If I didn't know what to pay attention to, I would probably have missed the barely noticeable change in the tension of my belt as the stranger's hands started to lift me off the wet pavement. Initially, for a couple of seconds, I went along, pretending that I really needed the stranger's help. And when I "managed" to get up on one knee, my hand casually slid down the helper's palm as if by accident. That's when I didn't wait for a better moment, and the mental spell-command slipped off my fingers:
"Discharge"!
The young thief was immediately shaken and swayed, receiving an unexpected electric shock. His knees buckled, and it was he, not I, who began to topple onto the pavement. The games of playing a drunken visitor to the town were over, and, activating two auras at once, I spun around as I got up, hitting the thief's chest with my shoulder. And without giving him a chance to recover and come to his senses, the fingers of my left hand harshly slammed into his chest.
"Discharge"!
I wouldn't risk using this skill against an opponent of Copper level. After all, a shock in the heart region could be fatal. But my current adversary was a Bronze, so the lethal variant of my spell was almost impossible. Therefore, I struck without any doubt or remorse.
A fraction of a second after the fingers of my left hand touched the thief's chest, the clenched fist of my right hand, enhanced by the Acceleration aura, was driven into his solar plexus. Such a combination would disable even an opponent prepared for battle, let alone a thief not expecting an attack - it completely knocked the wind out of him.
And I didn't stop there.
A foot sweep - and the thief begins to fall backward. However, letting him fall onto the pavement doesn't fit into my plan, so my left hand, like a snake, slips under his elbow, then rises to his shoulder, making a painful locking grip. At the same time, I give him another shoulder bump, then take two quick steps to the left, thereby moving us both from the street to a dark, unlit alley. A final kick to the back of the knee completes my combination, and the thief obediently lowers onto the pavement, frozen in a kneeling position with his right arm bent and a wootz dagger at his throat. I managed in time, and when a second, far more experienced and dangerous opponent appeared on this improvised street scene, the young thief was entirely in my power.
The senior thief, a figure seemingly woven from the night mist, appeared at the edge of the street and the alleyway. One moment he wasn't there, and the next, he stood, his arms crossed on his chest, and I didn't notice any movement - as if someone had switched a frame of an empty street with another, including his silhouette.
"Heh!" the dark figure coughed lightly in surprise, stroking his goatee, then laughed with a croaking hoarse laugh. "Ha-ha-ha!"
Of all things, I didn't expect laughter and amusement and froze, only pressing a bit harder on the dagger, causing a light, barely bleeding cut to appear on the young thief's neck. But his senior didn't pay any attention to the blood that appeared on the protégé's neck, continuing to laugh for almost half a minute. Only after laughing it off he addressed the now recovered and obediently frozen young man in my arms.
"Jiang," the senior one spoke not to me but to the one who was now trembling slightly under the blade of the dagger gifted by Larindel, "did I not suggest that you reconsider and not choose this target?"
In response, the youth silently nodded, not daring to open his mouth, but even such a light movement aggravated the wound on his neck.
"Se-e-e!" The senior thief drawled, his intonations reminding me of the purring of a cat that had overeaten cream. "Do you know what happens to those who don't listen to their mentor?"
From how the young thief froze and began to tremble as if in chills, it was clear to me that he was far more afraid of his senior than of me, even though it was I who held a dagger to his throat.
The shadowy figure stroked his goatee once again, gave another cough, laughed, and continued:
"Correct. Those who do not listen to their mentor must deal with their problems themselves!"
Having said this, the senior thief waved his hand and vanished into the rustling of the night rain.
Damn! I hadn't expected this outcome at all. And what am I supposed to do with this thief now? I can't possibly kill him, can I? Although he might know where Seguna's altar is in the city?
Leaning over the young thief's ear, I was about to ask the question when I noticed a change at the edge of my perception. It wasn't a human movement, but more like the dim night shadows had shifted slightly. Ephemeral, beyond the perception of an ordinary person. If I hadn't gained the affinity with Shadow, I wouldn't have noticed this at all. And if I hadn't had the memory of an experienced shadow adept, I certainly wouldn't have been able to react to this change in time.
