Chapter 21

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You get used to everything eventually, even the impossible and unacceptable. That winged expression came back to Taer's mind again and again.

Everything around her was shaky, reality shook and scattered in a kaleidoscope of options when she tried to focus on something, but she thought she was used to it and even saw sense in this phantasmagoria:

These are all probabilities - variants - of what reality could be, Taer thought curiously as she watched the shifting figures floating around her as if caught between two mirrors, stretched out in an endless string of variants.

It was hard to get her bearings. The world around her, shaky and indistinct as if immersed in an endless blue twilight, was moving around her, but Taher wasn't there. She couldn't feel her own body. But she could look anywhere as if she had no neck or, perhaps, no eyes. At some point, she caught that she could focus on two objects at once, but she was afraid to experiment further. One thing was clear - she was in a small robotaxi, and many of the images she saw were of possible breakdowns, collisions, and other catastrophes. But they were faint, indistinct, almost nonexistent, and the odds must have been slim. She was probably alone in the car, simply because there were no images of other people, the ones that did appear momentarily, only to disappear again if you didn't focus on them - random hitchhikers in the flow of traffic. But where the robotaxi was going was impossible to understand. She was so absorbed in her ability to see events that hadn't happened yet that she was even a little upset when reality suddenly curled back to its normal state, regaining its usual colors and sounds.

"What would please the honored one?" The elderly merchant asked with his head bowed low.

Taer was still disoriented by the sudden change in her perception and didn't quite understand where she was: clearly not a taxi but already a street: the yellow light of street lamps, a corner of the dark sky, the movement of many people could be heard behind her: footsteps, fragments of phrases. She stood in front of a street stall with some souvenirs and, for some reason, a large collection of veils of all colors and styles and brightly painted masks.

The owner of the tent, who made no effort to feign subservient interest, was dressed in a shapeless gray hood with traces of many hasty meals and came from a "close-to-human" background. His skin was the color and texture of old tree bark, but the latter was probably a trace of his years.

I guess you can meet different people in the capital, but this is definitely a place for a simpler crowd. But why the veils? She thought, clinging to the thought. She remembered that veils had something to do with something.

While she was realizing where she was, her hands removed money from her purse with careless grace:

"Take it not as payment but as a blessing." Her voice came out in the bored shorthand of a regular, and her hand, with a clasped card of one hundred creds, jabbed toward the dark blue veil behind the clerk's back.

The merchant smiled happily and hurriedly took the money with a bow and handed her the veil:

"Blessed is the Giver, for his hand, the hand of Twilight." He recited the formula without hiding his understandable joy. Taer didn't know the capital's prices, but she was sure that a dozen of these veils could be bought for a hundred.

The vendor obligingly brought out a large mirror, but without waiting for him, she had already put on the veil, and she did it so quickly and confidently that it seemed as if she did it several times a day, every day of her life.

Having put on her veil, the "other" turned around without saying goodbye and joined the crowd that filled the wide street and moved leisurely toward a common goal:

The main temple of Twilight, Taer was almost unsurprised to see three huge black columns converging in the sky at one point, forming an empty pyramid or triangle, the symbol of Twilight. Taer had expected something like this after the blessings and the acquisition of the veil. She remembered it was customary to visit the temples of the Church of Twilight by covering one's face. But what is she doing here? Why the main temple?

She moved through the motley mass of people, tourists, pilgrims, and worshippers, with occasional black threads of monks walking behind each other in oversized black cloaks, their faces hidden behind solid masks. Aside from the obvious tourists, most of the monks were not wearing the trappings of monasticism but were wearing veils, just as Taer was, which made it seem to her that she had completely disappeared into the crowd, blending in with the faceless mass:

Are you a member of the Church of Twilight? Taer tried to convey her mental question to the 'other', not hiding her surprise.

"No." She heard herself whisper back. "I don't see the point of religion."

Taer thought she caught a subtle flavor of irony in the usual icy stream of homing that filled much of her consciousness.

Cleric or monk? Taer asked, realizing the answer was clearly a trick.

"No." Guider shook her head, smiling slightly. "That would be vulgar."

The flavor of irony became even stronger, but the "other" no longer responded to Taer's further questions, silently walking forward...

Not a Twilight Adept, but if she was a telepath, she wouldn't need to interrogate. Perhaps some financial matters... Taer thought, languishing with powerlessness, but the "other" was walking fast enough, but it was still a long way to the temple, and at times like this, it felt especially strong that she was not the one in control of her body, and it was incredibly annoying.

