The air in the office of the Palace of the Two Towers was heavy and warm, saturated with the smell of beeswax used to polish the heavy jacaranda wood table and the musty dampness rising from the ancient stones. Governor Bento Vidal, his forehead gleaming with sweat, listened to Lieutenant álvaro's report with an attention that bordered on anguish. Across the table, Captain-Mor Caetano Velho trimmed his long black mane with slow gestures, while his slender fingers spun a crystal glass full of orange juice, its citrusy and sweet scent momentarily cutting through the charged atmosphere.

  When the lieutenant finished and left, closing the heavy wooden door with a dull thud, Caetano placed the glass on the table with a soft click. The ensuing silence was filled by the distant buzz of an insect and the sound of the governor's quill, which he tapped nervously on a document.

  "It seems the Popess has chosen a side," commented Caetano, his voice a silken thread laden with irony. "And I don't blame her. It seems to be a devilishly more lucrative side."

  Bento Vidal sighed, rubbing his eyes. "It's a disaster, Caetano. A complete disaster."

  "I suggest, Governor, that you send an urgent letter to Lisbon," continued the captain-mor, ignoring the other's dismay. "Inform them that we have black people manufacturing products within the colony. If they already kill white men who try to refine simple iron, can you imagine what they would do with... unwanted competitors of another color?" He made a dramatic pause, looking at the door as if expecting a specter. "And you must send another letter to the Church headquarters. I very much doubt His Holiness in Alba would appreciate a local branch twisting the rules of the game so much."

  The governor shook his head, an expression of profound defeat on his face. "Forget the letters, Caetano. It's already too late for that."

  Caetano raised an eyebrow, surprised. "How so?"

  "I received a dispatch from Lisbon three days ago," Bento explained, opening a drawer and pulling out a letter with the royal seal. "They know. And worse, they approved. The Portuguese Crown is selling raw ore from Gemas Gerais directly to the Holy City. That so-called Popess will use these ores, supposedly through 'miracles,' to transform them into steel. And in the future, so the legend goes, even into gold."

  The captain-mor couldn't contain a low, hoarse laugh. "Ha! It seems she's always ten steps ahead of us. So, why the long face, Bento? They don't know the Popess is lying about the divine origin of her steel, and we can prove the true source..."

  The governor grabbed a quill, an inkwell, and some papers and began writing the letter immediately.

  Caetano Velho stood up, leaning lightly on the ebony cane that had been resting against the chair. His dark eyes scanned the room, stopping at the open window that looked out onto the palace's bustling courtyard.

  "Calm down, Governor. Leave the letters for later. We have a more urgent problem to solve. What to do about the Quilombo... or rather, about the Armadillo Mocambo."

  Bento Vidal dropped the pen with a weary sigh. "If your spy's information is correct, that's where they are forging these weapons and goods."

  Caetano took a slow sip of his juice, savoring the sweetness before speaking. "Now we know our enemy better. And I noticed a glaring weakness. According to Nyran, the food production and the creation of these ingenious machines are in the hands of just two people: Tassi, who makes the land bear fruit, and a chief named Carlos, the brain behind it all."

  He turned, his gaze becoming cold and calculating. "We will orchestrate a large-scale attack. In the midst of the chaos, my other two spies, who are already infiltrated in their army and armed, will 'disappear' from the front line and eliminate the targets. Carlos is the priority. He may be physically weak, but without his genius, the Quilombo is just a cluster of shacks."

  The governor seemed to revive for a moment, a tense smile appearing on his lips. "It seems like an excellent plan to me! Finally, direct action!"

  At that moment, firm knocks on the door interrupted the conversation. A guard entered, his helmet fogged by the external heat.

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  "Governor, an urgent correspondence has arrived. From the Popess."

  Bento Vidal paled. He stood up so fast that his chair scraped against the stone floor. Without a word, he snatched the letter from the soldier's hands, who, confused, quickly withdrew.

  With trembling hands, the governor broke the purple wax seal and read. With each line, his face grew paler, more somber, as if a heavy cloud had settled over his shoulders.

