A servant, a young boy Atissa didn’t know by name, helped Hermistos to sit upright when she entered the room.

“Hey there,” Hermistos croaked. “How is my favorite huntress?” He snickered. “My sister would be mad if she heard that.” He tried to smile at her but had to cough.

Atissa crossed the room in three strides and flew into his arms, hugging him tightly.

“Ah, careful,” he said. “If you squeeze the life out of me, I will fall asleep again.”

Atissa released him immediately and studied his face in concern. His complexion was as unhealthy white as always and his voice sounded raspy. Yet, his eyes were sparkling with life.

She felt her own eyes becoming teary and quickly looked away.

“Hey, hey. I just overexerted myself a bit,” he said, trying for a joking tone. “After my little nap, I feel like I was reborn.”

It was a lie. Atissa could see that Hermistos looked little better than before. He was just trying to cheer her up. She knew next to nothing about him but after Iristos' death, he and Mark were the only people she knew in Riadnos. The only ones that had gone through the journey with her.

The boy placed a pillow behind Hermistos back so he could sit comfortably.

“You can leave now,” Hermistos said, without looking at him. “And send for some food. I am starving.” He gave the orders with comfortable authority and the boy hurried off. “Atissa, could you give me something to drink, please?”

Atissa turned to the small table with the covered pitcher and filled a cup.

Hermistos sniffed at the cup and made a face. “Water. That boy said we are in Riadnos’ palace. We should send for some wine.” He shook his head and drank in small sips. “How long have I been asleep, by the way?”

“Many days. You fell unconscious during the fighting.” She paused, studying her friend. “That was you, wasn’t it? You somehow made it so the arrows wouldn’t hit us.”

Hermistos squinted at her. “It was probably Mark. You know, with his magic.” There was a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Atissa shook her head. “He was very tired. And you ordered us….and then you did something. Mark only told me to target the rowers.”

“Those Assanaten are known to be bad bowmen,” Hermistos said easily.

“Uncle Tatros says they’re great bowmen,” Atissa said stubbornly. At the time, her uncle had spoken about the Saggabian warriors, but she didn’t want to let Hermistos off.

“Not on ships,” Hermistos said. “They are no seaman, you see. They are from the east, far away from the ocean. What happened afterward?”

Atissa sighed. He was lying - she knew he was. But she was also grateful that he was awake and healthy enough to evade her questions. She would let it go for now.

She started to recount the end of their journey, feeling her throat tighten momentarily when she talked about Iristos. For those parts for which she’d been unconscious, she retold what she’d heard from Mark.

“So, Mark is not just a magus, but one of the famous sages?” An amused smile played around Hermistos' lips.

“Yes, they call him master Mar’Doug,” Atissa said. “He and Delios, that’s the anax’s son, they work on a plan to beat the Assanaten.”

“And they all believe he is an all-powerful sage?” Hermistos said, grinning. “Just because he carries around that staff?”

Atissa frowned. Why was that so funny? “Yes.”

“I am looking forward to seeing what happens when he shows us his power,” Hermistos said.

Atissa felt herself growing irritated. There was something in Hermistos' tone she didn’t like. “I’ve never seen him spit fire or conjure lightning like mistress Bel’Sara did. But he killed that burning magus when the god Assan brought him back to life.”

Hermistos stared at her wide-eyed, the smugness vanished. His evident surprise gave her a feeling of triumph.

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“I seem to have missed a lot. Tell me everything!”

For the next hour, Hermistos listened to her description of the events of the last couple of days. For most of it, his eyes shone like a boy’s listening to tales of his favorite hero. Only when Atissa told him how they’d come back for him during the Assanaten attack his face became serious for a while.

“And you say, he just walked up to the Assanaten magus and whacked him over the head? The magus didn’t notice him coming?”

“He turned around just before Mark hit him.” A shiver ran down Atissa’s spine remembering the moment. She’d been sure she was going to die, helpless before the burning figure looming over her. Then she’d seen Mark sneaking up behind him. “It was my fault. He saw me looking past him. Thank the gods it was too late for him to react.”

Hermistos clicked his tongue dismissively. “Oh, I assure you, they didn’t contribute anything. But it is fascinating that he didn’t see Mark coming.”

“He had his back turned.”

“Not that mortal fool,“ Hermistos said. “Assan. Do you know what magic is? What makes the most powerful of magi so dangerous?”

Atissa shook her head. “They can throw curses and lightning?”

“No, those are just…expressions,” Hermistos said, waving dismissively. “Magi access the power of higher beings. That is the power to bend the laws of the world. You said your arrows missed the magus. That was because Assan’s power bend fate protecting him. Since there was no power influencing the chances in your favor, you were never going to hit him even if you shot dozens of arrows at the same time.”

