by Amy Keeley
“Is there anything I would especially need to prepare myself for?”
Hon Syjimyix paused, his eyes fixed on her in a way that made her feel she’d done something terribly wrong. “Goodwife, do you know why so many unmarried men and women take the oath?”
She shook her head slowly, waiting.
“Those who are married have already proven a lack of self-control. They give in to the pleasures of the carnal flesh. And, once tasted, those pleasures become a constant temptation. A man may, if his wife does not satisfy him, attempt to find that same pleasure in another woman.”
Krysilla thought of the mark on her wrist. Of course. Hon Syjimyix happened to be standing at the front when she and Daegan arrived and he knew her. Another reminder, perhaps? Still, she let him continue, waiting to see how far he would take this lecture.
“It is a sad state, and wholly preventable,” he said. “If both parties show even the slightest inclination toward self-control, the marriage is saved before any temptation can arise.”
“And if both don’t?” Krysilla couldn’t help asking.
“Aaaah.” Hon Syjimyix grinned as if he had been waiting all day for her to ask that question. “But that is where we must ask ourselves if we are deceived, goodwife. Have we truly done all in our power to satisfy the heart of our spouse? Have we truly given all?”
I spent seven years giving all, she nearly snapped. I woke up before the sun rose and worked in the bakery all day instead of doing those feminine things that a wife should do to satisfy her husband’s heart. I was so tired when I fell into bed that I didn’t dream. And after seven years, I looked older than my mother when I finally got the courage to look in the mirror. In return, I got biting words, snide comments, and impatience that I wasn’t doing more, when the truth was that I wasn’t what he wanted. I was never what he wanted and could never be what he wanted. We should have never married.
“And if the answer,” she said, “is ‘yes’?”
His smile turned ever so slightly cold. “Then perhaps we have not searched ourselves enough.” He led her down the hall she’d already seen. Lord Teranasin had mentioned a platform and a secret room. Neither one might be available to her, but still, she might see something if he gave her a tour.
He didn’t. They walked plain halls that revealed nothing as he subtly hinted that perhaps she was the one who had caused her marriage to fail. It became more and more difficult to be civil as they walked, until finally he said the one thing that she refused to even consider.
“When one has left what they feel is an intolerable situation, it is always wise to stop and reconsider our ways. To consider if, perhaps, we have been at fault. But sometimes, as we cannot always see our faults, we must go to the person we have wronged and—”
“Wronged?” He broke his promise and yet he was wronged?
“Yes.” And this time he fixed her with a stare so hard that, if he hadn’t kept smiling, she would have sworn he was furious with her. “We may not even be aware of it. If we return to the one who has left us and beg him to show us our faults—”
“And what if he married out of a sense of duty, not love?”
“A promise is a promise.” His words came out clipped.
“But what if he loved someone else?”
“It cannot be love if he is willing to break promises to be with her.” Now, he looked at her with an intensity she did not expect, but knew she should have. “It is not too late, goodwife. Love knows its duty and does not act on selfish desires. If we truly wish to love, we must be willing to allow it to consume us until our own will is burned away, leaving us willing to bear another’s burdens, no matter how difficult. If you return to him, beg him to show you where you were at fault, he may yet take you back.”
As if I was the one who left. “He never loved me. In fact, based on what you’ve said, I’m not even sure if he’s capable of love. I won’t go begging for something I should have been given the day we were married.”
Hon Syjimyix narrowed his eyes at her until they were slits in his old face. “My dear goodwife, it is as I suspected. You cannot see your own fault. Your selfishness has already begun the pyre and you are about to throw the flame onto the oil.”
She wasn’t about to justify herself to him, not this man who had never lived with anyone in the same room, slept in the same bed, and who heard lies day in and day out for seven years. “Thank you for your time, Hon Syjimyix I’m afraid I have wasted it. I think I would make a very poor Disciple.”
They were at the library now. He nodded, but she could see in his eyes that he still hoped to convince her. “Here is the gem of our crown.” He swept his arm outward to take in all the books that surrounded them in the catacombs the library naturally formed. “Here is the knowledge we have gathered that will enable us to rise above our carnal state. Years of attempts by our best scholars to analyze the writings of the Honorable Toth, of the writings that inspired him to speak out against the excesses of his day, and of the ones who listened to him from morning til evening. All of it is contained in this room.”
Krysilla nodded, then stared. She recognized that corner. Daegan had been sitting there yesterday, and the shelves had been full of books. Now, half of them were gone. “Do you rearrange the books?”
His eyes wide. He shook his head, not comprehending.
“That shelf.” She pointed out the emptiness.
He stared for just a moment. “Ah, yes. When this library was first built, the sins of that generation were still thick in the land. The early Disciples, though they didn’t call themselves that at the time, gathered more than just the writings of Toth and their own. They also gathered the writings of those they wished to replace, in an attempt to show their weakness. Now all books with any mention of the Ornic must be discarded.”
It made sense, and yet, it didn’t. “But if they’re important in teaching the values of Toth, why get rid of them?”
