Chapter 33 Chapter 5 Tempted

"I'm sorry about this, Father, and I think you are too." Heisuo said in his emotionless voice. "Now that the punishment has been served and the lesson learned, we will never discuss this matter again." The wizard sat at the wooden table in the cell. In the evening, a pale, dull light of the same tone as the damp wall shone in through the small window. and flames too weak to be of any use were blown out.Joram stood by the window and glanced at the catalyst saint.Saryon was still pale with the cold, though wrapped in his cloak and robes.Joram sniggered inwardly. He wore only a rough wool shirt and soft buckskin breeches.The young man leaned against the wall, looking out of the broken window, completely ignoring both the Catalyst Saint and the Witcher.

"Does that mean I can go back to Anton's house?" Saryon asked, teeth chattering. Black locks smoothed the smooth blond mustache on his upper lip. "No, I'm afraid not." "Then I'm a prisoner." "Prisoner?" Heisuo raised an eyebrow. "No magic spell has been put upon this house, and you are free to come and go as you please. You have some visitors, settle here last night, this young man—" He pointed at Joram. "I still continue to work in the furnace every day. Except for the guards, it is all for your own safety. This is not like a prison at all."

"You can't expect us to spend the winter in this rundown place!" Saryon roared.The cold must have given the Catalyst Saint courage, Joram thought. "We'll freeze to death." Heisuo stood up, and the black robe curled up softly around him. "When winter comes, I think you've proved your devotion to me, Father, and you can move into a house more suitable for a man your age, instead of going back to live with Anton. "Heylock's black hood twitched slightly as he left. "I often wonder if it is because of the old man's influence that you rebel against me. In fact, I heard some rumors that he and his people refused to eat the food I offered." Joram felt that the wizard was watching him. "Starvation is a slow, very uncomfortable death, like freezing to death. I believe this rumor is not true."

His black robes trailed across the dusty ground, and he stood beside Saryon, placing a hand on the catalyst-saint's shoulder. "Give me the power of life, Father," he said. Joram glanced back and saw the Catalyst Saint shiver at the touch of the slender fingers like the embodiment of the biting cold wind.Saryon involuntarily tried to free himself, but fingers closed on his shoulder.He bowed his head and opened the transmission channel to the wizard. After his body was filled with magic, the black lock disappeared from sight. Saryon clenched his hands into fists and hugged himself tightly. "This man must be stopped. How can I help you?" he asked Joram suddenly.

Joram's face was completely unresponsive to the Catalyst Saint's question, but his heart was ecstatic.His plan was in progress, but he had to proceed very carefully.After all, he thought grimly, he had to lure this man into the dark craft.He gave Saryon a hard, appraising look, and looked back out the window, where he was leaning against the brick wall, arms folded over his chest. "Is he gone?" "Who?" Saryon looked around, startled. "Black lock?" "Dukesis has the ability to make himself invisible. Even so, I'm sure you'll be able to detect his presence."

"That's right." Saryon replied after concentrating for a while. "he's gone." Joram nodded, and continued to lead the catalyst saint, who had no doubts at all, into the darkness. "Sinkin told me that you once read some forbidden books about the Ninth Tribe." "Only one," Saryon admitted, flushing. "But I—I just glanced..." "How much do you know about the War of Steel?" "I've read and studied history—" "History written by catalyst saints!" Joram interrupted coldly. "I know the history too, I read it when I came here. Oh, yes—" was the answer to a rustle behind him. "—I was brought up by a noble family, and my mother was a mage Albanara. But you should already know about this?"

"Yes, I know... where did she get the books?" Saryon asked. "I suspected it too." Joran said softly, as if answering some inner questions that were often asked. "Relegated and banished, did she ever return to her house at night, traveling through time and space by teleportation corridors? Did she float through the corridors she knew as a child, returning to her lost youth, life Broken places, like ghosts doomed to haunt the dead?" Joram's face darkened.He said nothing, just stared out the window. "I'm sorry to make you miserable—" Saryon began.

"From then on." Joran interrupted coldly. "I've read other books that have a very different message than what we've been taught. Always remember what Anton said, that history is written by the victors in wars. You know, for example, in the War of Iron During this period, the demon craftsmen developed a weapon that can absorb magic?" "Absorb magic?" Saryon shook his head. "This is ridiculous..." "Really?" Joram turned to look at him. "Think about it, Catalyst Saint, like the logical thinking you always like to use. Behind every action, there must be another opposite reaction. Isn't that what you have been saying?"