As they approached the temple, the stream of people divided into three unequal streams, each of which reached the foot of one of the columns. She was in the most numerous stream, where there were the most tourists.

Despite her limited religious education, Taer knew that the main temple of Twilight had three gates. One for the congregation, the second for the priesthood, and the third was always closed and meant for Twilight himself or something like that.

Maybe they're not going to the temple at all. It was hard to believe that this idle crowd was members of a church that had always been known for its primness.

She was right. The base of the temple's columns had been "undercut" to form a giant canopy, and underneath it, along the entire circumference, were tents with good luck charms, statues for good luck alms, and rows of small cubic offices finished in dark polished wood with walls of milky white illuminated plastic. Behind these rows of vending machines rose a huge gateway. In a perfect circle of gray stone, a hundred mers high was inscribed with a golden triangle with its apex downward, within which glowed a dark red metal cross, the left and lower ends of which were connected by a graceful loop - the cross of the alta. The gate was closed.

This must be the Gate of Twilight... Taer thought as she looked at one of the few symbols that had survived from the legendary times before Starfall. Against the grandeur and enormity of the temple and the gate, the tents with the merchants below seemed like small insects swarming around, completely out of place.

"Like worms crawling in a dead giant, too blind and primitive to understand the greatness of the defeated or realize their irrelevance," she said aloud, and only after a few seconds did she realize, Did she say that? Or is it a guider? Or did she voice my thoughts? Were they even my thoughts or hers?

"May I be of assistance in your search?" The unexpected phrase from outside stopped the panic that was beginning to set in Taer's mind.

A gray monk stood beside her, leaning slightly, a baggy, oversized, multi-layered asphalt-colored cloak that went down to his feet almost completely concealed his figure, his face was covered by a solid oval of a black mask, and his voice was clearly distorted by some device. It could have been anyone in front of her - a man, a woman, a member of another race, or maybe even a droid.

"Perhaps." The guider replied casually, glancing around leisurely.

The stream of visitors quickly dispersed among the stalls, offices, and statues, so it was no surprise that a woman in an obviously expensive business suit caught his eye.

"My search is a long, Faceless one." With a sigh, the "other" continued in the voice of a man weary of formalities. And handed the monk a card of a hundred danarii. "Help me and bless me with good fortune."

The money immediately disappeared somewhere deep in the folds of the cloak, and the monk outlined an imaginary triangle around her with his palm:

"May the lost one grant you good luck and indulgence. What help is needed in your search?" He asked again, bowing slightly.

"I've got a big deal coming up. I'd like to get my fortune told. But!" The guider raised a finger warningly. "No need to try to slip me these tourist attractions. I want to go to a very specific master who was recommended by my clergyman." She pointed her finger at one of the white-walled offices, away from the main mass.

The monk turned around after following her gesture and spread his hands with a sigh:

"I'm sorry, Seeker, but there are a lot of people out there looking for help. If you leave me your contacts, I will sign you up and notify you when an appointment is available."

"I don't have time for this." The 'other' waved away capriciously and pulled out a new card, already five hundred danarii. "Maybe the Lord of Chance will smile, and I'll get a chance to get in without an appointment and right now?" She asked, holding out the money.

"All things are possible according to his will." The monk took the money and, bowing lower than before, went towards the office indicated.

You gave him my wages for half a decade. Taer muttered to herself, somewhat shocked at the amount of the tip.

"Any image needs confirmation." The "other" mumbled to herself, and added, with an obvious sneer, "I doubt you need the money that badly."

I doubt you need the divination. Taer snarled a little hurt by another reminder of her own helplessness. Why are we here?

"I see you're getting worn out..." The 'other' sighed and continued in a sissy tone. "Be patient a little longer little one, I'll finish my business and then I'll buy you something."

It wasn't a joke or even a quip. Taer clearly sensed the desire of the 'other' to specifically tease her, to irritate her, to drive her to something.

What the hell do you want from me? She growled mentally.

"I keep waiting for you to do something," Guider admitted tiredly, watching the monk lazily. "But other than a suicide attempt literally drowned in self-pity, all you do is whine. I'd like to see some redeeming features of your existence... And not that I expect much from a child, but usually children are at least curious, and you're not even that."

The strongest thing was that it was said without a sneer, with tired bewilderment that such a thing was even possible, and even with a shadow of sincere pity.

And that pity hurt worse than any bullying:

What can I do?! Taer just wanted to disappear right now. You're stronger...

"Since when did the fact that someone is stronger become a reason to do nothing?" The "other" asked an obviously rhetorical question, but she didn't pursue the topic, the monk had returned.

