“Something is terribly wrong,” Keenley said after a long pause, even though there was no one there to hear it. Saying it aloud didn’t stop the sick feeling in his stomach.

He scooped up his various papers from the tabletop and scurried out the door. His quill pen, falling from its perch atop his ear, left yet another long black streak down the back of his blue learner’s robe, and joined several others in becoming permanently mislaid.

Keenley ran down the wide spiral staircase, a little faster than he had meant to. Catching the edge of one of the steps, he flailed his arms in an attempt to regain his balance and landed awkwardly with his leg folded under him. He sat there on his foot for a moment to let his heart beat catch up. He could hear Sister Phyllis chiding him in his mind, “Would you rather arrive late or arrive injured?” He decided to try to hurry a little more slowly.

As Keenley reached the bottom of the stairs, he nearly ran into Miyako, a pale-skinned elvish girl from Hitōku, one of the allied countries far away in the north-eastern islands. Though she was the only one of her race many people in this part of the world had ever seen, she was so unassuming that her teachers would sometimes mark her absent by mistake.

“So sorry!” Miyako said; her reaction pre-empting the impact.

Keenley frantically juggled in an attempt to rescue the books she had dropped, as well as his own. He failed, and the whole collection fell around him as he landed face-first at Miyako’s feet.

“Keenley, are you hurt? You should be careful. You know what Father Harrington will say if he sees you running in the halls!”

From his new, albeit undignified, position Keenley found his eyes drawn to Miyako’s green silk court shoes. Embroidered with gold thread, they would have been expensive once. Though faded, they were nonetheless striking against the plain blue robes all the temple learners wore; nothing like his own ordinary oft-repaired laced leather veldskoens.

“Sorry, Miya, I wasn’t watching.”

She nodded slowly: it was a gesture Keenley recognised as an acknowledgement of an offered apology. Keenley had only ever had occasion to observe that response directed at himself, but he knew it well enough.

“I came to find you. My morning class ran over time again.” She had quickly regained her composure. “Where are you going in such a hurry?”

“Yes, learner Keenley, where were you going in such a hurry?” It was Father Harrington. He always said learner as if it was synonymous with scum.

Father Harrington, in his seamless black hose boots, had a way of silently stalking the corridors and suddenly appearing wherever you least hoped to encounter him. Looking at those boots was like staring into a deep hole. Without buttons or buckles or even a toe-crease, they fit like they were grown rather than made, and were obviously created by magic rather than any human hands.

“W – well, Father Harrington, I – I needed to speak to you actually.” Keenley stood and re-adjusted his books after nearly dropping them again mid-sentence. “I – I was upstairs using the p – prayer glass in the Library Tower, and –”

“A prayer glass is not a toy for your personal amusement, Keenley Turnshoe.” Harrington also liked to remind Keenley of his parents’ occupation. “You will return it to its proper place, and leave it there. Since you were honest enough to confess without being found out, I shall overlook it this time.”

“Yes Father, b – but something very strange happened.” Keenley only ever stammered like this when Father Harrington was looking at him. “I – I only asked a question, and –”

“For goodness sake, Keenley, stop drivelling and tell me.”

Keenley wasn’t quite sure how to explain. He had never seen the Great God Avatar behave like this.

He had been standing in the corner room of the Library Tower where some of the more obscure books and artifacts were kept. It was just one of several dusty, stone-walled rooms lined with shelves of books and odd looking objects. The massive face of the mighty Avatar had glared down at him from the large mirror on the shelf.

“You dare to question me?” it had bellowed.

“No, no, I would never –”

“My intentions are above reproach, you cannot question them.”

“But I did not question your intentions, Great One, I only asked –”

“No…” There was an uncomfortably long pause. “I will not be questioned by you.” Another pause. “No one shall defy Avatar and live,” it commanded.

“But I would never defy you, Great One, it was only a question.”

“There can be no other. Avatar alone is God.”

“Yes, the holy writings say that, too, Great One, but what I wanted to know is what came before this world? The scripture is clear that you made the world, so it only stands to reason that you must have been there before, and I just want to understand what it was like then.”

“Avatar is the Creator, Director, Arbiter and Sustainer of all things.”

“Yes, Mighty God, but –”

“His will is done, his rule is just, his word is true, his intentions are above reproach; none shall defy him and live.”

Keenley recognised this as a direct quote from the Book of Decrees. “Yes, of course, Great One, but I want to underst –”

“Avatar alone is God; he is the Creator, Director, Arbiter and Sustainer of all things. His will is done, his rule is just, his word is true, his intentions are above reproach; none shall defy him and live.”

“Yes Great God, I’ve read the holy scriptures, but I –”

“Avatar alone is God; he is the Creator, Director, Arbiter and Sustainer of all things. His will is done, his rule is just, his word is true, his intentions are above reproach; none shall defy him and live.”

Suddenly the glass had gone blank. Keenley stared at it a while in silence, hoping that somehow the image would return and begin speaking normally again. It didn’t. He blinked. He blinked again. Still nothing. He took the glass down from the ledge where he had placed it, hid it behind the bookshelf, and turned to face the mountain of study he still had to do before the afternoon lecture. After several guilt-ridden seconds of staring blankly at his books, he lifted the prayer glass back to the ledge and performed the rite of invocation as he had been taught. Nothing happened. He did it again, making sure to do it precisely as he had been shown. Nothing continued to happen.

Keenley cringed at the memory as he recounted the story to Father Harrington. Miyako just stared at him in disbelief. Father Harrington’s face had gone blank. Keenley could imagine his father growling at the walls. His father never yelled at him, he growled at the walls instead. You lost your scholarship and got thrown out of the temple because you broke the Great God!? I should have guessed that you would find a way for your constant meddling to ruin this wonderful opportunity. How does this keep happening? Do you think we can possibly find a job for you that you can’t turn into a disaster?

But surely he couldn’t have broken the Great God; after all, he was the Great God Avatar. He was supposed to be all-powerful; a junior learner at the temple shouldn’t be able to confound him with a simple question. Keenley’s thoughts returned to the present as Father Harrington began to speak.

“You will return the glass to its rightful place and leave it there.” Father Harrington’s expression had not changed. “Since you were honest enough to confess without being found out, I shall overlook it this time, now stop making up stories and get to your class.” He gave an odd sideways glare at Miyako that Keenley couldn’t interpret, and then left abruptly without another word.

“What did you do?” Miyako asked, still wide-eyed.

“Just what I said. I asked the Great God Avatar what it was like before he made the world, and he couldn’t answer me … that’s all. What should I do now?”

“I think you should go and speak to Father Ginnsley right away.”

“Father Ginnsley? Maybe there’s someone else.”

“This is serious, Keenley. You need to speak to a Senior Theologian. I do not think Father Harrington will be prepared to listen a second time and I doubt Father Somersby will understand.”

“I guess so,” Keenley said, unconvinced. “I just wish someone else could tell him for me.”

“He will certainly listen to you, of all people.”

“...but…”

“Keenley, he was your sponsor.”

“Maybe I could write an anonymous letter and put it under his door, or maybe you could tell him. No one ever gets cross at you.”

Miyako tilted her head slightly to the left and blinked, the way she did when she was waiting for him to think about what he had just said.

“Will you come with me?” he asked as he headed toward Father Ginnsley’s office. She smiled without answering and followed him.

Next Chapter: ii 0000010-02