Kosai sat in Mearto’s office as she pulled more books down from her shelf and set them on her desk. Kosai tapped his pants pocket, feeling for the key Shàn gave him. The matron was coming and going as well, placing books from the library on her desk, and taking some of the ones Mearto was pulling from her shelves. Once all the books were on the desk that Kosai was to read from, she placed her hand on the two-hour glass and looked at him.
“What did the Captain talk to you about last night?” she asked, her finger tips rolling on the brass end of the hour glass.
“I’ll answer your question, if you answer one of mine,” he shot back.
“Ask away,” she said. Her hand stilled.
Kosai planned the next two days as he lay in bed the night before. The first day, he would discover if Mearto was certainly on his side. He figured that she would ask about his brief, but needed, meeting with the Captain. In payment of an answer, he was to ask her one question, a question about her loyalties. Kosai thought long about the perfect question, one that would strike to the heart of the matter and would reveal her true motive if she wasn’t true to his and the Captain’s mission.
If she proved that she was for stopping the betrayal of caravan routes, he would explain what the Captain talked to him about and why it was now important that he learn combative skills. In the evening, he would go into Theo’s office for a moment with the book that wrote itself and find out who sided with the Seer.
“Why are you so concerned with the betrayal?” he asked.
“It is the only source of food for most of the people here, without the routes, the people die,” Mearto said coolly.
“That is what the caravans do, but why do you care?” he asked again.
“I don’t think I understand what you mean,” she said.
“Say someone poisoned the spring and we had to find out who it was. This poisoned water killed people instantly, and so now people are dying of dehydration. The fact in this scenario is that people are dying from poison and dehydration. Stating the fact is not a reason for solving the problem. Let me rephrase it then a little more forwardly. What do you have to lose if we fail in stopping the Seer?”
“More than you could ever imagine,” she said bitterly, but there was a slight sound of sorrow in her too. “What did you talk to the Captain about?”
“Depends,” he stayed firm, wanting a more tangible answer. “Why don’t you try my imagination?” Mearto took her hand off the two-hour glass and walked to the side of Kosai and sat on the table. The smell of lilac and sea salt filled the room.
“And why do you have that smell about you?” he said, calmer and more relaxed.
“Question for question,” she replied softly. “If the Seer isn’t stopped, I will have no chance at a future family, or to meet one that I love. I do not want to be here, but the Seer has me trapped against my will, and I cannot escape.”
“You love another?” Kosai asked, blushing slightly.
“Not yet. What did you and the Captain talk about?”
“No,” Kosai retorted. “Not a word, now that I know how close you are to the Seer.”
“Don’t you see though--” The smell grew stronger as she spoke, and Kosai felt as though he had woken from a deep sleep. “If you defeat the Seer, I can be free, and that, at this moment, is the only thing that I want.” Kosai stared at her, noticing how she didn’t struggle or fumble over her words. She was telling the truth.
“The Captain found out that the syndicate knew the Council was behind the betrayal of the routes and blackmailed them. In return, the Council granted them full ownership of all trade routes after the expected uprising. The reason the Council, as well as the Seer, would want to purposely risk the lives of the people is beyond us. Why can’t you escape?”
“I am…” Mearto sighed and took another breath. “I am… not what I seem. My blood has more power in it than the Head Teacher, more than any Conduit ever had, ever has, or ever will. The Seer knows this and if he were to expose me, the Teachers would kill me without a second thought. Though I am powerful, I am not nearly powerful enough to defend myself against all of them. Was there anything else that you two talked about?”
“The Captain is bringing in Aldair and Thuane for questioning. If what they say matches with the confession of Beoran, he will remove the Council from power in two days’ time. I have till then to find out who is with the Seer, their motives, and remove them. Concerning your situation, if we discredit the Seer of his power, or kill him and those who are with him within that time frame, would you be able to escape? —Wait, no!” Mearto was about to answer his question, but stayed silent at Kosai’s sudden outburst. “That wasn’t the question I wanted to ask. The answer is obviously yes.” Kosai paused and furrowed his brow. “What are you then?” he asked slowly.
