“Le?” my grandfather asks, surprised. “What are you doing here? You just about scared us to death. We heard a noise and thought it was a spy.”

“But isn’t he?” the woman asks ironically.

They all surround me, demanding explanations. That was all I needed… I stand up and shout:

“You can stop this now! I’m not the one who needs to explain things! What’s my father got to do with this? I want to know right now!”

Everyone is surprised by my reaction and steps back.

“You can all go now,” my grandfather says. “I’ll take care of this.

After agreeing, they leave the shop. Through the window, I see them mixing in with the crowd.

“You’re going to explain everything to me now, aren’t you?” I insist, still angry.

“I will, but first tell me how you knew I was here if the shop was closed.”

“Mr. Pinmur. He told me to try the back door.” My grandfather shook his head and sighed.

“Ah, Alb… He remembered the door and forgot I asked him not to say anything to anybody. I need to be more careful when I talk to him.”

“Is he one of you?”

“Yes, but he doesn’t participate in many of our meetings, for obvious reasons.”

Really, Alb Pinmur is a little too scatterbrained to be involved in a movement like this.

“I understand. You can start by explaining my dad’s involvement,” I demand.

“Let’s go downstairs. I’ll fix some tea.”

I go while my grandfather prepares the tea. He comes a few minutes later and finds me pacing from side to side, visibly upset.

“It’d be better if you sat down.”

He gives me a cup of tea and I sit at the table, resting my elbows on the top.

“You can start now,” I declare, drumming my fingers on the wood.

“Before getting to your father’s involvement with what’s happening today in Acigam, you need to understand a little about the life he led up to the day he died.”

“I’m listening,” I respond impatiently, banging my fingers faster.

He begins.

“Your father was a warlock like me, specialized in enchantments. He learned while travelling with me about the world and became an expert at concentrating heat energy. He even used them making furniture, when he was working with iron or steel. He learned everything very young and, when he became an adult, he was already as good as I was. Maybe better.”

As incredible as this might seem, it doesn’t surprise me. After all, if my grandfather is teaching me about control, it’s obvious he would have taught him too.

“Even after he married your mom, he traveled to keep up our store’s business. I’d stay in Acigam while Caio took our merchandise to customers in other cities. It was just after his last trip some fifteen years ago that the government closed the border and prohibited free passage. Back then, the merchants were very unhappy with the measure, but they thought it’d be something temporary. Luana was born a little after that. This made your father give up on his trips to help Laura at home,” My grandfather stopped talking and sat in front of me to drink a little tea.

“The problem is that the borders have remained closed, up to now,” I say, while he’s drinking.

My grandfather takes another sip and puts his cup on the saucer before continuing with his explanation.

“You’re right. And soon everyone realized the situation wouldn’t get better if we didn’t do something. That’s how the Guild came into being. It was nothing less than a secret movement by the merchant class against the city’s government. People were meeting to find ways out of this situation and, as a distraction, they used the opportunity to trade knowledge about control, things they’d learned outside the city. Your father and I were invited to join the group.”

Unlike today, talking about magic apparently wasn’t taboo a few years ago.

“But weren’t you hounded for practicing control?” I ask.

“We did everything secretly. If the government had known a group was meeting to question their actions, we’d have had far more problems than we could deal with. Acigam has always preached an anti-magic doctrine, but that wasn’t their focus back then, nor was it ours.

It now makes sense. The merchants got together to talk about the city’s problems and, in the intervals, they swapped information about energy control, considering that they could no longer access their outside sources of knowledge for these things. That confirms my theory: the motive for the current conflict is much more economic and political than anything related to control. The warlocks were involved simply because this activity is more common among the merchants. Today, control is the only weapon they can use to oppose the government.

“After discussing things for a few months, we decided to put pressure on the city’s leaders to take more democratic actions, like what had happened in other parts of the world. Caio, who was very involved with the group, was elected spokesman.”

“Spokesman? What did he do?”

“Mass rallies. He called other merchants’ attention to the cause and recruited more supporters. Your father was a gifted speaker. He was very good at convincing people.

My grandfather describes how, after a few weeks, the merchants staged protest marches to spread the ideas they were defending. More and more people showed up at every meeting, which was when the repression began. Guards began to follow the group’s movements so they could crack down on them. The confrontations became violent and, one day, during a conflict in the main plaza, Babo Seranto, my grandfather’s friend and one of the Guild’s founders, had to use energy to defend himself from a soldier. That was all the government needed: troublemakers using magic as a weapon.

Merchants demanding change was already a problem, but regular guards could take care of that. Now, as for the warlocks…. They could undermine everything Acigam claimed was true. From that moment on, merchants were not only defying the government’s actions, but also the laws it imposed on the populace. If people discovered that we could control the world’s elements, contrary to what we’d been taught, everyone would start to question other things, increasing pressure on the rulers.

My grandfather continues:

“Repression started increasing. People began to disappear after confrontations. Others were tortured when they were accused of practicing magic. Control became an excuse for the government to capture and kill people without explaining anything to anybody. We had no choice. We stopped everything we were doing and dispersed the groups. But that wasn’t enough for Cadorcia.”

