Chapter 35 Chapter 7 The Storm
"Please, old lady, be quicker, and if you drag on any longer, dinner will turn into breakfast!"
The old woman this sentence was aimed at didn't answer, and she didn't seem to move any faster.She went back and forth between the table and the stove, holding vegetables in the hem of her apron, and dropping them into pots that hung from hooks over the stove.The guard dragged a chair from the window and sat down at the table, watching everything disgruntled.His attention was divided between the old woman, the pot bubbling over the flames - which smelled strongly of onions - and the cell across the street.
The windows of the cell flickered with a very faint fire, and the guards could sometimes see hazy shadows swaying back and forth in front of the windows.The streets were deserted tonight, no one came to visit the prisoners.The prisoners didn't try to leave, and the guards were grateful for that.It's not a good night to go outside, the cold rain spears slanted into the muddy streets, the freezing rain rattles the windows of the houses, and the wind makes this wild attack howl like a pack of demons shouted.
"It's really stupid to leave a person here on a night like this," the guard muttered. "Even the devil prince himself couldn't come out on such a stormy night. Are you still okay? You bloody old woman." He half-turned in his chair, raising his hand as if to slap the woman.The woman, deaf and blank-eyed, still barely noticed him.Just as the guard was about to stand up, he was startled by the sudden sound of the door lock.
"Open the door!" A strange voice sounded like wind.
The guard immediately glanced at the cell across the street.The faint light in the cell was still there, but the black shadow by the window disappeared.
"Hey! Hey!" the voice roared.Immediately afterwards there was a knocking and a heavy blow on the door, which almost smashed the door.
Guards never had much imagination, never enough intelligence.He conjured the name of the Demon Prince in his mind, and found that, as many summoners knew, it was no easy task to banish it.It doesn't seem out of the question that this demonic gentleman came to steal his soul.His mother, whose memory had faded, had told him about it, and it would undoubtedly be his destiny.He stood up and looked out the window for a visitor, but saw nothing but a vague shadow.
"Go and answer the door!" the guard yelled at the old woman, thinking that maybe the Demon Prince wasn't stealing the souls of certain people, but the old woman was only paying attention to the stew, because she didn't hear the shouting or the knocking on the door.
"Is anyone home?" said a voice, knocking louder.
In this way, hope was rekindled in the hearts of the guards.He backed away from the window so he wouldn't be seen, figuring that maybe the unexpected guest would get away.Just to be sure, he made many gestures to the old woman, instructing her to keep working without being distracted.
Unfortunately, the wild waving gesture did what the roar couldn't - it got the old lady's attention.Seeing the guard pointing at the gate, she nodded, shuffled, and walked over to open the gate.
A huge furry figure rushed into the room accompanied by the cold wind and rain, as well as splashes of piercing freezing rain.Of the three, only one night visitor survived.The furry figure turned around and leaned against the door.With the help of the old woman, the gate was closed tightly, shutting out the cold intruder.
"Even Emin will freeze to death," cursed a gloomy voice, almost muffled by a frost-covered fur coat. "I nearly froze to death on the porch! But I'm here for you."
His fears were confirmed, though he was expecting something burning all over, with tails and horns.The guard could only mutter to himself incoherently until the figure cursed again and threw his hat on the floor.
Followed by the curse of the guards. "Sinkin," he murmured, sinking back into his chair with limp legs.
"Oh, that's what I'm thanked for, even if I risk freezing to death to bring you a little pleasure." Simkin sniffed, throwing the wine bag onto the table in front of the guard.
"What is this?" the guard asked suspiciously.
"Some presents from dear old Heisuo," said the young man, waving nonchalantly as he approached the fire. "The loot shared with all, the reward for a job well done, a toast to the heist, plunder, plunder, and whatnot."
The guard's face lit up. "Ah, this is awesome, really," he said, rubbing his hands together and eyeing the wineskin greedily.He suddenly remembered something, narrowed his eyes and turned around. "All right," he said gruffly, looking at Simkin who was staring at the stew with evident interest. "You can't stay here, I'm on guard shift, and I don't want to be disturbed."
