In the week before her Practicant qualification, Sarla felt a surge of confidence in her ability to pass.
Unfortunately, rather than relieving her of the ambient stress she'd absorbed from the other prospective Practicants, the stress branched out to other endeavours.
The most pressing question was that of her duties as Practicant.
All of the others who sought qualification, as far as she knew, were engaged in duties that would continue on.

Marina had all but guaranteed a post as a Farcaller within the Office of the Ennearch of Chastity.
Cyril was already serving as a Council-appointed administrator in the Hall of Roots, which was as thankless a job as Sarla could imagine.
For all her time spent in Willow Hall's library, she hadn't approached anyone to seek out an appointment.
The rest of her life stretched out in her imagination, a life spent sweeping in Tower Hall, fulfilling menial duties in the kitchens.

Occupied with these thoughts, she spent a free afternoon wandering, finding herself again, in the library, walking through the long shelves.
The white marble floor was padded with a thin rug through the stacks, to muffle the clack of hooves on stone.

She scanned the shelves idly, looking for nothing in particular.
She passed some biographies of Emperor Yakob, and texts on soil weathering and many others, until eventually, by chance she turned into an aisle and nearly bumped into an older yak.

He wore plain black robes, slightly tattered, so she surprised herself by recognising his rank.

―I apologise for disturbing you, Master..., she trailed off.

It was unusual that she hadn't heard much about this yak, given how few Masters there were.

―Master Auroklos, he said, bowing his head politely.
	Carry on, he said, waving her by.

She started to walk past as he plucked a book off the shelf and turned away the way she came.
It suddenly came to her:

―You were the Master at my Trial.
	I swore my Renunciate oaths in front of you.
	The scholar.

He stopped and faced her.
A moment passed in thought.

―Yes. Yes, I remember, he said eventually.
	What was your name?

―Sarla.

He nodded, then turned back to walk away again, before Sarla interrupted.

―Excuse me, Master Auroklos..., she said, while he looked at her patiently.
	I was, um, well.
	I don't know what to do.

―What to do?
	What to do with what?

―With, um, myself.
	You see, I'm going to be qualifying as Practicant, and I don't know what vocation to pursue.

He sighed.
―I'm sorry, Sarla, I'm not in much of a position to help.
	I would not have time to mentor you, and I don't need much in the way of assistance.

―What exactly do you study?

He looked at her, puzzled, before laughing.
―You're asking me to help you without knowing what I do?
	I study the Meadowlark, child.
	There are very few left who do, especially within the Hierarchy.
	Our dear Hierarch was the last of the era that did, before she got locked up like a common criminal.

He spat the last sentence with surprising venom, and Sarla looked around to see if anyone had heard him.
He paused without noticing, deep in thought.

―Where did you learn to Connect to the Meadowlark?

―Tomasz and Grigory. She paused as he gave her an examining look.
	Well, actually, I taught myself, sir.
	I practiced the exercises a lot, every day in my free time.
	I promise, I would be diligent.

―What application of the Meadowlark are you studying?

―Growth and Vitality.
	But the theory of Connection is super interesting.
	I mean, that's why I like to spend time here in the library.

He waved dismissively. mumbling half to himself.
―Fine, fine.
	There are better theory books in other libraries.
	The Cedar Library is better: Miriam is a good curator.
	Much better than Barton here.

Sarla wasn't sure how to respond.
Barton was the head of Willow Hall Library, and would always bring Sarla tea and snacks when she was working through mealtimes.

Auroklos had drifted off and seemed lost in thought.
Eventually, he seemed to come to some decision.
―My office is on the third floor here.
	Come tomorrow, if you'd like.

---

At dinner that evening, Sarla was still thinking about the luck of bumping into Master Auroklos.
As a result, she was a bit too distracted to fully pay attention to Cyril's extended summary of his day.

―So, are you going to be presenting any specialisation? Marina asked.
	I still have no idea what you're actually studying.

Cyril looked slightly offended by the question.

―I'm studying everything.
	It's a generalist position, Marina.
	They need someone who can do everything.
	Leadership, and problem solving.
	And management is a lot more involved than you'd think.

―But you're already working there, Cyril.
	And like, it's an administrative position.
	You don't need to qualify as a Practicant.

Cyril scoffed.
―Running a hall takes a well trained mind.
	It's not all about doing flashy tricks with the Meadowlark, it's about serving the Hierarchy with every skill you can imagine.
	Clover says that it's a good stepping stone for more responsibility.
	Running a hall, eventually being on the Council.

It was a reasonable point.
As a Farcaller, Marina would always be useful, and would always be able to contribute.
But it was also a dead-end when it came to political power.
Not as much of a dead-end as any of Sarla's options, to be fair.
Growth as a specialisation was useful for keeping everyone fed, but it was also a good way to make sure you were too valuable to be anywhere besides tending crops.
And scholarship was worse.

―By the way, that's not the best part of today, Cyril continued.
	I heard something interesting.

Marina's eyebrows raised.

―There was an emergency Council meeting on Saturday.

Marina sighed.
―C'mon, Cyril.
	That's not interesting.
	Like, I thought you had some juicy gossip.
	You know Commander Darius's son, Jann?
	He was caught, shall we say, in a very particular act, with Grigory, your old friend, she said, indicating Sarla.
	Both likely going to be expelled from the Hierarchy and barred from the City.

―Wow, Sarla said.
	That's more punishment than he got for trying to ruin my life.

