88 lines
3.7 KiB
Plaintext
88 lines
3.7 KiB
Plaintext
In the week before her Practicant qualification, Sarla felt a surge of confidence in her ability to pass.
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Unfortunately, rather than relieving her of the ambient stress she'd absorbed from the other prospective Practicants, the stress branched out to other endeavours.
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The most pressing question was that of her duties as Practicant.
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All of the others who sought qualification, as far as she knew, were engaged in duties that would continue on.
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Marina had all but guaranteed a post as a Farcaller within the Office of the Ennearch of Chastity.
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Cyril would be fucking off to serve as a Council-appointed administrator.
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For all her time spent in Willow Hall's library, she hadn't approached anyone to seek out an appointment.
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The rest of her life stretched out in her imagination, a life spent sweeping in Tower Hall, fulfilling menial duties in the kitchens.
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Occupied with these thoughts, she spent a free afternoon wandering, finding herself again, in the library, walking through the long shelves.
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The white marble floor was padded with a thin rug through the stacks, to muffle the clack of hooves on stone.
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She scanned the shelves idly, looking for nothing in particular.
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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.
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He wore plain black robes, slightly tattered, so she surprised herself by recognising his rank.
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―I apologise for disturbing you, Master..., she trailed off.
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It was unusual that she hadn't heard much about this yak, given how few Masters there were.
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―Master Auroklos, he said, bowing his head politely.
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Carry on, he said, waving her by.
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She started to walk past as he plucked a book off the shelf and turned away the way she came.
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It suddenly came to her:
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―You were the Master at my Trial.
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I swore my Renunciate oaths in front of you.
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The scholar.
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He stopped and faced her.
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A moment passed in thought.
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―Yes. Yes, I remember, he said eventually.
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What was your name?
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―Sarla.
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He nodded, then turned back to walk away again, before Sarla interrupted.
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―Excuse me, Master Auroklos..., she said, while he looked at her patiently.
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I was, um, well.
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I don't know what to do.
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―What to do?
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What to do with what?
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―With, um, myself.
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You see, I'm going to be qualifying as Practicant, and I don't know what vocation to pursue.
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He sighed.
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―I'm sorry, Sarla, I'm not in much of a position to help.
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I would not have time to mentor you, and I don't need much in the way of assistance.
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―What exactly do you study?
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He looked at her, puzzled, before laughing.
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―You're asking me to help you without knowing what I do?
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I study the Meadowlark, child.
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There are very few left who do, especially within the Hierarchy.
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Our dear Hierarch was the last of the era that did, before she got locked up like a common criminal.
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He spat the last sentence with surprising venom, and Sarla looked around to see if anyone had heard him.
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He paused without noticing, deep in thought.
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―Where did you learn to Connect to the Meadowlark?
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―Tomasz and Grigory. She paused as he gave her an examining look.
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Well, actually, I taught myself, sir.
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I practiced the exercises a lot, every day in my free time.
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I promise, I would be diligent.
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―What application of the Meadowlark are you studying?
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―Growth and Vitality.
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But the theory of Connection is super interesting.
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I mean, that's why I like to spend time here in the library.
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He waved dismissively. mumbling half to himself.
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―Fine, fine.
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There are better theory books in other libraries.
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The Cedar Library is better: Miriam keeps her collection well.
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Hm... he drifted off.
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My office is on the third floor here.
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Come by tomorrow morning.
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