"Believe me, dear man, even Jessair's pet monkeys can't let me stay here." Sim Jin snorted, and made an orange silk scarf from mid-air, covering his nose. "I assure you, the smell of onions and unwashed mutts doesn't appeal to me at all, I'm just running errands, and I'm only here until I warm up or the stench knocks me out— —whichever comes first. As for your guard duty." He glanced contemptuously out of the window. "It's a complete waste of time, if you ask me."
"I didn't ask you, but you're absolutely right," said the guard, who sat back comfortably, not insulting Simkin at all once he was sure the young man wouldn't share his dinner with him. care. "I don't understand why I tolerate this catalyst saint. He really committed a big taboo. Just aim at the head, hit it, and then throw it into the river, wouldn't you be able to deal with that little black-haired bastard? Why is Hei Suo Putting up with the two of them just confuses me."
"It's really confusing." Simkin muttered in a boring tone, his eyes fixed on the guard who was uncorking the wine bag. "Then, as they say, it's time for me to go back into the night, so be careful, old Mamaw," said the young man in a low voice. "Go to bed early and make sure the lights are off before you go to bed."
Simkin blinked and nodded, emphasizing the last sentence to the guard.The guard was licking his lips and smelling the ale.The old woman looked at Simkin suddenly with sly and keen eyes, smiled and lowered her white hat in salute, then shuffled back to serve the stew.It seemed her ears were deaf to anything but whispers.
Simkin watched gleefully as the guard stuffed the top of the wine bag between his lips, then walked out the gate back into the street, and rushed across the street.His vision was obscured by darkness, rain, sleet, and a fur hat.Suddenly he bumped into a person. "Simkin! See the way!" roared a voice, both annoyed and relieved. "I said, Mosiah! So you didn't venture into the wilderness in the end. No, don't open the door, Big Stupid is still under surveillance. Come here and hide in the shadows, wait a minute..." "Why? I'm freezing to death! Aren't you—" "Ah, here comes the signal." The lights in the guard house went out, and except for the reflected firelight, the hut was completely dark.Simkin rushed out from the corner of the cell, knocked lightly on the door, and the door opened with his knock. Simkin rushed in with Mosiah, and Joram slammed the gate behind them. "The rain and the fog made them unable to see the fire in the furnace." "It doesn't matter if you can see it," murmured Mosiah, who stood hunched and shivering by the gate. "I told the blacksmith that he will spread rumors among Heisuo's subordinates, saying that his people will work tonight to make up for the lost working time in the last looting operation. Don't worry." Mosiah saw that Joran frowned. , replied: "I didn't tell him anything, and he didn't ask. His son was with us to see that village burn. They both swore. You—well, never mind." Sia shut up. "How are you?" Joram said. "Nothing." Mosiah said vaguely.He was going to say you could trust him, but he shook his head when he saw Joram's dark, cold expression. An almost smile lit Joram's brown eyes like embers, and he knew what his friend was about to say, and why he didn't say it. "What about the guards?" "Big Dumb is going away," replied Simkin, rejoicing at the rhyme he'd spent the evening writing. "I—oh, good night, Father, I didn't see you because you were hiding in the shadows waiting for your chance. Have you been exercising lately? I said, you don't look well at all, are you still troubled by a cold? Fortunately My cold is already cured, it is really not easy to deal with Hei Suo and cold at the same time with one head..." Saryon said nothing, he heard nothing Simkin said; he heard nothing, the wind was like a wild animal feeding near the cell, longing for the smell of blood inside. Long ago, Saryon had heard Breeze speak, but then it had only murmured, "The prince is the living dead... The prince is the living dead..." The tone was sad and heartbreaking.Now it shrieked and wailed, "Dead, dead, dead!" in a tone of mad triumph, delighting to torment him in his depravity. "Saryon..." The wind spoke to him, called his name, called him— "Saryon!" He blinked, startled. "I—I'm sorry," he murmured. "I'm... just...is it time?" "Yes." Joram's voice was calm and monotonous, and even the wind sounded more alive than that. "Singin is gone, we shouldn't delay any longer." "Come on, Father, you'll have to put on some more clothes," said Mosiah, struggling to get out of his soaked cloak. "He'll be warmed up in no time at the furnace," grumbled Joram, annoyed at the delay. Mosiah ignored Joram, who, ignoring Saryon's bewildered resistance, threw the young man's cloak over the tattered robes of the catalyst saint. "Are you alright at all?" Joram asked, and before anyone could answer him, he opened the door carefully and looked out into the street.Not surprisingly, there was nothing but torrential rain, freezing raindrops and high winds on the streets.Had it not been for grabbing a cloak that Mosiah finally handed him, he might have faced the freezing weather without any protection.Joram casually wrapped the cloak around his neck and stepped into the storm, the fierceness of which seemed to be reflected in the young man's face. Saryon moved slowly forward to keep up. "May Emin be with you." Mosiah whispered softly. Saryon shook his head.
