A few days later, Martin received a summons from the main courtyard. A white-robed youth came to his room and said coldly, "Elder Augustine wants to see you."
Martin's heart tightened. What does he want now? He followed the youth to the herb garden.
Augustine was standing by his herb patch, looking at a cluster of withered plants. He turned when Martin entered. His eyes were sharp.
"Martin, do you know why these herbs died?"
Martin looked at the withered plants. They were near the spot where he had stood when he first visited Augustine's garden. He remembered that the bead had been on him at that time. Could the bead have absorbed the herbs' holy energy?
He shook his head. "I don't know, Master."
Augustine stared at him for a long time. Then he said, "I've been watching you. You've reached the first level of Gathering Light, haven't you?"
Martin was silent for a moment, then nodded. There was no point in hiding it. "Yes, Master."
Augustine's eyes widened slightly. "In just a few months? With your weak affinity?" He walked around Martin, examining him. "You must have some treasure. Where is it?"
Martin's heart pounded, but his face remained calm. "I don't have any treasure, Master. I just worked hard."
Augustine laughed coldly. "Worked hard? Do you think I'm a fool? I've been cultivating for forty years. I know how long it takes for someone with weak affinity to reach the first level. It's at least five years, even with the best elixirs. You did it in months. You have something."
Martin said nothing. He knew denial would only make Augustine more suspicious, but admitting the truth was even worse.
Augustine grabbed Martin's arm and pulled him close. His eyes glowed faintly. "I will find out your secret, boy. One way or another."
He released Martin and stepped back. "I'm assigning you to work in the alchemy hall. You will assist Brother Malachi. Report there tomorrow."
Martin was surprised. The alchemy hall was where elixirs were made. It was a position of some trust. But he also knew that Malachi was the one who had administered the aptitude test—the cold, merciless monk. Working under him would be difficult.
"Yes, Master," Martin said.
He left the garden and went to the alchemy hall. It was a large building near the main hall. The air inside was thick with the smell of herbs and something else—something sharp and metallic.
Brother Malachi was standing by a large cauldron, stirring a bubbling liquid. He looked up when Martin entered. His eyes were cold.
"Ah, the suicide boy. I've heard about you. Elder Augustine says you're to assist me. Fine. You'll clean the cauldrons, fetch herbs, and do whatever else I tell you. If you make a mistake, you'll be punished."
Martin bowed. "Yes, Brother Malachi."