Chapter 14

Larazenhor's lessons were long and tedious. Cristoff was already a believer in R'hllor, but Larazenhor's devotion was as deep as his mysterious past. He spoke with an untraceable accent and his face was so old that Cristoff could not identify his place of origin. The lessons were not only of religion, but od other things such as philosophy, politics and debating.

"Our Lord is the only god. If any man tells you otherwise, he is a fool. Our Lord has the power to give life, and to take it away." Preached Larazenhor to Cristoff

"What do you mean the power to give life?" asked Cristoff

"R'hllor has been known to grant new life to those who have died to bring them up again and out of the cold."

Cristoff pondered that for a moment,

"And we are his instruments of death, correct?" asked Cristoff

"Yes. There are also those who founded our Brotherhood, in Old Valyria and now situated in Braavos, who follow the many-faced god. They are also his instruments of death, but we split over a question of faith. We still commune and occasionally send apprentices to each other for training. They are masters of stealth; they are known to change their entire face for infiltration. We may send you there, if it is deemed that your skills lie in trickery and deceit."

"I have some skill in those areas, but I wouldn't say I am purely focused in them."

"No, your talents lie elsewhere. Your mind is, quite interesting. Your talents might just be in strategizing, or even magic."

Cristoff was taken aback,

"Magic?"

"Yes, the maesters of Westeros each have to forge a chain made of different links of different metals. The link of Valyrian steel is made when they learn the arcane arts. Many fail, but you might just be able to succeed where so many others have failed."

"You would send me to Westeros on the chance that I might be able to learn magic?"

"No, we would not do that."

Larazenhor pondered for a minute.

"However, there are other matters in Westeros that demand our attention. We have brothers there who attempted to offer their services to the Targaryens, but they found only the Usurper, Robert Baratheon, and thought him unworthy of the Red God's strength. A priest, Thoros of Myr, was sent to sway Robert and make him see the light, but he too fell into drinking and whoring."

"And what does this mean for me?"

Larazenhor looked at him,

"We may send you to Westeros after all."

He walked over to the brazier and waved his hand over it and it burst into flames. The flickering caught Cristoff's attention and held it.

"Come, Cristoff, and peer into the flames. Our Lord may grant you vision of things yet to come, and may hold the answer to this debate."

Cristoff walked without meaning to until his face was almost directly over the brazier. The heat assaulted his face but he didn't mind. The flames swirled around, leaping at the edges of the brazier, until he realised it was a person, leaping from edge to edge. It was him, he was like a snake, whirling and parrying attacks from unseen enemies as if he knew where they all were at once. The vision faded, and he was assaulted by a sudden coldness from the fire. In it he could see more enemies attacking a group of black-clad men, but the enemies were slow and cumbersome, they moved with a purpose though, and didn't die by a sword thrust. The flames lowered, until only a single pillar of flame was visible amongst the others. A cinder rose up the column and leapt off the top, drifting down among the dwindling flames until it hit the metal grate with a quiet hiss. The flames died out, and Cristoff blinked. Larazenhor was watching quietly.

"What did you see?" he asked

"I saw myself, leaping through enemies as though I were a snake, striking all my foes regardless of where they were and killing them instantly."

"Was that all?"

"No, I also saw men dressed in black, in a land of white, fighting off, others."

"What others?"

"I don't know, they looked like men, but they weren't, alive."

Larazenhor looked troubled at that, but he remained silent as Cristoff continued

"And I saw a tall tower, the tallest tower I've ever seen, and something leapt off it."

"How did they leap? Straight down?"

"No, it was more like a bird, flying off the edge and soaring over the rest of the land around the tower."

"R'hllor's gifts can be difficult to understand, but are you sure it was you who was eliminating your foes?"

"Yes, I had my Arakh and Knucklebreaker, but my hidden blades were different."

"Wait, blades?"

"I had two blades, one on each arm."

Larazenhor sat down slowly.

"That confirms it, we are sending you to Westeros once your training here is complete."

"What? How-"

"Our brothers in Dorne, Westeros, they were known for being as fast as snakes, as fierce as dragons, and most of all, for wielding two hidden blades. The land of white you describe, I believe it to be the lands north of the Wall. There, the Other has his minions crawl about in the cold and attack those with hot blood in their veins. The tower, though, I have no idea of what it could entail. You will have to find that out yourself. I will organise transport for you when you finish your training."