Gerome hurried to the door with Masho following him close.

“Stay behind,” they warned Belrigan.

“Who’s there?” asked Gerome in Azraaini.

After a short pause, the response came in a perfect Hilistian:

“It’s me.”

Brothers exchanged surprised looks as none expected to hear their mother tongue.

“Who’s me?” asked Gerome in a demanding tone.

“Name’s Brago. I came to talk.”

The voice from behind the door sounded human, but Belrigan shivered as his imagination quickly drew a tall bestial figure standing outside.

After glancing at Vriaz and receiving his approving nod, Gerome opened the door. A short man was standing in the thickening dusk behind it—and no one else.

“May I?” asked the stranger, stepping in without waiting for permission.

He was clad in a warm shirt and well-fitted dark brown trousers, similar to how the mountain folks dressed. He could look like a fahwa farmer if not for the wolf mask covering his entire face except the mouth. His hair, in the color of char, was cut relatively short, barely touching his ears.

The pause that followed was short but grave. They examined each other for a few silent moments. And Belrigan felt the air in the room thickening instantly. The man didn’t look dangerous. He didn’t have a weapon with him, yet his mask alone was enough to sprout all the greatest fears Belrigan had. That man belonged to the vicious order of Libra.

Gerome closed the door, first looking outside and ensuring no one else was in the street.

“Well… Black Brothers of Zidron,” said the wolf-man slowly, looking at them one by one. “I heard about your achievements… but haven’t expected to see you so soon.”

“Neither have we expected to meet a Libra mage here,” boomed Viraz. His deep voice strangely echoed in the room.

“Libra…” the man smirked bitterly. “Never call me this word. Let the Libra be damned and forgotten. You should’ve already understood that I’m a free man and don't obey patriarchs.”

“It’s wonderful to hear that, as we were looking for free mages to join our efforts and fight the Libra.”

“A good plan indeed—”

That was a bizarre conversation to have with a stranger. The voice of the man was tensed as his pose was. Surprisingly, Belrigan felt a smell of fear coming from him. Realizing that he must also be afraid helped to calm down. But just a bit. The mage examined the room again, and his eyes stopped at Belrigan for a few seconds. The young monk felt a dry and icy look eyeing him through two narrow holes in the mask.

Could he be lying? Maybe he killed a Libra mage to take his mask? Or maybe he is still one of them… or maybe… Belrigan’s thoughts quickly went through many thrilling options while his heart was beating faster and faster. The beans, Belrigan ate just now were already trying to get out.

Gerome closed the door, first looking outside and ensuring no one else was in the street. He then pointed at the free bench next to the fireplace and suggested with a tense tone as well:

“Please sit by the fire and enjoy our modest meal.”

“I’m not hungry, but… Let’s sit. The talking will take some time.”

The man walked to the table and took place opposite Viraz and Belrigan. His mask looked even scarier when close—it was stuck to his face as if glued, without any strings or anything else.

If that man was a Libra mage one day, thought Belrigan. He knows how to cast real spells. Did he ever use his skills to kill people? How may he share the meal with us? What if this is a trap, and five more mages wait outside for a signal to attack? No. This could not be—

The man who represented the arch-enemy of the Black Brotherhood sat at the same table opposite him—and this single thought was too large to fit into Belrigan’s head. The desire to jump out of the table and run away as fast as he could was strong. The visions were flashing before his eyes one after another, filled with evil mages surrounding the house in the darkness and then, with thunderous spells, breaking in to capture and torture them. Maybe… they won’t even bother to storm the place and instead burn the house from outside!

Run! helplessly screamed his scared consciousness, but Belrigan only clenched onto the bench below him with both hands.

Could he be one of those who murdered my parents? Or could he be their friend who deserted the ranks of Libra together with them? Maybe he at least knows something about them?

Brother Masho sat beside him, and Belrigan felt his master’s hand on his shoulder.

Brother Viraz breathed deeply and closed his eyes as if he suddenly decided to nap in disrespect to their guest. But, of course, he was instead trying to foresee what that man brought with him today.

“Well—” their guest drawled, “so you dare to speak openly about fighting Libra? You dare to stand out against them?”

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“Yes,” Gerome also joined their company at the table. “The time is now. Libra suffered a major defeat during the dark years and still hasn't recovered. We must ensure that the evil never rises again!”

Lauro! suddenly realized Berigan.

He looked at his master and whispered:

“We must ask him what’s with Lauro—”

But Masho pushed his finger to his lips and whispered in return:

“Not now—”

“Such a valiant ambition of yours,” their guest nodded with false respect. “Defeat the evil. That’s what everyone wants. But how do you know that you can trust me? How do you know that I indeed left Libra ranks? Maybe you’ve just sentenced yourself to death?”

The heart jumped in Belrigan’s chest, but he only stronger held onto the bench.

“This is not going to happen,” boomed Viraz. “You are an outcast, Braga. You left the order ten years ago… you are no more Libra than we are.”

Their guest looked at Viraz, and his face—or better say, its part not covered with a mask—showed some genuine emotions for the first time. He twisted his lips as if going to spit out some curse but changed his mind and said:

“I see now… you’ve learned something for the last years, Black Brothers. What else can you do?”

“Enough to challenge the Libra.”

