What was the name of this place? It was gentler, smaller, and warmer than the dreary and bustling city the boat took him to. The cold pricked his nose, yet it was nothing his hands couldn't ward off. All he remembered was following that woman and the ship she used to travel a full day or more to this quaint locale. All he knew was she could summon the help of this country's soldiers, and it was impossible to come near her without dealing with those two first.

  He woke up, yawned, and stretched his arms as he stared at the ceiling. It was bare; the stones used to build it were smooth in some areas. It looked intact, with hardly any cracks: it was at least a decent roof above his head. What was this place? Someone's abandoned and neglected home? Maybe part of a base those soldiers used to have, but had fallen into disuse. He moved his arms and legs around, almost flailing them, before standing up. While it was less secure for not having a door, the derelict building was the best sleeping place he had found in these lands yet. Only an actual room could downright beat it - had he the money to spare to pay rent with.

  "Sure beats the boxes and boats." The boy kicked away the layers of old sackcloth he used as his bed. "I'm going to come back if those armed men don't come walking around here."

  He stared through a square hole; only rotted wood and rusted hinges remained of a window long gone. The sun was climbing out of its sleep. He went for the man-sized hole where a door used to stand guard. Only stiff hinges and the faint scent of rust remained. He jumped down from an incomplete flight of stairs onto a cracked tile floor. He could make out leaves on some parts of the design, but time and weather were working to give the floor its uniform blankness.

  The nearby slope revealed a small church. It was far from ornate, built with a low bell tower and with windows of that funny colored glass. He had no idea what those images meant, but it was surely one of those 'prayer houses' - at least, that was what he remembered from stray conversations he picked up from the streets.

  The boy picked up a scent coming from one side.

  "It smells good, and just in time." He inhaled the aroma of meat; his hand rested at his stomach, patting it twice. "I could use a few good meals in that place."

  He descended from the hill, seeing a small gathering of people, mostly youths and grown-ups wearing old or tattered clothes. They were falling in line, waiting their turn to get what was softly boiling in a cauldron attended by a veiled woman.

  "It's her."

  She had no armed men guarding her this time. He saw what she did at that other place: the light filling a large room in moments. There was no way he could get closer, especially to what looked like the heart of the city's armed forces at the port. He didn't know what help the green radiance had offered those bedridden men, but it was enough not to make him go near her at the time.

  "Why is she here? She's one of those 'big people' going to that well-guarded house on top of these hills. Maybe it's not her place, or is she here for something else? I can eat here, then keep an eye on her. It's something Master would do if he... she...? Doesn't matter. Master will do it this way."

  He was in the vicinity in moments. Long tables and benches sat under the shade of a cluster of trees that encircled the church and the perimeter. The sun was yet to reach its farthest climb. He stood in line, watching those before him hand a bowl of soup with what looked like cubed potatoes and meat.

  "It smells like someone knows how to make food. Now I'm even hungrier."

  It was his turn. He was caught gazing at the deep blue eyes of the attendant, who simply prepared a tray with a bowl, a small plate, and a tall metal glass of water.

  "Hey, lady, do I get more after this?"

  "You can fall in line for another meal, but we will make sure the newcomers get their share first."

  Her voice, soft, calm, yet it had a forcible persuasion that made the boy nod in agreement. It was the first time he was able to get a glimpse of her face without the veil getting in the way. She had a glowing paleness unlike the common citizen around these parts. Someone with such a finely-shaped face surely had more to offer underneath the habit.

  "I guess even Master will have a problem dealing with people like her. I can stare at her all day..."

  "Is there something else you need, young man?" The serving lady looked at him closer, her eyes gentle, yet it felt like a stirring sea.

  "Ah... nothing. I..." He turned around immediately, almost darting away from the counter until he was reminded of the hot meal he held.

  A table under the shade of a gnarled yet sprawling ash tree was found at the right of the serving counter. Nobody sat with him; people glanced at the boy, and some slowly turned their heads to look elsewhere to sit. He could check on her, maybe use that vision again so he could see if traces of that 'gift' were being moved from her hand to the food. His green eye quivered from a mild jolt, making him shake his head. It was strange. How come that special vision wouldn't appear the way it did in the bigger city not long ago?

