“There comes a man, Tamara. I do not see him clearly—he is not yet close enough. There is a journey, sea and sand to be crossed.”
“His journey, Master, or mine?”
The old man smiled. “Yes and yes. Two journeys become one. This man . . .”
“Is he a knight?”
Fassir’s eyes tightened. “A warrior. A man of destiny. As with your journeys, so shall your destinies merge.”
Tamara frowned. My destiny is to be here. Am I to seek this man and bring him among us? “What destiny, Master?”
Fassir shook his head, his brow furrowing. “Not what, but which, Tamara. Often there is so little to be seen, but here there is so much, one does not know what to ignore.”
Tamara studied him. “Is that all, Master?”
Fassir set the pipe down and rubbed a hand over his forehead. “I fear it is. Things shift faster than expected.” He clapped his hands. “Off with you all, to your duties. All save you, Tamara.”
The other monks rose and noiselessly exited the dimly lit chamber. Fassir stood and wordlessly led Tamara out through the eastern door. They came out onto a veranda overlooking the monastery’s courtyard and gate beyond. The other monks moved about, carefree, attending to their duties.
“You will walk with me, Tamara.”
She took up her position two steps behind him and one to the left, as befit her position and his, but he beckoned her forward. “You know well how people come to join us, don’t you, Tamara?”
“Of course, Master. Some are born here. Some we seek out as we travel in the world. Some, the most innocent, are able to wander through the wards which keep us hidden. We bring them here and teach them, keeping them safe.” She cocked her head slightly. “Is that it, Master? Do you wish me to seek out this man from your vision and bring him hence?”
The older man laughed. “No. Such a man as I saw would not take well to our life. As much as we seek order, he is chaos incarnate. Or, barring that, one who establishes a different kind of order. I doubt you could bring him here, and I am certain he could never find his way on his own.”
“I would do all I could, Master.”
“This I do not doubt, Tamara. But I did not begin this line of inquiry to elicit a pledge of fidelity to any task I might give you.”
“Then why?”
Fassir opened his arms to take in the whole of the monastery. “Why is it that you, of all the monks here, have never inquired about how you came to be here? We all do it. I was but twelve when I did. Others have discussed this with you, of this I am certain. But why have you never asked?”
Tamara frowned. “I have never felt the need to know, Master. I have always felt I was meant to be here. I supposed I must have come from elsewhere, but it did not matter to me. Should it have? Should I have asked?”
“That it is your sense that you belong here speaks great volumes on the propriety of the actions which brought you here.”
She looked at him curiously. “You make it sound as if I was stolen from my parents.”
Fassir stopped. “You know our purpose here, the purpose of our sister monastery in Hyrkania.”
“To maintain order in the world so it does not fall completely to chaos.”
“Which we do admirably. And you know that there are times when we send some of our number into the world beyond the wards to further this mission.” He sighed, clasping his hands at the small of his back. “I know some of the other monks suggest you are my favorite. It’s true, of course, because you are the most dedicated and intelligent of my students. But there is more and here is the razored edge I must walk. Were I to reveal all to you, I could trigger a disaster. And yet, to reveal nothing could guarantee disaster. So, I shall tell you as much as I think you need to know. I ask that you trust me, and trust even more in your training and your heart. Between the two, you will find the means and wherewithal to continue your mission.”
Tamara shivered. “You are scaring me, Master.”
Fassir laughed easily. “It’s not a faery tale to frighten children, Tamara. Out there in the world, chaos warps many minds. Men see patterns where none exist. They seek power which is illusory, and their frustration causes them to do things which would curdle a normal man’s soul. Just as we might see the first buds on a branch as an augury of spring’s arrival, so another man might see a redheaded child as the herald of a dynasty, or a crooked scar twisting flesh as some secret sign of an ancient god’s favor. Delusions, all, certainly; but delusions that make men act in ways that do incalculable damage to the world.”
He sat the edge of a low wall and bid her to settle beside him. “So you were born into a madman’s delusions. You were then and are now quite innocent of any connection with him, but my master had a vision, much as I did today. He sent me forth to find you. The man who sought you had sent agents far and wide. Some found you and stole you from your parents. Before they could place you in their master’s hands, I intervened. I brought you here.”
She blinked. “And of my parents?”
“I do not know.”
“Did you not seek them out? Did you not tell them I lived?”
Fassir glanced down at his empty hands. “For your sake, it was believed best that they and any who knew you believed you had perished. Yes, I am certain that if your parents lived, this meant great anguish to them—but how much greater the anguish to know that you had become a pawn in the schemes of a madman? And if it were known that you lived, they and any kinsmen you had known could be used as a weapon against you. Here, in the monastery, here with training, we could protect you and prepare you to protect yourself.”
Cold trickled down her spine. Part of her knew she should feel anger and outrage, but years of training held an emotional reaction at bay. She had been, and felt as if she always had been, part of this world. If she were to hold that belief as valid, then everything leading up to it likewise became valid. Her place here, her purpose, was to prevent whatever havoc the madman intended.
“This man you saw in your vision . . . Is he the madman who is searching for me?”
“No, little Tamara, he is not. He has been touched by the madman, of that I know.” Fassir reached out and took her hand. “And I do not see how this will end. What I do know is that your safety is the safety of countless people.”
She smiled. “And this is why you have trained me to defend myself and to defend others.”
He patted her hand, then let it drop as he stood. Fassir looked out at the courtyard. “Decisions will have to be made, Tamara. Part of me wishes to send you this very moment to Hyrkania. I do feel this is a journey you shall make soon. You must promise me that when I send you forth, you will make it.”
“Of course, Master.” Tamara nodded solemnly. “I shall even guide this warrior there if that is your desire.”
“I fear it is not my desire which will determine the direction of his footsteps, Tamara. It would be fascinating to see which wins out: his will or yours.” The older man shook his head. “You will find him a most challenging companion, my dear.”
Tamara nodded, then looked up. “And of the madman, Master?”
Fassir shook his head. “As the wards hide you from him, so they obscure him from me. Were he dead, I would know. He is not, so danger still lurks.”
“And the paths of my warrior and this madman, they will cross?”