He stands behind the darkness of Hurmaz’s cabin for a moment. He strokes his long, thin hair and his beard, tightens his loincloth and straightens the cloth he has put over his shoulders. He can hear men talking from behind the door. His heart is pounding rapidly both from running in the staircase and the stress of entering the Circle for the very first time. He can feel his own heartbeat and the blood rushing through his aorta to his heart. He even feels that the hole in his heart valve has widened mixing up the blood from his arteries and veins with every pump. His mind is filled with questions, full of vague words that seem to fade away in an uproar of sound and noises. He doesn’t have enough time to give into his thoughts and guess why the Circle has invited him and Mart to their meeting. He wants to feel positive and hopeful and perhaps this anxiousness comes from the unconscious desire he seeds inside of becoming a Circle member. But he has to be careful not to promise himself anything. The Circle doesn’t allow the third-tier disciples to get in so easily, especially Tirad who has never left the Saviour Ship as a missionary. He had heard rumours that Hurmaz had been considering him and Mart to be upgraded to second tier disciples and enter the Circle. Perhaps the time for his great mission has arrived. But he still feels the crushing of the small water snake under his feet. He regrets not having enough time to clean himself of this wrongdoing before he goes into the meeting. He has unintentionally killed a defenceless being and lied to the girl about it. These are not positive signs. He feels sick in his stomach and is hardly able to swallow his saliva. He pressures his hand against his soaring stomach and comforts himself with the thought that maybe killing the snake is not really a malevolent gesture. It may be an irrelevant and random accident or even an insignificant occurrence. He doesn’t have to worry about it because even though he didn’t kill it on purpose, he will seek forgiveness from the sea at tomorrow’s Spawn-Scorching ceremony. He may not even need a full purity, as he doesn’t know what the Circle meeting is about. His first great mission seems too farfetched. It may be a meeting about Farnab and Tirad’s other fourth tier disciples to decide whether they should be sent as missionaries or not. But he can’t loop in his questions any further. He should stop the overthinking and go in where the answers dwell. He takes a deep breath, nocks and enters the cabin.

The cabin is as dark as the corridor with a dim light of an oil lamp that barely lights up the round table and the faces of the Circle members sitting around it. Hurmaz stands upon Tirad’s entrance and welcomes him to the meeting. He offers him a seat next to himself. But the six ‘second tier disciples’ that make up the Circle remain seated and coldly greet Tirad from their seats. Mart is sitting amongst them, brooding. The way he is sitting has made his back hunched and he looks like a mischievous boy awaiting his punishment. He glances at Tirad and seems to have found a renewed confidence, straightens his back and releases the tension from his shoulders. He now looks like one of the main Circle members and the only things that distinguish him from them are the lack of age lines around his eyes and brows and the purple turban that the second-tier disciples tie around their necks. Hurmaz pours him water from a steel pitcher that is on the table. Tirad thanks him and even though all eyes are fixed on him, he drinks the water and sighs. His heartbeat is calmer but his stomach soars even more. The men of the Circle turn their faces towards Hurmaz and await his speech.