The guard walked swiftly, forcing Carlos and Quixotina to almost run to keep up. The damp forest air clung their clothes to their skin. Tassi, who was observing the training from a distance, saw the hurried movement and, driven by a sudden curiosity, decided to follow them. The small group crossed the well-kept paths of the mocambo until they reached its edge, where the clearing met the green wall of the forest.

  There, the scene was tense. Espectro, imposing with his face carved in severe lines, was surrounded by five more guards, their spears forming a crown of sharp steel aimed at a single man. The fellow was short, plump, and trembling like a bamboo pole in a storm. His eyes, wide with terror, darted from one hostile face to another, but he still tried, with visible effort, to maintain his posture.

  The smell of cold sweat and fear soured the air. The moment Espectro spotted Carlos and his entourage, his expression did not soften.

  "Carlos!" his voice echoed, sharp. "This man invaded the quilombo claiming to be an acquaintance of yours. He said he has something of utmost importance to discuss with you, and only with you."

  Carlos and Tassi exchanged a glance of instant recognition. It was the same peddler, the hopeful-faced, dust-covered vendor who frequented the sugar mill.

  An ironic smile formed on Carlos's lips.

  "Well, well, Mr. Merchant! Don't tell me you accepted my invitation to come trade with us here in the quilombo."

  Espectro crossed his arms, and his gaze was a spear in itself.

  "By any chance, have you been spreading the location of this place to everyone, Carlos? Even as one of our chiefs, I cannot let a security breach like this slide."

  Carlos shook his head, vehemently denying it.

  "Never, Espectro. It was on the day of our liberation. I invited him jokingly, in a sarcastic tone, to come sell his wares here. I never, in a thousand years, imagined he would take it seriously."

  Tassi intervened, her voice a balm of calm in the charged atmosphere. She stepped beside Carlos, her serene gaze assessing the terrified merchant.

  "Do not worry, Chief Espectro. We know him from our time at the mill. This is the man who gave us the weapons that secured our freedom, and who sold us the books that now we use to learn. He never looked down on us, nor mistreated any of us. Of course, within the confines of the mill... outside of it, I cannot swear."

  The man, Francisco, choked. His trembling hands rose in a gesture of surrender, and his voice came out hoarse and broken.

  "I... I swear! I never harmed anyone! I'm just a humble merchant! I'm here just... just to deliver a letter to Carlos! The Popess has heard of your knowledge and would like to speak!"

  Espectro did not lower his guard. With a quick, fluid movement, the tip of his spear stopped a hand's breadth from Francisco's chest. The man let out a whimper, shrinking to the ground and covering his head with his arms.

  "You are lucky to have someone vouch for you!" Espectro snarled. "I hope every one of your words is true! If it is not, your life ends here, this instant!"

  "It's true! I swear by everything!" Francisco's voice was a thread of terror.

  Slowly, with hesitant movements that betrayed every raw nerve, Francisco pulled a crumpled envelope from the inner pocket of his coat. As he stood up, a few drops of sweat dripped from his forehead onto the paper, leaving small dark stains. He held the letter out to Espectro.

  The warrior chief took the document, his experienced fingers examining the red wax seal. He flipped the paper over, pressed the seal with his thumb, and, apparently satisfied with its authenticity, passed it to Carlos.

  Carlos broke the seal with a dry snap and unfolded the letter. His eyes scanned the initial lines, filled with endless pomp and self-praise.

  "Your Mercy, Carlos,"

  "Health and Peace in Our Lord."

  "I address you by the hand of the Holy Church, I, the Popess, Elected by the Divine Spirit, Mother of the Poor and Refuge of the Oppressed, she to whom was revealed, by unfathomable Grace, the mystery of the Gem of Alteration and the deepest secrets of Creation..."

  He skimmed paragraphs and more paragraphs of self-celebration. "Apparently, humility is not a virtue that accompanies sanctity," Carlos thought, impatient. Finally, he reached the crux of the matter.

