The Shadowy Path - 4. Chapter 4

"There has been a rapid improvement of technology in our beloved homeland. The results of Emperor Saveir's and the Senate's tireless efforts are beginning to show: manufactories of the most varied industrial products are now springing up in every town. Their pipes are blowing unprecedented wealth into Andiol, and in the coming years we will all be able to enjoy the fruits that the emperor has given to his people.

We have also recently witnessed other changes since the days of our fathers. In a short time, airships have taken over the skies, making travel much easier. So have our new steamships on the seas, whose importance to intercontinental trade we have only just begun to taste. As technology continues to advance, these new modes of transport will surely become accessible to the ordinary citizens. I therefore believe that developments in this area will be much faster than expected.

When we talk about technological developments in Andiol, we cannot fail to mention the leaps and bounds that military technology has improved in recent years. The cornerstone of our armament is that the Imperial Army's weapons are far superior to those of our enemies. This has had positive results on the Eastern Front. I would argue, for example, that the recent heroic victory at Farthest Pass was due as much to the power of new rifle models and more effective artillery as to the bravery of our soldiers. They make an unbeatable combination: an Imperial Army just as brave, but better equipped.

Time will tell whether the final victory over the enemy will be achieved in the near future. The progressive Emperor Saveir and the Senate have provided the means. Now it is the turn of our soldiers."

- Inscription by Dareis Monteilon, Imperial Governor, in Paidos Gazette, published on 10th of Grindstone month, year 1588.

* * *

Josel

It was the next morning and Josel was sitting in the kitchen with a steaming bowl of porridge in front of him. Andreuz Sandkan had gone to the printing house, so Josel was eating alone with Curtus.

"Hey lad, why are you in such a hurry?" Curtus wondered as Josel shovelled porridge quickly into his mouth.

"A meeting," Josel replied with a mouthful of food.

"Oh, that means a girl," Curtus said, winking knowingly.

Josel smiled a little, but didn't bother to reveal more.

When the porridge and sandwiches were finished, Josel hurried out. He told Curtus he would be back at two o'clock.

He had put on the most stylish clothes he could find in his wardrobe. The trousers were dark grey and well-fitted, the shirt light blue and fashionably cut. Still, he felt insecure. What if Jolanda had forgotten the whole meeting, or had just come to say she wasn't interested? Even though Josel himself had been dreaming about her all night.

Thoughts raced through his head as he arrived at the meeting place in front of the Paidos Gasworks. Soon, Jolanda appeared from around the corner of the Gasworks building and in no time they were face to face. Josel's heart leapt with joy as Jolanda hugged him in greeting.

"It's good to see you again," Jolanda whispered in his ear.

Josel couldn't answer, he just wanted to concentrate on feeling the warm forms of the other's body. Her scent was intoxicating and it made Josel dizzy. There was a hint of vanilla and some other spice.

After some confused catching up, Jolanda suggested they go for a walk in the town. Josel immediately agreed. Without asking permission, Jolanda took his hand and Josel felt himself soaring like a kite.

As they walked, Josel mentioned that he lived nearby. He also told her about his parents, and Jolanda was clearly moved by her mother's fate. The girl stopped, ran her finger down Josel's arm and said she was sorry for him.

When it came to Josel's father, Jolanda said: "Yes, I know Andreuz Sandkan. I've read his novels, Kharl as the Knife King's prisoner is really exciting." She continued: "I’d love to meet your father one day. That is, if you ever want to see me again." The girl's voice trailed off and her gaze was expectant.

A warm wave ran through Josel's body and he hurried to answer: "Of course I'd like to see you again. I've never met anyone like you."

A smile lit up Jolanda's face, reaching her eyes. For Josel, they were incredibly beautiful eyes, like dark jewels that sparkled.

As they talked, they stopped in a quiet side street. There Jolanda took Josel's hand. The touch made the boy flinch.

"I think I want to kiss you," she announced, and without waiting, her soft lips met his mouth.

His legs almost gave out from the surprise. Josel wasn't used to a girl being so proactive. Somehow, though, he pulled himself together and managed to return the kiss. His other hand found its way from under Jolanda's hair to the nape of her neck, where he gently stroked the soft skin.

The kiss became more and more demanding. They embraced and devoured each other's lips. Jolanda's delicate fingers roamed over Josel's shoulders. Eventually they found their way from the collar of his shirt to Josel's chest.

