The figure that entered the hall that morning during prayers looked like no Cardinal or Bishop the boys had ever seen before. He was clad in black, matt finished and with tanned leather about his wrists, elbows and knees. There was darkness in his features and a weight in the way he carried himself. He wore boots rather than shoes and they cracked hard on the tiled floor as he walked, as if studded on their soles. The light seemed to dim as he passed by a window or candle, as if his very presence sucked the joy from the room.
The boys muttered quietly amongst themselves, snatching glances over shoulders and above text books, transfixed by the tall and daunting figure of the man.
He walked the aisles of desks, his head turning from side to side like a pendulum, from the backs of boys hunched over their desk on the left of the aisle to the right and then back again, his pace unchecked, his glare unwavering. When he had walked the full length of every aisle, he returned back to the door of the chamber and fell into quiet conversation with the Father standing there so that none of the acolytes, despite their best endeavours, could hear.
“So, that is Tacit?” the man murmured under his breath to Father Adansoni alongside, indicating the boy in the middle of the classroom. He spoke in Latin, his language sounding exotic and mysterious. Tacit caught the man’s cold eyes on him and shivered, pretending to look away and focus on his studies.
“It is,” Adansoni replied. “But he is not to go with you.”
“So you have said. But I have heard great things about him from many quarters. We need good new blood. Our battles are endless, our enemies merciless. We lose men every day in our eternal struggle with the Darkness. From what I have heard, he would be perfect for our ranks.”
“But you would not be perfect for him.”
“I don’t understand,” the black clad man hissed.
Adansoni lowered his gaze onto the boy and watched him with the love of a father. “He has experienced too many terrible things in his early years. He is not suitable. He never will be. Pick from the others for your army.”
“But he’s the quickest and the strongest, from the reports I have read.”
“You are correct. He is the strongest. But it is what lies inside, which is so fragile. Despite the years, despite his achievements I do not think he should go. There is nothing which convinces me he is ready, or that he will ever be ready for the role you wish of him.”
The black clad man turned from the room to stride into the dark of the corridor beyond. “Tell me,” he growled loudly, so that his words could be heard by all studying in the chamber behind him, “what use is ability when all the use you put it to is to read prayers and extinguish candles?”