  "In my infinite mercy and wise understanding of the laws of men and God, we understand that the struggle for freedom is a just yearning of the soul. However, the act of taking a life, even that of an impious tyrant like the mill owner Jorge and his overseers, stains the soul with the mortal sin of homicide. You committed this grave error, Carlos, and such an action does not go unnoticed by the All-Seeing Eyes."

  "Nevertheless, in the eyes of me, the Saint of the Church, no sin is so great that it cannot be atoned for by a truly repentant heart and by concrete acts of contrition. Your redemption is possible if you channel your strength to combat the true scourges that afflict this world."

  "It was through an intellectual gift granted to me – an understanding so vast it deciphers both the designs of God and the tricks of the Adversary – that I discovered the true origin of plagues and diseases: creatures called viruses and bacteria. This knowledge, paradoxically, was illuminated by the study of profane books, of diabolical origin, which I took upon myself to convert their malice into utility for humanity."

  "It is here that your opportunity for absolution lies. If you possess, or come to possess, any devilish books or writings concerning such subjects – be it about these creatures, about vaccines, about the diseases they cause, or the mysteries of the human body – your immediate delivery of them to the Church will be taken as a powerful act of contrition. Any other knowledge related to these themes will be of immense value to our sacred mission of healing the sick."

  "Know that your contributions will not be in vain. The Holy Church knows how to reward those who walk its path. The weapons you acquired through Francisco came from our arsenals, and many more artifacts of defense can be yours, strengthening your just cause, in the exact measure of your cooperation and devotion. Beyond martial support, my influence and counsel will be at your disposal to guide your steps."

  "May the Divine Light illuminate your path back to grace."]

  "Under My Hand and Seal,"

  "The Popess, Mother of the Poor,"

  "Servant of the Servants of God."

  Upon finishing the letter, Carlos couldn't contain a smile, which quickly turned into an open, genuine laugh.

  "Ha, ha, ha! This is... perfect! If we can get the Church's help, it would be a huge step forward!"

  Tassi, whose curiosity was overflowing, leaned forward.

  "What does it say, Carlos? What has you so excited?"

  "The Church is willing to help us!" he explained, his eyes still shining. "In exchange for knowledge from my world! And they have more weapons, Tassi, many more!"

  At that moment, Espectro's expression closed off completely. His face was a mask of disapproval.

  "Negative!" the word came out like a blow. "We cannot let the enemy know our trump cards. I understand that the Popess might be a saint, and I believe in the goodness they preach. But she is part of the same institution that supports and benefits from the enslavement of our people! We must remember her contacts with the Europeans and the captaincies."

  The response didn't shake Carlos's spirit, who kept his smile.

  "Not everything from my world involves weapons, Espectro. Look, the Popess is interested in diseases and vaccines. I know about these things, and I know inventions that could help her tremendously..."

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  "Besides," he thought, his expression turning more serious for a moment, "she got this information from those 'devil's books.' I just hope she's the only one using that knowledge... Is it from my world? No, if it were, she wouldn't be asking such basic things. But if there's someone else who can decipher and apply what's in those books... That could become a colossal problem."

  Espectro was still unmoved, his body tense.

  "This is still strengthening the enemy!"

  Carlos remained calm, his tone persuasive, not confrontational.

  "And do you believe a person, just for being white, deserves to die of disease? I don't believe that. That's why we should spread this knowledge, Espectro. Even here in the mocambo, I'm demanding everyone wash their hands with soap before eating at the restaurant. Imagine being able to spread that worldwide with the Church's help? We could lessen the suffering of thousands, prevent epidemics."

  Espectro let out a deep sigh, and some of the rigidity left his shoulders.

  "I understand you, Carlos, from the bottom of my heart, I do. But even so, a decision of this magnitude cannot be made by just the two of us. We must take this to Ganga Zala and the other chiefs of the council."