Mearto dimmed the light from her lamp and pulled out a candle from one of the drawers in her desk. She snapped her fingers above the wick, creating a spark and lighting the candle. Then she blew out the lamp, letting the dim glow of the candle light the room.
“Tell no one of what you are about to see,” she said. She placed the candle up to her face and placed her other hand over her eyes. When she removed her hand, she looked at the door. For a split second, the iris and pupil of her eyes flashed bright silver. She looked over at the book shelf on the other side of the room, and they flashed again. “Did you see it?” she asked. Kosai nodded his head. She then put her free hand up to her eyes a second time, removed her hand from her face, lit the lamp and then blew out the candle. “The smell is… hard to explain, but consider it my natural aroma. I can control it when and how I would like. Are you convinced now that I am on your side?”
“Yes,” Kosai whispered.
“I can never tell you what I am Kosai, because it would endanger you, beyond the danger you are already facing.” She paused. “We have two days to teach more of the combative types of channeling, as well as the defensive. I wish your Captain was able to give us more time, but considering the circumstances, I must forgive him.” She looked down at the pile of books and the two-hour glass, still unturned. “Go meditate and commune for a half hour up in the Oasis. I will come up after that and we will begin your training then. I need time to figure out what I am going to do.”
Kosai stood, bowed and exited the room. He went straight to the West Stair, skipping steps until he came to the Oasis. Chickens clucked and scratched at the ground for beetles and grubs. Bees buzzed around the air, systematically searching for sweet nectar in the vegetable and fruit blossoms. Kosai looked to the center of the Oasis. The egg-like reed chair was empty. A few teachers sat close to the center of the Oasis, meditating and communing with the Faye. A few students walked along the perimeter, smelling flowers as they passed and talked quietly to their friends.
Leery of the bees, Kosai chose the same place Mearto directed him to the last time he communed in the Oasis. He sat cross legged on the grass with his fists on his knees. A honey bee circled him, buzzing too close for Kosai’s comfort. He held his breath as the bee flew aggressively around his head, by his ear, in front of his eye, under his nose and then eventually away to find a flower. He sighed in relief and began to meditate.
[][][]
Zenith took the canvas, fashioned some rope out of vines, tied the canvass between two trees, and formed a hammock. His bare leg dangled listlessly out of one side. Kosai walked up to him and rocked the hammock. Zenith jerked awake and rubbed his eyes in the sunlight.
“Good to see you,” Zenith said groggily.
“We don’t have a lot of time.” Zenith stuck out a hand, and Kosai helped him out of the hammock.
“I am aware of your situation,” he said as he stretched. He looked off into the ocean and Kosai followed his gaze. Out on the horizon, dark storm clouds rolled across the waves. The lightning bolts, like white oars, seemed to push the storm closer to shore. Zenith slowly pulled his sight away from the coming storm
“You have less t
han two days to build up enough endurance to stand on your own against the Seer, and possibly the rest of the teachers. Correct?”
“Yes,” Kosai said.
“Impossible,” Zenith said quickly. Then he squatted down and began to draw a circular pattern in the ground. “You would die the moment you tried to match their endurance. There, done.” Zenith stood up and wiped sand off his finger. “I want you to attack me.”
Kosai took a step forward and struck out with a solid fist. Inches before impact, Kosai’s arm collided with what felt like a feather mattress. Zenith stood, unflinchingly and smiled back. Kosai tried again, and got the same affect.
“What did you do?” he asked.
“That circle,” Zenith pointed at the ground in front of him “is a Circle of Power. It draws on the power that already resides in the earth. If that circle remains intact, I cannot be harmed.”
Kosai knelt by the circle and traced the lines with his own finger, trying to memorize every turn and symbol.
“How are you teaching me this?” Kosai asked. “I thought you were just a part of my subconscious. How can you teach me something I don’t know?”
