The mage looked at the foreigner in astonishment, who had forgotten about his existence and started pacing excitedly from side to side. His gait resembled that of an animal preparing to leap.
"I have perfect hearing, sorcerer. Even from here, I can hear fragments of the phrases of those living nearby," said Amon, gritting his teeth. His face turned crimson with anger.
"But from deep within the Academy, barely any sounds reach. No scratching of quills, no monotonous voices of students, no conversations. Only a rasping cough and sighs. There are no young ones here! All that remains are a dozen old men, no longer able to fight but still too stubborn to find peace in death. In your riddle, the Emir made a decision, firm and final. And the people rushed to fulfill it, not out of fear, but out of conscience! You told me everything I needed to know, sorcerer. I am ready to speak the final part of the answer!"
Amon's voice cracked and faltered.
"The common folk fear everything they cannot understand. And the rulers, on the contrary, understand everything perfectly. And that makes them doubly afraid! The Emir ordered the cessation of magical studies within your walls. He spared your lives, the great, merciful Emir," Amon said with open mockery, "For you are already dead, though you don't realize it! What's the point of cutting off the heads of ghosts? Noble, great, merciful Emir!"
The sorcerer pressed himself against the wall but found the strength to respond. His voice was weak and insincere.
"It is not for us to discuss the will of the rulers who hover above us like steppe eagles, filthy worms crawling in the mud," the sorcerer muttered weakly, "We can only accept it, as we accept the sunrise. The Emir is wise, and his power is limitless. We are powerless to change anything, foreigner."
Amon recoiled, his gray eyes wide with shock, and involuntarily straightened up.
"The Emir's power and wisdom are indeed limitless," Amon confirmed in a voice tinged with tension. "Moreover, he must be a great sorcerer, your Emir, for he found a way to turn men into animals."
He furrowed his brow in anger and finished, striking the word like a sword:
"Otherwise, how can I explain that instead of a scholar, I am greeted by a submissive ram!"
The sorcerer's face froze. Something flashed in the depths of his brown eyes.
"The Emir forbade you from taking students," Amon said coldly. "And you obeyed—pitiful, cowardly little men! I've traveled a long way to visit the library of your Academy. I hoped to see a citadel of knowledge. A temple of wisdom, a source of free thought, a light in the darkness of ignorance! And do you know what I saw instead? Cowards who have betrayed their very essence! You think that by giving up a little, you've preserved the greater? Your lives, your Academy? No! He who kept silent at Nicaea will burn brightly at Prospero! No!" Amon suddenly shouted with genuine anger.
The last word hit the walls and echoed in the cool silence: no! no. no...
Smoke stung his nostrils. The screeching of saw-swords and the deafening roar of cannon fire filled his ears.
"It's just..." "I... her..."
Prospero, Tizka, the library. A bolt shard, the cords, and the blue eyes of the guardian.
Amon shook his head, clenching his fist, and sighed with relief: the seizure touched his wings, reminded him of the past, and passed.
"I know nothing of Nicaea or Prospero," the sorcerer slowly spoke. "But I know that you are speaking dangerous words, foreigner. And if I agree with them—who knows?" My head may greet the dawn with dead eyes, impaled on a pike. As for yours, I am not yet sure."
Amon regained control. The past was past. The past was in the past.
"Look at my face, sorcerer, look closely," he said more calmly. "Do I look like an informer or an Emir's spy?"
The sorcerer didn't answer, but the words were unnecessary. Amon saw how the sorcerer's face lightened.
"No, you do not look like a spy," the sorcerer replied firmly. "You resemble my mentor. Passionate, wise, convinced that knowledge can change the world for the better. I've always been saddened thinking about his passing to a better world. But now I am glad, for he did not see our disgrace. Not all of the Emir's orders are worth following. Follow me, foreigner. I will take you to the library."