IN THE MORNING, his last morning in that soft, borrowed bed, Isaiah felt alert from the moment the sun met his eyelids. Despite a vague remembrance of some coal-black, suffocating nightmare, reality (though brighter) seemed even grimmer. He wasn’t ready for the Parda or any of the roads that lead to it. He wasn’t even ready to be on his way out of the city, and yet he had to leave. Looking over at Devus, still asleep in that strange, corpse-like position of his, he considered inviting him. It was not the first time the idea had crossed his mind, but once again it seemed a selfish invitation. He didn’t want him to feel he’d tried buying him off with the gold, and so, when his study partner (or perhaps his teacher in a sense) woke up, he tried to seem calmer than he felt.
“Have you figured out how you’ll get there yet? You should perhaps bring at least one coin to buy a decent horse, some matches and...” Devus said, moments after having opened his eyes.
“No, I’ll have to get Indra back.” Isaiah was quick to reply. The very idea of riding a new horse made his stomach twist like a wet, ragged cloth.
“Well then, the guards are fools. If you can’t manage to trick them, you should stay far away from the Parda anyways.” Isaiah smirked, pulling his shirt on. Or rather, the one Devus had lent him. Slightly, if not very, more convenient for his journey.
“Oh, and make sure you watch out for the fire rain on your way.” Devus added.
“Fire rain?” He turned towards him, and as always Devus’ eyes smiled before his lips did.
“You should be more skeptical of what people tell you.” Isaiah rolled his eyes – mostly at himself. Naïve. When had he become this naïve?
“Perhaps the Master’s paranoia has brushed off on you.” Devus said, reading his mind just a little.
“Or maybe your superstitions have,” Isaiah suggested. Devus frowned at this, walking over to the small window where the sun arose in bright orange. The golden illumination made the army of tulips even more spectacular than usual. Isaiah was somewhat saddened by the fact he hadn’t gotten to spend any time there. He’d been too timid (and possibly too cautious) to ask, and since Mongoya wasn’t one to offer such things, it’d been left undone.
“I was just joking.” He said, feeling Devus was being awfully quiet.
“Trust your own senses, Isaiah. That is the best advice I can give you.” He said, without turning his attention from the window.
“Ever since leaving home, I’ve been nothing but skeptical of what people tell me… I think it might finally be time to trust someone.” He was a little surprised by his own words. Yet, he couldn’t help but feel he meant them as more than just some chivalrous, departure flattery. Devus turned at this. Looked down, suddenly almost as shy as he’d been those first, brief seconds of them meeting.
“I wish you the best of luck. I feel certain you’ll find what you’re looking for.”
“Thank you.”
“He chose you because you’re special. Please try believing me when that’s regarded too.” Isaiah felt Mongoya had chosen him because he might have seemed his only chance to fetch this strange water. And possibly because he, deep down, underneath his cold exterior, didn’t want his long gone student to die. Though far less certain about the importance of the latter, he hoped there was at least some truth to it. That there was more humanness to him than what met the eye and ear.
“I should go down and talk to the Master before I leave.” Devus nodded distantly, and Isaiah couldn’t help but feeling he was acting strange. A different kind of strange than usual. Then again, departing from someone who might not come back was indeed a time for strangeness, if any. He felt strange too, but he hadn’t felt quite like himself since arriving there. Exactly who he had felt like he wasn’t too certain of, but it was as if he’d lost himself inside the lectures. Become a student and nothing more. A role to play just to prepare for yet another one.
“I’ll come back.” He reassured him (though it was a ridiculous promise). When he gave no answer, he left him standing there by the window, where Devus would still be scouting down as Isaiah walked away from the grand building that no longer felt particularly safe.
Isaiah had assumed he’d need to walk all the way to the city center, so to state he was simply surprised when Indra stood waiting for him as he and Master Mongoya walked towards the gates, would’ve been a serious understatement.
“I have a horse you can use.” Mongoya said matter-a-factly, pointing his cane towards her, as if it wasn’t obvious where the magnificent animal was standing. She wore the same gear and carried his pack on the right side of her saddle.
“How…?” Isaiah stuttered.
“Some believe keeping a Zura horse against its will is bad luck. The guards sent her to me to decide what to do with her - poor fools do not understand the difference between alchemy and sorcery..." He explained, waving his hand and rolling his eyes. “Apparently, some primitive, bear-clothed tribal man came riding into the city the other day… anyways – you can have her - if you dare.” For a moment Isaiah considered telling him the truth, as he was rather proud of his little scheme. But no – though he’d sworn his honesty to him, certain secrets were better kept, and so he gave a short bow and thanked him instead – just as a humble student ought to.
“Consider it a gift. A symbol or perhaps a reminder of our agreement. I've marked her with my sigil, so the guards won’t ask any questions when you ride out.” Isaiah nodded subtly. Now it seemed he owed him even more. Perhaps he even wanted to scare him into thinking, he might be riding a cursed horse that was under his alchemist-control. He felt relieved and safer as he climbed her – knowing exactly who’s back he was on.