The girl's touch felt a gentle pinch in his stomach and lifted his skin to goosebumps. Josel found himself becoming aroused. Jolanda must have noticed too, for they were in each other's arms.

When their mouths parted for a moment, Jolanda whispered: "You're so hot," and shamelessly pressed her hips against his.

Later, when Josel recalled the situation, he thought they could have gone who knows how far. But to their disappointment, the heated moment came to a rude end when an angry old hag burst into the alley from one of the gateways.

The old woman began to shout, calling Josel and Jolanda "indecent troublemakers". This made the youngsters laugh, loosen their grip on each other and run out of the alley, away from the old woman.

As they rounded the corner, Josel and Jolanda looked at each other. Their hair were a mess and their lips were red, leaving no doubt as to what they had just been caught doing.

Still in a state of excitement, Josel straightened his clothes and tried to bring himself down to earth. He would have liked more, much more.

"More next time, Goldy," Jolanda said, kissing Josel's cheek gently. It made the blood rush through Josel's veins again.

They walked alongside all the way to Josel's house. Josel hopefully suggested they go inside. Desire burned in his groin, and he wanted to continue where they had left off.

But Jolanda declined, shaking her head.

Shit, shit, shit, Josel chided himself. What had he been thinking? Marching with Jolanda to see his father and Curtus and then going straight to bed? He felt embarrassed about the thought.

"When will I see you next, tomorrow?" he asked, his voice a little husky.

"I can't tomorrow," Jolanda replied regretfully. "I have to work all day, even today I only got a break for a few hours."

Again, Josel swallowed his disappointment, but Jolanda comforted him: "Don't worry, I'll see you the day after tomorrow. I know a place where we can be alone, just the two of us. Come to the bell tower of the town hall at the fifth hour of the day."

Hearing this, Josel quickly pressed himself against Jolanda and kissed her once more.

Only with difficulty and much delay did they let go of each other. Then they exchanged another look and waved goodbye.

Jolanda began to walk away, swaying beautifully. Josel watched until the dark-haired head was completely out of sight. It was nice that Jolanda had figured out to call him Goldy, like everyone else. The silly nickname sounded funny when she said it.

Back at home, Josel tried to put his thoughts in order. Things with Jolanda had happened so fast that his head was spinning. But not too fast. Josel wanted more, he wanted everything - all of Jolanda for himself.

Fortunately, neither Curtus nor his father were anywhere to be seen, so Josel dashed straight into his room and locked the door. He tore off his trousers, threw himself down onto the bed, and got his rocks off.

"More next time, Goldy," Jolanda had said. Not just said, promised. But why did it have to be two more days until the next time? Those would be the longest two days of waiting in Josel's life.

* * *

In the afternoon, Josel was standing on the rear bridge of the rail-carriage, sportswear packed in a canvas bag. A spring breeze was blowing in his ears and the sun was smiling in the sky. He felt light and perhaps little giddily. It was because of Jolanda. Josel couldn't really concentrate on anything else.

As soon as he jumped off the wagon, he saw the huge arena of the sports ground in front of him. Only the main arena, the venue for the Spring Day celebrations, and a few other buildings in Paidos were bigger.

Bartos caught up with Josel on the way to the main entrance of the arena. There they found Franz kicking stones impatiently. Knowing his friend's hasty nature, Josel guessed that he was already there at half past the hour. They would have to wait for Darren, as the curly-haired boy was not in the habit of keeping track of the time.

That's what happened this time too. Franz and Bartos had already had time to inquire about Josel's meeting with Jolanda when Darren finally arrived, smiling brightly and seemingly unaware of his lateness. Franz chaffed for his delay by suggesting that Darren had been busy to curl his hair - one of their running jokes - and was rewarded for his remark with a hefty smack on the side.

Without further delay, the boys headed for the changing room. Like the others, Josel pulled a pair of shorts and lightweight running shoes out of his bag.

They came to the field, which was protected from the sun's hottest rays by wooden canopies. Beneath the canopy, the space was circled by a running track, with various sports facilities built in and around the edges.

Despite the hour of the day, there were a number of young people and children practising on the field. Some were preparing for competitions, others were just getting fit for fun. It was the holiday season, so many of them, who didn't have to help their parents at work, spent their time on the sports field.

The boys waved hello to a couple of girls they knew from school. Darren never missed an opportunity to charm the girls, and even now he was horsing around in front of them, showing off his biceps - which weren't that big.

