Chapter 17: Espionage and the Blood Pact
Chapter 17: Espionage and the Blood Pact
The very second my tiny fingers touched the wood of the doorframe and the vision of the recent past dissolved into smoke, I abruptly extended my arm. I gave an imperative signal for Katriny to stop immediately in the inn's hallway. She stared at me with her ears perked up and her eyebrows furrowed, filled with sincere doubt.
— Our quarters have been invaded — I whispered, forcing my diction to sound as clear as possible. — They rummaged through all our scrolls.
Startled, the panda-monk took a step back, her gentle voice showing shock:
— Young Master Kaelen... how can you be sure of that?
— The entourage's traitorous coachman came in here secretly. He tried to swipe our records regarding sugar production and the beach salt project, but fled upon realizing the papers weren't in the drawers.
— But how do you know such a detail without even opening the door? — she insisted, confused.
— Come, we have no time for scholarly reports! — I ordered, tugging at her tunic sleeve. — We need to march to the horse yard, urgently! If we don't hurry, he will destroy the physical evidence of the crime.
— Young master, feudal rules dictate that we inform your father immediately! — Katriny protested, trying to hold me back.
— I already told you to run! If we go to the barracks looking for Lord Arl, the spy will notice the commotion and slip away through the alleyways of the port!
I lowered my head and sprinted down the stone corridors, with the panda-monk right on my heels. Not five minutes of running had passed before we were crossing the wooden gates of the stable, where our carriage and the mounts of House Vance were kept.
Upon storming the enclosure that smelled of hay and manure, we caught the coachman in the middle of his criminal activity. Holding an iron chisel, he was delivering stealthy blows against the wooden axle of our carriage, weakening the structure to simulate a fatal accident on the forest road. Upon noticing our sudden presence, the traitor froze, his eyes widening in pure astonishment at seeing a child and a monk cornering him in the dark.
Katriny reacted with the inherent speed of her species. With a surgical movement of her furry paws, she drew two small throwing daggers hidden within her leg wraps and hurled them at the target. The rustic steel sliced through the air and grazed the spy's shoulder and waist, making him let out a grunt of pain. The man, however, proved to be a trained military scout; in a desperate counterattack, he pulled a row of concealed blades from inside his leather coat and threw eight daggers all at once in our direction.
Looking at that rain of pointed iron advancing toward my six-winter-old chest, I asked myself out of pure geeky reflex: Where do these people manage to store so much steel inside a battered coat?
Driven by a surge of adrenaline and pure survival instinct, I channeled a raw pulse of Telekinesis around us. The invisible energy of my mind collided with the matter in the air. To Katriny's utter astonishment, the eight enemy daggers veered off their original path in midair, as if they had struck an invisible shield of iron, ricocheting and embedding themselves with a thud into the oak beams and plank walls around us.
The panda-monk looked from side to side, paralyzed by shock and total incomprehension of that mystical manifestation that did not rely on prayers.
The coachman emitted a choked sound of pure nonconformity, realizing his offensive had failed. Without hesitating, he gained momentum, leaped onto the back of one of the patrol horses that was already saddled, and sprinted away at a gallop through the back gates, vanishing toward the dense woods surrounding the peninsula.
Katriny wiped the sweat from her face and turned to me, her voice grave mixed with severe urgency:
— Young Master Kaelen... you have many technical explanations to give me right now. How did you foresee the invasion, and how did you operate that barrier against steel?
— Wait... a minute... — I replied, feeling the weight of the neural effort crush my strength.
I bent down and pressed the palm of my trembling hand against the hay-covered stones of the stable floor. I forced the filaments of my Psychometry to seek out the molecular echo left by the spy. In that very instant, the greyish vision of the recent past activated in my consciousness.
I watched the echo of the coachman arriving at the scene, grumbling curses because the plan in the room had failed. I saw the silhouette of a second figure dressed entirely in black cloaks hidden in the shadows of the stable, whose face I could not decipher clearly. The coachman handed a parchment note to the accomplice, and immediately after, the vision showed our fight and a small piece of paper falling from the traitor's fingers during his escape. Finally, the voice of the dark figure echoed in the memory of the stone: “Baxter ordered an immediate return... Solano's patrols are ready.”
The Bear's Vow of Silence
I opened my eyes slowly, the mental static dissolving, and found Katriny staring at me with a face of total wonderment. I tried to push myself up from the ground, but my child body's biology exacted its tax for the excessive use of mental force. A violent dizziness hit me and I lost my balance, collapsing sideways.
