hat is it old one? What do you see?” asked a frail looking,
wide-eyed young man. His yellow robe flapping steadily in the wind. “It’s not what I see my boy,” the old man answered, turning away the question. “I am concerned with what they see!”The black robed ancient man’s eyes scanned the movements of the men scurrying high above in the towers. “And when you get to be my age,” the old man continued, “after countless years behind these walls any change in the wind is worth taking note of.”
He was nodding to himself. The two with necks cocked back were both staring upward. Men from several different towers began flashing cloths of various colors in an unfamiliar sequence. The old man could barely contain the stunned “o” shape of his mouth before looking down at his apprentice.
“Viznu?” he asked. Coming out of his scattered thoughts, the apprentice turned his shaking head to face the old man.
“Yes… Master?” barely audible, he managed his reply.
“Go and inform the king that for the first time in many mortal lifetimes there’s a sail on the horizon.”
The old man’s eyes followed the yellow robed apprentice who walked briskly away and headed down a narrow staircase. He smoothed out his black robe and began pacing the wall slowly. His mind was racing, calculating the endless possibilities, the meaning of this ship, and its impact on the people.
Realizing something odd, he stopped mid-stride and forcefully stated “You can come out of the shadows…assassin!” A particular indignant inflection hung on the last word. “Now!” his voice betraying a hint of anger. A thin man’s outline appeared in the blackness of the wall’s recess.
“You’re going to have to show me that trick one day…old man,” a low hiss whispered as the shadow man’s voice trembled. “I doubt very seriously your troubled mind could replicate such
intricacies.” His question was short and to the point: “Why has he sent you to see me?” The old man’s eyes began to bore into the slight man as he queried. “It’s not everyday that a ship’s sail is spotted in the waters of the endless sea,” the shadowy figure spoke plainly.The old man seemed lost in thought for a moment before venturing to comment, “I find it troubling that you believe you know something of this sail as it appears on the edge or our reality. What does the Black Dragon know of this vessel, Malcolm is it?” Cocking his head to lock eyes with the shadow assassin, the old man knew that using the man’s real name would surely spark some contention.
“Your ways are strange to us, old man, but even you should be wary of the audacity it takes to utter my name!” The assassin managed a half step forward. “Greater men’s blood has quenched this blade for speaking far less.” The old man’s empty laughter was the only response. He knew the young man was accustomed to a more respectful tone when being addressed, but pressed his case with
even more pressure.“Now!” the aged man drew himself up taller becoming noticeably graver. “Step forward and stand before me!” the Wizard commanded. A bead of sweat instantly began to form on the shadow man’s brow.
Unsteadily as if trying to fight a forced movement of his feet, the man stepped out of the shadow and walked against his will slowly towards the wizard. A ragged scar cut the length of the man’s face from neck to hairline along his cheek. Focusing on the slight man, the wizard’s eyes seemed to stray and began to focus miles beyond the spot they both stood. The slight man began to turn his head, the only form of protest he could muster. “There is some fight in you young man, but you have incorrectly assessed my frailty. That is a vast mistake for someone with your credentials and…”
The assassin struggled desperately but could not keep the old man out of his mind. Trying to hide his thoughts only brought them to where the old man’s presence could sense them. The elder continued to press and pry into the memories until he arrived at the one he was looking for.
“Here we are,” he spoke softly. “Do not let your heart be troubled,” the wizard whispered. “He knew I would read you and discover this. He has locked some of your secrets away from you and therefore some of them are shielded from me.” The statement shifted the slight man’s opposition and the fight in him began to wane, making the read much easier. “Interesting very interesting.”
The interrogation came to an abrupt end. “I have gleaned what your Master intended for me to see. Tell him I will travel the middle road so we can discuss this matter in greater detail.” The assassin, regaining his wits, looked surprised.
“You know the middle road that walks in the darkness — you know the way…to him?” The assassin was shaking his head as if trying to comprehend this.
“Of course I do. I was here long before his venom blood was let. I will be long after you two have departed,” the old man said flatly. “I,” the mage hung on that first word as a slight smile began to curl on the ends of his mouth, “am not ordinary.”
The old man turned away and exposed his back to the assassin. Gasping at the confidence this wizard displayed, the assassin let his hand fall to the reassurance of his dagger, but was shocked to find it gone. “Oh yes.” The old man half turned to face him. “You’ll want this back I suppose, although I am hesitant to offer it.” The wizard reached his left hand up his right sleeve, pulled a small curved black dagger from the folds of his robe and dropped it on the ground with a loud clanging noise.
“Unbelievable,” was the only thing the assassin could manage. “Be wary none the less wizard, there are many among the shadows on the middle road he no longer controls” the assassin whispered.
“Did he ever?” the old man replied and walked away.
Tales & Songs