Although he had been waiting for his arrival, the wind roared and rushed towards the catalyst saint. The icy teeth of the rain easily tore through his cloak and robe, and the freezing rain bit like claws through his flesh.But the strong wind didn't want to devour him, its cold breath blew on the back of his neck.Saryon vaguely thought that if he tried to change the direction of the dark path he was walking, the wind might jump out and stop him, biting at his bare ankle and waving its claws, threatening and reminding him. The living dead, the living dead, the living dead... "Damn it, Father, see where you're going!" growled Joram in an impatient voice, but his strong arms held Saryon steady, as he, in agony and hopelessness, was on the verge of stepping into a crowded road. In a small ditch of cold sewage. "It's not far ahead," Joran said.Saryon glanced at the young man through the pouring rain and saw him clenching his teeth, not because of the biting cold of the storm, but because he was fighting the excitement that was raging inside him.Then, as if summoned by the voice of the young man, the furnace in the cave suddenly emerged from the darkness, and the red embers of the coal fire looked at the Catalyst Saint like the eyes of a beast that pursued him. Joram pulled open the heavy wooden door so that the two could enter.The warm, calm dark firelight beckoned to him as Saryon stepped in.Then he hesitated.He could turn and run away, back to his church.Shun tame my life, my life should be tame.yes!It's all that simple!He would obey orders, hadn't the Catalyst Saints obeyed orders without any doubts during these hundreds of years? But the wind just laughed at him and teased him.Saryon understood that this storm had been brewing so far in his life, from its beginnings as whispers to now as screams of triumph.He lifted the hem of his robe, and the strong wind pushed and pulled him violently.Finally, with a wild scream, it pushed him against the edge of the rock, sending him staggering into the red-glowing darkness. Joram slammed the door shut again behind him, and returned to his work at once.Standing in front of the furnace, Saryon relaxed in the warmth, gazing intoxicated at what he could no longer deny.Joram worked the bellows, giving more life to the coals and making them burn.The grotesque implements shone brighter in reflection of these lights; other children born of the flames littered the floor, horseshoes, bridles, broken nails, half-finished knives, iron pots.Joram was so engrossed in his work that he paid no attention to the Catalyst Saints.Saryon sat down, being careful not to get in the way of the young man, listening to the heavy beating of the bellows, and suddenly realized that he had never heard the wind again.