  "She... she..." Bento's voice failed. He swallowed dryly. "The Popess officially declares that she is in partnership with the Quilombo for the production of steel and the trade of forest products. And that... that Ganga Zala has converted to Christianity."

  Caetano, who was watching everything with renewed interest, let out a dry laugh. "I don't believe it!"

  "She herself baptized him!" Bento continued, his voice rising to a tone of desperation. "He left his harem, adopted a single wife, and now believes in the one God. The 'Black King' Zala... wants a peace agreement."

  The bandeirante let out another laugh, even louder. "Magnificent! It's a masterstroke! She's not ten, she's twenty steps ahead of us!"

  "Why are you laughing?" shouted Bento Vidal, furious, throwing the letter on the table. "I won't get any more slaves for the plantation owners! Worse, I've lost the ones they had already provided for the battle! They are on the verge of a mutiny, Caetano!"

  Caetano approached the window, watching the movement outside. "We just need to make some... adjustments. Lieutenant álvaro told us about the new trade route to the Quilombo, full of foolish merchants and heavy caravans. It's a juicy target."

  "Attack a route of the Church? On Church lands? While peace negotiations are underway?" The governor seemed to be having a fit.

  Without turning around, Caetano replied in a soft, venomous voice: "And who said we are going to attack it? In times of crisis, banditry flourishes. And what easier money is there than plundering rich merchants? We don't need to dirty our hands, just... sow the right news in the wrong places. And perhaps, who knows, some of our men, discontent and unpaid, might be 'forced' to turn to crime to survive. Do you get the idea?"

  Bento Vidal gasped, but the reasoning began to calm his nerves. He let himself fall heavily into the chair. "And... what about the attack on the Quilombo? Your grand plan?"

  Caetano returned to the chair in front of the governor and sat down with a soft grunt. "A large-scale attack is now politically unviable. But... an attack by monsters... that's another story. Remember that henchman of mine they killed? Death has a funny way of revealing a man's true form." He shrugged.

  "But that's irrelevant. How will they prove the monsters were my men? They might even try to make a connection to me, so what? You, my dear Governor, need only wash your hands like Pontius Pilate. Say I acted on my own, without your consent. And in the midst of the chaos of the beastly attack..." his eyes shone with a sinister light "...we kill Carlos and Tassi."

  The governor sighed deeply, the resistance draining from his body. He opened a drawer, took out a bottle of cacha?a and a short glass. He filled it to the brim and took a long gulp, shuddering as the burning liquid went down his throat.

  This Caetano Velho, thought Bento, observing the almost supernatural serenity on the bandeirante's face. He's willing to put his own reputation and name on the line, all for a victory? He speaks of his own guilt and sacrifice as if he were discussing a cog in a clock, without putting a drop of feeling or self-respect into it. What a frightening man.

  "And the peace talks?" he asked, his voice now hoarse and resigned. "What do we propose?"

  Caetano took the last sip of his juice, placing the empty glass on the table with a definitive noise. "Propose an agreement. An agreement that sounds reasonable to the ears of Lisbon and the Church, but is absolutely unacceptable to Ganga Zala."

  Bento frowned. "How so?"

  "Let's say..." Caetano leaned forward, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper "...that they will have to cease all attacks, hand over all weapons, vacate the mountain range, and move to a location we choose, serving the Portuguese Crown loyally. Furthermore, they must pay compensation for every slave they 'stole' and, get this, help us capture any future fugitives. Any slave who seeks refuge in the Quilombo after the agreement must be returned immediately."

  Bento Vidal looked at Caetano, slowly understanding. A bitter and admiring smile appeared on his face.

  "If they refuse," Caetano continued, flicking an imaginary hair from his sleeve, "we can shout from the rooftops that they refused peace and civilization. The justification for war will be given. And if, by one of the miracles the Popess is so fond of, they accept..." He opened his hands in a gesture of offering. "...we win without firing a single spell. We disarm, control, and humiliate the greatest Quilombo in Brazil. Either way, Governor, we emerge victorious."