"Yes, but—" "So, in a world full of magic, it makes sense that there is a force capable of absorbing it. The Witchcrafters deduced this long ago, and they were right; they found , such things can be molded into the form of objects in nature, you don’t believe me.” "Sorry, young man." Saryon squeezed the words through his teeth.He sounded disappointed. "I stopped believing the tales of the servant mage when I was nine years old." "But you believe in the existence of goblins?" Joram said.He stared at the catalyst saint with an almost imperceptible smile on his lips that only existed in the brown eyes.

"I was with Simkin," muttered Saryon, blushing.He got as close to the flame as he could, hunched over. "When I was with him, I wasn't sure if I should trust myself, let alone anything else." "But you saw them? Did you talk to them?" "Yes." Saryon reluctantly admitted. "I've seen them..." "And now you see this." Joram seemed to pull an object out of thin air and place it on the table in front of the Catalyst Saint.Saryon picked it up, eyeing the object suspiciously. "a rock?" "A rough stone, this is called the Stone of Darkness."

"It looks like iron, but it has some strange colors." Saryon studied the object. "You have good eyesight, Catalyst Saint," said Joram, kicking a chair over and sitting beside the table.He picked up another small stone and studied it himself.He frowned. "It has many of the same properties as iron, but it's not the same." His voice became bitter. "It's so different, I understand that for some reason. What do you know about iron, Catalyst Saint? I didn't expect you to know so much about rough stone." "If you don't want to call me by the proper title, which is 'Father,' I hope you can call me by my first name." Saryon said calmly. "Perhaps that will remind you that I am as much a person as you are. It is always easier to hate than to love, and even easier to hate a class or race because they have no face and no name. If you are going to hate me, I'd rather you be Hate me for who I am, not what I represent." "Leave your preaching to Mosiah," replied Joram. "It doesn't matter what I think of you, or what you think of me here, does it?" Seeing Joram's contemptuously pursed lips, Saryon sighed and looked at the stone in his hand again. "Yes, I have studied rough stones," he said. "We study all the elements that make up the world. This knowledge is valuable in itself, plus for those in our sect who are going to work with the Boalban stone-shapers, the Mon Alban alchemists. This knowledge is useful and must-know." Saryon's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "But I can't recall ever seeing, or reading about, any mineral like this one in the rough, especially one that has many of the same properties as iron." "That's because all references to it were sanitized after the war," said Joram, looking eagerly at the Catalyst Saint, his hands clasped tightly, as if intending to dig knowledge out of people's hearts. Come out the same. "Why? Because demon artisans use it to forge weapons, very powerful weapons, which can be used to—" "A weapon that absorbs magic," murmured Saryon, staring at the stone. "I'm starting to believe you. In the secret room of the Ninth Tribe, books are scattered on the floor, or stacked against the walls. Those are books with ancient forbidden knowledge." Joram looked intently at the Catalyst Saint, seeing that Saryon had forgotten the miserable howling cold wind blowing through the window; the Catalyst Saint had forgotten his own fear, discomfort, unhappiness, and Joram looked into his eyes, And saw the hunger that also existed in my own eyes: the hunger for knowledge.Saryon came out of his lips almost reluctantly: "How did they do it?" Joram thought: he is mine now.Once, this man pretty much sold his soul for knowledge, this time I'll make sure he closes the deal. "According to these classics." Joram said, carefully and calmly suppressing his rising excitement. "The ancients mixed dark stones and iron into an alloy—" "What?" Saryon interrupted. "Alloy, a mixture of two or more metals." "Is this made by alchemy?" Saryon asked, fear in his voice. "Changing the basic properties of metals by magic?" "No." Joram shook his head, watching the catalyst saints who were getting paler and paler with interest. "No, it's done through the rituals of the Dark Craft, Catalyst Saints. The rough stones are crushed, heated to their melting point, and then practically mixed together. Then they're put into molds, hammered and tempered, and finally cast into swords Or a dagger, very deadly." Joram's eyes returned to the stone he held in his hand. "As you can imagine, at first the sword absorbs the mage's magic, and then penetrates his flesh." Joram felt the catalyst saint beside him tremble.Saryon dropped the stone immediately. "Have you tried it?" he asked in a low, trembling voice. "Yes." Joram replied grimly. "I failed, I mixed the alloy and poured it into the mold, but the dagger I created shattered when I put it in the water..." Saryon closed his eyes and sighed, perhaps relieved.Of course, he said this to himself, but under the young man's careful