Through Darkest Zymurgia!

One afternoon Carbuncle and I returned from our rounds to find Philpott madly pacing the floor of the common room...if the term "madly" may be used to describe a slow, methodical wafting from wall to window and window back to wall. His chin was supported on his right palm, and his right palm was supported by his left hand, his eyes were cast down and his hair was cast up, and his forehead was cast in lines of worry.

"Philpott, what's wrong?" I cried, or some other such words; his only response was to hold up one hand toward me, palm out, for a few moments. It was only a few moments, because then he changed directions. This is a universal sign in academia, understood in institutions of higher learning throughout Arrastia; it means, "Do not distract me." Sometimes there are subtexts, such as "I am about to achieve a breakthrough!" or "I am having enough difficulty already!" or even, in some circles, "I am thinking Great Thoughts; kindly do not allow your mingey presence to sully me on my way to Enlightenment." In Philpott's case it was clearly the second of the three.

As it happens, this was the memorable evening when Asha did not come to escort us to the square. After dinner--a meal Philpott took in a very few precise quick bites, before resuming his pacing--Firenz and Simuny appeared at the door as our evening's escort. I was rather surprised, and considered Philpott's unease with renewed interest.

The two masters offered no explanation for Asha's absence, but merely invited us to join them in the square. Carbuncle and I arose immediately, while Philpott merely raised his hand once more, and continued pacing. It seemed to me that Simuny regarded his antics with a certain satisfaction.

Simuny was still rather a mystery to me. In our few encounters I had observed her willingness to state unpleasant truths, and had a certain admiration for her forthrightness on those occasions, but I was not at all sure that I liked her. It was therefore something of a shock when she took my arm as we reached the square, and held me back as the others drifted off into the crowd with Firenz. She looked at me coldly, studying my face, and then jerked her head (and my arm) toward the Master's Hall. I went willingly enough, though I was not at all sure how we were to communicate with each other.

We entered the Master's Hall not through the large doors that lead into the reception room, but through a smaller door some ways down the main street. Simuny lead me up a flight of stairs, and down a corridor to a covered balcony toward the back of the building. Had it been daylight, we would have had an exceptionally good view of the forest north of Tomar; instead the stars were bright in the sky, their cold unwinking lights contrasting oddly with the few wavering, flickering lamps and torches I could see in the houses to the north.

There was a small table, and two chairs placed near it; on the table was a candle, and a pitcher, and two small cups. As we entered a third person appeared out of the shadows and held one of the chairs for Simuny; she waved me into the other. The third person filled the two cups from the pitcher--the scent alone told me what it was--and retired into the shadows. Simuny raised her cup, looking over it into my eyes, and said, "Deir Basenis neras ka somus, aybahsmaht." Before I could respond, I heard the unknown servant say, in Serosan, "The jaws of Basenis close never upon you, Aybahsmaht." I was startled, as it was Mukden's voice. Simuny never looked from my face, nor seemed to have heard Mukden.

One does not survive a life in academia without acquiring a certain cunning. If one cannot play the game without knowing the rules, one has chosen the wrong vocation. I raised my cup, smelling the heady liquor within, and said, "Nor upon you, oh Mistress of Tomar." Mukden repeated my words in his own tongue, and Simuny, smiling faintly, threw back her drink like a sailor in the lowest tavern in Lyricum Town. I did the same, and we put down our glasses at the same moment. The rules were becoming clearer. Mukden's role was that of translator, only, and an invisible translator at that. I was here to talk with Simuny, quietly, unofficially, and alone, and Mukden was simply not present.

As so often before, it is tedious to render the process of translation; and indeed, Simuny had so managed things that I became less aware of Mukden's presence as our conversation proceeded. Thus, I will write as though we were speaking directly to each other, as we for all practical purposes were.

"Do you know who I am, Aybahsmaht?"

I looked politely at her, head slightly tilted; it seemed a rhetorical question. "You are a Master of Tomar," I replied slowly. "The well-being of Tomar is your responsibility."