  ***

  Inside the Victory Mountain, the air was heavy and solemn. Carlos sat behind a long, solid wood table, in the seat that once belonged to Aqua. Around him were the other mocambo chiefs, their faces illuminated by the flickering light of torches fixed to the stone walls. In the center of the room, in front of the table, Ganga Zala occupied a higher chair, like a rustic throne, his presence dominating the entire environment.

  "I can't believe I have to speak in front of so many important people," Carlos thought, feeling a chill in his stomach. "I'm not cut out for this... My place is dealing with paperwork, not in a council of chiefs."

  While he was lost in his anxious thoughts, Espectro concluded his clear and objective explanation of the events.

  "...In summary, this intruder is an acquaintance of Carlos. And, as you could see from the letter, he brings a proposal of cooperation from the Church, conditional on the sharing of otherworldly knowledge. I checked the letter's seal; it is indeed the Popess's. Currently, Carlos is in favor of accepting this proposal."

  Espectro turned his gaze to Carlos, passing him the floor. He swallowed dryly and stood up, feeling the weight of everyone's eyes on him.

  "Not all the knowledge I bring from my world is military," he began, forcing his voice to sound firmer than he felt. "Things like disease prevention and pest control would be priceless if disseminated. Popess Paula has the connections to make that happen. Furthermore, through her, we could establish an official channel to sell the products from my mocambo, like the clothes, and buy iron on a larger scale for our weapon production. It would be much more efficient than our current barter system with neighboring farmers."

  He paused, letting the words settle.

  "I thought about asking her to send accredited merchants to us. We could set up a trading post in a safe location, halfway between the quilombo and the Holy City. That way, we could sell our clothes and buy not just iron, but other necessities. Not to mention, the Church possesses modern firearms, far superior to what we produce here. Unfortunately, I think it's premature to ask for that right away. We need to first earn her trust with smaller exchanges."

  Almost immediately, Chief Malik let his discontent show. His face was a storm cloud.

  "That would make the quilombo's location clear as water!" he protested, tapping his index finger on the table.

  Carlos shook his head, his argument calm.

  "We don't need to trade here inside, Malik. As I said, we can choose a neutral point. The risk, if well managed, is minimal compared to the profits we would have. With the sale of the clothes, we'll get much more iron to forge more weapons for all of us."

  Malik sighed, clearly not entirely convinced.

  "And I don't think this so-called Popess is trustworthy. What if we share the knowledge and get nothing in return? We'll be left with a mouth full of teeth and empty hands."

  Carlos maintained his serenity.

  "I won't share everything at once, of course. It will be a process, one piece of knowledge at a time. If she wants more, she'll have to honor her part of the agreement and supply what was promised."

  It was then that Espectro intervened, adding a new layer of information.

  "One of our spies in the Holy City informed us that the Popess has already invented something called a 'vaccine.' Something that prevents people from getting smallpox. People are celebrating the saint's name in the streets—"

  Carlos couldn't contain himself and interrupted him, his eyes wide with disbelief.

  "Vaccines?! How is that possible?" his voice sounded a bit high-pitched. "Can you give me details, Espectro? How exactly is this vaccine applied?"

  "When I read the letter, I thought she had only read about vaccines, not that she had manufactured them!" he thought, alarmed.

  Espectro, surprised by the reaction, quickly regained his composure.

  — Our agent received this so-called vaccine. He said they made a small scratch on his arm and applied a liquid extracted from sores on cows. They warned him he might get a fever and some marks at the site, but that he would recover and afterwards would be immune to smallpox.

  Upon hearing the description, Carlos let out a long, relieved sigh.

  — Phew! It's Jenner's vaccine... still rudimentary, but the principle is correct. I was afraid they were using modern vaccines or, worse yet, practicing variolation, which is much more dangerous. If that were the case, it would mean a very questionable level of technological mastery. The method you describe is safe and effective.

  The entire table fell silent, with confused looks being exchanged. Carlos realized he needed to explain.

  — Forgive my outburst. I was momentarily worried they were using an archaic and dangerous method that involves material from the human smallpox virus itself. That would show they don't fully understand the principle of immunization. The fact that they are using the cowpox virus, which is much milder, demonstrates they have correctly deciphered and applied a vital piece of knowledge.