The girls giggled and Darren blew them a very inviting kiss. It was only Franz's bored muttering and a few disapproving coughs from Bartos that made Darren stop flailing.

It was time for sport. Josel and Darren scrambled to the jump, but to please Bartos, the foursome went to the weights first.

"So, Bars, are you going to break your record?" Franz asked.

"Let's see," the sturdy boy grunted, feeling the iron bars appraisingly.

They all started lifting weights, although Franz soon pointed out that sport was bad for the brain. The tall boy even claimed that he had read a book on the subject.

"If your theory is correct, there stands one of the biggest fools in Paidos," Darren said, pointing to the track.

The others turn to look in the direction Darren is pointing. There was Zdain Monteilon, wiping the sweat from his bare torso with a towel, apparently after a long run.

Every muscle on Zdain's slim body stood out beautifully, the kind Josel assumed the schoolgirls in Paidos daydreamed. He was about to say something derisive himself, but Franz managed to squeak out: "That's right, there's Paidos' number one dummy head. Maybe he inherited his stupidity from his bossy father."

While the mates cheered at Franz's comment, Zdain Monteilon walked without noticing them towards the long jump venue. As Zdain seemed to be alone on the field, Josel suggested: "Let's go and tease that clown a bit?"

"I wonder... if it would be worth lifting some more weights," objected Bartos, who always wanted to avoid strifes, even though the burly boy might have been the best fighter of the four friends.

"After all, we have the right to go long jumping like everyone else," Darren said with the dimples on his cheeks.

It was decided then. Josel gave Darren a serious nod and they headed off to the long jump. As Franz hurried after them with a mischievous look on his face, Bartos could only follow his friends towards the certain confrontation with the muffled curses.

They came to the long jump's run-away, where Zdain Monteilon was preparing for the jump.

"What's little Din doing here?" Josel asked, deliberately using a diminutive from the name Zdain. Without really knowing why, he felt a strong urge to annoy the other.

Surprised by the unexpected harassment, the interlocutor turned to face the intruders. The boy's narrow face darkened as he recognised them.

But Zdain didn't have time to say anything, because Franz had already spoken: "Move your junk, Monteilon. This place is reserved for us."

"And by what right?" Zdain asked indignantly.

"Because we don't feel like looking at your face here," Franz replied.

"Hey beanpole, do you think you're funny?" Zdain said in a voice so haughty that Josel was little surprised. Usually, the son of the governor was timid and didn't respond to a challenge in the same way.

Josel decided to take the opportunity to intervene. "Shut up, Monteilon. Why don't you tell me how Daddy is doing? Is he counting his money in the palace to buy a new kite for his favourite son?"

Bartos grunted worriedly behind him, but Franz and Darren whistled encouragingly at Josel's quip.

"Oh, it's the pissy-haired son of a fairy tale writer," Zdain sneered again with unusual malice, smiling as his taunt hit the target. He didn't seem afraid at all, even though he was alone against four.

"Fuck you, Monteilon. Leave my dad alone!" Josel was really angry now.

"It’s not my fault that your dad's lousy children's books are mainly fireplace tinder by us. You'll be a failure like him," Zdain hissed back, his brown eyes sparkling.

"Oh, a failure?" Josel shouted. "Your dad fucks boys and your mom is a slut!"

The insult hit hard. Zdain's face flushed and he blurted out, "What about your mother, she killed herself when she couldn't stand you anymore!"

This was not what Josel had expected. He stared at Zdain, stunned for a moment, before charging at him with a roar. Fists pounded the air. At least one of the blows struck Monteilon, who cried out in pain and tried to strike back. Josel was so enraged that he didn't bother to protect himself, so Zdain's fist landed painfully in the corner of his eye. But Josel managed to maintain his advantage gained by surprise, and soon Zdain was on the ground, protecting his head.

Then Josel was grabbed by the shoulders. Bartos pulled him off, away from the groaning Monteilon. The strong boy held on to him with both hands and would not let Zdain to be attacked again. Josel gasped, his head bobbing, and he think there was blood in the corner of his eye.

Many youngsters had gathered around the brawlers to watch. They prattled among themselves, but Josel was in no mood to listen.

Zdain was still lying on the sand of the track, holding his bleeding nose. Monteilon looked both angry and miserable. He wriggled painfully to sit up and then to stand. Blood trickled from his nose onto his bare chest. Neither Darren, Franz nor anyone else made a gesture to help. Zdain looked at Josel with disgust, spat the bloody blob on the ground and limped towards the changing rooms, his nose still running and the eye area reddening.