Katriny acted quickly and caught me in her furry arms before I hit my head on the wood.
— Are you alright, young master? — she asked, her voice trembling with nervousness.
I nodded tightly, but the lie crumbled immediately. A trickle of dark, viscous blood began to run distinctly down my right nostril, revealing neural overload. The panda-monk panicked:
— Young master! Sit on this bench and cease all effort! You are pale and visibly weakened; this is not healthy!
— I am fine... — I stammered, wiping the trickle with my tunic sleeve. — But as I said, time is short. Katriny, go to the side of the carriage where the coachman was striking the oak. Look for a piece of paper that fell from his fingers during the escape. Go quickly, verify this for our report.
Even reluctantly and grumbling about my stubbornness, the monk obeyed. She walked over to the wheel axle and, almost immediately, returned holding a small piece of folded parchment, displaying a countenance of deep nonconformity.
— I found the record, young master... — she said, crossing her arms. — But my questions are piling up on an absurd scale. Are you going to explain the truth to me now?
I looked into the panda's brown eyes and weighed the variables. I had been living alongside this heteromorph for months; she had protected my secret in the letter to my mother and demonstrated genuine loyalty that went beyond feudal obligations. I needed an accomplice to manage the fallout of my powers. I decided I could trust her.
Until, before I could utter a single word, Katriny delivered a rustic, friendly slap to my back, making me cough.
— We have spent so much time sharing the same room and the same training, master... how do you still harbor doubts about my integrity? — she complained, noticing my micro-expressions. Yeah, I really can't escape my childhood expressions, I chided myself, annoyed.
— Very well, I will explain the physics of my gift — I replied, serious. — But under a condition of State: you will keep absolute silence. No one on this continent can know the truth, not my parents, not the lords, and least of all your Order of Scribes. Do you agree to keep this pact?
Katriny froze, impacted by the gravity of the requirement. She looked at the paper in her hands, took a deep breath, and made an immediate decision that demonstrated her true mettle. Drawing a small belt dagger, she made a swift cut across the palm of her left hand, letting blood drip onto the hay. Raising her eyes to the ceiling, she recited an ancient monastic vow of silence:
— I swear by the blood of my lineage and by the foundations of the Bamboo Sanctuary that whatever is spoken in this stable shall remain locked within my soul. Should I break this oath of loyalty, let the price exacted be the forfeiture of my own life.
A faint spark of mystical light materialized around her furry shoulders and vanished into the air, sealing the contract. She wiped her palm and smiled:
— It is bound, master. You may begin your explanation.
I stood mouth agape at the extremism of her sect.
— Are you completely crazy, Katriny?! Was there any real need to perform a blood ritual over this?
— Oh, don't be naive, master — she shrugged playfully. — You stipulated that not even my congregation of scribes could receive the data. Now the contract physically prohibits me from reporting the truth in official church scrolls, even allowing me to utter falsehoods to bishops if I am interrogated. It was a behavioral maneuver I learned from my former master of orders.
— Your master must have been a figure with a rather peculiar temperament, by the way... — I commented, impressed.
— Ah, he was a terribly grumpy and cranky elder, but he always sought to extract the best vigor from his pupils — Katriny smiled nostalgically. — Although he handpicked his disciples through mysterious criteria, I never understood why he selected me for the Order. He is probably training some other child prodigy in a distant fiefdom at this very moment... although I feel deep pity for that poor boy, given the severity of his punishments.
I looked at the panda's face with an expression of pure irony, thinking to myself: Poor child who was sent straight into the lion's den of that old military man... Go figure the logic of these monks.
The Revelation and the Theater with the General
I settled onto the wooden bench and began the explanation of my mental laboratory:
— Pay attention, Katriny. My first gift consists of the ability to see the traces of time through physical touch on matter. There is a severe biological tax for this; the reading weakens my body, but I am capable of glimpsing fragments and echoes of the recent past recorded on surfaces. That was how I decoded the room's invasion as soon as my fingers touched the frame, and that was how I knew about the sabotage upon arriving at this stable.
The panda-monk's eyes widened, her ears perking up in startled reverence:
— By the ancestors... contemplating the flow of the past? Does this mean you have a direct channel to the planar deities? Have the gods granted your spirit the privilege of reading the chronicle of the world?
I brought my palm to my face, letting out a long sigh at that medieval religious interpretation. Explaining quantum physics and residual magnetic resonance to this bear is going to be an impossible task, I chided myself.