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  "Can't be too sure. She might be putting something weird in these things."

  Nothing looked strange: soup with potatoes and meat. There was no reason not to dig in. He had his first spoonfuls, carefully grinding at the cubes at first, but the boy started taking in bigger portions after tasting nothing unusual in the meal. Next was the bread; one bite, nothing strange in it either. It felt a bit dry in the mouth, but it was nothing a little chewing couldn't sort out.

  He stood in line for another serving, minutes later.

  The serving lady took notice of his appearance; there was little reason not to, given that he was the only one sporting a long, sleek black coat. She paid no mind and looked at the then half-full cauldron.

  "Remember, boy. Be wary of those with the gifts. They deceive in ways you never realize..."

  There it was: the sting in his temples when hearing the master's voice. He went ahead with the next serving: nothing, it was just like what he had eaten earlier. It felt worse, in a strange way: this free food was tastier than what he had stolen from a few stores. No wonder people lined up for a meal. He felt full enough, but a third serving would be no problem.

  He looked at the counter again. The tall and pretty serving lady was gone. In her place was a shorter but younger woman of the cloth. It looked like her role in handing food to other people was done for the day.

  He wanted another meal, but it was time to move on and do what he was supposed to. He checked underneath his coat. The gleam of a pistol grip came to view; the sun made the wooden furniture gleam in a strange shade of yellow and brown.

  He found her alone, looking at the hills; her veil and habit fluttered in the wind. The boy hid under the shadow of an old willow. He spied from the corner of his eye, trying not to make the slightest noise - except when his foot stepped on a small shrub. Twigs snapped, leaves rustled, and those sounds caught the attention of the one he was meant to watch without being seen.

  "Who's there?"

  He was found out sooner than he wanted. Having no choice, he leapt in front of the church servant.

  "You're one of them."

  A silver revolver was revealed; its stout barrel was almost the length of a hand, with cylinders meant to house bullets larger than what other pistols had. He aimed, cocking the hammer while another finger was on the trigger. This serving lady from before showed no intent to run and said:

  "What do you mean? I am unarmed."

  She raised her hands, revealing empty palms. Calm eyes stared back at the boy. A breeze whistled by; bits of dead foliage were thrown into the air, only for the place to fall silent again. The woman spoke to him, fear absent in her voice:

  "A boy like you shouldn't brandish such a weapon – especially at someone who only feeds people."

  "My master said I should put down people like you." A soft wind blew by, disturbing the foliage as it passed. "I saw what you did in that room with beds. Whatever that light did to those men. You're dangerous."

  "You seem not to understand what took place there." He continued locking stares with her. She did not move, nor did she lower her hands. "How was that 'dangerous'? Did your master tell you why?"

  "You use that power to scare people. Make them do things they don't like."

  "Do things they don't like? I fear you are mistaken." Her lips curved down to a slight frown, though she kept showing empty palms at the boy. "The light you saw in that building and the meals you've eaten were no different: both were meant to help."

  "Help? The meal was good, but..."

  Those eyes again: the same ones she used when he almost froze in place when she looked at him. Was this slight curve on her face a smile? His gun arm started trembling; he had to take a shot now, and maybe he could hear the Master's voice again. His finger hovered over the trigger, then slipped. One squeeze and it was all over. He couldn't move. Breathing slowed.

  "Why isn't she afraid? Is she making fun of me? Why can't I shoot?"

  She took two minced steps; her gaze still undeterred, but he found himself wanting to shift his gun away.

  "Tell me, young man, is your master with you?"

  "No, he's not here." The revolver slacked; its sights were no longer at her head. The boy held his head, saying, "I am looking for him too, but I have to..."

  The church lady lowered her arms, keeping her hands in the sleeves of her habit. "Do you know where he may be?"

  "I don't get it. Why?"

  He grimaced; frustration rapidly taking over everything else his mind could come up with, unable to answer his question of why he couldn't take her down. He thought of his master again:

  "Why hesitate? Have you forgotten that completing the mission is above all else? It is your guide, your purpose, and your reason in life."

  He shook his head, hid the gun back in his coat, and took a few steps away, as if he had forgotten what he was supposed to do. The boy turned around and leapt into the grove of trees, running away from his supposed target.