Bartos seemed to have finally decided that Josel was not going after Monteilon and let him go. Josel remained sitting on the ground, breathing heavily. Gradually the bystanders left the scene, realising that there was nothing more exciting to come.

When Josel finally got up, Darren handed him a clean towel. Josel gratefully pressed it to the bleeding corner of his eye. He still felt shaky and his legs were trembling. He'd never fought like this with anyone before; no one else had ever made him so angry.

Josel sat down on the nearest bench, still holding a towel over his eyebrow. The others watched him in silence. Finally, Josel spoke up, "The bastard deserved it."

Franz nodded vigorously. "Yeah, he totally deserved it. That filthy rat!"

"Whether deserved or not, nothing good will come of it. What if the governor intervenes?" Bartos said with concern.

Josel was worried too. Zdain's father would surely find out about the scuffle and be doubly outraged to hear the insults he had heaped upon himself and his wife. Losing temper had been a mistake. Fear crept into Josel's mind. What if Dareis Monteilon put him in prison? Surely the beating of a governor's heir was certainly not a minor issue to his influential father.

"Don't worry, we can handle two Monteilons," Darren tried to console him.

Bartos frowned. "I wouldn't be so sure, but let's wait and see. Dareis Monteilon has enough to worry about right now, maybe he's too busy to deal with his son's little problems".

"Yeah, if we get shit from the governor, let's sign up as mercenaries in the East-Andiol. We could go after the fury hounds!" Franz babbled - only half joking, Josel thought.

The boys were no longer in the mood to stay for sport, as everyone else on the pitch was staring at them with round eyes. After changing out of their sportswear, the boys silently made their way to the rail-carriage stop.

The bleeding from the corner of Josel's eye had stopped by then. There would probably be no need to see a doctor. Instead, he worried about how he would explain the bruised face to his father. Josel was a bad liar, and Andreuz Sandkan was no easy to fool. His father had a strange ability to notice when someone wasn't telling the truth. Besides, Dad hated violence of any kind and would go crazy if he heard that Josel had been in a fight.

After getting out of the carriage, they sat for a while on the steps of the Imperial Museum. It would not be a long walk home from there. One of the reasons the four boys had become friends was that they lived on almost the same block.

Josel considered asking his friends for help with a cover-up story. But after a moment's thought, he decided that their supposedly clever explanations could worsen the situation. He had to face his father alone.

Finally, the friends decided it was time to say goodbye and agreed to meet tomorrow on the same steps of the museum. On the way home, Josel decided to deal with his father half-heartedly. He would tell him that he had been beaten up by a stranger when he went to jump at the runway he had reserved.

The story would not be far from the truth. The closer they got to home, the more convinced Josel became of his version. He could worry about the governor's possible actions later.

* * *

After opening the large front door, Josel anxiously climbed the stairs and turned the key in the front door. Curtus immediately appeared in the hallway. The old man did not smile, as he usually did when Josel arrived home, but said gravely, "Your father wants to see you. Go to his study and wait. He will be here in a moment. Then I will clean your wounds."

So, the fight would not be easily explained after all. Josel sighed in resignation and went up the stairs from the living room to Andreuz Sandkan's study. The door was ajar, so he pushed it open and stepped inside.

The smell of old paper was strong in the air. For a moment, Josel just stared at the ceiling-to-floor shelves overflowing with maps, scraps of paper and, above all, books. They were everywhere, in stacks on tables and even on the floor. There were thick encyclopaedias, thin pamphlets and the odd ratty-looking textbook with foreign titles Josel could not make out.

The shadows cast by the oil lamps climbed up the spines of the books, creating a mysterious atmosphere in the room. Josel could only imagine the stories hidden between the covers. His father never allowed him free access to the treasures on the shelves.

Andreuz Sandkan claimed to use the books as background material for his novels. The explanation was hard to believe. Why was the study always locked, and why did his father only select the most boring books for Josel to read: mostly about nature or history? The unjustified secrecy made him sick. Dad had no right to boss him around, especially as he didn't want to tell Josel anything.

The creaking of the stairs startled Josel.

Andreuz Sandkan stopped in the doorway and stared at his son as if he were an intruder.

"Take a chair and sit down," he said, moving to his usual place behind the desk.

Josel sat down in an armchair on the other side of the table. How did Dad hear about the fight already?

