Gelie was perhaps too worked up; his voice broke through the barrier the Old Madman had laid down, and Amon could hear no more of the conversation that followed. Only the two men inside the house knew what was said.
The Old Madman sat there holding a cup of wine and made a gesture in the air as if pressing something down. "You may refuse to believe it, but when that day truly comes, I hope you'll remember what I said and be ready yourself... Enough of that. All these years I've lived in Duke Town, I've kept the peace with you, I've even done you a few small favors—isn't that so?"
Gelie inclined his body slightly. "When I first met you, I was only a fifth-rank divine artist. You never gave me any trouble; you even stepped in to settle a few problems for me and gave me a great deal of guidance in my divine arts. Otherwise I would never have advanced so smoothly to grand divine artist. On a personal level, I have always been grateful to you—of that there is no doubt."
The Old Madman, it turned out, had his humble moments too. He waved a hand and said with a laugh, "You needn't thank me for achievements you won yourself. I only passed on a little of my own experience and insight, and you let me read a great many documents and records in the temple—I'm grateful to you for that as well. Only, that small favor I asked of you today: how does it stand?"
Gelie was silent for a while, then gave a faint sigh and answered, "No problem at all. We both know that child is innocent. I'm afraid everyone on the whole continent knows it. Dasti is a clever man; this will be easy enough to arrange. The envoy from the royal capital won't arrive until three days from now."
The Old Madman stood up. "Then let's go find him. I'll come with you. He won't dare do anything but what you say, and he certainly won't dare breathe a word of what happened today."
Gelie smiled. "And when the time comes, I won't make things hard for him either."
The two were about to go out when the Old Madman suddenly spoke again. "Gelie, you may not let me say it, but I'll bring it up one last time. If the great disaster really does come, I hope you'll live through it. Don't throw your life away for nothing, and don't despair of your convictions. I know what you're capable of—you will become a ninth-rank divine artist."
Gelie came to a stop at the door, was silent a while longer, and then said, "Is there anything else you want to tell me?"
The Old Madman thought it over. "If one day Amon comes back, I hope that, when you're permitted to, you'll comfort him and help him."
Amon had stood at the corner of the wall for who knew how long when he suddenly saw the gate of the Old Madman's courtyard open and two men come out. The guest was an old man with a goatee. In the dark he could not see clearly, but the old man glanced in his direction, and the look in those eyes in the darkness was remarkably sharp and piercing. Amon was just about to step out when something held him where he was, silent.
The Old Madman and Gelie headed for the town chief's house—the very little building Maria had once lived in. What are they going to see the town chief about at this hour?
From a distance Amon watched that little building. There seemed to be a light on the second floor, though it did not look like lamplight. A short while later his mouth fell open in shock: he clearly saw a figure fly out of the window. The figure was like a great bird, a giant eagle, a night owl, shooting straight up into the sky and vanishing into the curtain of night—flying off into thin air! From the silhouette, it looked very much like that guest, Gelie.
"Old Madman, who was that guest who came today? He can actually fly!" That was Amon's question; by now the Old Madman had returned from the town chief's house.
The Old Madman laughed. "What's so strange about that? I can fly too—otherwise how would I ever have had the chance to watch battles from the sidelines? I just find it too tiring; walking is more comfortable. ... A grand mage like me, eighth rank, can fly through the air without the aid of any divine instrument. Actually, even a mid-rank divine artist can fly, only they need some kind of object to help them."
It was Amon's habit, once he had fixed on a point, to worry at it until he understood it. He asked again, "You still haven't told me who Gelie is."
The Old Madman said, "No hurry. Sooner or later you'll know who he is. If one day you run into trouble in the city-state of Xuya, you may be able to go to him. ... Amon, what did you come to see me about tonight?"
Amon said, "I've already passed the trial of 'purity of the body,' so by the usual reckoning I'm a second-rank warrior. But by your account I should be learning second-rank divine arts—only I'm not a second-rank mage yet, so how am I supposed to learn them?"