"Oh, really!" This time, there was a hint of surprise in the senior thief's voice.
This surprise was caused by the fact that he couldn't sneak up on me unnoticed because I had shifted in time, and the young thief was again between me and the play of night shadows. And when these barely noticeable shadows materialized into the figure of the senior thief, I was prepared for his appearance.
The thieves of Ain don't like to kill. In their understanding, killing is glaringly unprofessional, an amateurish act. They only resort to such a step when their own life hangs by a thread. To knock out, stun, poison, and put to sleep, then take all valuables - sure, but to kill - that's beneath their dignity. If the thieves of Ain didn't have such a peculiar code of honor, I wouldn't have dared to attack the young thief under the supervision of a mentor of the Precious rank. But knowing these nuances, I understood that if I behaved correctly and didn't overdo it, didn't make a mistake, I would achieve my goal. Although, in such matters, there is always a risk, and everything can go completely differently than I think at any moment.
"Shall we let this young restless one go?" The senior thief addressed me. "Let him go home and think about his behavior?" As he said this, the shadowy figure demonstratively showed me his empty palms.
If I let the young thief go, I'll lose my cover and the only trump card, but not releasing him might be even more dangerous. I'm not strong enough yet to pose a real threat to someone standing on the Emerald Step. I can't take long to think about the offer, and the memory of the future comes to my aid again. I lean forward and whisper into the young thief's ear:
"Solatium. Ten."
Without making any sudden movements, the guy, with noticeable relief, reaches under his shirt and, after a few seconds, pulls out exactly ten silver coins. When this money is in my hand, I let the youth go, pushing him toward his mentor.
"Now he can go." Tossing the coins in my hand, I answer in a satisfied tone.
"Disappear," the senior thief commands the young one irritably, and the latter obediently slips behind his mentor, vanishing into the night rain.
Waiting until the young thief hides in the shadows, the dark figure raises his heavy gaze at me.
"So, whom has Da'Nnan brought to our hospitable city today?" This question is addressed to me now.
"Raven." A brief but elegant aristocratic bow accompanies my words.
"Doesn't ring a bell. And you're not one of us." The senior thief irritably jerks his shoulder. "You have ten breaths, stranger, after that - no hard feelings." The shadowy figure spreads his hands as if he doesn't want to do what he has to but will still do what's necessary.
I really don't like his tone. It seems I was wrong, and the local rules of conduct here significantly differ from those in Pentapolis. Thieves here see nothing objectionable in the killing.
"Visualization!"
I go in with my trump card right away, and a Sign appears in front of my face.
The Sign of Affinity with Shadow.
What came relatively easily to me as an addition to the "Shadow Leader" achievement is actually a fairly rare Affinity. It's not that simple to acquire on Ain. Seguna is one of the dark deities, and no one in the Pantheon's temples will tell you how to get her blessing. It's quite possible that even in a large city like Tries, there aren't five people with such an Affinity.
Having "read" the Sign, the senior thief formed the symbol of the Night Sister with his fingers, and I immediately mirrored his gesture. Ender was right, there's definitely an unextinguished cult of Seguna in Tries, and as is often the case, the Thieves' Guild is its most fervent followers. However, not only thieves worship the Mother of Shadows, so my nocturnal interlocutor didn't change his pose and relax but continued to scrutinize me carefully.
"I'm just passing through Tries, the tournament will end, and I'll leave." Yet my words don't decrease the tension.
Everything went not as I envisioned and planned. I can feel it with my skin: one wrong word, an imprudent gesture, and I'll fall on the pavement with a slit throat without even understanding what killed me. This plan for finding Seguna's altar, which seemed so good not long ago, no longer seems so after being realized.
"Seven." A quiet, bored voice counts down my remaining time.