"You will be admitted now." He bowed again and gestured for me to follow him into the office.

The interior of the study was very modest. Along the left and right walls were two very wide low sofas, without backs and sides, just soft white rectangles, a table of polished arjat between them - wide but equally low. And that was it.

On the couch to the left, the owner of the office sat cross-legged, no different from the monk who had brought them here.

The charcoal black mask that covered his entire face turned toward the entrants, and a black-gloved hand pointed to the couch opposite:

"Please make yourself comfortable." It was the same distorted voice.

"Thank you." Guider sat down on the edge of the couch, placing her purse beside her. "I don't have much time, so let's hurry up and let all these offers of extras happen right away."

"As it pleases the Seeker." The monk bowed his head, and despite the distortion in his voice, Taer could have sworn he was smiling.

From the "extras," the guider ordered drinks and a few dishes from the room service menu, the names of which were completely unfamiliar to Taer:

"A full eight plus one, for a good deal." The "other one" said in a low voice after the food and drink men had left.

The monk simply nodded and pulled a deck of cards from the folds of his cloak. He shuffled them carefully and leaned forward to place the deck on the table:

"Cut."

At that moment, Taer heard as a curtain flap in the wind, felt the touch of cloth and a blow to her right palm. Her hand struck the monk in the temple with such speed that she didn't immediately realize what had happened. He jerked from the blow, a few dark strands of hair escaping from his mask, and began to fall to his side, but he was not destined to fall; the guide deftly caught him by the scruff of the neck with her other hand and pulled him to the table, managing not to hit the tray of food.

"I guess the question of whether this is a real seer can be left out." The other rose from her seat with a chuckle.

Standing over the monk sprawled on the table, she regarded him for a few seconds as if admiring another outlandish dish, then pulled off his mask, tossing it on the couch.

Under the mask was a woman, or rather a girl. About twenty years old. She had blue-black hair, for some reason cut into a short bob "like a sister" tinted neon-green on the inside, eyes immaculately lined with black mascara, and a very neat little mouth painted with black lipstick.

She lay perfectly still, and thin bloody scarlet streams stretched from her left ear and nose.

Did you just kill her? Taer was still reeling from the shock and surprise. Just like that?

"Taer, Taer..." The other shook her head disapprovingly and began pulling off the nun's layered cloak. Why is murder the first thing on your mind?

Because that's what you usually do, kill people. She answered with complete sincerity.

"I'm creating the future." She mumbled softly to herself as she deftly handled the many clasps of the cape, which went just above the waist and attached the bottom to the top and the layers to each other. "Killing, on the other hand, is just one way of removing the superfluous from the pattern. Though, that's probably too abstract for you..."

The clasps were finished, and the cape flew to the couch next to the mask.

"Well, at least she has taste." The "other" concluded, inspecting the result of her labor.

Beneath the black cloak that completely concealed any details, the nun wore a black silk shirt and a narrow green skirt below the knee, the color of her hair contrasting with her hair, bracelets on her arms made of blown gold with large emeralds that Taer remembered from some catalog for noblewomen, and for some reason rather simple white sneakers on her feet, though immaculately clean.

Not at all what you'd expect to see from a converted nun in the Church of Twilight, more like the golden girl of very rich parents.

So she's alive? Taer clarified, just in case.

"Of course, just unconsciousness, a concussion, and a burst eardrum." Calmly the 'other' listed, pulling off the nun's shoes. "If I'd killed her, the clothes might have been damaged. A dead body doesn't do well at holding various substances."

Taer quickly went through the items of clothing the guider had taken off the nun: mask, cloak, shoes, and black gloves that were almost elbow-length, but they hadn't been touched yet. Everything, except maybe the mask, was completely ordinary, the sort of thing any atelier would make. Moreover, she was sure the gray monk's full gown could be bought like a carnival costume.

Sometimes I forget you're insane. She sighed mentally, a little shocked at the nonsense she was participating in.

"You're probably right." She shrugged, sitting down on the couch kicking off her shoes, and putting on her trophy sneakers. "I guess it depends on what one considers the norm."

Whatever crazy plan you need these clothes for. You can buy absolutely all of it with a tenth of the bribe you paid just to get here.

"You're absolutely right again." She nodded and got up from the couch. She stomped around a bit in her new shoes, the size wasn't right, and her foot stubbed a bit on the toe. "We'll have to be patient." She sighed philosophically and began to put on the cape.

Then why? Why this ridiculous attack for the sake of clothes?