"Yet if the Masters share a single goal, they do not speak with one voice," she said. "Perhaps you have noticed."

I nodded. "Firenz," I said, "speaks with the voice of welcome and friendship, whereas Nabili does not."

"Young Nabili is the voice of the past." She grunted. "There are none so protective of things past as those who have not lived with them." She stared at the candle's flame. "And you, aybahsmaht? With what voice do you speak?"

"With the voice of reason, I hope, Mistress. I am a scholar." Mukden stumbled over the word scholar; I am not sure he ever quite understood what it meant.

"The voice of reason, aybahsmaht? Perhaps we can indeed speak profitably to one another."

"I should like nothing better, Mistress." She grunted again, and gestured at the shadows. Mukden came forward, his features yet indistinct in the flickering light, and refilled our glasses.

"Asha," she began slowly, not looking directly at me, "is the voice of the future. You have seen. She is one who will risk much, perhaps all, on a single throw, the better to learn what the future holds. She is a seeker after new things, not a guardian of the old." Simuny looked up. "It is ever thus, with the Masters of Tomar. A voice of welcome, a voice of the past, a voice of the future."

"And what is your voice, Mistress?"

She chuckled ironically, "The voice of reason, as you said. The voice of clear-seeing. I once greeted tomorrow as eagerly as Asha; now I am wiser." She straightened in her seat. "But not all wise, aybahsmaht. Tell me, if you will. With what voice does Thed Philpott speak?"

I sipped my drink as I formulated a reply. Clearly we had gotten to the meat of the conversation. It was deadly serious, yet a ghost of laughter danced in my throat. It was like a scene from some dreary, earnest modern novel, in which the young girl's guardian inquires after the intentions of the young man. Is he a rake? A gambler? A cad? Is he trifling with her affections? Or is he a man of means who will marry her honorably.

I saw at once that it was useless to prevaricate; Simuny held all of the cards, if Asha had confided in her, whereas I still knew little or nothing about Philpott's activities of the past weeks.

"Mistress," I replied, "my friend Thaddeus is a scholar, a lover, yes, but a lover of knowledge. He studies people in all times and all places, and attempts to find the patterns that bind them together, whoever they be." I cast about, trying to work out how to describe the obsession of the true scholar. "His studies are his first love, his joy, his reason for existence." I finished my drink, waved for another.

Simuny studied me, as though trying to discern the patterns that bound me together.

"Is it so?" she said, finally. It was not a question, but rather a statement of disbelief.

"Mistress, I believe you have the advantage of me. I have been out in your countryside for many hours each day, while Philpott is with Asha. I have no knowledge of what passes between them during that time, as Thaddeus will not speak of it. They have seemed friendly as we promenade in the square; that is all I know. Perhaps Thaddeus is fascinated by young Asha, but I fear as a source of knowledge, only. But perhaps Asha has confided in you? Perhaps you know more than I?"

Simuny laughed, a harsh cackle, and laughed again. "Perhaps it is so, indeed. Oh, the presumption of youth, Aybahsmaht, the presumption of youth. Asha has not confided in me, would not, but my eyes can see and my ears hear. I know that Asha spoke harshly to your young man this day, from outraged modesty, as I thought. But perhaps it was outraged vanity."

"It may be so, mistress. I have seen nothing to indicate otherwise."

"Very well, Aybahsmaht. I thank you for your observations." Then, addressing Mukden directly for the first time, she said, "Kindly escort him back to his friends."

I rose, bowed, and followed Mukden from the balcony and down into the street. "Asha is her daughter," he said suddenly. "Simuny was the voice of the future once. Someday Asha will be the voice of clear-seeing. She must make her own mistakes, or she will lack the wisdom she will need to see clearly."

"And what were Simuny's mistakes?" I asked without thinking.

"I have never dared to ask."

I had no notion of how to respond to this admission, and so pondered it as we walked side-by-side through the thinning crowd to the corner where Carbuncle stood with Firenz, surrounded by children.