The Old Madman studied Amon and pondered. "If my guess is right, at this moment you are not only a second-rank warrior, you can also learn divine arts and become a second-rank mage. Whether that's really so—you'll know as soon as you try it yourself."
Amon said, "But you haven't taught me any second-rank divine arts yet."
The Old Madman laughed again. "There's no such thing as second-rank divine arts—there are only low-tier divine arts, and I've taught you nearly all of them. To combine a single divine art in different techniques and applications—that makes you a qualified first-rank divine artist, and you're already as outstanding as outstanding can be. To use two different low-tier divine arts separately so that they coordinate and amplify each other's power—that's the standard by which a temple tests for a second-rank divine artist. Go and test yourself. Take this branch back with you, and these three godstones too."
The Old Madman reached out a hand, and from who knew where drew Amon's refined-iron branch into the air; his other hand made a grasping motion at empty space, and three godstones of different colors appeared, which he set on the table before Amon.
Seeing how stunned Amon looked, the Old Madman laughed again.
"The red one is called Flame Sprite, the black one the Eye of the Earth, the white one the Windcharm Dance. Together with the Deep Blue Water Heart I already gave you, that makes all four kinds of special godstone. Don't be so surprised—a grand mage over a hundred years old who's worked as a miner in Duke Town all these years would have gathered them all as a matter of course. Keep them on you, try out their different uses for yourself, and explore the other divine arts in your cultivation."
Amon thought it over. The Old Madman's words made good sense: the old man had been a miner in Duke Town since he was young and had spent more than a hundred years here, one way or another; as a grand mage, gathering such things would have been the easiest matter in the world. To someone like the Old Madman, money was not what mattered—what a thing was good for was what mattered, and right now its greatest use was Amon's cultivation of divine arts.
So Amon did not refuse either. He picked the stones up carefully and stowed them away, then took up the rod and turned it over and over, studying it for a long while, yet found no change in it at all—if anything it looked even more like a tree branch. Seeing that the Old Madman said nothing and only watched him with a half-smile, Amon caught on too: he focused his mind and "touched" the rod the way he would to awaken divine power, and felt that in a few places it was different from before.
So he used his fingers to pry at every gnarled knot on the "branch," and at last discovered that in the grain that resembled wood there were extremely well-concealed mechanisms, which took great strength to open. Amon nearly wore his fingers out, but inside that refined-iron branch he found four grooves, each of which could hold exactly one godstone.
Amon asked hesitantly, "Is this... a magic... staff?"
The Old Madman nodded, took the refined-iron branch back, and said, "A mage's staff and a divine artist's staff are the same thing. But a young low-rank mage like you waving a staff about would be the same as announcing your identity to everyone—that's close to asking to die. So I reworked this refined-iron branch into a staff."
"The material of the entire staff has been altered, yet it still serves perfectly well as a weapon for combat. Hiding the places where the godstones fit cost me a great deal of effort—I even destroyed godstones just to use the intact ore-core shells as camouflage. Unless one is a grand mage, it's very hard to tell that it's a staff. Even a ninth-rank mage probably wouldn't notice unless he was paying attention—as long as you don't use the staff to cast divine arts in front of them."
"There are five grooves in all. The four hidden grooves on the shaft can hold all kinds of godstones—you can of course set all four stones in them, which gives the widest range of uses. There's one more groove at the head of the staff, the most thoroughly hidden of all. Even knowing about it, you can't open it without the accomplishments of both a mid-rank warrior and a mid-rank mage at once. After I finished the work, even I can't open it anymore; I'm afraid only a god could find it."
"If there's any chance of it, that groove is meant for you to set the Tears of the Gods into someday. If you do set the Tears of the Gods in the staff, then the other four grooves can no longer hold other godstones as you please—they must be filled in order with the Deep Blue Water Heart, the Flame Sprite, the Eye of the Earth, and the Windcharm Dance. It's the same structure as the staff of the guardian goddess Isis, only it looks completely different, and the effects may differ somewhat as well."