"Don't know what to say? Got confused? Then speak the truth!" That's what Dice used to tell the "past me" more than once. And unlike his other drunken phrases and stunts, this one made sense and had logic. Remembering it just now, I decided to follow that advice:
"Before participating in the tournament, I wanted to offer a prayer to the Mother, and looking for a hidden altar by myself would take too long."
"And you set up this whole spectacle for that?" The thief of the Precious Coil snorts, rolling his eyes.
"Well, and..." The coins in my palm jingle against each other. "Ten silver is ten silver!"
"Ha-ha-ha..." The croaking laugh indicates that I hit the mark with my words and tone. "Can't argue with that," the thief nodded after his laughter subsided, "because, indeed, ten silver is ten silver!"
Saying something else seems unnecessary, so I just smile, slightly tilting my head. At the same time, I calculate the situation and look for escape routes. I'm not strong enough to oppose an Emerald fighter, but I might manage to run away. The chance is slim, of course, but it's still better than just standing and waiting to be killed.
"That ledge is too fragile to hold your weight." The thief reads me like an open book and grins, catching my gaze. "And the alley behind you ends in a dead end."
"Habit," I reply with as calm a voice as possible, and I even manage not to stammer.
"I approve of such habits; it's a pity that one of my lazy students does not want to acquire them." The thief sighs heavily and then continues unexpectedly, "The Mother's altar is between the Seventh and Eighth towers."
For a moment, I'm stunned by how easy it was. When I realize it was really that simple, the thief in front of me is already gone, and only shadows shiver under the rain ahead. I exhale heavily, relaxing my shoulders, and immediately hear a whisper behind me:
"If I find out you're working in my city, nobody will find your body."
Of course, I could argue that I'm not a thief, but instead of justifying myself, I just nod to my invisible interlocutor and say one word:
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
"Understood."
"Good." The whisper is barely audible - as if brought by a sea breeze.
With my legs barely able to bend, I step out of the alleyway, not hesitating to exhale loudly. My adventurous plan succeeded, I got the necessary information, but I nearly paid for it with my life. This did not make me happy; I miscalculated again and one more time walked on the razor's edge where such risk was utterly unnecessary. It seems that I'm getting into the habit of seeking the quickest and simplest paths. At first glance, there is nothing wrong with this, but such a choice often turns out to be the most dangerous. And this is what needs to change: I better anticipate the consequences of my decisions. Guided by this thought, I decided that looking for the altar this night, even not knowing where these seventh and eighth towers were, was indeed a display of excessive and completely unnecessary haste. Therefore, after tucking away the ten silvers I received from the young thief as a fee for his failed attempt to rob me into my belt, I headed towards the inn where I was staying.
Despite the fact that it was deep into the night and raining, I remembered the way to the inn and reached the place without any adventures. Upon reaching my room, I made sure that no one had touched my belongings; then, taking off my shoes, I stretched out on the bed and fell into a troubled, slightly twitchy sleep.
Opening my eyes with the first rays of the sun, I felt a certain weariness in my body due to poor sleep. Getting up, I washed up and, after going down to the kitchen, quickly had a snack of yesterday's pastries with hot tea. Then, tossing a few coins to the cleaning girl, I left the inn.
For the first half hour, I aimlessly wandered around the city, trying to figure out whether my encounter with the thieves last night had backfired and if anyone was following me. The young thief, who had failed his test because of me, could harbor resentment and try to take revenge. But no matter how much I meandered through the morning port streets, I didn't notice any hint of surveillance.
The central square of Tries did not differ in its layout from most other large cities built before the Fall. Details, specifics, elements of Eastern architecture - all this, of course, was also present, giving individuality and some uniqueness, but the basics remained unchanged.
The municipal buildings were located on the west side of the square. In the east, as if in contrast to the civil power, towered the enormous Pantheon Temple. The northern part was divided between guild palaces, far less impressive when compared to the Temple or the municipality. To the south of the square were the city park and the Arena.