"Because you're huge, and gray monks are very sensitive to gait patterns. And I could, of course, guess what the only biometrically similar initiate is wearing, buy those things in advance, and then guess my way around the fact that there are two of us. But I'm a stickler for simple solutions."

Simultaneously reading this lecture, the "other" managed to take out of her purse a pair of gloves one in one like a nun's, and put them on.

"Her gloves are small on your hand. It would be too conspicuous." There was an answer to a question Taer never seemed to 'speak up' but must have been thinking too loudly.

You didn't want to guess and are a proponent of simple solutions... Taer couldn't help herself.

"Only as long as they work." The "other" smiled and, wearing a black monk mask, walked out of the office.

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The mask was too tight against her forehead, and the metal tendrils of the voice distortion resonators, hidden on the back of the mask, occasionally rested on her face. The small screen at eye level, which transmitted images from the light-sensitive layer on the mask's surface, was not the same as the optics of the armor Taer had grown accustomed to.

How can that be worn all day? Taer wondered, but there was no comment.

The "other" gestured to one of the monks who were standing near the offices to sort out those wishing to read the fortune:

"The seeker wishes to make a blood sacrifice." In a businesslike shorthand, the guider responded with a bow to the monk's bow. "Let her not be disturbed."

And receiving a nod in return, she headed somewhere in the depths of the temple.

Are you sure they won't find it? It's just lying there on the table. It's enough to casually glance over. Taer was genuinely worried, and she didn't want to get caught.

"They will." Barely audibly whispered the other. "But we'll be out of the temple by then, don't worry. No one will catch Cassard's First Blade on a petty looting spree. For now..."

For now?!

"Well, maybe you'll need to be taught a little lesson." The 'other' murmured. "And you're so careful about your reputation..."

Taer was terrified when she imagined what the sick fantasy of a guider could do:

Insulting the honor of the uniform with petty robbery may be the most innocent option.

"Taer." The other hissed unhappily. "You're secreting all sorts of nasty stuff into your bloodstream again. It's exhausting. Stop it."

Taer stopped as far as her limited self-control allowed. They were deep in the interior of the temple. The monotonous gray granite corridors with the occasional person in the same monk's robes with whom she silently bowed.

I thought in this part of the temple the entrance was only for Twilight himself...

"If you follow the dogma of the church, then anyone can be a Twilight without knowing it. And you're talking about the temple of a religion that's dedicated to artistic interpretation of the rules. The gates are still closed, so it's okay."

And that fortune teller, was she any special? Why was she dressed like that?

"How do you think a person devoted to money should be dressed?" An answering whisper sounded. "A middle-class functionary with a load of ancient ceremonial that no one needs."

Taer remembered that gray clerics were supposed to practice strict asceticism and not spend money on themselves unless it was to buy the next rank, but now she found it naive to believe that anyone adhered to such inconvenient rules.

The other didn't react to her thoughts, but it seemed to Taer that the icy stream of consciousness of the 'other' changed as if it looked at her with condescending approval.

The journey through the interior of the temple ended in the elevator cabin, which looked very prosaic. One would have thought they were in some office complex and not the most prestigious one. The usual: "Please name the floor" sounded from under the ceiling, but instead of answering, The other quickly typed the code on the dial panel in the elevator wall. The elevator tinkled melodiously and, from the feel of it, headed downward.

The doors opened again, leading them out into a small, dusty hallway with no finishes. The walls shamelessly showed the redness of uncovered plastic, and the large double-leaf metal doors with a code lock were silvered, unpainted metal right in front of the elevator, with only one place that had lost its pristine appearance. Right in the middle of the doors was a yellow ionic danger sign, accompanied by the words "DANGER" for those who didn't understand.

Are you trying to sabotage something? Taer couldn't resist, seeing that she was heading straight for the door and dialing the code on the lock.

"You could say that." The "other" nodded, but Taer could taste the irony in her thoughts.

When she entered the code, she took a few steps back and in time. A hissing sound came from the door, and it swung open, revealing a dark corridor.

She simply walked forward, the ceiling lights coming on one by one in time with her footsteps. Taer had expected to see high-energy converters or some other relatively dangerous energy machinery, but it was practically empty, a long, dusty corridor with rusty walls of the same uncovered plastic. The far end of the corridor led into the darkness of a large unlit space, and there, on the border of darkness and light, something stood on the floor along the walls.

As the "other" walked slowly, it became clear that along the walls there were small dust-covered saucers with pieces of something dark with notes attached to them. When she came closer, it became clear that the dark pieces were dried-up organs, mummified by dust and time...

These are human hearts. Taer realized what she was seeing.

