For the following week, Saia worked alongside Aili in the kitchen. They mostly cleaned, served the food, and brought it to the elder monks who couldn't leave their beds. It wasn't too tiring, and they had a lot of free time to roam the village together, trying to memorize the disposition of the corridors and rooms. She admired how Aili was the one to always know where they were and how to get to any other place. But when it came to telling the time, it was Saia to always guess right, even before checking a window or hearing the bells chime.

There were also lessons, taught in part by Haina, in part by two of her colleagues. Every other day they sat in one of the three classrooms of the village, trying to memorize the names of past abbots and the main rules of the monks. She'd hoped for some information about the gods, but it was all boring like any other history lesson at any other school inside the villages. And by the expressions of the other students, they'd heard all of it at least once, more likely twice, with intense studying sessions and exams in between. They were all about twenty years old, which made them younger than her and Aili of eight and six years respectively. As a consequence, they didn't get to know them further than the pleasantries exchanged at the beginning and end of every lesson. Not enough they could relate to, on both sides.

At least Aili was excited by all the information she was gathering about the monks' history.

“Their creation story is very different than ours,” she said one day after they went to sleep, when Saia had almost managed to lose consciousness.

“What?”

“Our sacred texts start with the conversation that created the world. You do remember it, right?”

“Of course,” Saia mumbled, eyes closed.

“Well, theirs start with the monks finding the mountain. There’s no mention of how the world was created.”

Saia remembered being interested in the conversation, but sleep claimed her before she could ask more.

The chemist had delivered the seawater as promised, so their room had been partially occupied by two full carboys until the glassmaker finally completed the tank. Saia dug up the dirt herself, from a spot between the external gardens and the forest. Ebus helped her bring it to her room in two old jute sacks, and she gave him two dead snakes as a thank you. There had also been a debate, but only monks could participate.

On firstday, she woke up one hour earlier than usual to get ready for the ceremony. It was less complicated than she'd expected, even if the assembly was bigger than when they’d been introduced to the abbot. Everybody who could leave their bed and wasn’t on sentinel duty was there, pressed together from the entrance to the three steps that led to the well. Almost everyone was wearing some sort of makeup around the eyes, black lines next to brightly colored ones, mostly pink, yellow or blue. The novices entered in a line to the sound of percussions and wind instruments. The two walls of crowd at Saia’s sides didn’t let her see where the music came from.

She was the last in line after Aili, since all the twenty years old had taken the spots at the front. They were dressed in normal clothes, because apparently putting on the gray tunic was the last thing they'd had to do to become true monks. Saia couldn't wait for it to happen, not out of a particular desire to tie herself to that place forever, but because she was freezing and those tunics were the only piece of clothing in the whole village that could actually do something against the cold. She wasn't sure how they worked, the fabric they were made of seemed just regular wool, but the rules prohibited washing them autonomously. Instead, they had to be left out of the rooms, where a group of helpers gathered them each morning and left clean ones behind. The same helpers would then wash them in the internal pool of the village, a large and deep body of water where the monks usually bathed and relaxed. Saia had lived in the village for long enough to know that if there was a group of helpers dedicated to just one task it wasn't as easy as it looked.

The abbot was already in place in his spot next to the well, Rades as usual some steps behind him. They’d learnt during one of Haina's lessons that he was one of the two priors Laius was preparing to take his place after his death. The other one was Daira, and from what Saia had gauged from the conversations at lunch, the fact she'd been sent away as head of the group that was taking care of Lausune meant that she was the favorite. Also, Rades was apparently not that interested in the responsibilities of that role, content in being only a backup plan in case of tragedy.

Saia was distracted from her thoughts by Aili turning her head to look at her.

“I hope I won't stumble. Aren't you anxious?”

“Not really,” Saia said. The whole thing felt quite pointless, considering the entire community knew who they were by that point. And they'd already worn the tunics.

She was way more nervous about her first debate, two days later. Even if she had decided to just listen and try to learn how it worked, as Haina had suggested, she was scared she'd find out that it required speaking skills she didn't have. She'd heard there were questions, and the speaker had a short amount of time to say everything they wanted, and no one could speak for more than a certain amount of times, except for the abbot and priors. In comparison, the ceremony was a calm walk from the cave to her house at dawn, with the hot summer wind blowing through her hair and a bucket full of snakes in her hand. Gods, how she missed the sea.

When it was Aili's turn, she did everything so perfectly that Saia started to feel she would have been the one to mess it up and close the ceremony with a disappointment. But that feeling dissipated as soon as the abbot addressed her.

“What is your name, novice?”

“Saia.”

“And why are you here today?”

She remembered the words Haina had taught them.

“To become a monk. To keep alive the sacrifices of this community.”