”Not much then,” Braga sighed and calmed down. “Present-day Libra is only a shadow of its past. There are no more than fifty mages in the order left, and most of them, together with survived patriarchs, are now in Pata-Araan, hiding behind the back of Tsar Lushee. Plotting their triumphant return.”

Brothers exchanged looks.

“We appreciate you sharing this information with us,” said Viraz.

“No more than fifty members?” Gerome shook his head. “That’s still too many, I would say.”

“What have you expected? There were more than a thousand mages associated with Libra just thirty years ago.”

The silence followed. Braga smirked again, satisfied with the effect of his words.

“So, what is your plan? You will go there now and get them?”

“We must act wisely, of course. Prepare first. Gather the information. Find the weapon,” Viraz continued. “Only then strike. That is why we came here. We can learn from one another, act together and never let the Libra rise again.”

Braga laughed without much joy in his voice.

“I like that you have already planned everything.”

“That was planned long in advance. It’s the master plan of the Five. Magic should serve people. It should be available to everyone and everywhere. The Libra is the stumbling block on the path of creation and thus is doomed to be crushed.”

”Ha-ha-ha!” Braga laughed out loud. “These are brave words. But I won’t discuss anything with you until I know I can trust you. Fifteen years ago, a few low-rank Libra mages came to your monastery asking for refuge. They trusted you with their lives and the lives of their families; they brought you knowledge, and what have you given them in return? You betrayed them. You gave them up to Libra!”

Belrigan was still deep in his thoughts, and the meaning of these words didn’t come to him at once. Before he realized that Braga must’ve meant his parents, he felt brother Masho’s hand again hugging him by his shoulder:

“That’s a lie, don’t listen to him—”

Still hugging Belrigan, Masho turned to Braga and said:

“That’s not true, and if you know about these people, you must know that we didn’t betray them! The Libra was still strong at that time. No one could stand against it… on their own. Thier mages came to our monasteries and killed these people and many of our brothers who gave their lives fighting.”

“If you say so,” Brago took a deep breath. “I wasn’t there.” He looked at Belrigan. “Maybe you managed to hide some of their offspring? Well, that’s at least something—”

No one answered this. Belrigan’s heart gave a pause.

“Well, bringing them here is not enough to win trust. But, listen, Black Brothers, before we start speaking seriously, I need real guarantees from you. I need proof that you are ready to act and sacrifice and not only talk about your gods and their sacred plans!”

“But we are in the same position!” exclaimed Masho. ”You have no more right to ask about such things than we do! We explained our intentions. Now it’s your turn! What are you doing here in this village in the middle of nowhere?”

“Maybe hiding?” suggested Braga. “But this is not the middle of nowhere, and you must’ve already understood that if you can read shadows,” he looked at Viraz. “This place feels special, isn’t it?”

“What is special about it?” hurried to ask Masho.

“Not so fast!” Braga shook his head. “If you think that Libra now is the main threat to the free mages, you are wrong. Libra still have their goals, and they still don’t like others to know about magic. They would still kill you for just daring to play with it if they could. But they are now quite restricted in their abilities. What is more important, there are others now who won't hesitate to capture and torture free mages if they learn about them.”

“Who?”

“The people in power, of course. Many of them have become interested in magic nowadays. They slowly begin to believe it is real. And they would really prefer it to serve them, as you say your Gods planned, Black Brothers. If some of these people learn that you are not just a bunch of freaks but know how to do magic, they will imprison you and make you serve them. If you refuse, they will torture you until you open all your secrets. The world is just not yet ready for free magic—”

“Hence we must join our effort!”

“These are empty words.”

“Then we are going to help you with the current situation, and it will prove our intentions,” suggested Viraz. “I can see your fate, Braga, and it is in danger.”

“Ha! That’s no surprise. But it wouldn’t’ve been if you hadn’t come here and started sneaking around!”

Lauro! Belrigan remembered again. He glanced at his master, but Masho was looking at their guest.

“Then it is just logical for us to help you solve the problem!” boomed Viraz.

“That would be very nice of you,” Braga laughed, “but proves nothing!”

“If there is no trust now, then so be it. We shall proceed without trusting each other. You are not alone here, correct? Who are the other mages? We saw a large group of armed villagers heading down the river. We must try negotiating and calming them down.”

“Who are the others?” Braga paused, thinking whenever he indeed shall proceed. “There are few of us, yes—”

”The cult of the Valley God?”

“Of course not! The cultists are idiots who attract too much attention. I wouldn’t care less about their lives if not for the spirits—”

“The spirits?”

“Yes… you should’ve heard from locals that Surram Dahla is a safe place and always was. Many think that magical creatures avoid it because the Valley God protects the valley. And this is true, but there are still many spirits around. They are everywhere.”

“But what do you mean by spirits?”

“You haven’t learned that much about magic yet, ah? The spirits are what you call magical creatures but without a solid form. They vary in character and features and could be dangerous as well. So far, the Valley God was able to restrain them. But they began to get out of control. Many of them like it when someone dies. They get excited. And they are already excited, and if we allow too much blood to be spilled tonight, Surram Dahla will turn into a living hell, and we’ll have to run for our lives and as fast as we can.”

Viraz sighed and didn’t answer. Instead, he seemed to delve deeper into his inner world. After a long pause, Gerome asked:

“For holly saints, what is the Valley God?”

“Oh—“ Braga’s face flashed with a wide smile. “He is a God, isn’t it obvious? Just like one of your Five Gods, except he is real.”