"You know I'm a grand mage, but you don't yet know that I may also be the finest master craftsman on this continent. That branch-like thing in your hands is the proudest work of my life."
The Old Madman got all of this out in one breath, both hands stroking the refined-iron branch, a look of satisfaction creeping over his face. Perhaps it was a case of "once there are enough fleas, you stop itching." Any ordinary divine artist seeing these crystals and this staff would have had his jaw drop, but Amon had been hit by one shock after another lately, and his nerves had grown tough and his composure considerable. He stood up and said only three words: "Thank you!"
The Old Madman waved a hand. "Between us, it's impossible to say who owes whom more thanks. It was I who set you on what may be the hardest road in this world."
Amon said, "So what? Do you think I'd be unwilling? Would you rather I spent my whole life as nothing but a miner like my father, never able to leave Duke Town—probably with a finger already chopped off by now?"
The Old Madman looked at Amon, his gaze seeming to study something. "Amon, you're a child who can keep things hidden in his heart, the way this iron branch can hide godstones so no one can tell it's a staff. But you've been holding a question in your heart for a long time now—about me. Say it today. I can read the look in your eyes when you saw these godstones."
Amon lowered his head. "Then I'll ask. The ore core that produced the Tears of the Gods—my father borrowed it from you. That's why all of this happened to me, and you said so yourself: from the moment I mined the Tears of the Gods, many things were bound to happen. Did you do it on purpose? Did you already know that the Tears of the Gods were inside that ore core?"
Amon had finally spoken the question he had bottled up for so long, and to his surprise the Old Madman looked a little embarrassed. The old man lowered his head and looked at the refined-iron branch.
"Of all the grand mages and grand divine artists, I should be the one who understands godstone mining best—no one else could have worked as a miner in Duke Town in person for over a hundred years. An ore core is a wondrous thing; before it's opened, no one can say for certain that there's a godstone inside, much less what kind of godstone it will be."
"I've spent a lifetime at it and still haven't fully figured them out. I only knew that one particular ore core was unlike any other I was familiar with, and so it very likely contained the Tears of the Gods, which I had never mined before. I lent it to your father, you opened it, and it was indeed the Tears of the Gods! My guess was right."
Amon started to speak and stopped. "Then why didn't you...?"
The Old Madman picked up the thread.
"Why didn't I keep it for myself? The Tears of the Gods are of little use to me anymore. Besides, it was Bel who carried off the holy maiden of the Isis Temple and made away with their Tears of the Gods—when it comes down to it, it's all my doing. I'll simply give back a Tears of the Gods, and a holy maiden along with it. ... And besides, if I hadn't let you mine the Tears of the Gods, how would I have carried out my plan so smoothly? You're right. I did do it on purpose."
Amon showed no intention of pressing further. He only nodded. "Oh. I understand."
The Old Madman pointed at the black godstone.
"A special godstone has more than one use. This Eye of the Earth, for instance, is the best aid for earth-element divine arts and can assist certain power-type divine arts as well; at the same time it can serve as a medium for the divine art of messages.
By writing divine-art scrolls into it, I've recorded all the cultivation material I know inside; you can read it slowly.
But the divine art of messages I use has one peculiarity: only when your divine arts reach a certain level can you see the content meant for that stage, and once you've read it, the recorded information vanishes on its own."
Then he pointed at the white godstone. "The Windcharm Dance is not only the best aid for air divine arts, it's also one of the best mediums for spatial magic—but it sometimes needs to be crafted. This Windcharm Dance has been in my hands for many years; I've crafted it into a spatial artifact that can hold a great many things, though it's empty now. If one day you become a sixth-rank mage and can use high-tier spatial divine arts, you'll be able to open it and use it."
Amon broke in, "Isn't sixth rank a mid-rank mage? How could one use high-tier divine arts?"
The Old Madman laughed.
"It isn't only high-tier divine artists who can use high-tier divine arts. In fact, every kind of divine art can be performed with the help of auxiliary items, and the measure of a grand divine artist means something else again.