Despite the early hour, the square was already bustling with life. Many officials and fleet personnel rushing about their business mingled with numerous traders and pilgrims. Joining the flow of believers, I crossed the square, pausing for a moment at a large fountain. Only now did I notice that it was designed as a sculptural composition, in the center of which was a whale showing its back. This whale "created" the flow of water rising upwards. It was beautiful and looked organic, but the locals walked by, oblivious to this beauty already familiar to their eyes. I scooped up some water from the fountain with my palm and rinsed my face. It refreshed me a bit and gave me some energy, so I approached the eastern part of the square with a smile.
The Pantheon Temple, as per the rules of old architecture, towered over the rest of the city. Typically, such was built on the highest hill, and if there were none, they would heap up an elevation manually before commencing construction. Along the broad marble staircase, which one had to ascend to get to the Temple, stood numerous columns, their grandeur capable of rivaling the Athenian Parthenon.
Legends say that the Temples of old cities were built with the direct help of the gods, and when you look at them, especially when you're this close, you can't help but start believing it. All the stones are fitted to each other perfectly; not even a drop of water could seep between them. All proportions are calculated to absolute perfection - as if someone had drawn up a project using a PC with professional software before starting construction. In favor of the divine theory is also the fact that in no city built after the Fall could one find such beauty and architectural perfection.
In the middle of the ascent, the stream of pilgrims split into two roughly equal arms. Some continued to go straight, while others turned onto a spiral staircase. The staircase which symbolizes the Great Spiral of Elevation. You could also get to the Temple by it, but of course, it meant covering a much larger distance than just going up the main steps.
I came here with a specific purpose: to go through the ritual of "Self-Knowledge," and one of the first steps was to ascend this very spiral staircase. And although I knew it was just a meaningless and non-influential formality, I nevertheless turned off the central flight.
If you don't rush, don't run up the stairs, but instead take a closer look, you'll notice that all the columns along the staircase are covered in intricate patterns. And these patterns are not simply decorative elements - they are a weave of words. Each column can "tell" its story, and all these stories eventually compile into one narrative about the Creation of the World. Thanks to the memory of the future, I, of course, knew these tales and did not linger near the columns, simply passing by and enjoying their beauty and perfect symmetry. With every flight, the spiral staircase changes. It changes, just like the Core of a person advancing in rank. The first flight is made of wood, and then copper inlays replace the wood, followed by iron ones, and so on, up to the top, where the final steps are painted in mithril. But what sends chills from head to toe is that the entrance arch of the Temple is already in the color of adamantium. This nuance clearly and vividly illustrates the divide between the lot of mortals and the will of the gods.
At the entrance to the Temple itself, you are greeted by four statues. They are crafted in such a way that they themselves seem to be passing through the Arch and inviting you to follow them. This is very symbolic, as these are the sculptures of the four lesser deities: Jegur, Evelan, Ishia, and Dyuryin. According to myths, each of them was born mortal but managed to Ascend and become a demigod. And while the first two were sons of Eyrat, Ishia and Dyuryin made their Path without the help of divine blood. The first became the greatest healer among humans, and Elai, the Goddess of Summer and Life herself, named Ishia as her spiritual daughter. The second was not even a human. Short, sturdy, wider in the shoulders than in height - a true son of the mountain folk, Dyuryin achieved his Ascension through relentless work. He uncovered the secret of adamantium, for which he was persecuted by some gods and stripped of his sight and fingers on his right hand. But even maimed and blind, he continued to create masterpieces. Unlike Jegur, Evelan, or Ishia, nobody guided Dyuryin, nobody led him by the hand to the Stairway of Ascension; he walked it himself. And, as it seems to me, Katashi Atsushi is following his path precisely.
