Chapter V

--After the destruction of Argen, our infiltrators found nothing, although one of them did not return; maybe he is following a new lead.

The nightly meeting had begun, the assassins were trying to piece together the puzzle of the whereabouts of the two wretches. The lines were being drawn on the map of the operation, but the scoundrels could have been on the edge of the valley or on a boat following the current. It was time for the most experienced reconnaissance wizard to intervene.

--My ravens observed some traces of fire about 3 kilometers from Argen. We need to skirt the valley.

--First, we need to be on the same page. This operation cannot involve so many men.

Said one of Minjard's men, known as Delan, a training officer of Mitras' knives.

--I'm not talking about taking 100 hooded men to the valley. We could organize a large convoy of supplies for the reconstruction of Argen. I don't think the Circle would have any problem gathering the great personalities of Angsiss for such a charitable endeavor as this.

I no longer recognize myself; all this scheming fills my mouth with vinegar. These ideas are like plagues emanating from the mouth.

--It's an interesting idea that will allow us to gather enough forces to sweep through that valley. I'll discuss it with the Circle. That's all for tonight.

We all went to bed after the fourth meeting. I missed three nights of meetings, and still, no one was sent to my door. Perhaps Minjard knows that I already have my own plans, for no one would return without an ace up their sleeve. But I must achieve it, as he himself said, I will take everyone down the path. First, I must understand this place, why the Circle wants me dead, and especially why I have been removed from this mission to the land. Normally, I would descend with my brothers, but something changed, and I must know what it is.

Reden always has very precise dynamics. Food is served in the middle of the morning and the middle of the night. The rest of the day is used for compulsive devotion to knowledge and research. Each group has a weekly appearance before the Circle. Most of my brothers are focused and, one could say, obsessed with their respective fields, but the common denominator is that they hate the land, they hate the beings who wallow in mud. But where to start?

I heard the door, but my death will not be today, much less here.

--May I come in?

It was Minjard, and he was happier than the last time I saw him at the meeting.

--In your domain, could I say no?

--Who are you now? You don't seem like the cowardly monk who thinks himself unique, who believes he sees everything, who feels his conscience is superior to that of the rest of these lackeys.

--Well, I think I am, but what did you come here to do?

--Nothing, I came to confirm the man I saw at the meeting and to inform you that tomorrow you will receive a soldier's training.

--Perfect, before breakfast?

--Haha, wouldn't that be perfect? But I don't need you to seriously prepare.

--Alright, rest well, sir.

One might think my behavior would raise surprises, but to this man, I was becoming more interesting.

First, I discovered that my brothers' routine is automatic. With all the flies I released in the kitchens and rooms, I could precisely define when they are in their chambers and when they are performing their activities. Something strange I discovered was that my room has been sealed. No brother asks questions; what I hear in the dining hall is only about the descent, as if I had been erased from the Brotherhood's memory, and I'm only a hallway away from them. I must find a way to appear and see their reaction.

I must also understand the Orofista. The little I know does not allow me to help Angir properly. One more thing, I must learn more about my executioner. Why is he so lethal, what makes him so special and deadly among the mouths of people?

I was in the front row at the training ground at the first hour. We were given a ration of food, consisting of a brown paste and a blackened leather canteen. We were taken to a summit area where the cold wind beat every muscle. I observed the bodies of the other soldiers and understood that Minjard would kill me with physical exercise. After a few minutes in that area, I believed my ears would follow the currents of cold, and some villager would find them at the mountain's foot. The exercise was arduous, so arduous that my body was at such a high temperature balancing the deadly cold of the place where I was.

First, I had physical conditioning to improve my speed. It usually lasts 7 hours, but my physique was so pitiful they left me only 3. The rest was to learn about weapons and the circumstances surrounding assassinations. It was certainly revealing the depth with which they study blows. Afternoon came, and they finally let me do my thing.

I found the target hidden in the valleys in less than 2 days. It feels strange how that boy is forming. For now, he is just a very curious and very enthusiastic being. I think he couldn't find a better person to take care of him. Although he has very ridiculous ideals, he has interesting knowledge. Maybe I should steal that black book he never leaves at any stop. The valley is vast. I estimate that if they go in the right direction, they will be out of it in less than 40 days. But they don't have that time. I have seen Tah's men leave the dark fort and move towards the valley, and soon we will go down to hunt them. Those lambs don't have many chances. I must figure out how to get them out of there. I need to find out if there is any point of reference for their faces. For now, I will continue combing this area. Anger is still in ruins. Some necrophytes have already taken several corpses; maybe I should have them return and pass them off as dead. Anyway, I must focus on this place and leave the teachings to that strange brown-robed one.