The temple's standard for testing a sixth-rank divine artist includes not only passing the trial of 'the Temptation of the Demon,' but also being able to use high-tier divine arts with the aid of items, and to perform at least one high-tier divine art without any item at all, and so on.
It's too early to talk to you about all this. It's all recorded in the Eye of the Earth; when you're able to see it, you'll know."
It suddenly struck Amon that the Old Madman was behaving very strangely today, as if he meant to settle every account at once. He could not help asking, "What's the matter with you today? Am I leaving right away?"
"Poor child, you really are clever. Tomorrow morning you'll be banished—tonight is your last night in Duke Town! There are a few last things I'll explain when I see you off tomorrow. For now I want to ask: have I never once said that you are my student, and have you never once called me teacher?"
Only then did Amon realize that he truly had never called him teacher; he had always just called Nietzsche the Old Madman. It was not from any lack of respect—he had simply been used to it since childhood. At these words he knelt, kissed the earth before the Old Madman's feet, and said, "Teacher Nietzsche, in my heart you have long been my teacher. Of course I am your student."
The Old Madman did not stop Amon from performing the most solemn of salutes; instead he laughed heartily.
"Amon, if one day you uncover the secret of the gods and are even called a god yourself, then this scene today will surely be worth remembering—or rather, it will be a perfectly exquisite irony! I've already recorded this scene in the Eye of the Earth. Child, you needn't call me teacher. I haven't actually taught you much, and I don't want you to become my student or another me. I only want you to fulfill my wish—and that, it seems, is something no one can teach. I've put you in a hard spot."
Amon answered reverently, "I won't forget."
The Old Madman seemed overcome with feeling. "Forgetting or not forgetting—who can say clearly? There are two pieces of information I've recorded in the Eye of the Earth that will never fade. One is the scene of you kneeling before me in salute just now. As for the other—it has to do with Maria. Would you like to see it?"
Amon was full of curiosity. "Maria? I want to see!"
The Old Madman said, "You haven't cultivated the divine art of messages yet. Let me demonstrate it for you first."
Before the words were out of his mouth, Amon saw the black godstone on the table turn colorless and transparent, its edges glowing, becoming a dodecahedral crystal orb of light. Then the orb swelled and grew, and inside it a three-dimensional image appeared: a line of Eju cursive written on a wall—"Amon, my name is Aikou."
Seeing Amon's baffled expression, the Old Madman explained with a smile, "That's a line Maria wrote in her room. She wanted to tell you her name, but she didn't say it—she only wrote it in some corner of the room, and afterward wiped it away. This was probably the last time she used that name, and the last time she wrote in a worldly script. Tell me, did she forget, or could she not forget? I'm afraid even the gods couldn't say clearly!"
The next day, while people were still eating breakfast, the bell summoning the townsfolk to assemble rang again from the Muyun Temple. When people hurriedly bolted their food and reached the square before the temple, they found that this time Dasti had rung the bell himself, and the town chief's face was very solemn.
Seeing that most people had arrived, Chief Dasti unrolled a document and read aloud: "By joint decree of the Eju Empire and the Hatti Kingdom, never to be revoked: all territories under the city-state of Xuya shall send warriors to aid in the pursuit of the evil mage Bel, whose last known location was the jungle of the Yudi River valley west of Duke Town in the city-state of Xuya."
Here Dasti closed the document, paused, and went on: "Bel is an evil mage, and those who hunt him must be true warriors. He fled from the Isis Temple in Eju into the jungle of the Yudi River. Whoever can find and destroy him must surely have the blessings of both the goddess Isis and the goddess Muyun. Such a warrior has appeared in this town at last, and I have decided to send him to carry out the kingdom's decree."
Xiaogu was not there. Apart from the Old Madman and Amon, only Chief Dasti in the whole town could read, so no one noticed that the parchment in his hand was very old, and still less did anyone know that what was written on it was a decree from thirty years ago.