A thought struck Atissa. “He didn’t notice Mark…and when I first met mistress Bel’Sara, she only paid attention to me when I walked away from him.” She felt like she had stumbled on something profound. She just didn’t quite know yet what it was. “Is that his magic?”

“Perhaps. Magi are mysterious, you know. And those sages are some of the worst.” Hermistos was back to his gleeful ways.

“Mistress Bel’Sara wants to introduce me to the goddess Inashtar,” Atissa said.

Hermistos rolled his eyes. “Of course.”

“Do you think it’s a bad choice? Mark doesn’t like it.”

“Choice?” Hermistos asked blinking surprised. “Sure, Inashtar is very powerful. She has worshippers everywhere south of Riadnos. Even the Assanaten rulers didn’t touch her cult in their territory. And that Assan is a particularly jealous fellow.”

“Mark told Bel’Sara he has Inashtar on his list, but with… a low priority,” Atissa said, repeating the unfamiliar words Mark used. “Today, he’s meeting a priest of Hygios. Mistress Bel’Sara became very angry when she heard about that. She…” She stopped when she noticed the way Hermistos was staring at her his mouth hanging open.

He started laughing. It was a burst of deep and full laughter interrupted by coughing after a couple of heartbeats. Tears ran down his cheeks as he continued to laugh and cough alternately. “This is amazing!” he finally said out of breath.

Atissa just sat there on the edge of the bed, shocked by the intensity of his reaction.

“Are you ok?” she asked concerned as Hermistos let himself sink back into the pillow. He looked drained but was still giggling.

He turned his head and looked up at her, smiling like a happy child. “I am wonderful. But it seems that I really missed a lot.”

“What do you think?” Atissa asked. During their journey, Hermistos had shown that he possessed a lot of knowledge. He also doesn’t think about the gods like, well, like gods, she thought. Like normal people did. That was something he and Mark had in common.

“About what?”

“About…all of this,” Atissa said. She was unsure where to begin. “Becoming a god’s champion, a hero.”

“Do you want to be one?” Hermistos looked at her with an open face. There was no glee, nor evasiveness this time.

Atissa hesitated. “Before all of this happened if somebody had told me that I’m chosen to be a hero, I would have laughed at it.” She carefully glanced at Hermistos, feeling shy to admit her childish arrogance. Was it arrogance?

“Oh, you mean if some old magus had come by and told you, you are meant to be this or that? That you are really the lost daughter of the sar of Saggab or some god? Like in the legends?” Hermistos smiled.

Atissa could feel her face turn red. She looked away.

“Don’t all children dream about such things?” he asked.

“I’m not a child,” Atissa hissed. “I’m almost fifteen.”

“I stand corrected then.” Hermistos was still smiling, waiting for her.

“I always dreamed of leaving the valley. I wanted to see the places from uncle Tatros’ stories. I’m…I’m not sure but when I first met Mark in the clearing, when I saw his strange cloth and the staff…”

“You thought, he might be there for you? Because you have a Gift?”

She nodded. “…maybe.”

“If the valley had not been attacked, and if he indeed had been there for you, would you have gone?”

“I don’t know,” Atissa said. But is that the truth? She thought. “I would have wanted to. But uncle Tatros is getting older. He needs somebody to take care of him.” She wrapped her arms around herself, thinking about her uncle. “Now all that doesn’t matter anymore. I don’t even know if he and the others are still alive.”

“But you are here,” Hermistos said. “In Riadnos. With two sages to guide you.”

“Yes,” she said. “But…” She didn’t quite know how to say it. “It isn’t like in the stories!”

“That is true!” Hermistos said and some of the glee returned to his eyes.

Atissa was quiet for a while. She wasn’t sure what to say next. What was really troubling her?

“Do you want this?” Hermistos asked quietly. “That power comes with baggage. You could still back out.”

“Can you get out of being chosen?” she asked.

He shrugged.

“No,” Atissa said. “Whatever I wanted back then doesn’t matter anymore. I want to be able to help. To do something.”

“And you think, you need the power of the gods to accomplish that? Of Hygios?” He was clearly trying to suppress a grin.

Atissa stared at him angrily.

“Well, I am looking forward to your choice,” he said, closing his eyes. “And now I am tired. I think I am going to sleep for a bit. Don’t worry. I will be awake again in no time. I missed so much already.”

Atissa watched his chest rising and sinking. After a while, his breathing slowed.

Had talking to Hermistos helped? It had felt good to voice her feelings. She thought she knew what she wanted. But she still didn’t know how to go about it.