— It has nothing to do with deities, Katriny — I clarified patiently. — All matter that composes the world possesses a record of events. Some structures hold clearer memories than others. Objects retain the vibrations of what occurred around them. I simply developed the sensitivity to read these memories, from a metal utensil used in a meal to the rough stones of the street. Everything leaves traces in time.
She stared at her own daggers with marvelous wonder, her eyes sparkling with childlike enthusiasm:
— This is a truly magnificent gift! How much ancient history could you uncover through stones... Young master, could you read the past of my ceremonial blades right now?
— Katriny... as I just uttered — I replied, displaying my expression of exhaustion —, this process exacts a high tax on my vitality and weakens my body. There is no way I can perform readings for your amusement now.
The monk snapped back to reality instantly as she inspected my pale little boy figure, noticing the trickle of blood staining the linen tunic. Her posture adopted strict vigilance and a somewhat authoritative air:
— I understand... I apologize, master. Starting this moon, you are strictly forbidden from activating this temporal reading until your musculature and physical vigor fully strengthen! I myself will be in charge of watching your steps to guarantee the rest of your abilities! — she decreed, with a protective and playful arrogance.
I let out a short laugh at the panda's audacity.
— Very well... you may exercise your vigilance, bear.
— But explain one last detail to me — she leaned in, curious. — What was that invisible barrier that happened during the attack? I only saw you move your tiny hands, and all eight of the spy's daggers changed course in midair, as if they possessed a life of their own?
— That is my second resource — I pointed to the ground. — I possess the ability to manipulate matter from a distance, forcing objects to move toward my palm or away from my trajectory.
I focused my thoughts on a small rough stone chip lying at the stable entrance. I activated Telekinesis lightly: the pebble rose from the dirt and shot through the air in a perfect straight line, landing gently in the center of my outstretched hand.
— See? — I asked, closing my fingers.
Katriny jumped back, her furry ears trembling from pure shock.
— By the gods! Was it that same invisible force you used to disarm the wooden sword of that hyperactive little tiger in the practice yard?
— Exactly — I nodded, slipping the stone into my pocket. — Now you hold all the data of my laboratory. But time is running out. We need to march to my father's quarters and alert him to the impending danger on the road. However, I will need you to use your scribe's eloquence to help me structure a fictional story for the military report.
— A fictional story, young master? What do you mean? — she furrowed her brow.
— We cannot reveal to Lord Arl that I discovered the crime through reading temporal memories from stones. I need you to report to my father that, while inspecting the stable for the journey, we caught two enemy scouts sabotaging the carriage. Say that one escaped on foot through the alleyways and the coachman fled on horseback through the woods. And most crucial: mention that you heard the two utter the name of a commander named Baxter, demanding the immediate return of forces.
— Do you know the identity of this Baxter person? — she asked, tucking the folded parchment into her wraps.
— I have no idea what his post is — I shook my head. — But that name was what I captured directly from the echo left by the stable stone. I saw more details in the vision, but the variables are still confusing for my reasoning.
Katriny stared at me with reverent admiration, sympathizing with my weakened state.
— Leave the report's lie to me, master. I will carry your body to the barracks. Hold tightly to my shoulders.
Before I could protest about my noble pride, the panda-monk picked me up in her arms with impressive ease and sprinted at high speed down the corridors of Baron Claus's palace, toward the quarters where my parents were staying.
She delivered three heavy, urgent knocks against the oak door. Seconds later, the door was opened by Lord Arl himself, displaying a stern expression. From the back of the room, the worried voice of my mother, Lady Sylvia, echoed asking about the reason for the commotion. Upon encountering Monk Katriny carrying the pale Vance heir with traces of blood on his linen, the military shock was immediate.
— What happened to my son?! What kind of attack was this in the baron's palace?! — my father thundered, his hand instinctively seeking the pommel of his iron sword.
From there began a long and exhausting night of strategic explanations inside Claus's residence. Katriny took control of the fake report with admirable mastery, leaving the lord completely inflamed with military fury. Arl lost no time: he summoned the sergeants of our guard and Baron Claus's own coastal guards, ordering the troops to search every inch of the stables and docks of Teguma's harbor for the coachman and the black-cloaked accomplice.
The board of Valia had entered full motion in the maritime district, and Baxter's whispers in the Black Forest had just transformed our travel carriage into an authentic march of war for the following morning.
