At the same time, someone was descending the mansion’s eastern tower. Quick but evenly spaced footsteps rang against the spiral stairs. Someone who walked like that would never stumble, even by accident. Around the tower’s white interior, past the first floor, and farther down he went. A candle was lit. Damp air stirred in the cellar. As the candle was set on a table, lamps began to glow. One, two, three, four, five. Their yellow light revealed the things in the room.
An iron bed and chains. Cuffs for wrists and ankles. An unlit brazier with tongs laid across it, and iron skewers of various sizes. A shelving unit filled one entire wall, lined with glass jars containing unidentified liquids and lumps.
The man who had lit the lamps turned with a smile.
“General, you’ve come down. Is there something you wish to tell me?”
The general said nothing. After a silence, the man spoke again.
“I heard there was a disturbance a little while ago. I’ll deal with those who acted so foolishly. But I doubt it will cause much trouble. Just as it isn’t something we can force to happen, it isn’t something we can avoid by running away. Still, something seems to be troubling you. Tell me. I’ll take care of it neatly.”
When the other man approached, the general handed him the object he was holding. It was an arrow. The man fingered it and said, “A Firran arrow. There’s only one person in all Delphinad who shoots arrows like this. Shall I bring him here?”
“No.”
The general walked over to the iron bed. A dark red stain spread across it. He picked up a small pair of iron pincers lying on one side of the bed, turned them over, and worked them a few times. They were just the right size to pinch and tear away something small. As the pincers made a clicking sound, the general spoke.
“Officiant. Today I found the ShadowHawk.”
The man addressed as the officiant approached, shaking his head.
“More than a few have tried to borrow the splendor of that name. But they were all insignificant men.”
“Not this time. I saw the traces. The clear footprints that man, Vendigate, left behind.”
The officiant studied the general’s face. Then his manner changed, and he bowed slowly.
“At last you’ve found him. Congratulations.”
“I can’t say I’ve found him. It isn’t Vendigate himself. But there’s no mistake in my eyes. Now I’ll find out where those footprints came from.”
Yet the general looked anxious rather than pleased. The officiant spoke.
“I have never met Vendigate, but I think he must have been extraordinary. A man of lowly blood, yet someone you have spent your life seeking. Nor can it have been easy for a man so renowned to vanish in an instant without a trace.”
“That is how a name endures for thirty years. Once such a name appears, those who follow struggle to claim it, strive to live up to it, and those who fail are pushed aside. Countless men are killed and die until, sifted and sifted again, the true heir finally emerges. Because it is a name worth all of that. Officiant, do you people know a name like that?”
The officiant raised his head. Eyes glittered beneath his hood.
“Of course, General. Isn’t that why we stay by your side, waiting for the appointed time?”
The general’s face hardened. His cheek twitched.
“You say there’s someone like that inside me? Are you truly certain?”
“Yes. He is within you. He has waited for a very long time.”
“A thousand years, ten thousand, that’s no concern of mine. I only want value.”
“General.”
The officiant extended both hands. A black tree was marked on his right wrist where it emerged from his robe. On his other hand was a triangular anagram, formed by rearranging the words “Beoranox Beon,” meaning “the greatest king” in the ancient language called Ipnish.
“It was the final tree. He was the last being to obtain the power. And so he witnessed the king’s end as well. But we feared nothing. We believed that the king existed within him, and that when he returned, the king too would revive. Now that moment is before our eyes. We need only deal with a few tiny, trivial inconveniences.”
One corner of the general’s mouth twitched, almost in a sneer.
“Trivial? You may have to wait a little longer. Your wish depends entirely on my fingertips. Does it not?”
The officiant was silent for a moment. Then he bent at the waist.
“You are right. We merely wait.”
With his chin slightly raised, the general looked down at the officiant. Although the man had yielded, he did not seem to believe it in his heart. His eyes were narrowed. Nevertheless, for now the general held the sword by its hilt. He gave an order.
“Follow the young ShadowHawk. Until the proof emerges. No, until he proves his own worth.”
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