"Just hearts." Calmly the homing woman clarified. "Not necessarily human ones. Why the racism?"

Is this a Twilight Cult shrine? There weren't many options as to why there were hearts on saucers, and Taer voiced the most probable one, at the same time trying to put out of her mind thoughts about "they are terrorists", "they are forbidden", or "the Church of Twilight has officially anathematized all those who participate in their rituals" - as obviously naive nonsense.

"Yes."

The other confidently into the darkness beyond the corridor. The lights were not turned on here, and the darkness remained as it was. The light from the corridor was enough to distinguish that they were in a large hall and that on the sides of the entrance and along the walls, gradually disappearing into the impenetrable darkness, were statues.

They had reached the middle of the hall in total darkness when the face of the goddess appeared in the glow of the deadly pale light ahead: the piercing gaze of huge, light, almost whitish eyes, a triangular face with a sharp chin, and a narrow, stern mouth in a halo of platinum-white hair.

Is that the Champion of the Twilight? Taer called out the most innocuous title of this person, recognized mostly from pictures on fortune-telling cards.

"Yes." The other answered with indifference in her voice, but a shadow of slight irritation slipped into the icy stream of her thoughts. She wasn't happy with this hologram for some reason.

A hologram appeared, illuminating the hall: directly beneath it was a small square platform. It must be an altar. It was empty, but on the floor around it stood the familiar saucers with the same contents. The statues along the walls became discernible. They depicted kneeling monks whose faces were covered by black masks that covered only half of their faces. The masks were inlaid in gold symbols or seals. All different in style, it resembled noble monograms on the helmets of armor. From under the masks, ruby-red strips stretched down the cheeks of the statues as if they were crying blood. The statues stood tightly, literally shoulder to shoulder, but sometimes there were gaps between them, where there were tightly wrapped bodies in gray cloth pulled by ropes to repeat the pose of the statues. On their cloth-wrapped heads were the same masks as on the statues

Despite the gruesome offerings near the altar and what Taer suspected were real mummies along the walls, there was no smell of decay in the air, and judging by the amount of dust around, the peace of this creepy place was rarely disturbed.

Why are we here? It wasn't that Taer was scared, but a feeling of repulsion lingered in her gut. She was disgusted to be here.

"I want to take something personal." The 'other' answered as she approached the altar, and for once Taer felt no irony or sneer.

She bent down and picked up the note from the saucer near the altar, the heart on it not yet fully mummified.

On a dusty sheet of white plastic were the handwritten words: "The heart of Larir Rodar, Chairman of the Executive Board of the Zonn-Mer Corporation, taken on the seventh day of the twenty-third decade, year 25168 from the beginning of the Search, by a Nameless...", and beyond the "Nameless" was a monogram similar to those on the masks.

Two years ago? It took Taer a moment to translate the date from the church calendar to the regular calendar.

"What do you think?" The guider asked instead of answering.

What? Taer sincerely didn't understand.

"An offering." She explained.

Taer genuinely didn't know what kind of answer was assumed to such a question:

I don't know... Nasty?

"I don't know either." She muttered to herself and threw the note on the altar with a disappointed sigh. From above, there was a quiet clinking sound as the storage devices prepared to discharge, and the sheet of plastic exploded in a whirlwind of bright sparks, leaving not even ashes. The hologram of the goddess above the altar closed its eyes, and its light faded to a calmer glow.

"Let's consider it humble but dignified." She added, watching the sparks go out.

Is that what we're here for? Taer asked. It seemed to her that there was some ritual that she didn't understand.

"No."

She walked around the altar, and now that the source of light was behind her back, she could see that there was a door or gate in the wall behind the altar, the same as in the main column of the temple: a circle of gray stone with a triangle inscribed in it, inside of which was a golden "cross of alta." Only small, not much bigger than a man's height.

She stopped a step in front of the gate, and the world spun again, scattering in an endless kaleidoscope.

It happened so suddenly that Taer was completely lost in the whirlwind of probabilities swirling around her, but she noticed the other had done something to them, as if she'd switched places, making the impossible - possible.

There were clicks and loud hisses, and her perception was split, one part still aware of the endless whirl of possible futures, and the other part regained sight and hearing, albeit distantly, as if she were peering over her shoulder.

The gate behind the altar opened slowly in front of her. The circle came forward and moved aside, blinding her with a painfully bright light.

Taer wanted to squeeze her eyes shut, but she couldn't. The guider walked in without blinking an eye.

