Chapter 28 Chapter Eleven Escape

"Mosiah, that fool!" Joram paced up and down angrily. "Why did he leave?" "I think Mosiah has been very patient. After all, you can't expect him to share your interest in gardening," said Saryon displeased. "He's been locked up in this room for over a week, with nothing to do but read, and you—" "Yes, yes!" Joram interrupted angrily. "Spare your preaching." With a sigh, Saryon frowned worriedly, and lay back on the pillow, clutching the sheet nervously with both hands.It is already night.Mosiah was out all day and no one knew where he went.But no one in the family who entertained them was particularly anxious.The young man must have gone out to see the sights of Merilon.

Joram dined with the family, and though polite, Lord Samuels and Lady Rosamund were also rather cold and distant (if they knew of the accident in the family garden, they might have decided to be cordial , but Mary kept the young mistress's secret secret.) The conversation at dinner revolved around Simkin.He performed a wonderful illusion this afternoon in the Sacred Grove of Merlin.No one knows the details, but it's a sensation in town. "I hope Xin Jin will come back tomorrow night and accompany us to the dance, what do you think, Qiao Lang?" Ge Wen boldly asked the young man.But before he could answer, Lord Samuels cut in.

"I think you should go back to your room, Ge Wen." He said lightly. "Tomorrow will be very busy. You need to go to bed early." "Okay, Dad." Ge Wen obediently stood up and went back to the room, but she didn't forget to glance back at her beloved. Joram also seized the opportunity to leave the table, taking his leave abruptly, saying he had to see the Catalyst Saints. Saryon, although weak, had regained consciousness, sat up in bed, and even drank a little broth.Zeldalla came to see him in the morning and announced that he had recovered, but she advised him to rest more and continue listening to relaxing music, smelling fragrant herbs, and drinking chicken soup.She has also strongly hinted that she is willing to talk about whatever the Catalyst Saints want to say.Saryon accepted the music, herbs, and chicken soup, but humbly said he had nothing to discuss.Zelda shook her head and left.

Saryon mulled over his own dilemma over and over again.In a fever dream, he saw Joram like the "Fool" in the tarot card - he walked towards the edge of the cliff, looking at the sun overhead, but there was an abyss waiting for him at his feet .Saryon wanted to tell him the truth more than once, and wanted to hold him and prevent him from falling into the abyss.But just when Saryon was about to speak, he would wake up. "That will let him see the abyss." The catalyst saint said to himself. "But will he meekly back off the brink? No! Prince of Merilon. It's all he's ever dreamed of. He doesn't understand that they're going to destroy him... No." The Catalyst Saints mused endlessly Finally made up my mind. "No. I won't tell him. I can't say. What's the worst thing that could happen to him now? He'll meet that Zeldalar and be treated as a fake. Lord Samuels wouldn't think Such a disgraceful scene at the palace. I will take Joram, and we will leave the palace quickly and quietly. We will go to Saraken."

Saryon had thought of everything and arranged everything.But at this moment... Mosiah disappeared... "Something must have happened to him!" muttered Joram. "Everybody was talking about Simkin at supper. He's been performing some trick. Don't you think Mosiah's with him?" Saryon sighed. "Who knows. No one in the house saw Mosiah leave. No one saw Simkin go for days." He was silent for a while, then said, "You should go, Joram. Go now. If he goes what's up-" "No!" Joran said sharply, stopping his pacing up and down, glaring at the Catalyst Saints angrily. "I'm very close! Tomorrow night—"

"I'm afraid he's right, Joram," said a voice. "Mosiah!" Joram heaved a sigh of relief when he saw the portal open and his friend come out. "Where are you going—" He was taken aback and couldn't continue, because another Mosiah came out of the teleportation corridor after him, this one wearing an orange silk scarf. "It allows me to recognize who is who," explains Mosiah, who wears an orange silk scarf. "I'm getting a little dizzy," he continued wearily. "I'm starting to feel like this life isn't very interesting, but a bit like a runaway."

"What's the matter?" Qiao Lang asked, looking at the two people who came back in surprise. "It's a long story. I'm sorry. I put us all in mortal danger." Mosiah—the real Mosiah—looked anxiously at his friend.It was easy to distinguish him from Simkin in the light, even without the orange silk scarf.He was so frightened that his face turned pale, he looked nervous, and there were thick shadows under his eyes. "They didn't follow, did they?" He looked around. "Sinkin said they wouldn't follow and would think I was a fake." "Who didn't come?" asked Joram angrily. "What are you talking about - counterfeit?"