His eyes widened in excitement. “That is a very good question. You see, goodwife, those who came before, the ones who worshiped carnality, have been eradicated in name. No one calls themselves by that name anymore.” Ornic? she nearly said, and bit her lip to keep from saying it. “However, there are some who, because those books exist here, have taken that to mean that those teachings are endorsed by those who are most devoted to the values of self-control and sacrifice that Toth encouraged. We do not endorse such depravity. So, we have removed those most offensive books from our library. For, if we wish to purify the world, we must start with ourselves.”
“And once you’ve purified yourselves?”
“There are many who are Tothsin in name only. Some have deceived even the greatest power in our land.” Zhiv, she thought. Perhaps Daegan, too. “One by one, each shall be tested to see if they truly are living the basic laws, the least that anyone who is a follower of Toth should follow. Or else the world shall face the danger of fire once more.”
She nodded slowly at that. Scanning the library to see how many empty shelves there might be, she noticed a clock in the corner. “I didn’t know you had a clock inside as well.”
“Oh, we have many inside. All of them connected to the great clock in the tower. It’s a testament to the notion that a life can be lived, and lived well, without any magic at all.” As if he had suddenly realized a way to try to convince her that the path of self-control was still worth trying, he said, “Would you like to see the great mechanism?”
No magic at all? she wondered. “Yes, I would.”
And so she found herself following Hon Syjimyix out of the library and down halls that obviously few walked except for Disciples. And, as they turned a corner, Dogs.
There were two, as there were in the forest. And yet, they didn’t seem to notice her as she passed, discussing a passage from a book, instead. Trying to ignore their existence, she focused on the rhythm of her steps echoing through the hall.
I can’t even escape them here, she thought. Then they entered a small room wit
h a set of stairs built into the wall, and the Dogs were left behind. Up the stairs and to the left was a small room where she could hear noises of scrambling...as if someone was trying to hide something.
“Hon Hyaji,” Hon Syjimyix said through an open door. “Have I caught you at a bad time?”
“Just cleaning, Teacher.”
“Hon Hyaji,” Hon Syjimyix explained to Krysilla, “is still in training. We felt the rigor of caretaking would help him learn discipline.”
She looked through the open door and saw a young man, barely out of his childhood, with a face that spoke of a heart open to anyone who wished to look. And when he smiled, she could see all the dreams and hopes of youth written in its honesty. “It’s an area in which I still need work, I’m afraid.”
“The goodwife has asked if she may see the clock tower.”
Hon Hyaji brightened. “Of course, Teacher.”
“The clock tower,” he intoned, “is proof life can be lived with the utmost self-control. Even when it is difficult, life may be made easier through careful examination and adaptation.”
“Yes, Teacher,” he said, as if he had heard this many times, but still wished to remember.
“When you are done, goodwife, Hon Hyaji will take you to the entrance where you may wait for Hon Jixsin.”
“The locksmith?” Hon Hyaji’s interest caught her attention.
“You know him?” she asked.
“He was the one who built the lock to keep the tower safe.”
“We no longer need the lock,” Hon Syjimyix said with a smugness that irritated her. “We have nothing to hide and there would be no purpose in destroying the clock.”
The words made Hon Hyaji’s cheeks blush red with embarrassment and duck his head. He said nothing.
Remembering that bit of information, she thanked Hon Syjimyix for his time once more. With one final lecture regarding self-control, he left her with Hon Hyaji.
The moment he stood, she knew this would be a far more pleasant interaction. “It’s a bit dusty,” he apologized, getting a cloak off a peg. “You may want to wear this on the way up. And keep the hood on. At least, until we get to the clock room. Less dust there.”
He looked around the room, and his eyes settled briefly on a cloth covered stack in the corner. One that looked suspiciously like books underneath. “Um, I’ll be with you in just a moment,” he said. “The stairs are that way,” he pointed further along the hall. “Just keep walking until you get to the end. I’ll join you in a moment.”
With a nod, she continued down the hall, thinking over the shape of Hyaji’s books—she couldn’t think of him as Hon, no matter how hard she tried. She wondered if they were the ones that had sat on the shelves yesterday, or if they were of a more carnal sort. Whatever kind they had been, she didn’t wait long at the end of the hall before Hyaji came walking briskly toward her, his own cloak wrapped around him, hood up.
“Pardon,” he said, and reached up behind her. From the ceiling he tugged on a small indent, which let loose a cord. Pulling on the cord, he released a trapdoor that dropped down from the ceiling, a stepladder dropping from the door. “Hon Jixsin designed that, even though he’s a locksmith,” Hyaji explained, with obvious admiration. “A gift from the King. Watch your step.” Leading the way, he climbed up and she followed. Now they stood in a square room with a stair that spiraled up several floors. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “It’s a bit of a walk. If you feel the need to rest, please let me know.”
The thought made her laugh. “I’ve done harder work than this, Hya—Hon Hyaji.”
He grinned. “It’s all right. You don’t have to use Hon.” They began to climb the stairs. “I’m barely old enough for it, and I certainly don’t deserve that much respect. Not yet.”
“At least I’m not calling you by your personal name.” It was a strange last name to have. One more difference she must accept.
“But you are.”
Confused, she waited for him to explain.
