by A J Witt
“Why does it matter how many lords form part of the Noble Assembly? Or what affairs the Council of Five has jurisdiction over? Whether salt is sold in cartons or in barrels. Where Lutigas met the hermits. I don’t care about any of that stuff. It has no significance in my life.”
“Are you not curious about how the Dominion functions?” asked Marrek.
“No, not unless it’s practical and useful to me,” Kyran replied. “And in any case, what will I do with this information? As an Adept, I seem destined to live the rest of my life within the walls of the Academy, at best venturing into the streets of West Phaidros. There’s no future for me, other than becoming a Source refiner or a professor, to pass on useless information to the next generation of Adepts. So they can pass it on to the next generation after them.”
The preceptor sighed. “There are many things you have yet to learn, Kyran. And there are many things you do not yet know.” The young man opened his mouth to respond, but as he was about to speak, Marrek continued. “And remember, with the absence of the mundane, the exciting ceases to exist.”
“What does that mean?”
“Without white, there is no black. And without black, there is no white. We can only conceive such simple concepts because they differentiate and add meaning to each other. If everything in life were exciting, the concept of excitement would cease to carry any significance. Don’t you see? We should relish the boring moments of our existence. They are a platform through which the exciting points come to life.”
Edvon nodded in agreement.
“You’re still skeptical Kyran, and I understand,” said the preceptor. “What excites you most in your studies?”
* * *
The bale of hay erupted into flames.
“Try to hit the target, not make the whole thing explode.”
Kyran took a deep breath. “I’m trying.”
“You’re trying too hard.” The major source manipulator put an arm around the young man’s shoulder. “This isn’t about pulling in as much energy as you can. Our preceptor often says any Adept can do that. It’s about learning how to control it.”
“But how?”
“Stop trying to grasp at the Source, Kyran. Instead, focus on manipulating the energy it emits.” He turned to the rest of the class. “Adepts tend to forget that, yet it’s critical to your development. We don’t use the Source itself, and candidly, we don’t even know what or where it is.”
“Huh?”
The Academy’s most skillful member clapped his wrists and launched an immaculate beam that drilled a hole into another stack of hay. “I didn’t reach for the Source. Rather, I collected all the energy I could sense around me and re-directed it toward my target.”
“Doesn’t that weaken your strike?”
“On the contrary, it strengthens it. Think of the Source as a a candle. The light emitted is what we are interested in, not the object itself. Alright everyone, we’ll try again next week.” The major source manipulator ended the lesson.
* * *
“When we are practicing drawing energy from the Source. That’s pretty fun, I guess.”
“Well, imagine every day here at the Academy, you were only allowed to do that. Instead of taking your usual array of academic subjects, you were told to show up at the training field and practice drawing Source energy. I can tell you that in a matter of weeks, the activity would become monotone and tedious, and you would lose your enjoyment.” Marrek smiled. “I’ve worked with addicts in the slums of Fisherman’s Bay. And even they reveal that after a while, the drug becomes boring and loses its edge. Then they seek a stronger, more potent fix. And before they know it, they’ve spent all their money at the Saryn plates. So the plunge begins. In life, one must learn to live in moderation.”
Another moment of silence swept through the room, and Edvon snuck a look toward his younger brother. Kyran appeared to be in deep thought, pondering over Marrek’s words of wisdom. He’s not stupid, if only he could harness his vitality.
“Which brings me to a second point, one we’ve been discussing for several years now,” said the preceptor.
“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Controlling my emotions.” Kyran was spitting the words out, frustrated with Marrek, or perhaps even himself, for once again breaching the topic.
“As I’ve explained, the rage you often experience can be overcome. I recognize it seems you’re in control, that’s why one resorts to rage. It makes you feel strong and powerful. When it builds within you, Kyran, it’s because you are displacing helplessness.” The preceptor paused. “You know, there are other ways of dealing with this. When one’s at peace, there’s no need to feel helpless. Peacefulness is a virtue that overcomes rage, subdues it, sending it back to the depths where it belongs. There is no need for rage when peaceful individuals have learned to live with themselves. Don’t you see?”
“Yeah, but …” Kyran turned to Edvon, and in that split second, his older brother caught a glimpse of the sly smile he had seen so many times prior. “Applying your earlier logic, with the black and white … Without rage, how can there be peacefulness?”
Edvon sighed. Clever little cholee.
CHAPTER FIVE
It was midday, and the sun was shining through the skylights in Marrek’s office. As the preceptor leaned back in his chair, rays of light illuminated the top of his bald head. This amused Edvon, and his thoughts wandered. Does his dome ever get burned by the sun? He must wear some kind of protective balm to prevent that from happening, right? With Kyran in one of his combative moods, the meeting had taken a twist, and Edvon knew he might be there for a while.
“I admire your resourcefulness in attempting to use my argument against me,” Marrek said. “Very ingenious indeed. Yet you miss the point I am making.” The preceptor stood up and paced behind his desk. He picked up a piece from a Mira board, twirling it around. “I’m not telling you to ignore your anger but asking you to learn how to control it. Anger is a normal emotion, one that is even, dare I say, healthy. In essence, it’s nothing more than the natural manner in which we respond to threats from the outside. Anger inspires us to act aggressively, and it can mean the difference between life and death when we’re attacked or forced to defend ourselves. Anger is necessary to our survival, Kyran.”