The tempest was still raging, and its rage surged, perhaps celebrating its triumph over the Catalyst Saints.The wind howled in the streets, tearing trunks from trees and shingles from roofs; the rain beat menacingly on every door and slapped on the windows with freezing rain, yet those who could ignore it All, they stayed in the great brick house on the hilltop overlooking the village of the Fairy Artisans, lost in their intricate game, and there was more than one game going on here, and their love for the vicissitudes of nature Almost ignored it, because they were so absorbed in the game. "The queen of cups, the supreme ace, is bigger than your knight, Xin Jin, I believe the next two tricks will be mine." Hei Suo spread a card on the table, leaned back on the chair, expecting Looking at Simkin. "How are our prisoners getting along?" the wizard asked nonchalantly. Xin Jin stared at the cards in front of him in some astonishment, and looked at the cards in his hand thoughtfully. "The plot is against you, oh, big winner," he said with a shrug. "Ah—" Heisuo smiled slightly, stroking his golden beard with his fingertips. "As I guessed, what are they plotting?" "Fix you and that sort of thing," Simkin replied.He looked up at the black lock with a sweet smile, placing a card on the wizard's queen. "I sacrifice this card to protect my knight." Heisuo pursed his lips, his expressionless face tightened.He combed his beard into a straight, slender line. "The fool's card! This card has already been played!" "Oh, no, dear," said Simkin, yawning. "You must be mistaken—" "I never make mistakes." Heisuo retorted coldly. "I remember every round of cards clearly. The fool's card has already been played. Let me tell you, Zhuomle sacrificed this card to protect his emperor..." The wizard looked at his thugs, and waited Let him be sure. "Yes—yes," Drommler stammered. "I—I...mean—" Drommler was only invited to play cards because there were three people, and he had no interest in the game; like many other guards, Hei Suo taught him how to play cards just so that someone could play cards with him.These nights were a series of nerve-wracking experiences for poor Drommler, who could barely remember the last round he had played, let alone the one before ten tricks. "Really, Black Lock, the only fool's card this idiot remembers is the one he sees in the mirror every morning. I say, go back and check all the cards if you want to puke! Anyway this It doesn't matter." Simkin dropped his cards on the table. "You beat me, you always win." "Winning is not the point," Heisuo said, checking Sim Jin's cards and sorting them. "It's the game itself that counts, the calculations, the strategy, and the ability to outwit your opponent. You should know that, Simkin, you and I play cards for the game, don't you, my friend?" "I assure you, dear fellow," said Simkin without interest, leaning back in his chair. "Games are the only reason I exist on these miserable green grass paths and gravel roads that I call the world. Without it, life would be so boring that a man would want to roll into a ball and throw himself into a river." "One day I will save you this trouble, Xin Jin." Heisuo said gently, rearranging the cards and turning them over with skillful and quick movements with his slender fingers. "I won't allow anyone to make the mistake of thinking they can outwit me." With a flick of his wrist, the sorcerer threw a card in front of Simkin, and the table now held two Fool's cards side by side. "It's not my fault," Simkin said resentfully. "After all, this deck of cards belongs to you. I should suspect that you are trying to deceive me." The young man sniffed, and an orange silk scarf appeared in his hand, and Xin Jin wiped his nose gracefully. "It's been a horrible night outside and I think I've caught a cold." An unusually strong wind blew against the brick house, the beams creaked, there was a crash somewhere nearby, and a large tree branch snapped and fell to the ground.Heisuo shuffled the cards, looked out the window, and his eyes suddenly froze. "There's a fire over there in the furnace." "Oh, that." Zhuomle was taken aback. He had already begun to nod his head and doze off, and his body slowly slipped out of the chair, which made Xin Jin very amused.Pulling himself together, he struggled to sit up straight. "The blacksmith hired some people... to work overtime." "Indeed." Heisuo said.Folding the cards neatly, he pushed them towards Simkin. "You deal the cards, and remember, I'm watching, who are the people working?" "Joram," Simkin said, pushing the cards to Drommler to cut. A muscle on Heisuo's cheek twitched, his eyes narrowed, his hands that were not casually placed on the table were tense, and his fingers were slightly clasped together. "Joram?" he repeated. "Joran, a hapless gamer, by the way," Simkin said, yawning. "He's so impatient, you can just trick him into playing the aces he's got instead of keeping them later in the game -- when they're going to help him more." Simkin prepared to deal the cards, focusing on Heisuo's face rather than the cards. "Where's the Catalyst Saint?" Heisuo asked, looking out the window at a flickering red dot of flame in the cave, which was blurred by torrential rain and freezing raindrops. "A more skilled player, though maybe you don't think so when you look at him," Simkin replied softly, absently shuffling the cards again. "Saryon plays by the rules, my friend." A smile played on his lips. "I said, let's stop playing cards. I'm starting to think that this game is really boring to the extreme." Zhuomle gave Xin Jin a look with deep gratitude. "Let me help you figure out the future, okay?" the young man asked Heisuo nonchalantly. "You know I don't believe that—" Heisuo turned his head from the window, seeing the flashing expression on Xin Jin's face. "Okay," he said suddenly. The wind picked up again, and the rain tried to get in through the chimney.Rain fell on the flames.With a hissing sound, Zhuomle leaned back on the chair, put his hands together on his belly, and then fell asleep.Xin Jin handed the card to Heisuo. "Cut cards..." "Don't mess around." The sorcerer replied coldly. "Just keep going." Simkin shrugged and took the cards back. "The first card is your past," he said, turning it over, and a man wearing a bishop's crown sat on a throne between the two columns. "High Priest." Simkin raised an eyebrow. "Then, this is kind of weird..." "continue." Shrugging, Simkin turned over a second card. "This is your present: the Reversed Mage, with someone who has magical powers but isn't..." "I will explain the cards myself." Heisuo said, his eyes fixed on the cards. "The future—" Sim Jin flipped over the third card. "—King with swords." Heisuo laughed.