What could they do besides torture and disappear people? If the conflicts stopped, the government would have gotten what it wanted. Why wouldn’t that have been enough? It’s clear, I know the answer. They had to get rid of the leaders who had served as an example. I felt a cold chill run up and down my spine when I realized this:

“They came after my dad, didn’t they?”

“Yes,” my grandfather said, lowering his head.

I don’t know if I want to hear the rest. A few tears roll down my face before I can stop them. I grit my teeth and breathe deeply, trying to control my rage.

“What happened?” I ask, with a firm voice. I try to be strong to withstand what I’ll hear.

“He was ambushed,” my grandfather says. “At night. They caught him as he was leaving the shop. Caio tried to defend himself, but it was in vain. The government made it look like a common murder. The train going back to Oliveiras wasn’t running, which meant they could justify finding his body in the middle of the Old Town. A phony investigation concluded he’d been attacked by thieves during the night and had died while resisting them. Everything would have been believable if Laura hadn’t been in the store when the hushers arrived. Hidden, she watched everything through the window.

“He was killed by hushers?” I ask, wanting to know, to really know, as I pushed my body away from the table.

What cowards! He only wanted the best for everyone. My father had always been such a good person. I only have good memories of him: affectionate, courageous. How could they have done that?

“There were two of them. It’s the first attack by the hushers we know of,” my grandfather responds as he stands up and puts a hand on my shoulder to comfort me.

I don’t need to tell you that this story has shaken me. My father was always a hero to me and to have lost him so young was difficult to overcome. Now my hatred of the government and the hushers is even more intense, and not just for restricting and controlling our lives. They took one of the most important things I’ve ever had away from me.

I was eight when he died. Obviously, I’d never heard any of these details until now. I’d always thought my father had suffered an accident. I can’t blame them for lying. If I’d known the truth, I’d have grown up hating the government so completely that it would have cause problems for the rest of my family. What good would that have done? What would my revolt have produced? Nothing. I now understand my mother’s concern. She’d already lost one person dear to her because of this conflict and was afraid of it happening again. No wonder she detested my grandfather. She blames him for having encouraged my father to participate in the Guild.

I ask for a little time alone and go to the kitchen to get some water. It seems like my tea didn’t sit well with me after hearing this. I dry my tears and wash my face in the sink. In my mind, my hatred for the hushers is raging. If I could, I’d fire an arrow into each of their chests, including King Cadorcia’s. They have no right to do this. They can’t simply end a family’s life, deprive a child of his father’s presence.

I sit for a few minutes to calm down. I finish drinking the water and breathe deeply for a bit. When I calm down, I go back to the basement so my grandfather can tell me the rest. I want to know everything.

“Are you all right?” he asks.

“Yes, and I’m going to be even better after I join you,” I respond, determined.

“Le, I understand your revulsion. I felt the same thing when I realized the government had taken Caio from me. But you’re not ready yet.”

What does that mean? I can do enchantments. I can fight. I’m no longer a child. I’m furious.

“I don’t agree and you have no right to try and stop me.”

My grandfather comes around the table. He speaks in a gentler, more understanding tone.

“Think about your mother and your sister. They need you. Don’t risk your life right now.”

I then bow my head to think. What would become of them if I died too? It would be extremely hard to overcome the death of another person in our family. Even for my grandfather, who’s already lost a son and could lose a grandson. I know how much I miss my father, but I can’t even begin to imagine the pain of burying your only child. To this very day, my grandfather carries a small iron amulet that belonged to my father. He never takes it off for any reason. I’ve often seen him looking at this object, certainly thinking about how things would be if his son were still alive, if they’d made different choices. I can’t help but agree. I can’t take risks right now.

To continue our conversation, I ask something I can’t get out of my head.

“Why did they send the hushers?”

After taking a few swallows of his tea, he responds:

“At that point, the government had investigated every aspect of your father’s life and had discovered that he was very powerful. Common guardsmen might not have been a match for him. We’re not sure but think the government had been developing a project at that time, something that could do away with magic’s threat. Your father was an excellent opportunity to test their new assassins.

The more I hear, the more revulsion and contempt I feel for our city’s rulers.

“What happened then?”

“We were frightened, of course. We knew the government had put a specialized unit of soldiers in the streets to do away with us. We were totally vulnerable.”

“I can imagine the terror you felt,” I say, repulsed.

“Cadorcia was able to muffle all the uproar Caio had caused,” he continued. “A few months after his death, no one was talking about the problem with our borders. Other merchants had also disappeared without leaving a trace. We could only establish that, in addition to being assassins, the hushers were experts in concealing crimes and could make a person disappear completely. Some of the disappeared even had their names erased from all documents in the city, as if they’d never existed.”

“So that’s why they took the bodies from the alley,” I conclude.

“Exactly. That’s how they keep this conflict secret. We’ve already tried to turn this public several times, but that only makes things worse and the government easily gets around the situation.”

