Chapter 4: Maybe
The Great Hall was twenty feet high. Designs of fruit and flowers had been carved into the moulding and small, fat chimaeras with wings looked down at me from every angle. Vases of blossoms gave off a cloying scent that makes my nose itch. I waited standing for almost an hour until the same disembodied voice flooded the hall.
"Let me tell you a story...
Once upon a time, there was an old farmer who had worked his crops for many years. One day his horse ran away. Upon hearing the news, his neighbour came to visit. 'Such bad luck,' he said sympathetically.
'Maybe,' the farmer replied.
The next morning the horse returned, bringing with it three other wild horses. 'How wonderful,' the neighbour exclaimed.
'Maybe,' replied the old man.
The following day, his son tried to ride one of the untamed horses, was thrown, and broke his leg. The neighbour again came to offer their sympathy for his misfortune.
'Maybe,' answered the farmer.
The day after, military officials came to the village to draft young men into the army. Seeing that the son's leg was broken, they passed him by. The neighbours congratulated the farmer on how well things had turned out..."
"Maybe," I completed.
Silence. I could hear my heart pounding against my chest, but I could not hear the Regent. My nervousness rose and when I thought I was going to develop an ulcer in my stomach I heard the door behind me open. I turned and saw a man with light hair and skin, tall, medium-sized, but well defined, with an impassive countenance, but nothing threatening. I always believed that if he smiled he would be able to convince a crowd that he really was welcome me. He stopped beside me, shoulder-to-shoulder, and knelt before the void.
"Your humble String presents itself, my lord," he declaimed.
"Rise up, my son. I believe you have noticed the young man next to you, do you think he is fit for service?" asked the Regent.
"If in your infinite wisdom this was your choice, then I believe he is more than fit to serve you," said the String as he stood up.
"Miguel, how much do you know about the Strings?"
"Not much sir, the teachers used to tell me that if you do not behave one of them will pick you up at night. But these are stories that they tell in the orphanage to put the children to sleep," I replied.
I've never been so wrong in my life. A large part of the population has heard of them. They are recognized as agents of the Regent, but not much more than this is spread among the population. Although it is not known how many they are, who they are and what they do exactly, many resolutions of scandals, deaths and disappearances are publicly admitted by the Regent as a result of the direct action of the Strings. I think when they say to fear your own shadow, they must be talking about the Strings.
"I see they did not tell a lie. But this is only the smallest of the works. They are always active. They know how the world works better than any other. They are an elite highly skilled group of undercover agents. They have no rules, they have no limits. Their job is to protect what remains. They are your neighbours, they might even your friends, they are your Dean. When I call, they leave everything behind. They are the Strings. And now, Miguel, I call you. Will you leave everything behind and serve the Empire?"
I straightened up, stuck my chest, raised my head and answered, "Yes!"
"Good to see that enthusiasm will not be lacking during your training. Yitzchak, can I leave it in your hands?"
"There will be no cause for concern, my lord. He will live with me and if I may, I will begin the training as soon as possible, "said Yitzchak.
"Dismissed," and the Regent's presence vanished.
Unconsciously, I let go the air I had held since my affidavit. I did not know it at the time, but from that moment I began to tread a path that would not have a comeback and Yitzchak would make sure that I never thought of looking back.
Yitzchak was the kind of String who'd been born in a suit. He was never a baby or an infant. He was a serious man with a serious knife who rolled off the forge in Jasmin. He had the ubiquitous square shoulders and squarer chin. He was close shaved 24/7 and he spoke with a baritone voice and clipped far-fetched words. Life had no colour for him, no shades of grey either, it was all black or white, right or wrong, loyal or disloyal. When he wasn't preparing perfect reports he was tormenting me, taking away the last force that my soul could offer to the Empire. An incredible master, and certainly a better String than I would ever be able to even dream of being.
"Let's go kid. Lucky for you being selected by Regent himself."
As we left the Grand Hall I heard a whisper, low and faint, but still clear.
"Maybe." he rasped.
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