Edvon felt like he was sitting in a morning lecture.
“When it gets out of control and turns destructive, that’s when the problems arise. By allowing anger to turn into rage, you put yourself at the mercy of an unpredictable and powerful force, one that isn’t easy to tame.” Marrek turned his attention to Edvon. “You’ve been rather quiet. What do you make of this?”
“I don’t know,” the older Adept replied. “Philosophical considerations aside, I don’t have a problem with my brother just ignoring his anger.”
“Really!” Kyran blurted out. “So you would have me live with blinders covering my eyes? Like a balbak with its head in the marsh?”
Marrek shook his head and chuckled. “Such a strange myth, one that’s not grounded in reality. If the balbak stuck its head in the marsh every time it saw a predator approaching, well … there wouldn’t be many balbaks left in the Dominion, would there?”
Amused, the brothers joined the preceptor in a hearty laugh.
“Tell me, Kyran,” asked Marrek, “has the swimming helped?”
Edvon was perplexed. “What swimming?”
“You haven’t told anyone?” the preceptor whispered, to which Kyran shook his head. “Very well, we can speak of it another time.” Marrek stretched his arms above his head and returned to a more serious tone. “Kyran is right. Ignoring the fact that he has a problem coping with his anger is equivalent to denying the problem exists in the first place. And living in denial can be a dangerous path to follow. It has the consequence of trivializing feelings necessary to our well-being.”
“Right,” Edvon replied, still unsure why he was there.
“More importantly, it causes us to neglect solutions to po
tential dilemmas that may arise down the road. That’s why I reopened the Court of Grievances, despite the growing number of protesters coming to our gates. An action I’m sure you question, correct?”
Edvon was stupefied. How did he know I’d ask him about that? “Well yeah, I’m a little skeptical. But I’m sure you have excellent reasons, sir.”
“I appreciate the diplomatic answer, though it is unnecessary,” said the preceptor. “I value constructive feedback from my peers.”
Kyran glanced at Edvon, expecting to see his brother’s typical smug look. Peers? What a couple of cholees! But seriously, why was that dread court re-opened? His reflection was promptly answered.
“Providing demonstrators with an outlet through which to express their complaints puts the Academy in a position of control,” Marrek explained.
“Why?” inquired Edvon.
“Letting them choose their own means of protest could lead to violent behavior, putting our students and faculty at risk. Establishing the Court of Grievances as a reliable forum not only allows us to safely channel any potential resentment against the Academy, it also displays our respect and recognition for differing viewpoints.”
“Doesn’t it make us look weak?” Kyran asked. “If protestors trekked up Mount Kilda to challenge the Temple’s practices, they would be thrown right back down the hill.”
“That’s why so many within Phaidros hate the Temple.”
“I haven’t heard many people say that.”
“Because people fear the Temple and fear to speak out against it,” continued Marrek. “A regime of fear is supported by a questionable foundation, a foundation that in time will come crumbling down. Since it’s difficult to be both feared and loved, it is much safer to be loved than feared. Fear gives rise to resentment, and when the leader ceases to instill fear, he’s left facing an angry and vengeful populace. Leaders who embrace love, however, receive the trust, respect, and support of their subjects.”
“Yeah, but isn’t it easier to take advantage of the leader who loves as opposed to the one who is feared?” Kyran responded.
“How so?”
“To be loved, one has to give something up, right? What prevents people from wanting more and more from loved leaders until there’s nothing left to give?”
“A question scholars have been discussing for centuries, Kyran. Why do people always assume the loved leader is one who is weak and capitulating? A logical fallacy. There are other ways of gaining love than through generosity.”
“Yeah, but I feel like fear is much more predictable. It doesn’t wear away as easily.”
“I disagree,” interjected Edvon. “The strongest groups are the ones held together by the power of friendship and loyalty. And in any case, this argument seems pointless. Why can’t a leader be both loved and feared?”
Kyran, irritated by the comment, stared at his brother with disgust. “That wasn’t the premise of the argument.”
“An argument we can always debate again another day,” Marrek said, glancing at the intricately carved clock adorning the back of his office door. The preceptor sat in his chair. “Unlike our balbak, I won’t live with my head in the marsh. I want to know what people are thinking, how they’re responding to the forever changing tides. And we’ll never bring ourselves down to the Temple’s level because we are a bastion of knowledge and hope. We bring people up to our level. This is important to remember, these being dangerous times.”
“The attacks on the villages,” Edvon muttered.
“And the Council members,” Kyran added.
The preceptor nodded.
“Sir, I can’t believe I’m asking this. The rumors are false, right?” asked Edvon. “We have nothing to do with those things, do we?”
“Even if we did, do you think he’d tell you?”
Marrek peered at Kyran with pursed lips, and after several uncomfortable seconds, refocused his attention on the older brother. “Rumors are the least of my concerns. These troublesome attacks are peculiar.”
“What do you mean?” questioned Edvon.
