Magna'est lay back against the pillows in the alcove, and indirect sunlight filled the room with a warm glow. A soft breeze flowed through the window over him, traveling out the open door to complete the tranquil atmosphere. In front of him, Zarnithia danced.

She was his favorite of all now, a saved-one with the most amenable spirit. Zarnithia needed nothing but him to be in the vicinity, and room to dance. Her movements were graceful and blessedly silent. It was all innate talent since dancing was discouraged outside of the Brethren's temples. Song and dance built comradery, and the commoners would make ill use of that.

Zarnithia spun on a single foot, her other parallel to the floor straight with toes pointed. Magna'est smiled as her eyes found him, and she rolled her arms upward like floating clouds. She was not the most beautiful he had saved, if one considered only the face. Her hair was a dirty brown, thin and stringy. Eyes narrow and not the large pools he usually preferred. There was a gauntness to her cheeks that he thought would disappear once her diet improved. They did not, though still, she was the most lovely. Magna'est had tired of neediness. Zarnithia was easy to love - the best of a long line of daughters.

Brother Vav'ian entered without warning. Magna'est lost his smile as Zarnithia stopped dancing and moved toward his desk. She was wary of others viewing her dance, preferring to perform only when the room was empty of all save Magna'est.

"Your Eminence," Vav'ian said, bowing low. "Forgive my intrusion." His words were spoken in haste, foretelling bad news to come. At least the man recognized the disagreeableness, which was more than he could say for some. Most would barge in thinking their words more relevant than coordality.

"Quick as you can, Vav'ian," Magna'est said. He looked at Zarnithia and smiled, letting her know she was the most important person in the room. It was essential to keep her focused.

"Brother Sy has returned from the south," Vav'ian said. "He was tasked to seek out that young teller, the one who has continued to tell the tale of the Answer."

"Ahh, the bold lad who does not value his life," Magna'est whispered, so as not to bother Zarnithia with his troubles. "Brothers Tranic, Unvey'la, and....who was the third that traveled with him?"

"Pa'que, your Eminence," Vav'ian said. He lowered his voice to match Magna'est's. "Though only Brother Sy has returned." The way Vav'ian said it, the way his eyes almost shook at the words, made the hair rise on the back of Magna'est's neck. Vav'ian leaned closer, his voice cracking as if he wished he weren't the one giving the information. "The red-haired demon has returned, and three of our Brothers have fallen."

"He's dead!" Magna'est eyes snapped to Zarnithia, her panic at his thoughtless loud words had her shifting back toward the corner. She was fragile in that way. He swallowed his anger and forced a smile. "Leave us," he said to Vav'ian, waving him away.

"I will be in the hall, your Eminence," Sy said, and quickly left the room.

"My love," Magna'est said, as he forced calm into his posture and rose from the seat. "It is news I wasn't suspecting, nothing more. He held out his arms, inviting her inside them. Her alarm fled, and she ran to embrace him. "You have nothing to fear when I am near." Magna'est stroked her hair.

Zarnithia looked up, the scars of her learning looking at home on her skin. "It frightens me when you yell."

"Then, I shall be more careful." Magna'est gently embraced her face and kissed her forehead. A light peck to re-enforce that she is loved beyond all. Her smile told him he succeeded. "I must attend to some duties. Shall I have some of those grapes you enjoy brought?"

"Oh, aye," Zarnithia replied, and danced from his arms, spinning around the room. "I will save some for you." It pleased her to be kind and pleased Magna'est that he was the target of it. Such a wonderful daughter to love.

Magna'est's mood changed as soon as he exited the room. Anger filled his mind, a burning pain behind the eyes that desired to ignite all he could see. He had been told the boy was dead, and now he is informed that three had fallen. That cursed fable would not die.

"Where is Sy?" Magna'est growled at Vav'ian, his voice low enough not to reawaken Zarnithia's tribulations. He kept walking down the hall, his hand pulling Vav'ian farther from his saved-one.

"North tower, in his room. He has been injured and suffered with it for many days." Vav'ian hustled to keep pace.

"Zarnithia desires grapes," Magna'est said, to Vav'ian. "See to it." He gave the Vav'ian a nod to let the man know that he wasn't the target of the growing anger. Vav'ian separated at the junction of two hallways and headed toward the kitchens.

Magna'est entered Sy's room without warning. He knew his ire would be of little help, yet he still allowed it to boil within him. It brought back fond memories.