Without a doubt, it’s an unequal fight. They can kill with impunity. They dictate the rules. How many people has the government already murdered without anyone knowing? Dozens? Hundreds?

“The worst part is that the attacks are starting up again,” my grandfather says, worried. “Just this past week, two colleagues disappeared. When I saw Galek being attacked by the hushers, I thought we needed to call this meeting to alert the others.”

Calmer now about my father’s death, I try to understand the hushers and their tactics better.

“Just how does this silencing work?” It’s a question that is consuming me.

“I don’t really know.” He shakes his head, frustrated. “But I have my suspicions. Remember what I said about recognizing the energy around you?”

“Yes. To exercise good control, you must use all your senses…” I immediately pause the phrase. “Is that it? If they take away one of the warlocks’ senses, it affects their control?”

“Yes, Leran. That’s probably what makes us weaker. I believe it’s a manipulation of the air. Like all manipulations, the effect is stronger on targets near the epicenter. In the case of silencing, you can feel its effect up to a kilometer away. A husher begins the technique and keeps it going while the others run and hunt the warlocks.”

A manipulation of the air? I’d learned from him that this type of control is like an enchantment, except that you use it over a wide area, manipulating the elements there, instead of concentrating the energy on one point or object. Generally, the effect lasts for a short time, unless the warlock keeps the energy up. Silencing is a manipulation because it affects everyone within its radius and it’s probably controlling the air, since sound uses this element to travel. They manipulate the air so sound doesn’t propagate, which affects the pressure in our ears, making them bleed. Galek, even weakened, could launch a few attacks. He was far from the epicenter. Certainly, if he’d been near the husher who initiated it, he wouldn’t have been able to control any energy.

I now want to understand if there is a way to annul this effect. My grandfather responds:

“Not that I’ve found. The best course of action is to take the husher out before he uses it. The problem is that they’ve been travelling in larger groups lately and we don’t always know where the epicenter is.”

Even so, I don’t believe it would be easy to knock one of them out. I remember the husher with the daggers, how agile and skillful he was with his weapons. They’re extremely lethal in hand-to-hand combat.

“And how many are there now?” I ask, referring to the “larger groups” my grandfather had mentioned.

“I don’t know, Le. We’ve never seen that many together.”

“So, they’d have an advantage over a group of five warlocks. They wouldn’t be able to defeat dozens, would they?”

“You’re wrong,” he says. “The hushers are masters at using weapons and, once silencing is activated, one of them can kill a dozen warlocks without suffering a scratch. It’s a very uneven fight.”

“What kinds of weapons do they use?”

“Different types,” my grandfather says. “Survivors of attacks tell us about the different techniques and weapons they use, which makes us believe there are distinct individuals trained in specific types of combat. The one we saw in the alley uses daggers. He’s been seen several times and is one of the fastest. There’s another we know of who’s specialized in bombs and gunpowder. He demolished a building by himself and killed five warlocks a few years ago. The government obviously made it look like an accident, a gas explosion. I lost three good friends that day.”

Specialized in explosions? Those guys are terrifying. What other tricks do they have up their sleeves? My grandfather immediately shines a light on that.

“Others uses swords, darts, chains. They take away our ability to control energy because no one can defeat them with normal weapons. And there’s more. Do you remember the tether that tied up one of the warlocks back in the alley?” he asks.

“Yes, it seemed as if his control had been totally annulled…”

“It had been,” he interrupts. “In addition to hushing, they have weapons that totally disable your ability to control. And that doesn’t include other devices that let them levitate, become invisible and do other tricks.”

It’s true. They were flying when I saw them last night. Can they become invisible too? There’s no way to confront individuals with so much power during combat. They’re very well-equipped assassins.

My major concern now is to know what my grandfather and the others intend to do. Are they going to get together again to confront this situation? Or will they continue to hide, waiting for them to be captured and killed one by one?

“Our only way out will be to call an assembly of those who want change. Together, we can decide what route to take,” my grandfather says, ending the matter.

I nod my head, indicating that I understand. After that long conversation, I hug him and tell him I’ll be at his side, whatever he decides to do. He makes me promise I won’t do anything that will risk my life, that I’ll stay far from the hushers and that I’ll keep our conversations secret.

I’m a bit relieved, since I know now that the warlocks intend to discuss this instead of pretend nothing is happening. That way, they’ll be able to protect one another and once again put pressure on the government, if necessary. And, according to the promise I’ve just made, I’m not going to get involved with this right away. I’ll pretend nothing is happening, mainly to not endanger finishing my last year in school. I still want to graduate.

Before I leave his shop, my grandfather asks me if I have time to stay a bit longer. It’s still a couple of hours until lunch. He says he’d like teach me more about energy.

“Nothing practical, this time,” he says.

He pulls a grimy book from his shelf and puffs on its cover, blowing dust into the air. I cough a little and stare, curious. My grandfather says that, since I now know the truth about the Guild and warlocks, I need to understand other forms of control, to have a greater chance of defending myself.

He has an authentic science book in his hands.