“As I’ve said before,” Paris continued, “I’ve chosen each of you because of your special skills and talents. Let’s start with Salif.”
Everyone turned to the old servant. After Hadjar had held a stone needle to the old man’s throat, he’d seen him several additional times in various institutions. For example, he’d seen him in the auction house that Hadjar had visited to expand his horizons.
“None of you are aware of this, but Salif has a unique gift.” Paris smiled and nodded toward the old man. “He’s able to remember everything he has ever seen or heard.”
“Is it a gift, though?” Glen shrugged. “Any Spirit Knight is capable of that.”
“Do you see any spare Knights around here?” Karissa arched an eyebrow.
“Thank you, Karissa,” the Chief Researcher nodded. “By the way, speaking of Karissa, her mastery over the element of fire is above my understanding. The spells she uses can contend with a Heaven Soldier’s at the peak stage.”
The peak stage was the fourth stage of the Heaven Soldier level. Hadjar had learned that from Paris. After one became a Heaven Soldier, the steps along the path of cultivation were divided into four stages: the initial, middle, advanced, and peak stage. Paris claimed that a Soldier at the initial stage couldn’t hope for victory against a Soldier at the middle stage, so huge was the gap between these separate stages in what was supposedly just one of many levels of cultivation.
“And the boy?” Glen was the most talkative of them all apparently.
“Him?” Paris asked, looking at the young boy next to Salif. “Oh, I’m already used to seeing them together, so I didn’t hesitate to invite him here, along with Salif. I think he’ll prove himself and help Salif make the upcoming journey, which, of course, will help facilitate your work.”
No one argued with that. Only the boy blushed and looked down — his pride had clearly been wounded. Nevertheless, no one doubted that the old man would need help. He wasn’t strong enough to make such a trip on his own.
“Glen isn’t just very talkative.” The warrior bowed low to each of those present. “In the past, he was one of the best trackers of Balium. For twenty years, he’s traveled with caravans across the Sea of Sand and knows it even better than the Bedouins do. Without him, the enterprise at hand will be much more difficult.”
Wow, who would’ve thought that Glen had been a tracker! It was now clear that he’d been the one to come up with the idea of hanging the slave collar on the tip of an arrow two months ago.
“We also have to talk about Ramukhan and Tilis. Their knowledge of spells and seals is so deep that the Sage himself recognizes them as his best disciples.”
“Some of his best disciples,” Tilis growled, eyeing Hadjar hatefully.
“And as for our sword and spear…” Paris turned to Hadjar and Einen. “Honorable Einen knows the ‘Moonless Shadows’ Technique. It makes him indispensable for traversing even the most inaccessible terrain. His Technique will allow you to avoid many traps, and where it doesn’t help, Hadjar will. The ‘Wielder of the Sword’ will allow you to survive in places where the world energy is inaccessible.”
There was silence in the barracks again.
“Inaccessible?” Glen asked.
“That’s right,” Paris nodded. “According to the reports of the last hunter squad that explored the area and came back, they often came across zones where they couldn’t use their Techniques. The turbulence in the World River was so high that it didn’t allow them to concentrate their energy outside of their bodies. If not for their Techniques for Strengthening the Body, they wouldn’t have survived.”
Everyone, without exception, cursed. Tilis did a better job than anyone else. It wasn’t surprising, Hadjar remembered her elder sister.
After they all learned more about each other, they had a discussion about the plan. They considered the maps, argued about who would do what, and discussed places where they could rest. They decided not to take the maps along for security reasons. Instead, Salif (or rather, the boy who was supposed to carry the old man’s bags) would take a roll of special paper and an inkwell with a stylus. The old man would draw the necessary part of the maps as needed, and Glen would then read them.
Hadjar had presumed it would take him a lot of time, but the old man surprised him: he could draw with both hands at once and at such a high speed that any musician would’ve envied the dexterity of his fingers. Apparently, Paris hadn’t picked him without a great deal of forethought.
A few hours, and two jugs of brew, later, they managed to iron out all the details of the plan. They agreed to leave at dawn the next day.
That way, everyone would have time to prepare, and Paris would be able to collect all the equipment, amulets, and artifacts they’d need. They decided to give them to Ramukhan for safekeeping.
After everyone left, only Einen, Hadjar, and Glen remained in the barracks.
“Well, I never expected for things to pan out like this,” the Baliumian shook his head, drinking some more brew from a jug. “Not so long ago, you and I were trying to cut each other’s throats.”
“If you make one wrong move, we’ll finish what we started.”
The islander’s tone was very casual, but his gaze was sharper than any dagger.
“Calm down,” Glen grinned, “Only an idiot would harm a companion in the Sea of Sand. You served as guards for a caravan, so you must understand that, in the desert, a person’s survival depends on mutual assistance.”
“And yet,” Hadjar rested his hand on the hilt of Mountain Wind, “We aren’t stupid enough to blindly trust you.”
Glen put the jug down on the table, got up, and adjusted the saber and dagger on his belt. As he walked away, he muttered over his shoulder: “You’re not wrong.”
For a moment, tension thickened the air between them, which usually occurred when two opponents had decided to duel. It didn’t last long, and everyone soon went to bed.
Einen immediately plunged into deep meditation. Hadjar, certain that no one would attempt to endanger their lives (Paris and Karissa had probably made sure that nothing would threaten their ‘sword and spear’ in the near future), left the barracks.
After running across the roofs of the nearest buildings, he wound up on his favorite ledge. From atop it, he saw a stunning view of Underworld City, flooded with colorful lights. He’d wanted to come here for so long. And yet, now he was looking forward to the day when he left the walls of the majestic city that wasn’t very welcoming to strangers.
Another fairy tale had turned out to just be the forgotten past.
“Meow,” came suddenly from around his feet.
Hadjar looked down and saw the little tigress peacefully licking her paw.
“Just in time,” he smiled.
Azrea rubbed against his knees, climbed up onto his shoulders, and then settled down inside his turban.
“Will you at least tell me where you were?” Hadjar asked.
He heard only a sleepy ‘Purr-purr’ in reply.
Hadjar spent all the time he had before they began their expedition meditating on the ledge.
He couldn’t possibly know that, as they were standing in the elevator leading to the surface, hundreds of people were already scouring the desert. Among them was Sankesh, leading a girl in a tattered robe on a leash. By the Evening Stars, the entrance to Mage City would exact a great toll in blood before it was found.