To get revenge, or justice, or both, she thought. And to save a friend.

“We welcome you. As a help for our bodies, a preserver of our knowledge, and a defender of our community. What path do you choose?”

“Helper,” she said. She couldn't wait to have both feet submerged in freezing water, nobody around except for the prey moving in front of her, unaware of her presence until the moment she caught it. She'd been a fool to think she'd been content doing anything else, in that place so far away from home.

The abbot nodded.

“It's decided, then.”

Saia stepped aside and Rades handed her a neatly folded tunic. She put it on, then descended the three steps to join the other novices for the last part of the ceremony. Fortunately, it was nothing more than words read aloud by the abbot, and some others repeated by the assembly. Then everybody started to leave, except for Rades, who walked up to her and Aili with two sheets of paper in his hand.

“Your schedules for the time being.” He said, handing one to each of them. The paper was rough and spotted with pieces of darker colors. “You'll find the tasks, with the name of the monk who will tutor you, and obviously the time and place. Work well and you'll be rewarded with activities more in line with your attitudes.”

“When?” Aili asked.

He looked a bit taken aback.

“I don't know. It depends on what your tutors say.”

“Library duty on fifthday? I already love it. Thank you, Rades.”

He blushed a bit at that, then nodded and walked away. Aili stood on her toes to read Saia's schedule.

“What did you get?”

Saia didn't answer, counting the hours that had assigned the word 'fishing'. It was every other day, in the mornings and evenings. She'd hoped for something more, but she had also feared getting way less than that. She turned the sheet, but the other side was covered by crossed-out handwriting.

“They don't have much paper here,” Aili explained. “They create new sheets from old ones that were already used.”

Saia nodded and put it away in a tunic’s pocket. She'd left her bag in their room for the ceremony and she couldn’t wait to wear it again. It wasn't uncommon: helpers and scholars alike often had a bag, or a thick belt with small bags hanging from it, or, in the chemist's case, vials.

“I could use some venom,” he'd mentioned when he'd brought her the carboys. She'd been about to tell him the price before realizing there was no need to.

She returned to her room while Aili left for the library. She took care of the snakes, giving them pieces of dried meat. The tank was a little bigger than the one she had at home, and that gave her hope that the snakes would lay eggs, at some point.

Once she'd finished, she stood in the center of the room, bag in hand, unsure about what to do for the two hours before lunch. She read the schedule again and was surprised to find that the meeting spot for the first fishing session was named 'lake Naurbi'. She had no idea where that was, if outside the village or into one of the endless rooms and caves that composed it.

She shrugged, putting the schedule back into her pocket. Looking for the lake was a way like another to pass the time.

She headed out, then looked back toward the tank, considering whether to take a snake with her. But the sentinels checked the bags at every entrance and she didn't want to use the same excuse too many times, lest somebody researched what Argeline was and found nothing. It was pure luck she still remembered what it was called.

She left, her bag empty if not for the spare clothes, a bottle of water and her gloves. She followed the large curve of the most external corridor, toward the second entrance. She stopped in front of the two sentinels next to the old doors.

“How can I get to lake Naurbi from here?”

They told her. It wasn't far, but she'd have to climb up for a bit, and the trail wasn't exactly free from stones, holes and detours. Saia thanked them and left the cave. She'd seen Lakam, the main fisher and her tutor, in the dining hall. Haina had pointed her out, an old woman curved on her food, with a filigree of wrinkles on her brown face. If she could get to the lake each morning and come back alive every evening, so could Saia.

The trees on the other side of both the village and the mountain looked tighter and darker than the ones on the opposite slope, and there were no wooden houses. Saia blinked for some instants, trying to get used to sunlight again after spending a week mostly inside. She was looking around for the beginning of the trail, when a glint of light caught her attention. She stepped away from the trees, following the wall of rock, and stopped behind a protrusion covered in vines. She didn't see anything weird, so she just stood there, gazing into the trees, in case the glint appeared again. It had been sharp, like the golden light of a god, or...

Or the sun reflected on a mirror, she realized as two human shapes moved, partially hidden by the trees. Sentinels. Not the guards inside the village, but the quiet observers Zeles was so scared of.

After an instant of anxiety, she realized she had nothing to fear and stepped out of her hiding place. They stood on a small clearing behind the trees that allowed for a clear view of the three villages on that side. There were eight monks there, six of them sitting on the edge of a rock protruding onto the void, two standing behind them. One was holding a big mirror, the other looked around with a bored expression.

When Zeles had talked about the sentinels, she had imagined they used magic to spy on the people below. As Saia approached them, she was surprised to find each of the sitting monks squinting inside two metal tubes connected by a bridge of the same material.

“What is she saying?” the monk with the mirror asked.