In fact, there should not be four statues but five. Because throughout the history of Ain, exactly five mortals have achieved Ascension. But you will not find the statue of the fifth in any of the Temples. It was removed from everywhere, and mentions of the fifth were erased in all texts. But even this did not help the priests to erase his name from human memory. Da'Nnan, like Dyuryin, was not born a human. He is a progeny of the Ancient forests of Ain. Tall, graceful, looking half-human and half-beast. A Sidhe of the elder blood, who became the right hand of Obeorn himself and the leader of the Wild Hunt. A deity of violence, slaughter, and disaster, a hater of humans, as well as a defender of the primordial unbridled nature.
Behind the Arch, you are greeted by the massive Spiral Hall, the size of a football field, where you will find statues and places of worship to all the gods. All except four, of course. Da'Nnan, Nulgle, as well as Obeorn and his wife Seguna have lost their once lawful divine places in the Temples of the Pantheon after the Fall.
Numerous priests in white garments roam this hall, and any pilgrim can approach them for advice or ask a question of interest. One can wander around this place for hours and still not see everything: all the statues, all the bas-reliefs, all the mosaics. The true Temple always leaves an indelible impression on those who visit it for the first time. Even on earthlings, let alone those peasants, fishermen, tunnellers, and craftsmen who crossed its threshold for the first time in their lives. Someday, when I'm not pushed forward by the pressure of questers, I will definitely take a walk in one of the true Temples. I will take a walk literally - enjoying its monumentality, aesthetics, and beauty. But later, not now.
Today I have a specific task here, so I cut across the Spiral Hall and go out into the open air again. One of the inner courtyards of the temple complex greets me with the familiar crunch of dry sand underfoot, a memory from the past. This place is called the Square of Initial Rituals. I look around. I was right to come this early: there are still free places. And that's good, as in the Temple of Deytran, for some rituals, you have to sign up almost a couple of months in advance, so many pilgrims are there.
"Blessed morning to you," a voice sounds very close by. "May I know how to address you?"
To my right, just a step away, a priest in blue is standing with a friendly smile on his face. Neither young nor old, just middle-aged, his eyes are attentive, but at the same time, they are filled with deep-seated fatigue. According to Eastern customs, his head is smoothly shaven, and he is fiddling with stone beads in his hands. Judging by the symbol on his chest and the color of his attire, a priest of Elai greets me. This is a bit strange, they are usually always busy, but I am perfectly fine with this. Perhaps, of all the priests, only the servants of Elai and Ishia are less likely to meddle in someone else's life without invitation. And that means that today I won't have to listen to sermons and strained instructions, which, undoubtedly, is good, so I answer the priest with a sincere smile.
"Raven from Seattle."
"And what brings you to this sand, lit by the light of Antares, Raven?"
"I recently reached the Bronze Rank."
"Congratulations."
"Thank you, and I would like to undergo the 'Self-Knowledge' ritual."
With a light sympathy in his gaze, the priest looks me up and down and, sighing heavily, replies:
"You are not a citizen of Tries, so to perform such a ritual, you will have to pay thirty silver coins."
I have the money, but I don't want to spend it, so I mentally command: "Visualization." And before my face appears the Sign of Affinity with Light. The priest looks at it for a second, then his face lights up with a smile, and he makes an inviting gesture with his hand.
"But for you, Raven, as someone blessed by the Light, we will do everything for free." These words come easily to the priest; he's even glad that he doesn't have to charge me for the ritual.
Most likely, this servant is one of those who don't see monetizing temple services as an unquestionably correct and necessary decision. But people like him have been in the minority for many centuries and are forced to comply with the rules established not by them.
"Follow me."
Passing by the pilgrims sitting in the sand and meditating, we reached an empty area where the priest, having seated me in the center of a small spiral laid out with colorful stones, asked me to wait.