"Your, Eminence," Sy said, his words broken and weak. He rose from a chair, letting down his saved-one who had been sitting on his lap. She was lithe, with long red hair. The color was more fuel for Magna'est's fury. "I sent word as soon as I arrived." Sy's right arm was wrapped in red-soaked cloth, the side of his robes stained as well.

"You will tell me everything," Magna'est said. Sy looked to his saved one; then, his eyes returned to Magna'est. They were pleading for a new location, one far from his daughter. Magna'est cared not for his troubles. "And you will tell me now."

"Fikin Crossing," Sy said, his mouth still stumbling. He took a step backward to create more room. "I was in the tavern there, covered and unknown by all. The young teller ignored the warnings and spoke of the Answer. I moved to end it, but did not notice the Unseen, red hair and scarred as before." He looked back to his saved one, who had a confused look on her face. "Should we not find another room, your Eminence."

"Nay," Magna'est said, moving closer. He disliked this Brother, cowering before him as he must have for the red-headed boy. The fear in Sy's eyes fed the growing fury, giving Magna'est more strength to weather what was to come. "Finish your tale."

"The demon has grown," Sy said. "I drew my blade, yet it was for naught since he forced it from my hand. He spoke of things in front of all, spoke of the world beyond our shores. Told me he intended to gather those he cared for and leave this land. Warned me...us...to stay out of his way. It was then I left to gather my Brothers."

"Left, or sent away?" Magna'est asked. He sensed a man who had been toyed with—one who could be walked over without a thought. The truth of it mattered, since knowing the skill of the demon was a necessity.

"He...he sent me away."

"Your years of swordplay are for naught," Magna'est insulted. "As weak in skill as you are of mind." He stepped forward, the old desire growing in him. There was a time when frailty was worthy of a quick death, a simpler time. "Your Brothers were not so fearful, were they? But you gave the boy time to collect the commoners. You know our limits, and now you have exposed them to all."

"Commoners, your Eminence?" Sy questioned. "It is not they we fought with."

Magna'est stepped back. "They did not join him?"

"Nay, Tranic waited in hiding, and I called the demon out," Sy said. He was shaking as he spoke. "Tranic wounded the demon, but he moved like the wind, and we cornered him against the wall of a storehouse." Sy hesitated as if he feared his next words.

Magna'est stepped forward again. He hated the show of weakness, even if it was from one of his own. A waste of skin. "Cornered him, or did he choose such a place?"

Sy looked away, biting his lip. When his eyes returned, he spoke as if his heart had slowed. "It is now I realize he chose it. He wished us in front of him and had no desire for retreat."

"Truly not a boy anymore," Magna'est said. "And our four blades - did they shatter?"

"Nay, your Eminence," Sy said, backing against the wall. "It was four against his two."

A tremor began to grow in Magna'est's shoulders. A feeling that traveled down his arms and forced his hand forward. He grabbed Sy by the collar and pushed him against the wall. Sy's saved-one yelped. "Two?"

"Aye," Sy stammered, grabbing the arm that held him in place.

Magna'est pushed harder. "He was marked?"

"As a Nagada," Sy said. His eyes began to water, the frailty adding more fire to Magna'est's fury.

"They do not teach others," Magna'est said, spittle flying from his mouth.

"He...he claimed it," Sy pleaded. "Pa'que tried to run in the end. It was the Goddess' will I escaped at all." Fresh blood began to soak his arm again, driven by his struggles.

Magna'est pulled Sy forward, then banged him back against the wall. He released the coward, then let out a yell that echoed out of the room. He could not imagine what had transpired for the Nagada to claim the boy. They were a closed people; isolation was their greatest strength and greatest weakness. None have traveled in thousands of years, and now an Unseen Nagada is traipsing through Aragonia, killing white robes. The boy will incite the commoners beyond reason.

And a coward was the first to confront the demon. A beacon of weakness that would only serve to drive the boy forward. How the boy must have laughed at Sy - a toy of a man not even worthy of menial duties such as quelling tellers. Manga'est moved with a speed that had long lay idle, grabbing Sy's saved one by her red hair and dragging her screaming back to her faux father.

"Do you see this fool," Manga'est said, forcing her eyes forward. "He uses you, tricks you, and demands more than you know. You can not love such a coward."

"Your Eminence!" Sy said, his hands desperate to reach his faux daughter.