Andreuz did not sit down. He pushed his chair so hard that the floor creaked under its legs. "Josel, I have never condoned unnecessary violence, because fists hardly ever bring a positive solution. Tell me, have I ever spoken to you about this?"

Josel froze in his chair, waiting for his father to explode. He nodded cautiously, remembering that he had heard the same sermon before.

"Then why did you hit Zdain Monteilon?" his father asked in a very calm voice, still staring into Josel's eyes.

"Because he hurt Mom!"

"You also insulted his mother and father," Andreuz Sandkan replied firmly, but still without raising his voice.

"How do you know that?" Josel asked, stunned.

Dad did not answer Josel's question, but began to speak. "Son, about the following things you will not say a word to anyone, not even to your friends. Do you understand?" he said sternly.

Nodding to Josel, Andreuz continued: "Did you think that the son of a governor would be alone on the sports field? When the situation in the town is so tense right now? Well, certainly not. All the while, Zdain is watched over by a few men, loyal to the governor. They don't make a fuss about themselves but keep an eye on the boy from a distance. But if Zdain were in danger, they would defend him to the last breath".

"Then why didn’t they defend the damned Monteilon against me?"

"Because it was you who attacked Zdain."

"Me?"

"Because you are my son," Andreuz answered.

This made Josel even more confused. He sat in the chair not knowing what to say.

"As you have noticed, I will not tolerate the mockery of a governor in my home," Dad said. "I have also made it clear on several occasions that I do not like the Shadow Cross. Dareis Monteilon and I have known each other for years. We are on the same side, belonging to an organisation whose one mission is to oppose the Shadow Cross. Our organisation is clandestine, with extensive networks that stretch from one end of the continent to the other."

Josel tasted what he had just heard. Dad working for some mysterious organisation threatened by the Shadow Cross! It seemed absurd, but he let his father continue.

"The Shadow Cross likes to portray itself as a gentle benefactor, the last refuge of a poor people," Andreuz said, his voice dripping with contempt. "The reality is quite different: in reality, the Shadow Cross is trying to establish its dominance, first in Andiol, and eventually in the whole populated world. And that's not all. There are indications that the Shadow Cross has individuals within its ranks who ultimately serve the darkness."

A stunned Josel took advantage of the pause: "The darkness?"

"Yes," Andreuz began with a sigh. "I think I made a mistake hiding things from you for so long, my boy. I thought that ignorance would protect you. Too much has been left unsaid and I don't know where to begin."

Andreuz Sandkan frowned for a moment. "There is a very old might, blessed by the darkness. It still lurks in the shadows, but it wants to emerge and fill the world. To spread, this wickedness needs humans as its servants. That is why it gives great power to those who are willing to give up their freedom. They are called the fallen."

"The fallen," Josel repeated the word. It had a chill ring to it.

"The fallen are slaves of darkness," Andreuz continued. "They are bound by an invisible chain that forces them to bow to their masters. For the fallen, only the darkness matters. They are even ready to kill without mercy. When the darkness commands, the faithful slave will murder his friends, his parents, his children..."

Josel felt cold, but his father hadn't stopped. "You know that far beyond the southern seas lies the continent of Darkuria - the land of mysteries and witches. The people who live there worship the mighty but angry deities, Grozavok, Nalvajda and others. From these same gods, the fallen believe they receive their powers."

"There are no gods!" Josel interrupted.

"We don't know that. At least the fallen believe in their gods and for the sake of those gods they commit atrocities," Andreuz pointed out and moved on. "The Shadow Cross has also been infiltrated by the fallen, although the organisation is more driven by sheer lust for power. It wants to eliminate all those who stand in its way. Especially those of us who work directly against the Shadow Cross."

The words bit Josel hard. A thought popped into his head, "Is that why the Shadow Cross is after the governor?"

Andreuz scratched his cheek and said: "Therein lies the problem. It is not certain whether the Shadow Cross simply wants to take control of internal politics in Paidos, or whether it has knowledge of Dareis Monteilon's activities against the organisation. If the latter is true, the situation is extremely serious."

After taking a few aimless steps on the floor, Andreuz continued: "In the most dangerous scenario Isendar Vargan and Nadaila Tomsto are both fallen. I don't know if they are. You see, it is very difficult to identify the fallen. Their network, known as the Black Flame, has spread like spore cloud across the Inhabited World. It's impossible to know how many of them are in Paidos."

"Either way, there aren't many in this town besides you and Curtus that I can trust completely. As I said, the situation is very tense. If Monteilon goes down, then our safety is threatened as well. That is why I hope you will not turn your friends against any member of the Monteilon family."