After your Core reaches Bronze, there is nothing complicated in the ritual of "Self-Knowledge." You just need to be in a special place and, inhaling sanctified incense, look inward. The process itself resembles an Elevation but in a much lighter form. Your soul is not dispersed into atoms, and you don't have to piece yourself together again. Everything here is much easier: you just look deep inside yourself, scooping up sand with your hands and letting it slip through your fingers. And then you look at how this sand has settled, and only you can see its pattern. For everyone else, even for the priest conducting the ritual, there are no symbols or signs in the sand sifted through your fingers.
I had just gotten comfortable and balanced my breathing when the familiar priest returned, carrying everything necessary for the ritual. And then it went just as I remembered. Following the measured recitative of prayer lines from the priest's mouth, inhaling the sickly-sweet aroma of incense, I quickly plunged into blessed meditation. All I had to do was observe myself from the side and let the sand slip through my fingers, and that was it. For someone who has gone through Elevation more than once, there's nothing complicated about this, especially since I don't have to search for anything in myself, the sand blessed by all-pervading Light will do everything for me.
Not even half an hour had passed when the last grains of sand slipped through my fingers, and I opened my eyes to look at the sandy pattern. This image will soon disappear, like a foggy illusion, and in the previous Cycle, I only looked at the main Talents. Looking at the pattern now, I quickly realized that almost nothing had changed since the last time, except for the Spear, Light, and Runes, which showed an entire Star more than before, and minus one Star in the Talent of the Sword, due to my choice change in the Stela of Divine Inspiration during the second group test.
Having assessed this, I shifted my gaze to those Talents I had not previously paid attention to. I was especially interested in the Bard Stars. But no matter how much I peered into the sandy pattern, I couldn't make out anything specific. It seemed that the blessed sand could not decide what my Talents in this sphere were. The grains flowed, swam, shapes changed, and did not freeze in any particular fixed position until the magic of the ritual ended, and I was thrown out of meditation into the real world.
"I see you're puzzled about something?" The priest of Elai asked me after I had been sitting silently in the sand for more than three minutes. "Ask, don't be shy."
After thinking a bit, I decided and voice the question:
"Do you know why it happens that some Talents didn't read? As if the sand couldn't decide whether I'm talented or not."
"Oh, that..." The priest said with a slight relief and patted the sand. "There's nothing strange or bad about that. Don't worry. This is a basic ritual; it's quite simple and not always accurate in complex situations."
"In complex situations?" I clarify, getting a bit tense inside.
"It's easiest to explain this using the Bard Talents as an example." The priest accurately guessed what was on my mind, making me jump slightly. He seemed not to notice and continued, "How do you assess the Bard Talent of an excellent composer with no voice? Or vice versa, a person with a wonderful voice but no musical ear? Or what about an outstanding storyteller who cannot play any instruments and doesn't feel the music? Such multifaceted Talents, where the spread in their different directions is two Stars and more, this ritual shows poorly. But you can always undergo additional rituals, though not here in the temple, but in the guild that pertains to the Talents you have doubts about." After I nodded, the priest smiled and asked, "Do you have any more questions?"
"No, thank you for your help."
"It's my duty." The priest rose to his feet and formally bowed in farewell.
With gratitude, I also bowed to him at the waist and, as I was leaving the temple, walking past the statue of Elai, I left an offering beside it.
Somewhere deep down, I hoped that the uncertainty in my Bard Talents meant that I had more than five stars in them. And that was the reason why the ritual last time could not read these indicators properly. But rationally, I understood that this was nothing more than fantasy. If it were so, back on Earth, I would have become a pop star or a famous actor. Besides, Larindel is probably right, perhaps I am indeed a good storyteller, but as a singer, I'm quite a gray mediocrity. So after the priest's explanation, I even felt some relief that everything turned out to be so simple and down-to-earth. The mystery that had been tormenting me for the last few weeks turned out to be a dud, and for some reason, that even cheered me up.
Descending the broad stairs of the temple, I was breathing deeply and smiling, looking at the clouds without watching my step. My blissful state was interrupted by a familiar voice:
"I knew I'd find you here!"
Aun? What is he doing here, and what does this boy want from me?