attention, he saw a hint of disappointment hidden in it. "Perhaps the rock is just a rock with a strange appearance," Saryon said after a while. "Maybe this is not the rough stone you read in the tome, or maybe the tome itself is lying, you have no way of judging whether it can absorb magic—" He hesitated. "Because I'm a living dead," said Joram. "Yes, you're right." He pushed the rough across the table. "But you can tell. Try it, Catalyst Saint, what do you feel in this rough stone?" Saryon picked up the stone.He looked at it for a while, then closed his eyes, feeling the magic. Joram watched carefully, seeing the catalyst saint's face soften.The man's attention turned to introspection, and his expression changed to awe and ecstasy. He was absorbing magic, but slowly, the catalyst saint's expression became inexplicable horror.He opened his eyes quickly, placed the stone on the table, and immediately removed his hands from the rough. "This is the Stone of Darkness!" Joram said softly. "I don't see why this gets you so excited," Saryon said.He licked his lips, and there seemed to be a bitter taste in his mouth. "Obviously, you'd better not unlock the secrets of making ancient alloys." "I don't think so," Joram said softly. "You, Catalyst Saint, do you want to—" He leaned closer. "The recipe for the alloy is in the tome, but I can't understand it. Because—" "—Mathematics." Saryon's lips twitched. "Mathematics," repeated Joram. "Some things my mother never taught me, of course, because this is a knowledge that belongs to the catalyst saints." Shaking his head, the young man clenched his fists, forgetting himself because of his enthusiasm. "The tomes are full of mathematical formulas! You have no idea, Saryon, how frustrating this is for me! So close to being able to find the original stone they mentioned, and yet the gibberish that dances through the pages blocks my way .I tried my best, thinking that maybe I could discover the answer by accident through experimentation, but I ran out of time, and Heisuo began to suspect, and he watched me." Joram picked up the stone and put it flat in his palm , and then slowly closed his hands to hold the stone, as if he wanted to crush it. "I don't think I'll happen to find the answer anyway," he continued bitterly. "It mentioned that the Catalyst Saints gave them many instructions. I thought I could ignore those instructions, but obviously it wasn't the case." "You call me 'Saryon'." The Catalyst Saint said calmly to Joram. Joram looked up, blushing.He didn't mean to, it wasn't part of his plan.There was something different about this man, something he didn't expect to find, especially in a catalyst saint, a man who knew everything. Joram's face was numb with anger, his black eyebrows furrowed menacingly.No, he must maintain the original plan, this person is just a tool, nothing more. "If we're going to work together, I guess I'll have to call you by your first name," he said sullenly. "I wouldn't call you 'Father'!" he added with a sneer. "I didn't agree to work with you." Saryon replied firmly. "Tell me, if you created this... this weapon, how would you use it?" "Stop Heisuo." Joram replied with a shrug. "Believe me, Catalyst—Saryon, he told me so before he destroyed me. As for you—well, do you still want to join the next raid?" "No." Saryon whispered. "Will you take over the leadership of the Witch Cult afterwards?" "Me?" Joram shook his head with a dark smile. "Are you crazy? Why would I want this important responsibility? No, I will let Anton take over the leadership again, and he and these people can return to a peaceful life again. As for me, I only want one thing, I want Go back to Merilon, and claim what is mine, with this weapon," he said sternly. "I can do it." "You forgot one thing," Saryon said. "I was sent to take you back...for trial." "You're right," said Joram, after hesitating for a moment. "I forgot, well—" He shrugged. "—Open the teleportation corridor and ask Duke Xisi to come over." "I couldn't open the portal without the help of a magic user," Saryon replied. "If you have enough life force, I can use your..." "That's your plan?" "Yes." Saryon murmured silently. "It's a pity that this plan doesn't work, Catalyst Saint." Joran said coldly. "You may be weak, but I am weaker than you. It is true now, but when I have a weapon... Anyway, you will play by ear when the time comes. Maybe your bishop thinks that the black lock will be exchanged I'm worth it, and for now, Saryon, are you on my side? Can you set us both free, and free Anton and his people? You know they'll keep their vows, and you know Blacklock how to treat them." "Yes." Saryon said.He looked down at his clasped hands and noticed a blue spot on his nail. "I can't feel my fingers," he murmured, getting up and walking from the table to the faint flame. "I wonder what Emin is doing right now," he said to himself, stretching out his hands for warmth. "Preparing for the vesper service on the Holy Mountain? Ready to hear Bishop Vanya pray for guidance he may not need? No wonder Amin stays there, carefree, between the walls of the Holy Mountain." "It's really an easy job."