--Did you hear that we will take refuge in the Angsiss stables? I wouldn't agree at all if it weren't for the service we will give to those filthy ones.

That was one of the conversations I heard in the hallways. The experiment with the flies worked well, only it doesn't last forever. I entered the dining hall and found that everyone generally commented on the new cleaning girls who had been hired and their areas of study. There was no thread to pull on my brothers; they all thought the same. They were the same person, devout ants with long tongues. I think I will direct my efforts to other areas of Reden.

The next morning repeated like the first. I exhausted all my sugars learning hand-to-hand combat. While training how to kill others, I saw some messenger carts coming and going between the pavilions. Somehow, I had to place a creature to make the journey or plant something on Minjard himself since he visits the Circle's old men almost daily. I sneaked between the first buildings with the excuse of looking for armor to try on and saw how the employee left the cart unattended. I decided to take a look. There were some letters with royal seals. I read what I could until to my right; I saw the eyes of the slave watching me with some curiosity. I said, "You may leave, miss," with a monarch's air to leave no doubt. Suddenly she said,

--Sir, why were you checking the correspondence? Do you want a meeting with the orca?

I was shocked, not so much by what she said, but because I realized I had never had any conversation with the slaves. Her tone was ruthless, and frankly, I felt the terror she wanted to communicate.

--Miss, I do not permit you to speak to me like that. Simply leave.

--You know the rules well. I have no choice but to tell Mr. Minjard about your actions and let him take whatever measures he deems necessary.

--No, ma'am, you must listen to me. I was just looking for a letter from my family. Do you have a family?

--No one here has a family. You may have been sold, but I have the certainty that I have no one alive. Better we reach an agreement. What do you have to trade?

I should kill her. After all, my purposes are greater. What the hell am I saying? With that thought, I should have stayed with those pigs.

--I have whatever you like, gold, jewels, whatever you want.

--Alright, then I want you to get me this list of items and ask no questions. Have it in three days and until then, don't talk to me or look at me. Clear, you miserable wretch?

--Perfectly.

As she left, she turned around, and I received a whip from her tangled hair, and a flea jumped from it. It took an athletic leap to my coat. Then I had a burst of ideas that helped me not feel the disgust I would normally have. How would this infernal hygiene bug benefit a good wizard?

I read the list she gave me and noted that I had met a pyromaniac, for she practically requested chemicals used in the Brithir war. It's curious, to say the least, but if she wants to burn this place, I should side with her. Anyway, this afternoon was very turbulent. I arrived at my room exhausted; the day of the conspirators is arduous, but it is interesting. It is as if I were born again and am just now observing the world around me. It's ironic, since we, the wise men of the brotherhood, pride ourselves on knowing the world full of mud, yet we have no idea what happens in our own.

The next morning, I observed that same woman again, and I sent one of my parts to investigate what this slave was up to. Fortunately, today I had to present some exploration results and was freed from my soldier duties. I saw her move from the tunic washing area to the entrance of Reden, where she filled the correspondence cart. She traveled through all the pavilions, and evidently, I couldn't see what she did in the brothers' rooms; any of my brothers would have been alerted to my presence. Before her last stop, she left the cart with another slave and changed from a piece of brown cloth to a white dress with some golden lace. She then went up the third tower, which housed the soldiers. She burst into Delan's room, and they locked the door. I didn't dare to look, but I had to listen. Then I understood the precision of the list this woman had given me. Their encounter, apart from being merely sexual, had a historical component since the training officer was fond of past wars and shared his world and knowledge with the slave in an attempt to show her that he was not just a beast, but someone sensitive and worldly. It was something to admire that someone wanted to prove something to a slave; perhaps he was deeply attracted to her.

I followed her after the scene and saw only that she was disgusted, crying silently. She knew how to hide her emotions well, and in the dirty rags of a kitchen storeroom, she pulled her hair and submerged her screams of fury in the pots. Then she got up as if she had lost her memory and her rage had belonged to another person. She got up and continued with her day.