His father's blue-grey eyes stared so hard that Josel swallowed and finally nodded.

Suddenly he remembered the lipless man he had seen again in Saramanda's Inn. "Who’s the scar-faced stranger? A fallen?"

"I'm not sure," Andreuz replied, furrowing his brow. "This man wanted to give us a sign of himself when he introduced himself to you on the street. The name he told you, Kal'ditha, has meaning. It is an ancient language and literally means 'son of the night'. The word can also be translated into our language in another, more descriptive way: 'fallen'. I suppose the man asked you to convey his greetings, knowing that I would recognise the meaning of the word. But would a fallen man, who serves the darkness, declare himself so openly? I wonder. In any case, I believe the stranger is more interested in me than in you. Nevertheless, come and tell me immediately if he approaches you again. But that's it, we have other concerns at the moment."

Josel was about to mention what had happened in Saramanda's Inn, but then a new question came to mind: "Why doesn't the emperor intervene in the activities of the Shadow Cross or the fallen? Surely he must know."

A frustrated sigh escaped from Andreuz's mouth. "The emperor is of no use to us. When was the last time he made a public appearance? There will be no speeches, the spring military parade will be taken over by one of the generals... the emperor will be absent. Who knows if he himself is one of the fallen."

"Not the emperor!" Josel shouted louder than he had intended.

"Josel, you have to realize that anyone can be. You can't vouch for anyone, remember that. Not even your best friends."

"Franz, Darren and Bartos aren’t some kind of damned fallen! You know that," Josel snapped.

A sad smile crossed Andreuz's face. "I hope you choose well with those you trust. I chose wrong once."

Silence fell over the room. Andreuz scratched the back of his chair with his fingernail. His expression was so sad that Josel dared not inquire more about the subject.

Instead, he asked, "Is there anything I can do to help your organisation?"

Andreuz laughed and shook his head. "You certainly don't lack courage, that's good. But I don't want you to help. You are still young, and besides, you are all I have left. I don't want to lose you like I lost Idalae."

Josel put his head down. So, his father still thought he was just a kid. But suddenly, he understood something behind the words. "Wasn't Mom's death an accident?"

Dad's posture slackened a little. "I don't think so. I'm afraid it was a warning to me. I've been trying to find out. An eyewitness had spotted someone working on the vegetable carts just before they rolled over Idalae. The man who owned the carts also claimed to have locked the wheels. However, no evidence was found against anyone. That's all I know about it."

"Someone killed Mom...", Josel mumbled. The words choked in his throat, and it was almost impossible to stay still in the chair.

Andreuz must have noticed, because he said: "That's enough for now. I'll continue the story another day. You have learned enough new information for one day."

Josel stood up. At the door, however, he turned and asked, "What is the name of your organisation?"

The father was silent for a moment and then said in a deep voice: "The Blue Moon."

"The Blue Moon," Josel repeated. It sounded rather poetic. He nodded to his father, stepped out of the room, and looked out of the living room window to see that the day was fading into evening.

* * *

Josel did not go out that night. He sat in the living room by the fire, dozens of questions running through his mind. The foundations of the whole world were rapidly crumbling. The fallen, the Blue Moon, the inexplicable evil his father had described - there was almost too much to process.

At the same time, Josel had a burning desire to know more about these new and frightening things. In the end, Dad hadn't revealed much, probably just a glimpse of the truth. Because it had to be the truth, Josel never doubted for a moment. Even though his father had urged him to doubt everything and everyone.

At one point, Curtus stomped into the living room and sat down beside Josel. The old man quietly began to clean the wound in the corner of Josel's eye.

Only when he had finished, did he speak: "So Andreuz told you the facts."

"He told me," Josel replied earnestly.

"I have my own story, but I'll save it until you know enough to understand." With that, Curtus patted Josel on the shoulder and climbed up the stairs to his attic chamber.

Later that evening, as Josel passed through the lounge, he saw the light still reflecting from under the door of Andreuz Sandkan's study. Josel had always thought that his father spent long evenings in his study writing his adventure novels. Now he sensed his father sitting at his desk, wrestling with far more serious matters.

After tossing and turning in bed for a long time, Josel finally fell into a restless sleep, with the faces of the Monteilons, Isendar Vargan and his father flashing before him. In the dream, everyone was telling Josel to do something, but he couldn't decide whom to obey.

* * *