I could not do that. I have burnt too many bridges--"

At last, Baralai finally spoke, lowering his eyes slightly. "We bear you no ill will."

"But not one of you want me to regain power." It was a relief to finally voice the words, to admit the truth that Isaaru had not wanted to face. He had taken charge of Bevelle after the maesters had all died or abdicated, bringing order to a time of fear and chaos, and it still rankled that no one seemed to appreciate it. Oh, the monks and priests had followed his orders gladly enough, but once the crises had passed and Trema had emerged, how quickly they had fallen in line behind him! Isaaru was willing to admit that he had not been in the best state of mind then, following the death of his aeons. But was he really that untenable of an option, especially in the face of Trema's ever-worsening abuses of power?

Baralai had the grace to look away. "I'm sorry," he murmured.

A sardonic smile came to Isaaru's lips as he replied. "No, you're not." He crossed his arms. "I know that not a single one of you would openly defy me, but I also know they have their preferences. It's clear to me that many of the Lustrum, the Acolytes, and all those who are not Priests and former Summoners look up to you. Should Trema fall, they would look to you, not me. Trema himself would see you as his proper successor. The one who could deceive him best."

Isaaru walked over to the tank, gathering up the cloth in his hands. It was solid, an anchor to this room, to the intentions he was about to reveal. "You are far more powerful than you give yourself credit for. It is your mind that carries it all. You are brilliant. Surely you must know this." Falling silent yet again, Baralai's eyes moved to the snake tank. Did he sense what awaited him inside? Isaaru shook his head with a smile. "You don't want me here."

Baralai looked up again, his forehead creasing with an invisible frown, and he took a step forward, hand held out. "You're right. I don't want you here, but it's not because I see you as a rival."

Isaaru snorted. "Of course not."

Baralai shook his head. There was no guile in his expression, but then there never was. "Have you noticed how Trema watches you?"

"Of course I have." Unbidden, an edge of fear crept into Isaaru's voice as he continued. "I also see how he watches Pacce, but I am the one he would dispose of. Then he would take Pacce under his wing, and--" He stopped, unable to voice the rest of the thought. So much of his past, already lost; he could not abandon his future to Trema as well. Never.

A sharp intake of breath; Baralai's eyes brightened, as the full magnitude of Isaaru's fears hit him. "Yes. Yes. Then you must leave. You and Pacce both. But how.."

It was time. Isaaru tightened his hands on the sheet and pulled it off the tank, revealing the snake inside. Baralai gasped, pulling back his outstretched hand to cover his mouth, freezing in place. Was he afraid of snakes? Isaaru would not have guessed it, but perhaps...

After a moment, Baralai lowered his hands, but still he came no closer. "What is that snake?" he whispered, horror or some other emotion quieting his voice.

"I found it in the Calm Lands while searching for a hiding place for some spheres I... liberated, from the Seekers. It reminded me of you, so I captured it."

Baralai looked up, his glance sharp. "Of me? How do you mean?"

Isaaru softened his smile. "Don't be offended, Baralai. Snakes are beautiful, graceful creatures."

"Mmm." The sound was non-committal, disbelieving. Baralai looked at the tank again. "What kind of snake is it?"

"It is the Inland Taipan." Isaaru replied. He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "The most venomous land snake on all of Spira."

Baralai's gaze remained fixed on the green and gray snake, his whole body still. "And why..."

"I told you." Isaaru took a step away from the tank and toward Baralai. "It reminds me of you." Baralai narrowed his eyes, and Isaaru smiled again, hoping to project reassurance. "A curious thing about this snake: its venom, as compared to other snakes, is the most toxic. But it's not considered the most dangerous."

A pause, as Baralai digested this statement. He moved, finally, enough to raise an eyebrow in confusion.

"You see, the Inland Taipan is actually a shy, gentle creature." Isaaru turned away from the tank and took another step toward Baralai. "But, when provoked, it strikes with a swift aggression that is accurate and potentially fatal."

"Is that how you see me?" Baralai's fists unclenched, his eyebrows lifting higher.

"In truth? Yes." Isaaru returned his gaze to the snake. He considered the snake, its soft coils, the green of its scales so similar in color to Baralai's robes. Then he looked back at Baralai, in time to see his eyes lowering. "It will only strike as a last resort."

"I see."

Isaaru let out a breath. "So. Do you understand now?"

"Perhaps." Baralai tilted his chin. "And you? Are you like that snake as well?"

"No." Isaaru let himself smile again at the thought. "When I think of myself, I think of its relative, the Coastal Taipan. It may not be as venomous, but it is considered to be among the most dangerous of snakes. More aggressive than its inland cousin, and so seen as a greater threat."

"And so will you return to the coast?" Baralai asked.

"I could do that, but nowhere on Spira's shoreline appeals to me," Isaaru tilted his head, closing his eyes as he formed his next sentence. "I thought of Zanarkand..."

The name fell into the silence, as the name always did when he said it. He could not speak of Zanarkand without reminding himself and all around him of the journey he had once taken there, of how that journey would have ended, and the silence spread and became awkward. Baralai looked away, then back at him.