“I will do my best to return shortly, Master Mongoya. My grandfather and I will be seeing you soon.” There was an odd twitch that crossed the Master’s face, and brushing it off with a movement he said, “I made a simple copy of the map for you yesterday. You may consider this a loan and an indication as to where you are, rather than an accurate explanation of it. Araktéa has changed over the years.” He pointed to an additional pack he’d hung on the other side of the saddle, then looked at him motionlessly. His skin was pale. So pale, it seemed it would crumble or burn if he was to stay outside for much longer. “There’s also two water flasks in there – refill them and leave the horse before you enter.” These were Raziel Mongoya’s final commands, before turning around and walking back to his shell. No wise message for his student to untangle, very little hope inside that void in his chest and yet it seemed something had reawakened deep inside of him. Something that had been lost and numbed for a very long time.
*
On his way to the gates, which surrounding-area luckily was less crowded than the last time he’d passed them, Isaiah went to see Robert and Alice. Though perhaps not directly concerned about him, he felt he at the very least owed telling them about his whereabouts – as well as the fine garments Robert had lent him.
“Well, if it isn’t Sir Iron mask himself?” Robert’s face lit up seeing the boy at his door. He embraced him (an action rather unpredicted by both of them) and then led him to the living room where they’d first been introduced. Since then, Isaiah had used any minute he could spare looking for past indications of his grandfather’s supposed obsession with the Parda. Making no more sense than it had before, he still felt more certain than ever this was where he was. At least enough to risk his life to find out. Trying to explain this to a chemist didn’t turn out as he’d hoped. If anything, it sounded even more ridiculous said out loud than it had inside his head. When he couldn’t think of anything else to say, Robert uttered some discontent mumbling.
“They say the twelve believed themselves destined to find this gold. I didn’t think you were that sort of man, Isaiah. I still can’t seem to think that you are...”
“I am not doing it for some gold, Sir Robert. I am doing it to find him. Even your uncle doesn’t seem to believe there’s any gold in there, he just wants me to bring some water…”
“Regardless of what he wants you to find, my uncle always has his own agenda. You might feel destined by him taking you in as his student – for all I know you might even be special for convincing him to do so. I’ll admit, it was strange how he actually didn’t seem to… detest you. It took me by surprise – no offense to your persona…” Robert said, holding up one finger. Isaiah noticed how their hands looked much the same. His were clearly much younger and they only bore one ring (the golden kind used in marriage in Nagár). Even so, it revealed a family resemblance Robert’s hatred couldn’t erase, unless he’d had them cut off.
“We’ve made an agreement. I don’t know how just it was, but at least I know where to look. This has nothing to do with being destined for anything… I just want my grandfather back.” Isaiah said, slightly offended by his lack of support. He hadn’t expected Robert to be particularly pleased by the idea, but he’d at least wanted some of his encouraging words to bring with him on the journey.
“You do realize, he has nothing to lose and everything to gain by sending you in there?“
“I do.” Robert shook his head in disapproval.
“I need to do this, Sir Robert. I’m sorry.” Isaiah said, with no more time to convince him of a decision that had already been made.
“I told you not to let him get to your head, Isaiah.”
“I haven’t. Please understand, I must go now.“
“You do.” Robert said thoughtfully, his hand resting over his forehead as he got up from his seat.
“You’ve signed a contract with him. Whatever you do now, you cannot break it. Your situation is a hopeless one, I do not know what else to tell you… Our door is of course still open for you if you come back.” This pessimism sounded far more alarming coming from him, than from his uncle’s more dramatic lips. They struck through his chest, and he felt he had to physically force himself up from the sofa.
“Thank you for all your help.” He said, realizing it might be the last time they’d see each other. Robert just shook his head with a saddened smile.
“I’m not so sure I’ve helped you, boy...”
*
As Isaiah rode south through new fields, he thought of Robert’s grim warning. He thought of all the problematic variables of his mission, and in the cluster, he came to discover a whole other layer adding to the problem. As he imagined the different ways and places where he might encounter his grandfather on the way, it seemed impossible to imagine any sort of sensible conversation occurring between them. Having no more power in changing the old man’s will than before, he had little certainty – or even faith – he’d suddenly listen to sense. As Tara had said, with his current mind, he couldn’t convince him, and so perhaps there wouldn’t be any humane way of bringing him back.
A moon span ago, such realizations would’ve made him give up on the quest. That, as well as Robert’s daunting words, would’ve made him run back home, hoping he’d returned and found a way to fix himself — hoping he could talk to Mongoya and have him free him from their contract. Somehow, being on the sort of mission that had seemed impossible for some time, with the unlikeliness of both his shallow preparations – and knowledge – these things became less relevant. Simply details he couldn’t be bothered with. Instead, he focused on the hope he’d seen in Devus’ eyes and that momentary flare of respect he thought he’d spotted in Mongoya’s. Even if they were both delusional in their expectations, he came to terms with that being so himself, might just be the only way he could get there. To the end of the world, after the path would split in two after the vicious, unnamed mountains.