The vortex of probabilities changed. Taer saw some of them move forward quickly. It was threats, and they would be fulfilled when she stepped into the center of the room: two on either side of the walls and one of some sort of "in general," still undetermined - constantly changing.

In normal vision, it was a brightly lit, circular room, all completely white. Right in the center of it, sandwiched between two purple base plates, a column of amber light shone within it, the blurry outline of a small object. A stasis capsule, an ancient one. At least in the holo, the ancient stasis capsules were depicted in this way. Next to the active capsule was a round disk of another base, but it was empty.

Without paying attention to all of this, she headed straight for the working stasis pod, right where two of the three threats were to be realized.

It's dangerous out there! Taer shouted mentally, but the guider didn't respond.

As she approached the capsule, her perception acceleration activated, which must have been from fear, and everything slowed down painfully, giving her much more time than she needed to feel the deadly threat ready to descend upon her.

The guider was looking away, so Taer only glimpsed as the wall panels began to slowly fly apart under the pressure of angular metal carcasses. Something was tearing out of there, something large and armed. She knew she was about to be shot at.

At that moment, the kaleidoscope of probabilities came into motion again, but this time thanks to the perception booster, Taer could make out exactly what was happening. She saw the "other" focus on the threats, two of them at once, as they stretched out in a string of copies in the corridor of possibility. They were combat robots. Real, pre-war ones, with the reaction speed only machines could achieve and the inhuman precision of servos not yet curtailed by Imperial edicts. Guider instantly found faults in the probability corridors of these robots. Failures that were very faint and almost impossible, but it didn't confuse her. She pulled them to the surface somehow, and both machines froze as dead piles of metal before they could get out of their niches in the walls.

She burned their brains out, literally one ion in the right place... The ability to manipulate the probable in such a way was awe-inspiring and gave Taer some new insight. You can do that with any matter that doesn't have a will, it doesn't care what state it's in. There's no resistance. She opened the gates like that...

Two of the threats were over, but the third was still here. The room was empty, but Taer could see the kaleidoscope of possibilities distorting around her, as if a large predatory fish were circling the room, picking its moment to strike.

But as time passed, the unknown threat did not manifest itself. The accelerator shut down, and the blockade went into effect, calming Taer. She tried to concentrate on the threat to see it within the corridor of probabilities but saw only a fuzzy and blurred humanoid silhouette as if covered by a thick fog.

The unknown man knew how to hide himself even from her all-seeing gaze.

"I get annoyed when I'm kept waiting." Loudly said the guider in a disgruntled voice, but Taer could sense that the 'other' was actually enjoying everything. She was amused by the situation.

But there was no reaction, something invisible and perhaps not existing, because Taer did not hear anything and did not feel the movement of the air, still circled around waiting for a chance to attack.

Guider waited for a minute or so, scrutinizing the unadorned room, and turned to the stasis unit with a shrug of her shoulders.

Taer saw the threat begin to grow at that moment, distorting the probabilities around her like a gravitational lens, about to materialize soon enough, but she didn't panic this time, knowing full well the guider could see it too, or maybe it was just the blockade helping.

The other stopped beside the unit and poked her toe carelessly into the base of the capsule, right into the silhouette of a palm. A well-pitched female voice came from the side of the capsule, saying a phrase in either the language of the Flame branch or the Old Church language - they were close, and Taer honestly didn't know either one.

Simultaneously with the phrase, a screen with a bright yellow outline of a palm appeared in front of her at chest level. The "other" put her hand on the outline. The screen felt like slippery glass.

Above the hand appeared two columns of numbers that changed continuously.

At that moment, the guider receded, but not just backward, but out of reality itself altogether, ceased to be "here," ceased to exist here and now.

The reality was gray, muffled, and distant, but Taer could still see the figure in the gray monk's robes materialize out of nothing, a fountain of stone crumbs exploding and twisting into a pyramid of debris on the floor where she stood. And everything was slow, or rather it didn't move unless she wanted it to, as if time did not apply to this state.

The retreat into oblivion lasted only a split second. The monk, who had appeared in midair, hadn't had time to touch the floor when guider returned, her palm open and near her face. A slight jolt and a wave of distortion hit the attacker in the side, crumpling him like a paper bag and hurling him into the wall.

Taer tried to bring herself back to reality. She was standing next to a pile of crushed stone, a large cloud of fine dust slowly spreading across the room. And the most surprising thing was that it irritated guider incredibly:

She hates looking unkempt. Taer guessed.