Marina grimaced.
There was a hint of an awkward pause before Cyril cut in.

―Okay, but this you will find interesting.
	This was a meeting about mending relationships with the Republic.
	Or rather, about convincing President Laurence not to send forces in to take over the City.

The last line came out with perhaps more vigour than was expected, and yaks at a few nearby tables looked over.
Sarla glanced at them.
They were younger, and probably wouldn't be privy to any sort of news about this.

Cyril noticed, and half-whispered.
―There are a few Councillors who have started to agree that it is time to divest the Hierarchy of Yakaterina's issues.
	Clover said that she might be expelled and her doctrine declared Heresy.

Sarla wasn't sure how to react.
There had never been a Hierarch expelled like that.
It didn't entirely even make sense how that could happen.

―Does the Council actually have the power to expel someone from the Hierarchy?
	I thought it was a power of the Hierarch alone.

Cyril nodded.
―Yeah, I think there would have to be some research on how to do it.
	And then there's the question of who could be her successor.
	Or even replacement, or however that would work.
	All Clover said is that there were some in favour of looking into it.
	And Yury didn't say yes, but he didn't say no either.

―What does Master Clover think? Marina asked.

Cyril laughed.
―She obviously can't exactly say until she knows how it's going to play out.

Marina gave Sarla a look, which Sarla knew meant something to the effect of _wow, Clover is a bit of a horrible opportunist_.
Sarla tried to convey back acknowledgement and agreement, but she wasn't sure her face could express anything besides generalised worry.

―All good?, Cyril asked, obviously seeing Sarla's worry.

―Yeah, all good.

This was a bit of a lie.
Research, or anything even close to research, was the first thing that would get cut.
The Council had no choice but to let Masters like Master Auroklos do what they wanted, but Sarla's own position could become quite difficult.
And she had no guarantee Auroklos would even try to protect her from anything the Council would do if she didn't comply and just start producing food.
Let alone any idea that he could be successful.

―By the way, have you had any luck finding stuff you want to do?

―Cyril! Marina shouted.

Sarla sighed.

―It's okay Marina.
	I was actually talking to Master Auroklos earlier.
	He said he might be willing to teach me.

―Master Auroklos? Cyril asked, a note of concern in his voice.

―What's wrong with Master Auroklos?, Marina asked.

―Well, I'm not sure.
	But I haven't heard of him.

―He's a scholar, Sarla said.

Cyril gave Sarla a puzzled look, then laughed.
Not a polite chuckle either, a heavy full-bellied laugh, far louder than the whispered tones they'd been speaking in.

―An old crackpot?
	Sarla, don't get yourself tied up with that sort of thing.

Sarla bristled, but didn't have anything to say in response.
He leaned forward, and a sudden seriousness fell on his face.

―Sarla, speaking as your friend here.
	You're more powerful with the Meadowlark than almost anyone, from what I've heard.
	You know that, right?
	People are talking about you.

―What?

―Well don't be stupid.
	It must be pretty obvious to your instructor that you're nothing like the other students.

Sarla nodded.

―Well, instructors talk.
	You know Grunny?
	No?, he asked, at Sarla shaking her head.
	Lord be merciful, what have you been doing with your time?
	He's the Keeper of the City Pastures.

―Oh, yes.

Sarla didn't want to admit she only really knew about the position from reading about its history.
It was a Council position in its own right, no matter who held it.
Cyril gave her a withering look anyway.

―Pardon my tone, but what in the ever-merciful fuck Sarla?
	Do you listen to the other students around you?
	Everyone studying Growth could only dream of being noticed like that, and you don't even know it's happening?

―Cyril! Marina shouted.

Cyril looked around, as Sarla did the same.
He had been yelling quite loudly, and they were attracting a lot of attention from the other young yaks around them.

―I'm sorry Sarla, he said, quietly.
	Look, you know, it's just...
	None of us are as good as you are.
	It's just a fact.
	And seeing you just doing so brilliant and just not paying any fucking attention is a bit much.
	You know?

Sarla nodded, and felt her body flush warm with shame.
She marinated in it for a few moments.

―How do you know that people are talking about me?

―Because I try to look out for my friends, Sarla.
	I asked Clover what a Growth Practicant could do, and she said that the current crop of yaks wasn't looking good.
	And when I asked what she meant by that, she said that all Grunny talked about was that Brina kept talking about one in particular, and that one didn't even seem interested in Growth.
	Which explained a lot.
	And when Clover found out you were my friend, well.
	She thinks that being friends with you is the most useful thing about me, you know...

Cyril looked down.
Sarla felt awful, although she wasn't entirely sure why.

―He's right, Marina said to her softly.
	I know you don't like to talk about it, and I'm not going to push you, but...
	The Hierarchy needs strong yaks, Sarla.
	And that's you.

Another wave of shame and disappointment crashed over her.
Sarla tried to fight the urge to cry.

―I just.
	I don't want to sit around in the fields forever.
	And that's all most Growth Adepts do.

―Then don't do that.
	And you don't have to do anything for Cyril.
	But you have to do something.
	And you'll have to figure out what you want.
	Before you commit yourself to someone who never leaves the library or has any say in the Hierarchy's future.
	Do you even want to do research like that?

―I have no idea! Sarla said.
	I think...I just want to get stronger.
	I want to be a Master.
	A real one, like in the histories, not like the shitty political ones we have nowadays.