"Mukden," I said, stopping short. "Will you tell me something?" He stopped also, waiting for the question. "Aybahsmaht," I said. "I have been hearing this for days now. You did not translate it when Simuny used it. What is its meaning?"

He looked at me ruefully, and then shrugged. "It means, 'He whom the Dog obeys', my friend. Now I must go."

By this time it was far too late to consider the implications of my new title; and besides, it was time for a serious confrontation with Philpott. I stepped forward, and ruthlessly extricated Carbuncle from the swarm of admirers. Cries of "Gooneybah! Gooneybah!" followed us from the square.

Philpott had mercifully ceased his pacing, and was seated at the refectory table, when we returned, head in his hands. Most astonishingly, there was no sheaf of notes covering the dark wood like dirty snow. There was, however, a large mug by his right hand, and by the smell it had not contained fruit juice. I had seldom seen Philpott the worse for drink, and immediately thought of his days on Cuprios, carousing with the sailors in the bars near the harbor. For one long moment, I seriously considered the absurd possibility that he had been out carousing while we were gone. Then he lifted his head and looked vaguely in my direction. When he spoke, his voice was hollow, but unslurred.

"I've been blind, Leon." He had that faroff look in his eye. Oh, ho, I thought to myself. Evidently Asha's outburst had done some good.

"I should say so," I said, avuncularly, as I took a place across the table from him.

"And a fool," he said, still looking into the distance.

"That's not an unusual reaction," I said, thinking of the girls I had known in my youth. Carbuncle snickered as he sat down beside me.

"All these weeks, and I never realized...." His hand blindly reached out for the cup, and lifted it to his lips. When he put it down he cradled it with both hands. He looked over at me.

"If only you had brought it to my attention, Leon. But how could you? You weren't here, and I wouldn't discuss it."

"Still, it was obvious enough for all that, Thad," I said, gently.

"Obvious! There are no churches in this town, Leon! No churches, no chapels, no temples, not a one. Do you know what that means?"

I rather thought it meant that he was getting ahead of things. Surely he wasn't considering marriage?

"Well, you could hardly expect to find Mother Church in a place like this," I temporized. My head was starting to pound, as it usually did when I talked with Philpott late in the evening.

"It must be outside of town, Leon." He stared at me, his need written plainly in his eyes. "It must be, Leon. Have you seen it, Leon? A church or a temple? Anything like that?"

"Don't you think you're getting a little ahead of yourself, Thad?"

"Ahead of myself? What do you mean, Leon? I've been looking for it for two weeks!" Two weeks? Oh, dear, had love struck him that badly?

"Well, but it won't do, Thad, it simply won't do. What kind of a future would you have? What about your career?"

"Future, Leon? How could it harm my career?" Thad was looking very puzzled. There are none so blind, I thought to myself.

"I'm sorry, Thad, she's a very nice girl, but you really mustn't. It wouldn't be fair to her or to you."

Thad was looking straight at me, really giving me his attention for the first time all evening--or all week.

"Leon? What are you talking about?" It was my turn to look puzzled.

"Why, your love for Asha, of course. And hers for you."

"My love for Asha! And hers for me? Leon! Whatever do you mean?"

"It's been obvious, Thad, as I said. Of course, after that bold declaration of yours when we first met her, it's hardly surprising. You're a good-looking young fellow, after all. And then, of course, you've been squiring her about the town all day, and about the square all evening. What else is a young girl to think?" Or an old don, I might have added. Philpott looked stricken.

"Oh, Leon. Is that what she thought?"

"I fear it may be so, Thad."

He was still looking at me, but I think he was no longer seeing me. Carbuncle arose, and snagged a pitcher from the sideboard, and refilled Philpott's mug. He left the pitcher on the table.

"Drink up, young Thad, for I think you're in need of it," he said. "Now I'm for bed. Good night."

I got myself a mug, and sat with Philpott for some time, neither of us speaking. When at last I rose and weaved my way upstairs, he was still at the table, still staring into space.