Simkin watched gleefully as the guard stuffed the top of the wine bag between his lips, then walked out the gate back into the street, and rushed across the street.His vision was obscured by darkness, rain, sleet, and a fur hat.Suddenly he bumped into a person. "Simkin! See the way!" roared a voice, both annoyed and relieved. "I said, Mosiah! So you didn't venture into the wilderness in the end. No, don't open the door, Big Stupid is still under surveillance. Come here and hide in the shadows, wait a minute..." "Why? I'm freezing to death! Aren't you—" "Ah, here comes the signal." The lights in the guard house went out, and except for the reflected firelight, the hut was completely dark.Simkin rushed out from the corner of the cell, knocked lightly on the door, and the door opened with his knock. Simkin rushed in with Mosiah, and Joram slammed the gate behind them. "The rain and the fog made them unable to see the fire in the furnace." "It doesn't matter if you can see it," murmured Mosiah, who stood hunched and shivering by the gate. "I told the blacksmith that he will spread rumors among Heisuo's subordinates, saying that his people will work tonight to make up for the lost working time in the last looting operation. Don't worry." Mosiah saw that Joran frowned. , replied: "I didn't tell him anything, and he didn't ask. His son was with us to see that village burn. They both swore. You—well, never mind." Sia shut up. "How are you?" Joram said. "Nothing." Mosiah said vaguely.He was going to say you could trust him, but he shook his head when he saw Joram's dark, cold expression. An almost smile lit Joram's brown eyes like embers, and he knew what his friend was about to say, and why he didn't say it. "What about the guards?" "Big Dumb is going away," replied Simkin, rejoicing at the rhyme he'd spent the evening writing. "I—oh, good night, Father, I didn't see you because you were hiding in the shadows waiting for your chance. Have you been exercising lately? I said, you don't look well at all, are you still troubled by a cold? Fortunately My cold is already cured, it is really not easy to deal with Hei Suo and cold at the same time with one head..." Saryon said nothing, he heard nothing Simkin said; he heard nothing, the wind was like a wild animal feeding near the cell, longing for the smell of blood inside. Long ago, Saryon had heard Breeze speak, but then it had only murmured, "The prince is the living dead... The prince is the living dead..." The tone was sad and heartbreaking.Now it shrieked and wailed, "Dead, dead, dead!" in a tone of mad triumph, delighting to torment him in his depravity. "Saryon..." The wind spoke to him, called his name, called him— "Saryon!" He blinked, startled. "I—I'm sorry," he murmured. "I'm... just...is it time?" "Yes." Joram's voice was calm and monotonous, and even the wind sounded more alive than that. "Singin is gone, we shouldn't delay any longer." "Come on, Father, you'll have to put on some more clothes," said Mosiah, struggling to get out of his soaked cloak. "He'll be warmed up in no time at the furnace," grumbled Joram, annoyed at the delay. Mosiah ignored Joram, who, ignoring Saryon's bewildered resistance, threw the young man's cloak over the tattered robes of the catalyst saint. "Are you alright at all?" Joram asked, and before anyone could answer him, he opened the door carefully and looked out into the street.Not surprisingly, there was nothing but torrential rain, freezing raindrops and high winds on the streets.Had it not been for grabbing a cloak that Mosiah finally handed him, he might have faced the freezing weather without any protection.Joram casually wrapped the cloak around his neck and stepped into the storm, the fierceness of which seemed to be reflected in the young man's face. Saryon moved slowly forward to keep up. "May Emin be with you." Mosiah whispered softly. Saryon shook his head.