  — However — he continued, turning back to Espectro —, managing to replicate even this vaccine is quite a feat. The Church must be zealously guarding those so-called 'devil's books' and deciphering them bit by bit.

  "I think it prudent to assign more spies to investigate what other technologies the Church already commands. Still, I maintain that the agreement is advantageous. We lose nothing by sharing basic health knowledge."

  "And what knowledge, exactly, do you consider 'basic' and would be willing to provide?" asked Chief Fernando, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I'm sure if you can share it with them, you can share it with us first."

  "Of course, no problem," Carlos nodded. "Basically..." And he launched into a detailed explanation, describing the principles of hygiene, germ theory in a simplified form, and other public health concepts he planned to include in his response to the Popess.

  Chief Malik listened attentively, pondering each word. Finally, he gave a slow nod.

  "I have no objections. If it's not knowledge that helps them directly in war, then we have nothing to lose by sharing it. And if, in the process, we gain an influential ally, even if only in trade, or in the supply of healing gems... it would be a great step."

  Maria, the only female chief at the meeting, also mentioned another point.

  "By getting closer to the church, we might also gain access to better medicines and cures. One day, who knows, we might be able to restore the lost limbs of our warriors."

  The other chiefs seemed to reach a silent consensus, their faces showing cautious acceptance. It was then that Ganga Zala slapped his palm on the table, producing a sharp sound that echoed through the room and brought absolute silence.

  "Very well," said the chief, his gaze fixed on Carlos. "Should this agreement succeed, you will hand over fifty percent of all profits to the quilombo. Are we understood?"

  Carlos felt a chill run down his spine. The order was unquestionable.

  "Yes, Ganga Zala," he replied, his voice a bit weaker.

  A wide smile spread across Ganga's face, but it didn't reach his eyes.

  "Good that we understand each other. However, we have another urgent matter to discuss. The attack the governor is planning against us. How are our defense preparations progressing?"

  Espectro struck his clenched fist against his chest in a gesture of fierce determination.

  "Ganga, everything is proceeding as planned. We are installing more traps on the approaches to the quilombo. Our warriors train daily, and with each passing day, I see them growing stronger and more disciplined. With the new gunpowder weapons, I believe we can annihilate any invading force! We haven't fully mastered these weapons yet, it's true, but Carlos has been sharing his world's tactics with us, and I am adapting them to our training."

  Hearing the report, the quilombo chief nodded, satisfied, and then turned his penetrating gaze to Carlos.

  "Good, good... Speaking of which, Carlos. Are you really from another world?" the question came out casually, but the weight behind it was immense. "When they reported this to me, I thought they were mocking me. You wouldn't be... making up this story, would you?"

  Despite the fear freezing his veins, Carlos maintained his posture. He raised his chin a little.

  "I believe practice is the sole criterion of truth, Ganga Zala. I can say whatever I want, but many will doubt. So, I ask only that you observe. I will bring so many changes, so many innovations to this world, that there will come a point where there is no other possible explanation for them."

  Ganga Zala held his gaze. Seconds dragged on like hours in the silent room. Until, suddenly, the chief let out a deep, reverberating laugh.

  "Ha, ha, ha! You are right, young man. You are absolutely right."

  And with that, the meeting was officially adjourned. The moment Carlos stepped outside the Victory Mountain, under the sunlight that now seemed brighter, he let out the air he didn't even know he was holding in his lungs.

  "Finally, it's over," he thought, running a hand over his face. "I'm really not cut out for this... But fifty percent of the profits? The man is a genuine robber! What will he do with so much money, when I'm the one funding the quilombo's defense? But I can't do anything... This king inspires a hellish fear and commands everything here. Although I remembered that in my world, one of the kings of Palmares didn't have a very glorious end for going against the will of the quilombo people... But, well, that's a problem for another day. For now, just focus on the work..."