"The Al Bhed are there now," he said, leaving the truths of the past unvoiced, and Isaaru was grateful for it.

"I know this." He nodded, then moved to look out of the window. The wind had picked up, leaves twisting in the wind, and he wondered if Pacce was still there. "I also know that their leader, Cid, is there."

Baralai nodded. "Do you have any idea why?"

Isaaru smirked, the oddity of Cid's plans allowing no other reaction. "He wishes to make Zanarkand into a tourist attraction."

His eyes widening again, Baralai took a step backwards, showing nearly as much horror as when he had recoiled from the snake. "How do you feel about that?"

Isaaru took a long breath, then let it out. "At first, I was disgusted. But one truth is inescapable: now that Yunalesca is no longer there, holding the ruins together with her magic, Zanarkand would crumble into nothingness without some preservation effort or another." He shook his head. "I have no doubt that many people would see my participation in Cid's project as a betrayal of my beliefs, but people will see me as they wish to see me. They are irrelevant. What is relevant, however, is this: the true betrayal would be to do nothing for Zanarkand, to fail to protect it."

"Just be careful." Baralai leaned forward, suddenly, and wrapped his hands around Isaaru's arms. Surprised, Isaaru had to fight the urge to pull away. But the touch seemed sincere, and after a moment, he returned the gesture. Baralai's arms were more muscular than Isaaru had expected, and he gave them a light squeeze of reassurance.

"I am more than capable of taking care of myself, and of Pacce," he said.

Baralai smiled. "I know, but the fiends are powerful there."

"Indeed. However my venom is more than a match for them." Isaaru felt his lips twist into a sardonic smile. "I just wish it were strong enough to use here."

"Soon, it will be," Baralai replied with a firm nod. "I will send for you when the time is right."

Isaaru pulled away, out of Baralai's hands, and stepped back. This was not a response he had expected -- surely Baralai saw him as more of a threat to his own rise into power than as a potential ally?

Baralai shook his head, firmly, not waiting for a further response. "I know you find that hard to trust. I understand that, believe me. I do. But I want your support. Still, until I am firmly in power, I think you would be in danger even with Trema gone."

"I do have allies," Isaaru said. "But, I also have enemies. Remember, the most aggressive are seen as the most threatening here--"

"I would protect you."

Isaaru bowed. "I am honored. I cannot promise anything, but when the time is right, we will see if I am able to be by your side."

"The honor is mine." Baralai bowed in return.

The silence rose again, more comfortable now as they walked to the tank together. Isaaru watched the snake twisting around its rock. "You must never allow people to mistake your reserved, soft demeanor for weakness. Think of this Inland Taipan." The snake turned and looked in their direction as if to watch them both, its tongue appearing and disappearing. "Who would dare cross it?" Isaaru watched Baralai, watching the snake. "Who would dare cross you?"

Baralai's head slowly turned, and he met Isaaru's eyes, questioning.

Isaaru's answering smile was hard. "Never be afraid to strike, and when you do, use your venom."

He nodded.

"Now, I must prepare to leave." Isaaru moved toward his wardrobe and opened it, taking a mental inventory of its contents. Baralai's hand falling on his shoulder was a surprise, and he turned to see the warmth, worry, hope in Baralai's eyes.

"Good luck in Zanarkand," he said.

Isaaru responded with a nod. "Thank you. Who knows? I may even have fun there, even as I protect it. I never had much of a chance to be mischievous."

Baralai smiled, squeezed Isaaru's shoulder, and left.

It was nearly full dark by the time Isaaru had finished packing. He was just about to worry when Pacce appeared, running into the room and letting the door slam shut behind him.

"Hey, big brother, I--" and he stopped short as his gaze fell on the bed, passed over the two rucksacks leaning against one other. He looked up at Isaaru, eyes wide. "Where are you going?"

"Not I. We." Isaaru came down on one knee, matching Pacce's eye level. "Remember when we were going to go to Zanarkand? We paused that trip for a while, but now we're going to continue on."

Pacce's brow furrowed. "But why? Sin is gone now. And I thought you said you aren't even a summoner anymore."

Isaaru took a sharp breath, then covered it with a sigh. "The Final Aeon is gone, true. But perhaps there are other mysteries to uncover there. New spheres, perhaps. Would you like to try your hand at being a sphere hunter?"

"Yes!" Pacce's eyes lit up fully for the first time since they had come to Bevelle; Isaaru was both glad to see it and sorry the light had been gone for so long. "When do we leave?"

"Right now." Isaaru stood, then handed Pacce his bag. "Shall we?"

Pacce shrugged himself into the pack, fairly bouncing on his heels. He darted forward, then stopped, looking over his shoulder at Isaaru. "We're bringing that?"

Isaaru had pulled his pack over his shoulders and now carried the tank in his arms. "Not for long," he replied. "We'll set him free in the Calm Lands." Free, just like me, he thought. Then why did the tank feel so heavy in his arms?

He shook his head. "Let's go." Pacce ran through the door and Isaaru followed into the moonlit courtyard, not looking behind him.