“Simply put, I am not a part of your subconscious. That is one error in the teachings of the school I failed to correct before it was too late. Objects reside in the subconscious but are, as I am, a manifestation of the Faye. You are the blood of his blood and the flesh of his flesh and only I hold the knowledge to defeating him, as well as many other teachings of the Faye. I have been manifested to you to prepare you for what lies ahead.”
Kosai looked down at the sand and examined the Circle of Power. He began to trace the circle again. As his finger reached the top of the circle, he dragged his fingers down, breaking the Circle of Power, stood up, and punched Zenith in the gut. Zenith doubled over, trying to catch his breath.
“And that is one of its weaknesses,” Zenith said weakly.
“The Circles of Power, do they have to be drawn on ground, or walls? Would it work if I drew one on the inside of my hand or arm for example?”
“No, that wouldn’t work. The Circles channel energy from the earth, where the most Faye resides. If you were to draw one on yourself, it would sap you of your strength immediately. These are of the best use when you are setting a trap, or wanting to conceal something.” Zenith finally stood and arched backwards, stretching his stomach.”
“What about offense?” Kosai asked.
Zenith looked around and walked into the woods. There were two loud snaps, and then he returned with two sticks. He gave them to Kosai, placing one in each hand.
“At this point, there isn’t much I can teach you that would be of any worth to you. Even something as simple as incapacitating force, like the ones the boys used when they tried to kill you, would take everything, if not most, out of you. Instead, light these sticks.”
Kosai closed his eyes, held both sticks with his left hand, and placed his right-on Zenith’s shoulder. The Faye pulsed through his body like a churning river. Each vein in his body seemed to vibrate with new blood. He removed his hand from Zenith’s shoulder and placed it above the sticks. He thought back to his training with Mearto, imagining the sensations of fire, burning, smoke, heat, and tender skin. He imagined the orange, red and blue colors of a flickering flame. He imagined this fire brewing inside of him, burning brighter until it became a white-hot essence. With his mind, he pushed this essence out of his body, through his arm, and onto the two sticks. They smoldered for a moment and then burst into flame like a struck sulfur match. When he heard the wood popping, he opened his eyes and held a stick in each hand. Kosai breathed heavily.
“Good,” Zenith said. “See how exhausted you feel?” Kosai nodded. “The fire that you have created is not the same fire I could create by a sulfur match, or flint and steel. Your fire is of the Faye, and knowing this, you can control it however you wish.
“In the Barracks, you were taught that any weapon was an extension of your body and you had to learn to control that weapon as you would a hand or finger or leg. This is the same principle. If you stay mentally connected to this fire, it cannot harm you no matter where it goes or what you do with it.”
“How do I attack with it?” Kosai asked.
“The same way you punch someone, the same way you walk, the same way you do anything.”
Kosai looked at each flame burning on his two sticks. The fire was halfway down the two sticks. He could still feel the fire burning within him and as he thought of making the fire grow, the flames on the sticks grew and burned faster. He thought about dimming the fire, and the flame lessened.
“Now pull the flame onto your hands,” Zenith said. “Remember, it cannot hurt you.”
Kosai looked at both flames that came closer and closer to his hand. He felt for the connection to the flame, and like a child clumsily putting on a pair of gloves, the fire crawled and ebbed onto his fingers, inched up the back of his hand and halfway up his forearms. Once the fire stilled and left the sticks, Kosai dropped them in the sand and looked at his arms. There was a soothing warmness that covered his body, though it wasn’t from the fire.
He closed his eyes and focused on the feeling. It was like a warm jet of air being blown into the center of his chest. The feeling suddenly split into and flowed into each arm.
“That is the meaning of being a conduit,” Zenith said. “That flow of constant energy will grow as you practice and will allow you to defeat the Dark One. Until then, use what you have learned here and combine it with the fighting arts you have learned from the Guard and you should be able to hold your own against the Seer… I hope.”
[][][]
Someone placed a hand on his shoulder and he woke from his meditation. He looked down at his arms, expecting to find the flame but there was nothing. Mearto stood at his side with a calm, but concerned look.