One of the sitting monks squinted, holding his tool in front of his chest and not his eyes like the others.

“Hold on, she's still signaling. She said it was just a misunderstanding. She'll be back today.”

The standing monk without a mirror saw Saia and shushed his colleagues.

“Do you need something?” he asked.

Saia got closer. The other monks gave her a glance before putting their eyes against the tubes again.

“Yes. I'm new here, how do…” she gestured at the strange instruments. “What are these? How do they work?”

“Binoculars?” The monk looked surprised. “Are you one of the novices from Lausune?”

Saia nodded.

“It's better if I just show you. Hey, Gaila, can I borrow yours for a second?”

She lowered the tool and handed it over with a shrug. The monk showed Saia the glass on both sides.

“Don't ask me the details, but you can see far away things as if they were close. Like the entrance to us now.”

Saia looked back at the wall of stone. She thought about her family standing there, and suddenly her palms started sweating.

“Can I try it?”

The monk looked unsure. It was Gaila to break the silence.

“Let her, don't worry about it. Nothing interesting is happening anyway.”

“We're not here to be entertained,” the monk answered, but still handed the binoculars to Saia.

She took them with trembling hands. The surface was crossed by parallel grooves that formed spirals and waves all along the tubes, over the bridge and back. They vaguely reminded her of the purple line on the inside of her tunic.

She got closer to the rock on which the other monks were sitting. Gaila scooted over, freeing enough space for Saia to sit next to her, so close that the woman's black curls brushed her shoulder every time the wind changed direction.

“Don't look at the sun, you'll risk getting blind,” she warned.

“Not in this direction either,” one of the monks on the opposite side of the rock said. “They’re still signaling something.”

Saia carefully put the binoculars right in front of her eyes and brought them closer until all the light was blocked out, except for the one that came through the lenses. She saw the leaves of trees at the feet of the mountain as if she had them right in front of her. She slowly moved the binoculars around, looking for her village. She found the square, then the streak of multicolored tents of market street, followed it toward the sea, and found her house.

She let out a breath, eyes peeled on the part of the building that was visible behind roofs and trees. She could see the kitchen's window and a piece of the door, while her room was on the opposite side. Provided it was still her room, after two years of exile.

“You’re not…” Gaila’s voice said at her side. “Nevermind, let me.”

Saia felt her fingers touch the binoculars and moved her own aside to make space. The view suddenly enlarged, as if she was falling toward the scene. She gripped the binoculars tighter and held her breath.

She was looking at the house from above. The slate roof was close enough she could reach it after a short fall. She could distinguish the flowers and the herbs of their garden, as usual well cured. She had to breathe slowly for a bit to calm down, focusing on the rock she was sitting on and her fingers against the binoculars’ metal. She moved them slowly, and the view moved with her, until the front of the house was partially visible. The rooms beyond were completely dark, though. Not even the light of the day could enter.

“They left?” she asked, her voice creaking.

“I don’t know, but you can’t see rooms that are covered by a roof, or anything that is too dark. Also, I suggest you hurry up because this kind of view takes a lot of viss to maintain.”

Saia nodded and waited, unwilling to let the binoculars go until she got a sign that her family was still there.

She spotted a figure approaching the front door. She could see part of their face, and immediately recognized her brother Heilam. Judging by the full leather bag at his side, he was coming back from the market. He always dressed nice when leaving the house, even if he always swore it wasn’t because of the cute girl who worked at the herbs stall. Considering what Vizena was capable of, not talking about potential loves was a smart idea.

Heilam stopped in front of the door, fumbled a bit with the keys, and finally managed to open it. Saia pressed the cold and wet steel of the binoculars around her eyes, trying to memorize every second of him disappearing inside the house.

The view became dark for an instant, then the village was far again.

“Sorry,” Gaila said. “It was all I had for today. Are you okay?”

Saia took some seconds before answering.

“Yes. Thank you.”

She kept watching for a while longer, hoping someone else would approach the house, that a movement of any kind would cross the kitchen's window. But nothing happened, so she lowered the binoculars and wiped them with the tunic's sleeves before handing them back to Gaila.

“Thank you,” she repeated, unsure of what else to say to her worried face.

“Sure.” She stared at the tool for a bit before continuing. “If you ever need to take a look again, you can find me here every firstday, same hour.”

Saia nodded, repressing the instinct to thank her for the third time. She stood, careful not to slip and fall for the gods knew how many seconds before hitting the rocks below. She waved at the two standing monks and left the clearing. She didn't feel like adventuring outside in search of a lake anymore, that could wait until fourthday. What she had to do, as soon as possible, was gathering as much of that rough and spotted paper and write down everything she remembered about Vizena, everything she had done and said. Everything, except for one thing.