"Dukesis." Mosiah whispered. "You'd better tell us what happened, boy." Saryon's voice broke, fear choking his throat. Mosiah looked around the room, hastily and somewhat incoherently told them what happened in the Merlin Sacred Grove. "There are people just like me everywhere," he said at last, waving his arms. "Even when Simkin's phantasms were starting to fade, those people magically created the same phantoms themselves! I don't know what Dukexis would think, how..." "They may be confused." Saryon said in a deep voice. "But it will be found out soon. They must have counted you and Simkin as accomplices. They will go to the palace first and conduct careful inquiries..." He shook his head. "It's only a matter of time before they find out where you're hiding. He's right, Joram, you've got to go!"

Seeing that Joram was about to refute, the Catalyst Saint raised his hand weakly. "Listen to me. I'm not saying you have to leave the city, though I very much hope you do. If you decide to attend the Emperor's banquet tomorrow—" "I'm going." "Stay in Merilon, then. But leave the house tonight at least. It would be a pity." Saryon silently begged the gods he no longer believed to forgive his lie. "Almost getting the inheritance, and losing it by being careless. I think—" "Well! Maybe you're right," interrupted Joram impatiently. "But where can I hide? What about you?"

"You can hide where we have been hiding all day, in the Merlin Sacred Grove," Simkin said. "I might add, it's so boring it makes me want to cry." "I'll be fine here," Saryon said. "As Father Dunstable, I'm safer than any of you. I'd look rather suspicious if I got out of here. And, maybe I'll set them off in the wrong direction." "I don't see why our bald man stays here to worry you so much," said Simkin, his handsome mustache drooping dejectedly. "It's me who should be frustrated! I'm bringing up a new fashion, and I find it annoying! One or two of the palace are dressed as if they're going out to roll with pigs, or to fertilize beans .”

