The Agents, pt. 2

     Tytus put the letter on the table. He looked across the table to me. I still couldn't see his face under his ever-present hood, but he seemed concerned. "Did  you read this?" he gestured to the letter.

     I shook my head. "I was told to give it to the Agents unopened. Was the seal on the envelope broken?"

     Mentus, one of the leaders of the Agents of the Night, was sitting across the table from me. He chuckled softly. "It's easy to reseal an opened letter, my friend," he said. "But your innocence is refreshing. Who told you to deliver it?"

     "My uncle," I replied. "He's a friend of one of the Agents in our village. He said I needed to take it to their leader and tell them it's urgent."

     Tytus sighed. "Maybe you'd better hear what it is in that letter." He looked to Mentus for permission. The middle-aged leader nodded.

     "Well," Tytus started, "It seems our 'Angularian brethren' are about their evil deeds again. The chief monk Pardsticle has summoned the Beast."

     "The Beast?" I asked. "It exists?"

     Mentus looked at me sharply. "Of course it exists," he said. "Why should you think otherwise?"

     "I thought it was only a legend," I replied.

     "Trust me, it's real," Tytus said. "We fought it many times back in the old days. Now it would seem the monks have use of it."

     "And its master, or mistress, really," said Mentus, giving Tytus a queer look across the table. Tytus said nothing.

     "What are they going to do with the Beast?" I asked, unsure of what had just happened.

     "The letter doesn't say," Tytus replied. "But two villages have already been ravaged by the wretched creature. We need to take care of this threat right away."

     "The only way to do that is to meet it head-on in battle." Mentus said.

     "Exactly," said Tytus. "We'll draw it away from the villages and townspeople. And perhaps we can finally make this the last encounter."

     "I wouldn't count on it," Mentus said grimly. "But to meet it in battle we'll need some weapons more fit for the job. Spears and javelins, longbows and maybe even a crossbow."

     "Well, then," Tytus said, the faintest of smiles gracing his features for a moment. "I think we know just who we need to go to."

     Mentus looked back, also smiling slightly, engaged in the same joke. "I suppose we do."

     "Who?" I asked, feeling completely in the dark.

     They both looked at me and said, "A prophet without honor."