Although he had been waiting for his arrival, the wind roared and rushed towards the catalyst saint. The icy teeth of the rain easily tore through his cloak and robe, and the freezing rain bit like claws through his flesh.But the strong wind didn't want to devour him, its cold breath blew on the back of his neck.Saryon vaguely thought that if he tried to change the direction of the dark path he was walking, the wind might jump out and stop him, biting at his bare ankle and waving its claws, threatening and reminding him. The living dead, the living dead, the living dead... "Damn it, Father, see where you're going!" growled Joram in an impatient voice, but his strong arms held Saryon steady, as he, in agony and hopelessness, was on the verge of stepping into a crowded road. In a small ditch of cold sewage. "It's not far ahead," Joran said.Saryon glanced at the young man through the pouring rain and saw him clenching his teeth, not because of the biting cold of the storm, but because he was fighting the excitement that was raging inside him.Then, as if summoned by the voice of the young man, the furnace in the cave suddenly emerged from the darkness, and the red embers of the coal fire looked at the Catalyst Saint like the eyes of a beast that pursued him. Joram pulled open the heavy wooden door so that the two could enter.The warm, calm dark firelight beckoned to him as Saryon stepped in.Then he hesitated.He could turn and run away, back to his church.Shun tame my life, my life should be tame.yes!It's all that simple!He would obey orders, hadn't the Catalyst Saints obeyed orders without any doubts during these hundreds of years? But the wind just laughed at him and teased him.Saryon understood that this storm had been brewing so far in his life, from its beginnings as whispers to now as screams of triumph.He lifted the hem of his robe, and the strong wind pushed and pulled him violently.Finally, with a wild scream, it pushed him against the edge of the rock, sending him staggering into the red-glowing darkness. Joram slammed the door shut again behind him, and returned to his work at once.Standing in front of the furnace, Saryon relaxed in the warmth, gazing intoxicated at what he could no longer deny.Joram worked the bellows, giving more life to the coals and making them burn.The grotesque implements shone brighter in reflection of these lights; other children born of the flames littered the floor, horseshoes, bridles, broken nails, half-finished knives, iron pots.Joram was so engrossed in his work that he paid no attention to the Catalyst Saints.Saryon sat down, being careful not to get in the way of the young man, listening to the heavy beating of the bellows, and suddenly realized that he had never heard the wind again.
The tempest was still raging, and its rage surged, perhaps celebrating its triumph over the Catalyst Saints.The wind howled in the streets, tearing trunks from trees and shingles from roofs; the rain beat menacingly on every door and slapped on the windows with freezing rain, yet those who could ignore it All, they stayed in the great brick house on the hilltop overlooking the village of the Fairy Artisans, lost in their intricate game, and there was more than one game going on here, and their love for the vicissitudes of nature Almost ignored it, because they were so absorbed in the game. "The queen of cups, the supreme ace, is bigger than your knight, Xin Jin, I believe the next two tricks will be mine." Hei Suo spread a card on the table, leaned back on the chair, expecting Looking at Simkin. "How are our prisoners getting along?" the wizard asked nonchalantly. Xin Jin stared at the cards in front of him in some astonishment, and looked at the cards in his hand thoughtfully. "The plot is against you, oh, big winner," he said with a shrug. "Ah—" Heisuo smiled slightly, stroking his golden beard with his fingertips. "As I guessed, what are they plotting?" "Fix you and that sort of thing," Simkin replied.He looked up at the black lock with a sweet smile, placing a card on the wizard's queen. "I sacrifice this card to protect my knight." Heisuo pursed his lips, his expressionless face tightened.He combed his beard into a straight, slender line. "The fool's card! This card has already been played!" "Oh, no, dear," said Simkin, yawning. "You must be mistaken—" "I never make mistakes." Heisuo retorted coldly. "I remember every round of cards clearly. The fool's card has already been played. Let me tell you, Zhuomle sacrificed this card to protect his emperor..." The wizard looked at his thugs, and waited Let him be sure. "Yes—yes," Drommler stammered. "I—I...mean—" Drommler was only invited to play cards because there were three people, and he had no interest in the game; like