“I can’t say for sure, I need more evidence,” the preceptor responded.
“Evidence of what?”
“If it’s what I think it is … well … I don’t know. I think … I think I need more proof …” The old man looked up to the skylight as his sentence drifted away, an aging face filled with concern. Edvon was confounded, for he had never witnessed his mentor stumble through words, much less entire sentences. “If it’s what I think it is, a lot will change,” Marrek said.
“What will change?” Kyran asked.
“In time. Everything in time.”
“Wait, what do you mean?”
“You will know in time.”
“Wh—what?” stammered an impatient Kyran. “Well, what do you think it is? At least tell me what you think it is.”
“In time, you will know.”
“Really? Why won’t you just tell us now, what’s the big deal?”
Edvon could sense a growing degree of disrespect in Kyran’s language, and he felt like hitting his little brother. By the same token, he was content to sit back and listen, hoping the pressure might lead to concrete answers from the cryptic preceptor.
“There are matters I must share with you, a discussion we’re bound to have. Granted, one I would have preferred to delay a while longer.” Marrek took in a deep breath, as the perplexed brothers held on. “In the next days, I’ll know more. And if my intuition is correct, we’ll have that discussion, I promise.”
“What matters? What discussion?”
The preceptor looked at Kyran with a compassionate smile. “In—”
“Time,” Edvon finished. “In time, am I right?”
“Yes.”
“Why in time? What’s this in time, anyway?” Kyran formed quotation marks in the air. “What does it matter when you tell us this ambiguous yet crucial information?”
“You’re not ready,” Marrek answered. “And unless my hand is forced, I’d prefer to wait until you are.”
“This is ridiculous!” Kyran pushed back his chair, causing it to make a loud screeching sound on the hardwood floor. He glared at the preceptor and stormed his way out of the office.
Edvon shook his head. So much for controlling your anger.
“I didn’t expect him to take it any better.” Marrek grimaced. “Speaking of time, we’re running short on it. I called you to my office because I need you to go on a mission, Edvon.”
“What type of mission?”
“Elias will tell you more. You’ll be going to the Noble District together and meeting with a candidate for the Council vacancy. He requested to speak with students. Normally I’d come with you, but—”
“Don’t worry, I’m on it, sir.”
“Excellent. And I want you to bring your brother.”
“What?”
“I said I want you to bring Kyran.”
“No,” replied Edvon with a shake of his head. “No way.”
“He needs to explore outside the Academy. It will do him good to see Phaidros, walk its streets.”
“But—”
“It’s not up for debate,” cut in the preceptor. “Carry out this mission, keep an eye on your brother, and by the time you come back, I’ll have more information. And we can have that discussion.”
“Discussion? That’s no longer on my mind, sir. I have a mission to accomplish.”
“Edvon, you’ll find what we have to discuss very interesting.”
“How can you be so sure?”
Marrek gave him an intense look. “It concerns your father.”
CHAPTER SIX
They showed up around the same time every morning. First, the fanatics, with the sunrise, hoping to enter the Temple ahead of anyone else. Next, the pious locals, making a quick stop on the way to their various places of work around the city. The last wave, comprised of pilgrims from around the Dominion, was always the largest and lasted the entire day. They lin
ed up for hours, awaiting their turn to enter the Inner Sanctum and worship those same Gods who had sentenced them to the harshest of punishments, as the Book of Provenance explicitly described. From atop her quarters in the Temple’s largest tower, Rex Ruga would sometimes watch the crowd amass, impassive and unconcerned for the long waits they had to endure. “Fools,” she mumbled to no one in particular. Rex Ruga spun around to face her bed and considered the burly naked man half covered by the sheets. Why do I keep doing this?
He sensed her scrutiny and cocked his head. “You know you shouldn’t call them that.”
“I can call them what I want because I own them.”
“You only own them because they’re blind, like Lutigas.”
“And who will open their eyes?” There was a pause. “Will it be you, Gorgios?”
“Hmff. How perverse of me to do that, as it would only lead them to the tip of my sword.”
Rex Ruga smiled. That’s why. She turned back to the window, disregarded the throng of pilgrims, and gazed at the Bay of Alboran. And I wouldn’t put it past you either. As much as I dislike men, there’s something to be said for their virility. A necessary change of pace from those sweet girls I toss around. Her divertissement was now sitting up, running his fingers through his thick dark hair and stretching out his sinewy muscles. “You should leave,” Rex Ruga said dryly.
“Already?”
She turned around. “Who do you think you are? My lover? Dress yourself and go do something productive!”
Gorgios laughed. “Nothing is productive until you tell me it is, Ruga.” Hoping the comment had succeeded in flattering her, the large man swung his thick legs off the bed and onto the wool rug, digging his fleshy toes into the fibers. He then crept toward the commandant, but she put an end to his lustful aspirations.
“And I told you to put on some clothes, did I not?” The question silenced Gorgios. Her back still turned, Rex Ruga listened to him snatch his tunic from the ground. Seconds later, the door slammed shut. How long before his ambitions get the better of him? The commandant realized she was still naked. What ambitions? He already holds the power he craves. She looked at her bare legs. And more. He’s not going anywhere.