Some convulsive sobs could be heard against the wall. The attacker must still be alive. The screen with the silhouette of a palm and two columns of numbers that appeared in front of the stasis unit was still working, and the numbers lit up yellow very quickly. As soon as both columns of digits lit up in gold, the screen blinked, turned green for a moment, and dissolved simultaneously with a new phrase from the capsule. Also completely unintelligible to Taer.

The yellow column of amber shimmered and disappeared, dropping a large box deftly caught by the guider who had set up her left hand beforehand.

Despite its size, the box was surprisingly light, but there was something in it. Something paper or plastic.

As she did so, holding the box, she turned at the sobs.

The monk lay against the wall in a pile of gray rags, his left arm twisted at an unnatural angle, his face covered by the same half-mask as the statues in the shrine. He shuddered with his whole body through sobs, whispering: "A human being couldn't have done it, a human being couldn't have done it...". And most disturbing and repulsive of all was the fact that it was impossible to understand what those sobs were. Whether he was crying or laughing.

"The Other" silently contemplated the monk's convulsions, and Taer felt the Other was clearly assessing him.

In about a minute of convulsions and sobs, ignoring his dangling arm and the wet bloodstain around his hip on his gray robe, the monk managed to bring himself into roughly the same pose as the statues in the sanctuary and, with his forehead on the floor, prostrated himself in front of the guider:

"I, the Nameless One, have finished my Search." He spoke loudly and clearly, even with some enthusiasm, but the monk's voice still trembled a little and sounded very young. "I have not found Twilight, but I have found His Will, and I accept it, whatever it may be."

He rose and sat down on his knees again. He had a yellow monogram on his mask, but it wasn't gold, like the statues. It was painted on with paint, rather sloppily as if it had been drawn with a finger, and he had a very sharp chin and thin, painfully sunken cheeks, tears rolling down his cheeks, and he looked like a complete lunatic:

Well, I guess sane people wouldn't worship bad death or whatever the title is.

"Why are you alive?" She asked in a raised voice, clearly taking the monk's performance for granted.

The one pressed his forehead into the floor again:

"If my service was acceptable to the Lost One, the Blessed One's Will has condescended to speak to and question the Nameless One. But if my service was displeasing, the Blessed One has deemed me unworthy to die by her hand."

"It's nice to see someone with good judgment." Smiled the other one. "I did decide to ask you questions. Who dared to break the covenant? To come in here and even leave you here." She nodded toward the second stasis pod.

"The Council of Shadows made this decision unanimously." The monk answered quickly, still not looking up from the floor. "I have done its will."

"Why did you accept their will, knowing it violated the covenants?" The "other" said in a bored tone, looking down at the monk.

"Anyone who violates the sanctity of these chambers must be killed, and there is no greater honor for me than to kill one who risks such sacrilege." The monk muttered quickly.

"What if someone who has a right to be here comes to the chambers?" She grinned at him.

The monk lifted his forehead off the floor:

"So I have a chance to accept death by a blessed hand-" He whispered, smiling through the pain.

"Ambitious." She hummed approvingly and walked over to the monk, literally looming over him. "But such an honor has yet to be earned."

She reached out and pulled the mask off the monk's face.

He was a young man in his twenties, morbidly thin, with a type that is often used in love holo-dramas for "misunderstood geniuses." His dark, disheveled, curly hair only played up the image even more. But the eyes...

The monk's eyes glowed softly a dull blue, like rotted wood in the dark.

Twilight Adept Manifestation. Taer realized. If the holo are to be believed, they have them starting just past the point of insanity.

"I am greedy and intemperate with His Gifts. But I can serve His Will..." He added with conviction.

"Greedy"? Greedy is good." Looking somewhere past the monk, the "other" sighed. "One of the few real human virtues... Here." She shoved her box at him.

The man hurriedly picked it up, holding it with one hand like an experienced waiter holds a tray.

"The name, in the world, of the one who made such an ingenious suggestion at the Council of Shadows?" She asked as she began to open the box.

"Tilo Arsham, second deputy secretary of the banking union." The monk answered immediately, keeping one eye on the box. He, too, was obviously curious about what was inside.

Inside were tightly packed rows of small sand-colored boxes.

"He must be very old or very young," she suggested, pulling out a box and opening it. "If he dared to voice such an initiative."

It's a pack of cigarettes... Taer realized. That psycho came here for cigarettes...

"He's young." The monk replied, looking at the cigarette with rounded eyes.

Guider pulled a lighter out from under her cloak, pulled off her trophy mask, and threw it on top of the box. To the monk's credit, he deftly used one hand to keep the mask and the box from falling.

"Every face is a lie." The monk mumbled, lowering his eyes fearfully so as not to look at Taer's face.

