Session 2 - The One Who Isn't There

18 Fadeflame 850, late evening

By the time Talik was carried outside, it was already quite dark, but everything around was flooded with a soft blue light coming from all directions: from the walls of the buildings, the posts along the paths, even from the stone beneath his feet. Talik looked up and was surprised. There was no sky. Stone stretched higher and higher, looming over the rooftops and disappearing into the darkness. And so, with his head tilted back, he was carried into the building.

After passing through long corridors and descending several flights of stairs, the guards brought Talik into a small room. They seated the boy on a chair and immediately left, leaving him alone with the same man with the unpleasant eyes, who sat at the table across from him. Shuffling a few papers on the desk, the man said dryly:

“My name is Elvar Morren, and today I am the one who decides your status in this wonderful place. Let's start with the simplest things. Your name, your age, your place of residence?”

Talik gave his name and fell silent. The question about his age was already difficult — whenever he had told someone his age before, his mother had always corrected him, but the boy could not remember what exactly she had said. Unable to recall it, he finally said:

“I don't know… I need to ask Mom… She knows better… And I live with Mom…”

Talik expected the man not to like his answer. Other people very often did not like his answers. So the boy was already prepared for the man to start shouting at him, too, but instead he simply nodded, wrote something down on a sheet of paper, and continued asking questions. He asked about everything: what Talik did, what he ate, where he went for walks — and a great many other questions, which the boy tried to answer as fully as he could. At some point, the questions turned to the crater. Talik tried to explain about the rumbling, the white light, the broken leg. When the boy fell silent, the man leaned back in his chair and said:

“Interesting… Walking, light, rumbling, crater… Interesting, but not as complicated as one would like… And Daren has his doubts as well…”

The boy opened his mouth, but could not think of anything to say. Meanwhile, the man rose from behind the desk and slowly paced around the room. Sometimes he approached the desk, picked up a piece of paper, added something to it or, on the contrary, crossed something out. At last he sat down behind the desk again and resumed his questions. Talik had already answered some of them, but the man asked for additional details that the boy could not always provide. The longer their conversation went on, the stranger the questions became, and instead of answering, Talik increasingly asked for his mother to be called, so she could explain everything. The man wrote something down, got up from behind the desk, paced around the room again, and returned to the desk with new questions. At some point, he lightly slapped his palm against the tabletop and called for the guards.

When they entered, the man was quickly writing something on a sheet of paper and, without looking up, said:

“He is classified as an intellectually impaired witness in possession of information that may pose a threat to the Empire. Restrictions — moderate.”

After saying this, he opened a cabinet and took out two metal objects. Walking over to Talik, the man fastened them around his arms with a quick motion and said:

“These are Bracelets of Geas. Don't try to take them off. You won't manage it anyway; you'll only hurt yourself.”

Talik stared in surprise at his arms, which now bore two very broad metal bracelets covered in strange patterns. For some reason, the word “bracers” kept coming to mind.

Meanwhile, the guards lifted the boy under the arms and carried him back to his room. That night, exhausted, Talik slept like a log.

7 Wandwind 850

Talik sat on a bench, warming himself in the sun. The cold wind of this place bit at his skin, but the boy sat motionless, catching the last rays of sunlight falling through the opening in the stone ceiling. Just a little longer, and the patch of sunlight would slide off his bench onto the next one. Talik looked around to make sure no one was coming, then moved to the next bench, following the sun.

They had shown him the exercise yard during his first days here. Even then, Talik had wondered why everyone sat there instead of walking around. At first, the explanation about the sun had remained just words — he could see for himself that the sun shone there. But a few days later, tired of standing on crutches, he sat down in an empty spot. Warm sunlight slid across his skin, and the boy almost purred with pleasure. From that day on, Talik tried to make it to the yard for at least a little while. It did not always work out.

Today, though, he had been sitting there since early morning. Instead of his daily work, he had been sent to the medical section, where they finally removed the hard bandage from his leg. The local doctor carefully examined the leg once more and said:

“No running! Hurt your leg again — no crutches for you!”

Talik visibly faltered in surprise:

“But Mister Iskar…”

The man rolled his eyes theatrically:

“For you, it's Master Orten. Or at least Mister Iskar Orten.”

Talik merely nodded, forgetting what he had wanted to say before that. He stayed silent for several seconds until he noticed that the doctor was still looking at him as though waiting for something. At last Talik nodded and said:

“Yes, Master Orten.”

The man merely waved a hand:

“You'll forget how to address a mage properly by tomorrow anyway. You're resting today. You can go.”

Delighted by the opportunity, Talik immediately headed for the yard.

Walking without crutches was a little frightening. Every step on the healed leg sent an itching sensation through it, as though Talik were doing something wrong. Still, step by step, the boy made it to the yard. In the mornings there were always plenty of empty places, but his “assigned work” did not let him sit and warm himself in peace. Talik did not like those words; they tasted somehow “wrong,” but he was required to say exactly that whenever he began or finished doing whatever he had been told to do. Usually he was told to carry something somewhere: take out the rubbish, carry a box, move something from one place to another. Doing it on crutches was not always convenient, but Talik did not complain. His mother had said that “you must always obey grown-ups,” so that was what he did. If they told him to carry something — he carried it; if they told him to eat — he ate; if they told him to sleep — he slept.