"We should go." Mosiah was nervous and restless. "I feel like I'm being watched by eyes I can't see and pulled by hands I can't feel! I'm losing my guts. But I don't think we should be hiding in the Sacred Grove. I think we should get out of town. Right now, right now Late. We'll be safe if we leave tonight. There's a few hundred more of me out there running around. Simkin can turn us all into Mosiah. We'll get out of town in the chaos." "No!" Joran couldn't bear it anymore and turned his back. But Mosiah stopped his friend, and Joram was obliged to face him. "This place doesn't belong to us." Mosiah said eagerly. "It's beautiful and wonderful, but...nowhere is it real! These people aren't realistic! I know I can't explain it..." He hesitated, thinking. "But when I draw pictures of our hometown, the visions of friends and family seem more alive than the people watching!" "These people are like Merilon seasons," Saryon said softly, looking up at the ceiling. "It's always been spring. Their hearts are young and strong like the young shoots of saplings. They have never bloomed in summer, and they have never produced fruit in autumn. They have never felt the cold wind of winter, and gained from it. strength……" Joram looked at Mosiah, then at Saryon, his eyes dimmed. "A serf mage who thinks he's a catalyst saint and a catalyst saint who thinks he's a poet," he muttered. "You still have me." Xin Jin said happily.He walked towards the harp, lifted the spell from it, and began to play a cheerful dance that set the already tense nerves of everyone in the room buzzing. "I'm an always-disabled key to all normal situations. A lot of people find that comforting." "Stop!" Mosiah angrily pressed his hands to the strings. "You'll wake up the whole room!" Joram shook his head. "No matter what you say, I'm not going. You can't go either." His dark eyes turned to Mosiah. "Tomorrow night, my status will be established. I will be Lord Fitzgerald, and then no one will touch either of us!" Mosiah waved his arms in exasperation and looked at Saryon imploringly. "Can't you say something, Father, to persuade him?" "No, child," the Catalyst Saint whispered sadly. "I'm afraid not. I'm tired..." Mosiah stood there silently, lowering his head in thought.Then he held out his hand to Joram. "Goodbye, friend. I'm leaving. I'm going home. I miss-" "No, you can't go!" Joram hastily interrupted him, ignoring the hand he extended to say goodbye. "You can't go yet. It's too dangerous now. Stay, one more day. I'll follow you to the Sacred Grove, if it pleases you." He glanced at the Catalyst Saint. "By tomorrow night, everything will be all right! Sure it will be!" He clenched his fists. Mosiah took a deep breath. "Joram." He looked sadly out the window at the moonlit garden. "I really want to go home—" "And I want you to stay." Joram interrupted, grabbing Mosiah's shoulder. "I can't speak nice words any more than you do," he whispered. "You have been my friend since I was sensible. You were my friend before I wanted a friend. I... I tried everything to drive you away." He shook his hand Tighten Mosiah, afraid he will leave. "But, in my heart, I—" Suddenly the harp thumped. "Sorry." Simkin held down the strings in shame and silenced the sound of the piano. "I must have fallen asleep." Joram bit his lip, blushing. "Anyway." He said with difficulty. "I want you to stay and experience these things with me. In addition—" He said a few more words, trying to activate the tense atmosphere, but unfortunately it failed. "How could I get married without you by my side? You're always..." He broke off.Joram suddenly pulled his hand away and turned around. "Do what you want," he said gruffly, looking out the window. Mosiah was silent, staring at his friend in surprise.He cleared his throat. "I—I'd like to stay one more day...it doesn't matter much," he said gruffly. Saryon saw the tears glisten in the young man's eyes, and the Catalyst Saint wanted to cry himself.It must have been sincerity or pain that made Joram speak the truth to others.But a cynical voice whispered in Saryon's mind: "He's using him, using you, subtly manipulating all of you to do his way, as he always has been and always will be. Sadly, he even Didn't know he was doing it. Maybe he didn't realize it. It was in his nature. He, after all, was Merilon's prince." "Sinkin," Joram said to the young man who pulled the scarf out of the air and blew his nose loudly. "Is it safe to hide in the sacred forest?" Xin Jin burst into tears, wiping away tears with a silk scarf. "What's the matter?" Joram asked a little impatiently, but there was a smile on the corner of his mouth. "It reminds me of my dear brother, little Nate--you've heard me of little Nate--or was it Nate? Anyway, little Nate lay dying after eating a heap of stolen strawberry pie He won't admit it, of course, but he's been caught with red hands, or a red mouth, and that's what the guy who stole the strawberry pie must have looked like. Although we doubt it's the pies that made him that way, it's probably his fault Got run over by a car on the way home. The last thing he said to me was: 'Simkin, the skin is not cooked.' There was something to it, there must be," he said, dipping his silk scarf Red eye sockets. "But I can't remember." "Sinkin—" Joram's voice tightened. "I remember! Not yet! The plan is not yet mature. But." He thought for a moment and said, "We should be able to continue hiding in the sacred grove. Tomorrow there won't even be a ghost there. Everyone will go The palace is celebrating. Duke Sis will be busy dealing with the crowd. When we go to the palace tomorrow night, Mosiah can stay..." "Aren't you going to stay with me?" Mosiah was a little anxious. "You want me to miss the party?" Simkin looked taken aback.He waved. "Our brooding friend doesn't yet know how to please people, how to behave properly. I have to teach him by his side through the intricate