many other guards, Hei Suo taught him how to play cards just so that someone could play cards with him.These nights were a series of nerve-wracking experiences for poor Drommler, who could barely remember the last round he had played, let alone the one before ten tricks. "Really, Black Lock, the only fool's card this idiot remembers is the one he sees in the mirror every morning. I say, go back and check all the cards if you want to puke! Anyway this It doesn't matter." Simkin dropped his cards on the table. "You beat me, you always win." "Winning is not the point," Heisuo said, checking Sim Jin's cards and sorting them. "It's the game itself that counts, the calculations, the strategy, and the ability to outwit your opponent. You should know that, Simkin, you and I play cards for the game, don't you, my friend?" "I assure you, dear fellow," said Simkin without interest, leaning back in his chair. "Games are the only reason I exist on these miserable green grass paths and gravel roads that I call the world. Without it, life would be so boring that a man would want to roll into a ball and throw himself into a river." "One day I will save you this trouble, Xin Jin." Heisuo said gently, rearranging the cards and turning them over with skillful and quick movements with his slender fingers. "I won't allow anyone to make the mistake of thinking they can outwit me." With a flick of his wrist, the sorcerer threw a card in front of Simkin, and the table now held two Fool's cards side by side. "It's not my fault," Simkin said resentfully. "After all, this deck of cards belongs to you. I should suspect that you are trying to deceive me." The young man sniffed, and an orange silk scarf appeared in his hand, and Xin Jin wiped his nose gracefully. "It's been a horrible night outside and I think I've caught a cold." An unusually strong wind blew against the brick house, the beams creaked, there was a crash somewhere nearby, and a large tree branch snapped and fell to the ground.Heisuo shuffled the cards, looked out the window, and his eyes suddenly froze. "There's a fire over there in the furnace." "Oh, that." Zhuomle was taken aback. He had already begun to nod his head and doze off, and his body slowly slipped out of the chair, which made Xin Jin very amused.Pulling himself together, he struggled to sit up straight. "The blacksmith hired some people... to work overtime." "Indeed." Heisuo said.Folding the cards neatly, he pushed them towards Simkin. "You deal the cards, and remember, I'm watching, who are the people working?" "Joram," Simkin said, pushing the cards to Drommler to cut. A muscle on Heisuo's cheek twitched, his eyes narrowed, his hands that were not casually placed on the table were tense, and his fingers were slightly clasped together. "Joram?" he repeated. "Joran, a hapless gamer, by the way," Simkin said, yawning. "He's so impatient, you can just trick him into playing the aces he's got instead of keeping them later in the game -- when they're going to help him more." Simkin prepared to deal the cards, focusing on Heisuo's face rather than the cards. "Where's the Catalyst Saint?" Heisuo asked, looking out the window at a flickering red dot of flame in the cave, which was blurred by torrential rain and freezing raindrops. "A more skilled player, though maybe you don't think so when you look at him," Simkin replied softly, absently shuffling the cards again. "Saryon plays by the rules, my friend." A smile played on his lips. "I said, let's stop playing cards. I'm starting to think that this game is really boring to the extreme." Zhuomle gave Xin Jin a look with deep gratitude. "Let me help you figure out the future, okay?" the young man asked Heisuo nonchalantly. "You know I don't believe that—" Heisuo turned his head from the window, seeing the flashing expression on Xin Jin's face. "Okay," he said suddenly. The wind picked up again, and the rain tried to get in through the chimney.Rain fell on the flames.With a hissing sound, Zhuomle leaned back on the chair, put his hands together on his belly, and then fell asleep.Xin Jin handed the card to Heisuo. "Cut cards..." "Don't mess around." The sorcerer replied coldly. "Just keep going." Simkin shrugged and took the cards back. "The first card is your past," he said, turning it over, and a man wearing a bishop's crown sat on a throne between the two columns. "High Priest." Simkin raised an eyebrow. "Then, this is kind of weird..." "continue." Shrugging, Simkin turned over a second card. "This is your present: the Reversed Mage, with someone who has magical powers but isn't..." "I will explain the cards myself." Heisuo said, his eyes fixed on the cards. "The future—" Sim Jin flipped over the third card. "—King with swords." Heisuo laughed.