Steven Brust - Athyra

“Sure.”

“You didn’t wait for me yesterday, you know.”

“I didn’t? That’s right, I didn’t. I guess I was thinking about other things.”

“Such as what?”

“I don’t know. Things. Anyway, today we’ll go there.”

Savn bathed, and as he’d promised, waited for his sister, and the two of them set off for Tern’s house. They spoke little as they walked, although it seemed to Savn that a couple of times Polyi started to say or ask something, then thought better of it. Eventually she started singing “Dung-Foot Peasant,” and, after a verse or two, Savn joined in, changing pronouns as appropriate. He hadn’t heard it in some time, and laughed at a few of the verses that had been added since he was his sister’s age. He also sang her a few verses that had apparently been forgotten, and he was pleased that she liked them.

When they reached Tern’s house, Vlad was not in evidence, but there was the usual noon crowd, and Savn noticed that he was receiving some odd looks from many of them. Polyi noticed it, too.

“Do you see that?” she said. “The way they look at you? They’re wondering why you’ve been spending so much time with that Easterner.”

Savn quickly looked around, but no one was looking at him just at the moment. “Are they really?” he said.

“Yes.”

“Hmmm.” He shrugged. “Let them wonder, then.”

“Well, what are you doing?”

“I’m learning things.”

“Like what?”

“Like, um, like how to catch gems in the wind—no, I mean, catch water in, um —oh, never mind. I’m learning stuff.”

Polyi frowned, but couldn’t seem to think of anything to say, which was perfectly all right with Savn. He quickly finished his salad, said goodbye to his sister, and headed off to Master Wag.

On the way, it occurred to him that the sharpness of sensation that he’d felt the evening before was gone. He wondered if it was something that would return as he became more adept in this strange art he had begun to study.

The Master was in better spirits today, puttering around his small house (which had seemed much larger a year before, when Savn had begun studying with him) scattering bits of history with explanations of both the general and the particular. Savn wondered if he had solved the problem of Rein’s death, but decided that, if so, the Master would speak of it in his own time, and if not, he had best not bring the subject up.

And in fact, Master Wag made no mention of it during the entire day, most of which Savn spent cleaning up the Master’s house and listening to the Master’s stories and lectures—a pastime Savn rather enjoyed, even though once Master Wag began to speak he soon lost track of his audience and went far beyond Savn’s knowledge and understanding.

He’s quite a bit like Vlad, he thought, then wondered why the notion disturbed him.

Toward the end of the day, the Master had him recite the questions, conclusions, and appropriate cures for various sorts of stomach ailments, and seemed quite pleased with Savn’s answers, although, actually, Savn left out stabbing pains in the side, and the questions that would lead to a dose of pomegranate seeds to ease an attack of kidney stones.

Master Wag was standing in front of Savn, who was seated on the stool with his back to the hearth; there was a low fire which was just on the edge of being too warm. As the Master finished his explanation, he said, “So, what have you been thinking about, Savn?”

“Master?”

“You’ve had something on your mind all day. What is it?”

Savn frowned. He hadn’t, in point of fact, realized that he had been thinking about something. “I don’t know,” he said.

“Is it our friend Reins?” the Master prompted.

“Maybe.”

“Well, it’s nothing for you to worry about, in any case. I still don’t know what he died of, but I haven’t quit looking, either.”

Savn didn’t say anything.

Master Wag stared at him with his intense gaze, as if he were looking around inside of Savn’s skull. “What is it?” he said.

“How do you know what to believe?” said Savn, who was surprised to hear himself ask the question.

Master Wag sat down opposite Savn and leaned back. “That is quite a question,” he said. “Care to tell me what it springs from?”

Savn found that, on the one hand, he couldn’t dissemble when the Master was staring at him so, but on the other hand, he wasn’t certain of the answer. At last he said, “I’ve been wondering. Some people say one thing, others say another—”

“Who’s been saying what, about what?”

“Well, my friends think that the Easterner had something to do with Reins’s death, and he says—”

“Rubbish,” said Master Wag, but in a tone that was not unkind. “Your friends know nothing, and the Easterner is not to be believed.

“On the other hand,” Wag continued, “that doesn’t answer your question. The way to tell what is true is simply to keep your eyes and ears open, and to use your head. That’s all there is to it.”

Savn nodded, although he felt as if his question hadn’t really been answered. But then, was Master Wag really the person to answer the question at all? He knew about helping people who were ill, but what need did he have to wonder about what truth was? He could ask Bless, but Bless would only tell him to trust the gods, and Speaker would tell him to trust what Speaker himself said.

But then, he wondered, what need did he, Savn, have to think about any of this, either? To this there was no answer, but it didn’t help. He discovered that he wanted very badly to talk to Vlad again, although he wondered if trusting the Easterner too much would be a mistake.

He said, “Thank you, Master. Is there anything else?”

“No, no. Run on home now. And don’t worry so much.”

“I won’t, Master.”

He stepped out into the warm autumn afternoon and immediately began running back toward town, wishing he could teleport. That would be best, he thought. All this time I spend getting from place to place, I could just be there. He wondered if he could convince Vlad to show him how that was done. Probably not, he decided. Most likely it was too difficult, in any case.

Soon enough he was there, and, almost to his surprise, he found Vlad right away, sitting in Tern’s house drinking wine and watching the door, as if he was waiting for Savn, and the smile he gave seemed to confirm this. There were three or four familiar faces as well, but no one Savn felt the need to speak to.

He sat down with the Easterner and gave him a good day, which Vlad returned, and offered to buy him a glass of ale. Savn accepted. Vlad signaled Tem, and Savn couldn’t help but notice the glance the Housemaster gave him as he set the ale down. He wondered if he should be annoyed, and concluded that he didn’t really care.

When Tem had returned to his place behind the counter, Savn said, “I’ve been thinking about our lesson all day. Can you show me some more?”

“Certainly,” said Vlad. “But are you sure you want to be seen with me so much?”

“Why not?”

“Didn’t you notice the looks you’ve been getting?’

“I guess I have,” said Savn. “I noticed it earlier today, too, when I was here with my sister. But why?”

“Because you’re with me.”

“Why do they care about that?”

“Either because I’m an Easterner or because they still think I had something to do with the death of Reins.”

“Oh. But you didn’t, did you?”

“I’ve been wondering about that,” said Vlad.

Savn stared at him. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I didn’t kill him,” said Vlad. “But that doesn’t mean I had nothing to do with his death.”