Magna'est produced a sword from within his robes. "You are a coward," he said to Sy, then drew the blade across the girl's neck. Blood spurted from the gaping wound and gurgled from her mouth. He threw her to the ground like a sack, where her life faded from her young body in spasms.

"The promise is no longer yours," Magna'est said, his robes now decorated in streaks of crimson. His blade moved forward.

"My family will..." The blade entered Sy's stomach, changing the rest of his words to a groan.

Magna'est twisted the blade. "You should have fallen with your Brothers and ended the tale. Four is not three." Sy's hands grabbed the sword in desperation, his fingers turning bloody as they struggled to remove the source of his pain. He never saw the second blade, the one that separated his head from his shoulders.

Sy's death brought Magna'est's anger down to a simmer. As he wiped the blood off his blades, using clean portions of Sy's robes, he wondered why the demon didn't kill the fool. Perhaps the man knew it would cause strife in the ranks. He sheathed his blades and straightened his splattered robes. He ran the back of his hand along his cheek, and it came back with more red than desired. Even his hair felt damp in places. He would have to clean up before he returned to Zarnithia. Can't have her distraught.

He stretched his neck and rolled his shoulders to release the strain that had built up. A sigh broke from his lips. A brief moment occurred when Magna'est thought he had been too hasty. There could have been more to the story, things of use now dead in Sy's head. Alas, he would never know. Cowards were always his weakness, and the world was better without them.

The damned boy's return had ruined his time table. The King would have to retain his throne for a while longer and throw his soldiers at the demon. With enough numbers, the boy will tire, and a lucky blade will end it. Now, he had to consider what to do about the commoners. Magna'est certainly couldn't have them all killed, though the idea brought a smile. It would take a long time to end what the boy had started, and births had to continue. Perhaps, a return to less cordial times, when each village selected the one to be punished for the lot. Scheduled executions might bring things back in line quickly.

Three Brothers, who had heard the commotion, ran down the hall as Magna'est exited Sy's room. They slowed when they saw their leader's stained robes. Wisely, they stopped and allowed Magna'est to approach them. All three dipping their heads in respect.

"Brother Sy is no longer one of us," Magna'est said, his mood more under control. "We will not tolerate cowards in our ranks."

"The Zifian family will not be pleased, your Eminence," Brother Corleon said. A tall man with chiseled features only marred by a nose a size too big for his head. He posed the statement as more of a question as to what course needed to be taken, not a criticism. It was a reminder that Magna'est had voided the promise to one from a royal line.

"Aye, Corleon," Magna'est said. "Let them know he ran, leaving three of our Brothers to fall. His failure will cost us much, and others much more. It will set us back years." He shrugged. "To be sure, they knew well his weaknesses. His sniveling won't be missed."

"Three?" Corleon asked. The man's mind was quick, perhaps wasted in the journaling duties in which he currently labored.

"Aye, the story has grown," Magna'est said. "The red-haired one has returned, and he possesses talents with the sword." He decided to test Corleon's mind. "What steps should we take now?"

"Recover our fallen with a large force," Corleon replied, not missing a beat. "And have the King earn the promise and throw the weight of his armies at the demon until the beast is overwhelmed. The land itself will be more problematic; it is hard to turn sentiment without weakening the birthings."

Magna'est smiled and placed his hand on Corleon's shoulder. One could always find a light in the darkness. "You will organize the recovery of the fallen. Brother Vav'ian knows the details of who and where. In this, your words are mine. Gather who you will and let no one hinder your way."

"Aye, your Eminence," Corleon said. There was no smile of gratitude, only determination growing in his eyes. He was a doer, the type Magan'est needed at this time.

Manga'est removed his hand, leaving a partial bloody print on the Corlean's robes. He turned to the other two. "See that Sy's room is ready for the next Brother." They both bowed and headed toward the gruesome duty.

Corleon merely dipped his head once, then turned away to his task. Enough respect to dictate his place, yet avoiding the bow that would declare himself weaker. Magna'est liked the man and decided that if the recovery went well, Corleon's journaling duties would end. Times like this required strength as much as obedience.

Magna'est turned toward the baths, his pace slow as he pondered the coming distasteful task. He would have to confront King Gregory and demand his forces converge on the boy. The King had become bolder, always needing something in return for implementing orders. It is the main reason his line would have to vacate the throne, though now it is delayed yet again. Any disruption at this juncture would be seen as a sign of weakness, and Magna'est could ill afford to show anything but strength - at least until the demon is dead.