"Now that's the plain truth." With a philosophical sigh, the guider nodded, lighting a cigarette. "What should be done to the Shadow Council for such a blatant violation of the covenants?" She asked as she inhaled her cigarette with relish.

"They deserve a low death." A smirk of sadistic anticipation appeared on the monk's face. "If it pleases His Will, I will bring their hearts, if they are still alive. If they are dead, I will bring the hearts of their unworthy descendants or the descendants of their descendants..."

"I have plans for them." ' Interrupted the guider, watching the play of tobacco smoke thoughtfully. "As for you... What was your gift before you came here?"

"If it please His Will..." The monk began, but he was immediately interrupted:

"It please."

The monk, still avoiding looking at Taer's face, carefully placed the box on the floor and reached out with his healthy hand into the darkness of the gateway beyond which the sanctuary remained. From there, the saucer flew out like a thrown ball and stopped suddenly with all its contents in the monk's hand.

Taer sensed the 'other's' slight displeasure at this demonstration of the adept's capabilities, but she said nothing aloud.

"A lesser gift of the Nameless, unworthy to bring a great gift." The monk held out a saucer. On it, under a thick layer of dust, were two black, long-mummified hearts and a note.

The heart of Noara Bellar, Ruling Lady of the Great House of Bellar, and the heart of Iolene Bellar, Lord Consort of the Great House of Bellar, taken on the ninth day of the ninth decade of the year 25154 from the beginning of the Search, unnamed... Taer read not believing her eyes.

The symbol of the nameless one on the note was the same as the one on the monk's mask.

"The ninth day of the ninth decade." Guider smiled approvingly. "I like that kind of attention to detail in a complicated gift. I'll see how you did."

She took two long puffs of her cigarette and with saucer in hand, walked to the gateway and placed the hearts on the altar in the semi-darkness of the sanctuary. The familiar low chime sounded, and the hearts disappeared, for a moment lighting up the sanctuary with a purple flash, leaving Taer's face in a wave of heat.

"There is no greater honor for the nameless than to turn the gaze of his will upon oneself." Whispered the monk with an utterly ecstatic expression on his face when she turned back. "Is one's gift accepted, is one worthy of service and name?"

"Your gift is accepted." Pronounced the guider standing over the monk. "But do you understand what you are asking?"

"I ask His Will to give me a name and accept my service in life and death, as it will please her." The monk replied, again resting his forehead on the floor.

"All right." Sighed the other pulling herself a new cigarette. "I take you to be a servant in life and an executor in death. I name you in life, Servant."

Taer had never seen such a happy man in her life, and given his ragged appearance and the crazed look in his glowing eyes, it was rather a repulsive sight.

"How can I serve in life, his will?" The monk whispered with a gasp of delight and bowed again.

"First of all, assemble you back together." Ordered the 'other' and smoked again.

The monk bowed and began to pull off his robes, which took him some time with only one working hand. When he had undressed, he lay on the floor in the star pose, arms and legs spread wide.

Other smoked leisurely, and Taer watched the monk when the turn of her head allowed:

It's like a droid with a self-repair protocol. She thought as she watched the monk's limbs slowly twist back into their natural position with an unpleasant crunch. From the look on the guy's face, the process was not painless but rather the opposite.

But he endured, making almost no sound, only occasionally allowing himself barely audible sobs.

After a few minutes, the "assembly" process was over. The monk dressed again and bowed at Taer's feet:

"How can I serve in life, to His Will?"

"Look." Guider pulled a folded sheet from her pockets and unfolded it. It was a map of the main temple of the Church of Twilight, with many markings and signatures in impeccable calligraphic handwriting that pointed to the droid's hand. "There are mines on the plans. We'll need to set some kind of explosive charges. Powerful enough to take a knight's armor. Like the imperial 2M43 "Needle" directed energy mine. But no more powerful than two nominal units each. I don't plan on tearing down the temple. Do you understand?"

Monk nodded.

"Then, run." The "other" smiled, holding out a map to him. "Stay within the capital, not far from people. I'll find you if I need you."

"Servant, happy to accept the first service. " The monk bowed and, escorted by the gaze of the guider, rushed towards the exit, really running.

Is this all for some act of terrorism? Taer was outraged and discouraged.

"An act of terrorism?" Sincerely wondered the "other". "Why? I don't want to intimidate anyone. It's preparation for an important date."

A date? With who?

"You don't know him." With a grin, the guider waved off, and Taer felt a ringing cheer emanating from the icy stream in her mind. "Lately, he likes to call himself Alex and pretend to be human."

* * *