“We need to talk.” She removed her hand and walked east on the perimeter of the Oasis. Kosai was silent and kept pace with Mearto, waiting for her to speak.
“I was called into a meeting while I was in the middle of your next lesson plan. I don’t know why he would do this,” she whispered. “It’s never been done in the entire history of this school. I have no idea what he is thinking, or even how it was approved. There was some dissension and definite division but the ruling still stands.”
“What are you talking about?” Kosai whispered back.
“Head Teacher Daius has chosen you to be his next Assistant.”
“But the next assistant is supposed to be one of the teachers.”
“Yes, it is. I was against it, as were the Teachers who were in favor with your arrival. The Seer, Xidan and Isaac were for it.”
“I suppose the Seer and the Head Teacher want me as close to them as possible before the uprising. Are you still going to be teaching me?” Kosai asked.
“No. Today will be the last day that you and I have together as pupil and mentor. I want you to get some lunch, and then meet me in the arena. You have a half hour.”
“Yes ma’am,” Kosai said militaristically though he didn’t salute.
Kosai ran ahead to the West Stair and cautiously skipped stairs by two on his way down. He walked briskly towards the mess hall, but stopped and looked at the Teachers’ offices. He tapped his pocket again, making sure that the key was still there. The Book was tucked away in his shirt as well. He would only need to be in the room for a moment. He listened and waited to see if anyone would pass by. Comfortable that he would be undisturbed, he quietly walked to Theo’s office, put in the key, turned the knob, walked in and closed the door behind him.
Papers were everywhere. Stacks were strung on his desk, on the floor, in his chair and some were nailed to the door. There were two simple wooden stools in front of the desk with a high backed, velvet padded, dark wood chair behind. The office was much like Mearto’s in structure, but not at all in décor. Papers and more papers filled the bookshelf that was behind the chair. For a moment,
the room reminded him of the syndicate office, with their papers strewn about with quills and oil wells, but as he stepped towards the bookshelf, he noticed a system.
Each paper was dated and each shelf represented a month. Papers on the bottom were earliest in the month while those closer to the top were later. Kosai quickly counted the shelves and cases. All in all, there were thirty-five shelves, holding almost three years of information, not including the other papers in the desk and elsewhere.
Quickly and cautiously, he opened the book that wrote itself to the sixth page, licked his thumb, and pressed it into the book. Words quickly appeared.
I have everything, the book wrote, understanding Kosai’s intent. Kosai closed the book, tucked into his shirt and crouched next to the door, listening again for anyone walking in the hall. Hearing nothing, he exited the office and locked the door behind him.
Lunch consisted of sliced pears in a honey and garlic dipping sauce with two boiled eggs on the side. Kosai inhaled the meal, wincing slightly at the garlic taste and then rushed back to his bunk. He wagered he had twenty minutes or so to find out what he could about Theo and those that sided with him. He opened again to the sixth page.
I can tell we are short on time. I can also tell what you are searching for. Still, remember your first lesson…
“Patience,” Kosai said. He calmed himself by breathing steady streams of air. The words from Theo’s journal began to appear.
If you are reading this, there are two things that are for certain. One: I have been cursed as Nameless by the Head Teacher. He and the Seer have betrayed me. Isaac and Xidan probably helped me out of the room. Two: the uprising of the people against the government is about to occur. I, and my former companions, worked hard under the direction of Jaiken, as ordered by the Council, to destroy the syndicate as much as possible. Their cooperation in the matter, knowing that the Council is trying to start an uprising, could not be trusted. Without proof of the contract, they had nothing. The Three Brothers were foolish to have but one contract made and it played to our favor.
The plan was the Seer’s to begin with. When people are fed, they are content, he claimed. It was up to us to ensure that it stayed that way. The people needed to trust us, needed to believe that we are on their side. Commerce was destined to fail. The only money that flows into this city is tuition. The craftsman and graduates of the various schools leave to other cities. There is no revenue to be taxed. Beyond education, there is no money here. Noiknaer has no resources like Linnouse. No point of trade like Port Rasmú, no thriving business like Anteperil.