And now, at last, his wish had come true. He was here alone. The first visitors would come after lunch, so no one would chase him away and he would be able to enjoy the sun in peace. Talik looked around timidly. There were many residents of this place nearby, but right now they were all going about their business, passing by the yard. Sometimes the boy wondered what the others were doing. He had seen that some of the residents regularly went somewhere into the stone corridors, but whenever Talik himself approached those passages, the guards gently turned him back.

The guards here were strange. They were very calm, almost never shouted, and very rarely scolded Talik, even when he did something wrong. The other residents behaved differently. They did not bully Talik outright, but they could snap at him or shove him if he got in their way. Especially in the yard. That was why he kept checking whether someone was coming who might drive him away from the patch of sunlight. Talik liked that everyone here dressed differently. The guards had their own kind of clothing, and the other residents had theirs — somewhat bright. Bright enough that he could spot them in advance and move aside before anyone shoved him. Talik himself wore the same bright clothes as the others, and he did not like that very much. During his time here, he had asked several times whether they could give him clothes like the guards wore, but they refused every time.

And the guards did not wear bracelets. The residents did, but only one, on the left arm. Talik had two at once. Once, Talik decided that the other residents were angry because of that. They probably wanted two as well. That was when Talik first tried to pull one off his arm, but the metal seemed to be stuck to his skin. No matter how hard the boy tugged, the bracelet would not move at all, although later, when he merely wanted to scratch his arm beneath the metal, that caused no difficulty whatsoever. After several attempts to remove the bracelet, Talik remembered that Mister Elvar Morren had told him not to do that, and stopped trying.

Talik surfaced from his memories, looked around once again, and moved to the next bench, following the sun. Some of the locals passed nearby again. They were talking loudly and waving their arms. Talik was not trying to listen in, but one word caught his attention anyway. Again. He had been hearing that word often over the last few days. “Wandwind.” The sound of it made him feel warm inside, and a smile appeared on his face all by itself. His mother had explained what the word actually meant, but to the boy it meant that his “special day with presents” was coming soon. Not right away. First, the “grown-ups” would say that word for a long time, and then one morning Mom would tell him that his “special day with presents” had arrived. So he would have to wait. The important thing was that the “grown-ups” had started saying that word again.

From the “special day,” his thoughts quickly jumped to his mother herself. He still had not seen her during all these days, although he was sure that Mom absolutely had to come and take him home from here. Especially now that the “grown-ups” had started saying “Wandwind.” The boy was certain — Mom would never miss his “special day with presents.”

That was the thought he woke up with every day now. Before, it had simply lifted his spirits, but now that his leg had healed, he felt like running for joy. He also wanted to herd sheep. Talik had honestly told the guards that he was better at it than anyone else, but they still would not let him near any sheep. That was the first time one of the guards had snapped at him, saying there were no sheep here, but Talik did not believe him.

Talik changed benches several more times, chasing the patch of sunlight. His thoughts jumped around as well — Mom, the special day, sheep. Eventually, other residents appeared in the yard, and the morning quiet came to an end.

Interlude

Senior Warden Elvar Morren flipped through several pages of the report he had been given, only occasionally pausing to look more closely, and said:

“I'll study the report later. For now, tell me in your own words. You've been examining him for half a year already. So is he an idiot or a professional?”

Iskar Orten merely shrugged.

Elvar's right eyebrow rose noticeably:

“Even that bad? Is it really so bad?”

Iskar sighed and replied wearily:

“What did you expect? It's frightening even just talking to him. He might say something he shouldn't and I'll trade my medical block for the cell next door. Two Bracelets of Geas. Two! How could an ordinary idiot get mixed up in the Empire's affairs twice?”

The Senior Warden smiled slyly:

“Would you like me to tell you how, Master Orten? No? Somehow I thought so. Then you do the talking…”

Iskar sighed yet again.

“His behaviour has been stable throughout the past half-year. No deviations from the pattern have been observed. The magical examination didn't reveal anything either. My conclusion is that he really is intellectually impaired after all. Either that, or he's a professional who uses stories about herding sheep as a form of torture. I could probably herd those sheep myself by now with my eyes closed.”

“Are you joking?” —

There was a little more steel in Elvar's voice. Iskar hurried to explain:

“More like complaining. He really is difficult to work with. Although, if you use his mother as a trigger, he's fairly manageable.”

Elvar Morren fell silent for a while. Iskar remained silent as well, shifting from one foot to the other.

At last, the Senior Warden nodded as though he had reached some conclusion and continued:

“You said his behaviour hasn't changed. However, I've been told that the quality of his ‘work’ has improved noticeably. And no shrugging.”

Iskar Orten visibly suppressed the urge to shrug and said:

“Yes, but still within the model. A temporary effect. It looks like he simply remembered that his birthday is coming up. And he's convinced his mother will come for him.”

Elvar snorted again:

“Of course! She'll come. Right here, to ‘Gareza’… Although… What was it you said? Use his mother as a trigger for control? Prepare a report for tomorrow on how you see that working.”

After dismissing the mage, Elvar Morren slowly opened a thin folder — the investigation into the Saladuz Incident. He ran his eyes over the pages as though hoping something new might have appeared there besides the report on the failure of all the main theories, the list of all residents officially declared victims, and the mention of the only witness. The very same one who was on the list of victims. Taking the sheet containing the witness's details, he said quietly:

“Well then, Talik… We need to talk again… Otherwise the Emperor will be very displeased with the results…”