3 Chapter 3 (1/2)
Washar never needed the light on the night watch.
He trusted his ears as much as his eyes. At that moment, the longer he listened, the more confident he was that the burglar was in the building with him. Someone was running down the hall.
He snorted softly, cursing the inattention of the other guards and stood up. The intruder suddenly stopped, and then carefully moved forward. He wasn't close yet, but with every step, Washar could sense him more and more.
Bright rays, cast by a small candle, appeared in the corridor. Undoubtedly, this was someone from the Scribe's Association. When an ordinary thief tried to break into the treasury, he was most often rendered harmless by external guards or got lost in the maze of corridors.
The prince took a deep breath and focused on the burglar walking around, who had not yet noticed that he was not alone and probably wondered how to open the last door.
The burglar was so close that Washar could hear his rapid breath. Energy began to accumulate around the prince. All he had to do was send it in the right direction.
He created almost a lethal wave. A pleasant shiver swept over him. He hadn't had the opportunity to use his special ability for a long time.
A loud and undoubtedly female scream pulled him out of deep concentration. He came out of hiding and quickly removed the mask from the face of the terrified Sekanian girl staring at him.
”The Scribe's Association ... you pathetic thieves,” he said and snorted softly. ”I hope that I will live long enough to witness the times when your activities will be punished by death.”
”Knowledge has the right to reach people!” She shouted and wanted to say something else, but failed. A black streak hung over the now limp body and surrounded it. It was over. Washar took a deep breath, letting the energy dissipate back. Only then did he feel how much strength it had cost him.
Prince Washar couldn't remember exactly when he discovered his unusual abilities. Probably he was born with them. His nanny made him promise that he would never use these abilities when she found out. As he grew up, he realized that she did it for his safety.
Washar later found the books from which he learned that after the Great War, the art he was using was strictly forbidden by the Righteous Swearing. After some time, it was completely forgotten. However, even when it was still widespread, only a few people managed to use the energy of death.
Washar took a dagger from his back pocket and stabbed now dead girl in the heart. He had to make sure everything looked as if he had defeated her in a normal fight before he went down the same corridor which she came. A second guard was at his post, sleeping. Hearing the prince, he nudged himself to his feet and bowed crookedly.
”Your Highness, I am begging for forgiveness! It was only a few minutes, everything was under control.”
”Oh really?” Washar grabbed the man by the shoulders, pulled forward and kicked as hard as he could. ”Does this woke you up?”
”Yes, Your Highness,” he groaned, ”it won't happen again, I swear.”
”We had a burglary. Clean up, this way you will not fall asleep so quickly. My deputy should arrive soon.”
”Are you not going to wait for him, Prince?”
”No, I'm not. When you were sleeping, I fought with the thief. I'm exhausted, I can be hurt. Think of it as an act of grace. If by his arrival you manage to take care of everything and not fall asleep, you will miss execution and your approach to duties will be our little secret.”
Washar then went outside and took a deep breath. He was very tired. At some point, he staggered and would almost fall, if someone did not support his hand.
”Alissa!” He looked at his wife, surprised. ”What are you doing here?”
”I couldn't sleep! I had such a bad feeling, I had to come here!” The woman helped him stand. ”What's wrong? Did you fight someone?”
”I have to fight someone every day.” He turned his head a little too violently, which almost made him fell again. ”I'm very tired, but nothing happened to me.”
”I don't see any wounds in this light,” she said, watching him carefully. Washar shook his head but couldn't help smiling. He was eager to tell her his secret, but at the same time he was afraid that she would end up reluctant towards him and he would not bear it. He loved her because she wasn't reluctant.
”Let's go back home. I need to rest.”
*
”Can I ask you something?” Kalena once again filled Lik with ink. ”How did you meet my former lord? He talked about you during our trip to the market. He was very unpleasant.”
Galaspiael gently began to lead her hand on the paper.
”I'm not surprised. He owed me money. Not only me to be honest, but he's also known by many merchants and they don't have a good opinion about him. Whenever he appears, he borrows money from someone, so together with a few people, we decided to teach him a lesson. I started to pretend to be the son of a wealthy merchant and he asked me for help in his business. When it was time to pay back and he delayed, I sent my guards after him. From what I've heard, he was terrified. He decided to give you because probably he didn't have anything valuable to pay off the last part of the loan.”
”So you didn't get your money back,” she said, ”because since you gave me my freedom...”
”Money doesn't matter to me. Bend your finger, because you won't get a straight line. Now try it yourself.”
When Galaspiael let go of her hand, she slowly began to repeat everything he had just shown her. With each passing moment, she was more and more angry with herself. The more carefully she tried to put signs, the worse it turned out. One line was crooked, the other too far from the first, the third to connect them resembled a curved ridge.
”Man!” She moaned despairingly at the effect of her work. ”I give up!”
”Oh for the Great Ancestors, why are you screaming!
”Look how terrible it is!” She leaned her elbows on the table. ”How is it that you write so beautifully?”
”Don't compare us, I have been exercising for over ten years and you are on your first day.” He brushed a strand of hair away from her face. ”Everything is difficult at the beginning. I admire that you managed to learn how to read while being a slave”.
”And what about it? I will never write like you!”
”You're right. Over time, you will develop your handwriting, that would be different. Try once again!”
Kalena was amazed at how much time he could spend with her. As a prince, he certainly had to take care of his subjects and deal with important matters, while in the meantime he taught to write a liberated slave for several hours. He acted as if she were someone extremely important and close to him.
When Galaspiael sensed that it was getting harder for her to focus, he offered a break.
”We did a lot for the first day. However, a few more lessons will be useful.”
”A few hundred, I think,” she replied.
”I meant the lessons with me until you can practice alone.” He looked at her with a slight smile. ”A few hundred? It would be great. It takes several thousand written pages to shape good, legible writing.”
”Several thousand pages?” Kalena moaned and clutched her head. ”I haven't even finished that one small card!”