labyrinth of civilized manners, the treacherous tricks of kissing hands and flattering—" "I'll be with him," interjected the Catalyst Saint tartly. "Nobody could be happier than me if that happens," Simkin said solemnly. "This is a secret between the two of us. It must be the two of us who can solve this matter." He said briskly. "One more thing, just in case any of you forget. It's because of me that you're invited." "Even if we're not here, you'll be fine. Tomorrow night, after the banquet is over, we'll meet you at the Sacred Grove." Joram said to Mosiah. "We'll bring you back to celebrate my baronetship and my engagement," he said firmly. Tomorrow night, we'll meet up with Mosiah in the Sacred Grove and escape from here.Saryon thought.Maybe it would work. "I will wait for you." Mosiah agreed, but there was a hint of reluctance in his voice. Qiao Lang smiled happily, his black eyes lit up with rare warmth. "You'll find out," he promised. "Everything will be fine. I'll—" "Okay, it's best to leave now." Xin Jin interrupted him, jumping up.Then, getting up so suddenly, he tripped over the harp strings and made a very loud bang.He struggled hard and finally got rid of the strings that hooked him. "Let's go, go." He hurriedly pushed Mosiah and Joram, and drove them towards the gate like lambs. "Can't use the portal with our undead friends. The streets should be safe enough now, but I imagine there will be fewer and fewer Mosiahs." "Wait! You're going to talk to Gwen—I mean, Lord Samuels, what?" Joram asked the Catalyst Saints. "He will tell them that I brought you into the palace to practice for tomorrow's performance." Simkin said lightly, tugging at Joram's sleeve. "I say, go, my dear boy! There are dark shadows crawling through the streets and alleys in the night, and some shadows are flesh and blood!" "I'll tell Ge Wen." Saryon smiled sadly, understanding what Joram really cared about. To Saryon's surprise, Joram came to his bedside.He bent down and took the gaunt hand of the Catalyst Saint. "I'll see you tomorrow night." He said firmly. "We'll celebrate together." "Just like what the Duchess of Longueville said when she married her sixth husband." Simkin sent Joram out of the house. Saryon heard them pass softly along the porch, and then Simkin's voice came back, breaking the silence of the room. "At her wedding? Or at his funeral?" The night in Merilon gradually deepened—that is, dark enough to meet the scale set by Master Sihana.The sky is not very dark, the ink of the night just wets the crowd, it will never drown them.Although Saryon was weak and tired, he couldn't sleep, feeling restless and worried all the time.He could neither fall asleep nor wake up out of the trance. The room of the Catalyst Saint was dark and quiet, and the harp stopped playing, and he stayed in the corner silently.The curtains had been pulled tight so that the sun or moonlight would not disturb him.The fragrant herb had been removed, and Saryon said the aroma choked him.The only sound in the room was the saint's rough breathing. The tide of the night surged up two figures in black robes, and they appeared in the catalyst saint's room as silently as the night.They float past his bed.A soft female voice whispered softly: "Father Dunstable." There is no response from those who are asleep. "Father Dunstable," the voice whispered again, more urgently this time. The catalyst saint heard the sound and moved uneasily. He turned his head on the pillow, trying to avoid the sound, he reached out and grabbed the quilt and pulled it up. then. "Saryon!" shouted the woman in the black robe. "What?" The catalyst saint sat up and looked around in a daze.He didn't see anything at first—the figure hung over his bed like a dark angel blending with the night.When he saw them, his eyes widened, and the voice in his throat seemed to be stifled. "Move quickly." The woman ordered. "He could have another attack." However, her companion has already cast the spell.Saryon went limp, his head thrown back, his eyes closed, and he fell into a magically induced stupor. The sorcerer and the sorcerer glanced at the immobile body, and exchanged a satisfied look. "I told you, the church will handle this matter," said the sorceress.She pointed to the enchanted man. "He must be sent to the Holy Mountain immediately." The sorcerer folded his hands in front of him and nodded. "Have you searched the house?" she asked. "Several young people have left." "I guess so." The sorceress shrugged imperceptibly.Her black hood turned slightly in the direction of the catalyst saint. "It's okay," she said softly. "It doesn't matter at all." She stretched out her slender hand and waved it. "Walk." Her companion bowed.He chanted the spell, causing the catalyst saint to float into the air.Thin threads thinner than silk threads shot out from the wizard's fingertips, and quickly wrapped around Saryon's body, tightly wrapping him into a magic cocoon.The wizard muttered another sentence, and the teleportation corridor suddenly opened in front of him.Song Li has been waiting for the signal.With a wave of his hand, the bound catalyst saint floated into the teleportation corridor.The wizard followed and left.Immediately, the teleportation corridor quietly closed behind them. The sorceress still lingered in this quiet room for a while, proud of it.But there is still much to be done.The sorceress put her hands together in a prayer posture, raised her hands to her forehead, and then lowered them slowly. As she moved her hands, she whispered something in a whisper.Her appearance has changed.After a while, Zeldara, who had treated Saryon, appeared in the room. The sorceress spoke, adjusting her tone to perfect her disguise. "Lord Samuels, I am sorry to inform you that Father Dunstable's condition has deteriorated during the night. His youthful friends have called me. I have transferred the Catalyst Saint to a convalescence home...  "