“When we take the oath, or even when we’re preparing for it, we take the last name of Tothsin, as a reminder of what we must become. Our last name, our family name, is discarded. But it would become very confusing if everyone called each other Hon Tothsin, so we call each other by our personal names, putting the title Hon in front of it so that we get a veneer of respect. Didn’t anyone explain that in your village?”
She blinked. “We never had a name for the Disciples who visited. It was a different one each month. We were told it helps them focus on the word and not be swayed by the needs of the people.”
“That’s a surprise,” he said. “Perhaps we are still weak after all.”
It wasn’t the words, but the tone that surprised her. It spoke of a mind that saw through much of the lectures and sought the truth in what it heard. And yet, accepted it for what it was, not for what could be.
“May I ask you a question, Hyaji?”
“Of course, goodwife.”
“Why did you take the oath?”
He hesitated. When he spoke next, she could hear there was truth in his words, and yet, something missing as well. “I felt a life of self-control would be good for me. And it would make my ancestors proud.” His smile, unlike before, appeared sad, as if he didn’t quite believe that anything he did was worthy of honor. “Are you tired?”
“No. No, I’m fine.”
“May I ask your trade? You said you’ve worked harder than this.”
Now, she hesitated. “A baker’s wife. I was up before dawn making bread and cakes, whatever was needed.”
“Then, is it fair for me to ask you to climb these stairs?”
He actually sounded worried. She laughed. “How else will I see the tower, Hyaji? Will you carry me?”
He blushed furiously and focused on the steps in front of him. “I ask because you seem refreshed and must be visiting relatives, or celebrating for a time.”
She paused on a step, realizing for the first time that he hadn’t heard. No one had told him who she was. It was tempting to let him continue in ignorance, but, considering the shame associated with what she did, she couldn’t let someone so innocent suffer if anyone should talk. Let him know what he’s doing by being alone with me. “I am the wife of Lejer Gillasin,” she said.
He turned and looked at her and she realized he still didn’t understand. Trying once more, she said, “He left me for someone else. He left, after I came here to think, and now...” emotions she had hoped were fleeting thoughts grabbed hold of her for a moment, then passed. In that time, understanding filled Hyaji’s eyes.
“I see. This way, then.”
He did not speak to her for the rest of the way up the stairs. Afraid he thought less of her, as all the others did, Krysilla was surprised to see him as pleasant as before once they reached the clock room. “This,” he said with a smile that hinted at a secret pleasure, “is my favorite room in the whole building.” He brought out a strange, small contraption that looked part rod and part panel, with notches cut out of the panel making them look almost like teeth. “Hon Jixsin made this specially for us, so that we could lock things without magic. The answer to the puzzle,” he said, holding up the item, “is on this. Insert it,” he did so, “and turn,” the lock clicked, “and the lock opens.”
Nodding, she wondered if any of the chests in that secret room held a similar non-magical contraption. It would be very useful, she realized, for locking away something from the Dogs without attracting their notice. And yet, she decided, something without magic yet still locked might attract even more attention.
Hyaji opened the door and Krysilla gasped. The room was enormous, and yet the device itself that powered the clocks was smaller than she expected. In the center was a collection of gears and steel drums with metal cord wrapping around them, the cords extending to the corners of the room. A consistent, rhythmic ticking sound filled the space. “The weights,” Hyaji explained, “power the clock.” Item by item he pointed out the parts, fro
m the section that regulated the time and the bells to the great pendulum that swung back and forth. “It is the weight that powers the clock,” he said, as fascinated by his subject as Krysilla was, “not the pendulum. In truth, the pendulum is powered by the clock.”
“And what does it do?”
“Regulates the speed of the device. It has a movable weight at the end that allows us to alter the speed since it changes according to the season. In winter it runs slow, and in summer it runs fast.” He grinned. “It’s attached to the escape wheel. That’s what causes the ticking sound.”
Krysilla stepped back to appreciate the complexity of the device, and it’s simplicity. A board sank under her heel and she quickly stepped away. For a moment, she thought she saw a flash of gold.
“Are you all right, goodwife?” And yet, there was fear in his question, and she wondered what would suddenly make him nervous.
“Yes. Thank you.” Moving away from the spot that seemed to be hiding something, she looked around the room appreciatively. “You say it’s your favorite room. Do you come here often?”
He nodded, happy at being asked. “I’m supposed to keep this room clean and free of dust (as much as I can) so no one is surprised if they happen to find me here. It’s quiet and I can think.” Whatever those thoughts might be, he did not say. Gesturing for her to follow him, he walked to the great clock face. “There are times I can almost see through the milky stone they used,” he pointed at the white space that formed the background for the clock, “and I think about all the people in the village.” He hesitated, then looked at her. “You may come here, if you wish. If you tell me in advance, I can make sure you have whatever time alone that you need.”
Touched by his sincere offer, Krysilla smiled. “Thank you. But I’m afraid that would only cause you trouble.” She thought of the oath the King had asked her to take, and her smile faded.
For a long while, they stared at the clock face, until Hyaji spoke. “May I ask, goodwife, if it isn’t too personal, why he left?”