Martin was called to a building that assigned work to servant monks. A weasel-faced young man in yellow robes looked him up and down contemptuously and sneered, "So you're the Martin who got in by trying to kill himself?"
Martin looked at him and said nothing. The young man raised an eyebrow. "Starting tomorrow, report to me every day at sunrise. Your job is to carry water. You must fill ten large vats. If you fail, you get no food. If you fail for seven consecutive days, I will report to the elders and have you expelled from the abbey. This is your uniform. Remember, servant monks wear gray. Only full disciples receive other colors." He tossed a set of clothes and a token onto the table, then closed his eyes and ignored Martin.
Martin picked up the clothes and asked, "Where do I sleep?"
The young man did not open his eyes. "Go north. You'll see a row of low houses. Give your token to the monk there, and he'll assign you a room."
Martin memorized this, turned, and walked north. After he left, the young man opened his eyes and muttered contemptuously, "Getting in by trying to kill himself. What a waste."
Walking through the abbey, Martin saw mostly gray-robed monks. They moved hurriedly, their faces cold, some carrying work tools, looking tired.
He walked north for a long time and finally saw the low houses. There were more gray monks here, but still, everyone kept to themselves, rarely speaking.
He gave his token to a yellow-robed monk in charge, who said nothing and pointed impatiently to a room.
Martin was used to the coldness. He walked to the room, pushed open the door, and looked inside. The room was small, with two wooden beds and a table. It was clean, similar to his home.
He chose an empty bed, put down his things, and lay down. His thoughts were tangled. He had finally gotten into St. Helman's, but it was not as he had imagined. From what the yellow-robed youth had said, his job was to carry water.
He sighed and touched the stone bead, still wrapped in cloth and tied around his neck. He knew it was a treasure. Martin had read many books and knew the saying: A man is guilty of a crime if he possesses a treasure he cannot protect. He resolved to let no one know about his treasure.
Night fell. A thin, gray-robed youth came in, looking exhausted. He saw Martin, stared for a moment, then ignored him and lay down on his bed, falling asleep immediately.
Martin did not mind. He knew he had to get up early. He touched his stomach, took out some sweet potatoes from his bundle—food his parents had brought—and ate a few.
The youth on the opposite bed stirred, sat up, and stared at the sweet potatoes. He swallowed and said softly, "Can you give me some?"
Martin immediately gave him several, smiling. "I have plenty. Eat as many as you like."
The youth devoured them, then ran to the table, poured a cup of water, and drank it all in one gulp. He sighed. "Damn, I haven't eaten in two days. Thanks, friend. What's your name?"
Martin gave his name. The youth was stunned. "You're Martin? The one who… well, to be honest, everyone in the abbey knows about you. Don't blame me for saying it. Actually, I admire you. You found a way in."
Martin smiled bitterly and offered more sweet potatoes.
The youth took them, ate a few, and said apologetically, "Martin, you should save some for yourself. You're new. You don't know what the weasel is like. He's a bastard. He treats us servant monks like animals."
"Weasel?" Martin thought of the yellow-robed youth.
"Yeah, you haven't met him? He's the one in charge of assigning work. He's also a servant monk, but he's been allowed to learn holy magic, so he wears yellow. He looks like a weasel. We call him that behind his back." The youth drank some water and gritted his teeth.
Martin ate a sweet potato. "I know who you mean. I saw him today. He told me to fill ten vats of water every day or I won't eat."
The youth stared at Martin in disbelief. "Friend, did you offend him somehow?"
Martin shook his head. "Why?"
The youth looked at him with pity. "Martin, do you think the vats are like the ones at home? This big?" He held out his hands.
Martin had a bad feeling. He nodded.
The youth laughed bitterly. "You must have offended him. The vats he's talking about are as big as this room. Ten of them. Martin, keep your sweet potatoes. You'll need them. I doubt you'll eat more than once every four or five days." He put the remaining sweet potatoes on the table, sighed, and lay back down.
Martin felt anger rise in his chest. He bit his lip, thought of his parents' hopeful eyes, forced the anger down, and went to sleep.
The next day, before dawn, he got up. Henrik was still snoring. Martin put on his gray robe and went to the work assignment building. The sun was rising when he arrived. The yellow-robed youth opened his door, looked at Martin sideways, and said sarcastically, "Punctual. Go inside and get the buckets. Go out the east gate. There's a spring in the mountain. Get your water there."
He then ignored Martin, sat down facing the sunrise, and began breathing slowly. White mist came from his nose like two dragons.
Martin looked at him with envy. He went inside, looked around, and finally saw the ten massive vats behind a door. He sighed and picked up two buckets.
He walked a long way to the spring. The scenery was beautiful. Water babbled like music. Martin had no time to admire it. He filled the buckets and hurried back up the mountain.
By dusk, he had filled one vat. If not for the sweet potatoes, he would have had no strength. His legs and arms were sore and numb. Every movement hurt.
He thought for a moment, filled a half-bucket of water, and found a secluded spot. After making sure no one was around, he took out the stone bead from his robe, put it in the bucket, and swirled it. After a while, he took out the bead, put it away, and drank some of the water.
A warm feeling spread through his stomach, and the soreness in his muscles slowly faded. The effect was not as strong as the dew, but Martin was thrilled. He touched the bead and renewed his vow: no one must know.
After drinking the half-bucket, he felt energized and continued carrying water.
That day, he filled one and a half vats. He drank another half-bucket of the bead-infused water. To avoid suspicion, he pretended to be exhausted when he returned to his room.
Soon, Henrik came back, still looking tired. They talked for a while. Henrik hesitantly asked for two sweet potatoes, ate them, and fell asleep.
Time passed quickly. A month went by.