“Good evening, Egert,” said a voice out of the darkness.
The voice was affable: without a doubt, it belonged to Fagirra. Egert stepped back. In the months that had passed since his visit to the Tower, Egert had managed to convince himself that the brotherhood had lost all interest in him and no longer wanted him in their ranks. The appearance of Fagirra was like thunder in a clear sky.
“Are you surprised to see me, Egert?” Fagirra smiled under his hood. “I’m happy to inform you that you’ve successfully endured the first trial, the trial of secrecy. We should talk. Wouldn’t it be better if we moved away from that noisy tavern?”
Laughter and shouts alternating with drunken songs were wafting from the One-Eyed Fly. At that moment the raucous sounds of the students’ revelry seemed dear to Egert, like a lullaby remembered from childhood.
“Yes,” he muttered indistinctly, “of course.”
Taking Egert by the hand, Fagirra dragged him into an alley. Egert was afraid that they would find a secret passageway that led into the Tower of Lash.
Fagirra stopped. His white teeth flashed in the dark. “Egert, I’m glad to see that you are in good health. We have little time. Soon, by the will of Lash, we will become comrades-in-arms, brothers, but in the meantime you must know that the world is changing, that the world has already changed. People have drifted too far away from Lash: woe unto them. Have you not noticed, Egert? Fools, all fools. The city magistrate heeds the advice of the Magister, but the magistrate is ill and who knows how his successor will conduct himself? Even now voices can be heard that contravene the will of Lash. Woe unto them, Egert, woe unto them all!”
Egert listened, not understanding or even trying to understand, only feverishly wondering what Fagirra would demand of him.
“Great ordeals are approaching, ordeals that all living things must endure, but what those ordeals are, you will learn only once you have passed through the rites of initiation. You must hurry, Egert. You must find the time to cleave to Lash before that which must happen, happens. You will meet it with us, and you will find salvation, whereas others will cry out in horror.”
The acolyte talked ever more rapidly and ardently, his eyes glinting in the darkness. With each word, Egert became more terrified, as if he suddenly saw wings of shadow stretched out over his ordinary, familiar life.
“Soon, Egert. But there is still time. You must pass through the second trial. By the will of Lash it will be the last, and then the Tower will shelter you, consecrated against that … against what will happen here, below the sun. Are you ready to listen?”
Egert’s tongue answered of its own accord. “Yes.”
Fagirra brought his cowl close to Egert’s face. “Then listen. These are the conditions of the final triaclass="underline" First, keep silent as before; second, and this is the most important, Egert, you must watch and listen. It is for this that you have been given eyes and ears, Egert: to watch and listen. The Magister himself will receive your reports. In the university you will encounter both those who are our friends and those who are our enemies. We must determine who is who. The Magister is especially interested in the venerable dean and his lovely young daughter. Watch and listen. You are no doubt privy to the plans of the dean concerning the book he is writing, yes?”
Egert stood there, feeling as though he had been doused in boiling water. He immediately forgot his fear of the impending ordeals. His cheeks and ears were burning; luckily, Fagirra could not see this in the darkness. Heaven, the former Soll, that long-forgotten Kavarrenian bully: he would put an end to such a conversation with one good punch to the face! But the former Soll was dead, and this latter-day Egert, marked by the scar, only whispered in a wavering voice, “Unfortunately, you exaggerate my acquaintance with Dean Luayan. I don’t know anything about his plans.”
Fagirra amiably placed his hand on Egert’s shoulder. “Egert, this trial, it is not an easy one. I won’t lie. It is possible that finding out about this will be difficult, but after all, it is possible, Egert, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know,” whispered Egert. “I really … I’m not sure.”
“Egert,” drawled Fagirra reproachfully, “my friend. You’ve already taken the first step: You were present at the secret ceremony. You were shown great trust, weren’t you? Do you really think it is unnecessary to justify that trust? Right now you find yourself under the influence of a momentary hesitation, but the penalty for such hesitation may be too onerous: it may be nothing short of inhuman. Don’t let cowardice get the better of you. It will only be worse. Believe me, I am telling you this as your future brother. Would it be easier for you to submit reports directly to the Magister or to me?”
Egert could hardly keep himself from shaking violently. Fagirra’s hands, as before, were resting on his shoulders: the acolyte would be able to feel it quite well. “To you,” whispered Egert, wishing only to finish all this as soon as possible.
Fagirra was silent for a moment, and then he said softly, “Splendid. I will find you. Your business is to watch and listen. And to question, to question as inquisitively as possible but without intrusiveness: the dean is quite clever.”
Fagirra started to walk away, but then he suddenly turned around again.
“You needn’t feel so ill about all this, Egert. You’ll understand soon. You’ve been offered a helping hand; you’ve been granted a unique chance. You will realize this later, but for now you just need to believe. All right?”
Egert could not find the strength to answer.
The anecdote about the daggers went the rounds of the university, and even completely unfamiliar students walked up to Egert in the corridors so that they could shake hands with him and ask him something insignificant. The academic year began, and Egert did not miss a single lecture, even though his soul was heavy.
After his encounter with Fagirra he vowed to himself that he would no longer show his face in town, but who knew whether or not even the university walls could protect from the Order of Lash? Egert knew full well that base fear would betray him at the very first opportunity, and his interrogator, whoever he might be, would be able to extract from him anything he desired to hear. The Order of Lash either knew or had guessed at his cowardice, and that meant that he was a prisoner of the Order, a spy and an inquisitor, and no pride or honor would be able to save Egert when his legs began to shake from fear and his parched tongue clove to the back of his throat, unable to prevent him from pronouncing words of betrayal.
The lengthy howl sounding from the Tower now rendered him horror-stricken.
One day, plucking up his courage, he took himself to the dean’s study to confess everything, but on the way to the study Fagirra’s face rose up before his eyes and his fitful voice whispered in his ears, warning of impending disasters. He had scarcely crossed the threshold when he blurted out an unintelligible question: What will happen … or will nothing happen … in the near future?
The dean showed surprise, but with touching gravity he supposed that in the near future something surely would happen, and in the recent past something, alas, had already happened. Egert panicked, asked the dean’s pardon, and fled, leaving the dean somewhat bewildered.
Sometimes Egert calmed himself with the thought that Fagirra and the hoary Magister seemed like men who were worthy of trust. Possibly he really did know too little; possibly the mission that had been entrusted to him was not a betrayal, but really a service to the university. After all, Fagirra had said, “You will realize this later, but for now you just need to believe. All right?”