The Wise Man's Fear

“Yes. The tinker. How you must treat such men?”

I knew, but I wanted to see what the Adem thought. “How?”

He looked at me, his fingers pressing together irritation. “You must be kind, and help them. And speak well. Always polite. Always.”

I nodded. “And if they offer something, you must consider buying it.”

Tempi made a triumphant gesture. “Yes! You can do many things when meeting tinker. But there is only one right thing.” He calmed himself a little. Caution. “But only doing is not the Lethani. First knowing, then doing. That is the Lethani.”

I thought on this for a moment. “So being polite is the Lethani?”

“Not polite. Not kind. Not good. Not duty. The Lethani is none of these. Each moment. Each choice. All different.” He gave me a penetrating look. “Do you understand?”

“No.”

Happiness. Approval. Tempi got to his feet, nodding. “It is good you know you do not. Good that you say. That is also of the Lethani.”

CHAPTER EIGHTY-EIGHT Listening

Tempi and I returned to find the camp surprisingly cheerful. Dedan and Hespe were smiling at each other and Marten had managed to shoot a wild turkey for dinner.

So we ate and joked. And after the washing up was done, Hespe told her story about the boy who loved the moon, starting again at the beginning. Dedan kept his mouth miraculously shut, and I dared to hope our little group was finally, finally starting to become a team.

Jax had no trouble following the moon because in those days the moon was always full. She hung in the sky, round as a cup, bright as a candle, all unchanging.

Jax walked for days and days until his feet grew sore. He walked for months and months and his back grew tired beneath his packs. He walked for years and years and grew up tall and lean and hard and hungry.

When he needed food, he traded out of the tinker’s packs. When his shoes wore thin he did the same. Jax made his own way, and he grew up clever and sly.

Through it all, Jax thought about the moon. When he began to think he couldn’t go another step, he’d put on his spectacles and look up at her, round-bellied in the sky. And when he saw her he would feel a slow stirring in his chest. And in time he came to think he was in love.

Eventually the road Jax followed passed through Tinuë, as all roads do. Still he walked, following the great stone road east toward the mountains.

The road climbed and climbed. He ate the last of his bread and the last of his cheese. He drank the last of his water and the last of his wine. He walked for days without either, the moon growing larger in the night sky above him.

Just as his strength was failing, Jax climbed over a rise and found an old man sitting in the mouth of a cave. He had a long grey beard and a long grey robe. He had no hair on the top of his head, or shoes on the bottom of his feet. His eyes were open and his mouth was closed.

His face lit up when he saw Jax. He came to his feet and smiled. “Hello, hello,” he said, his voice bright and rich. “You’re a long way from anywhere. How is the road to Tinuë?”

“It’s long,” Jax said. “And hard and weary.”

The old man invited Jax to sit. He brought him water and goat’s milk and fruit to eat. Jax ate hungrily, then offered the man a pair of shoes from his pack in trade.

“No need, no need,” the old man said happily, wiggling his toes. “But thanks for offering all the same.”

Jax shrugged. “As you will. But what are you doing here, so far from everything?”

“I found this cave when I was out chasing the wind,” the old man said. “I decided to stay because this place is perfect for what I do.”

“And what is that?” Jax asked.

“I am a listener,” the old man said. “I listen to things to see what they have to say.”

“Ah,” Jax said carefully. “And this is a good place for that?”

“Quite good. Quite excellent good,” the old man said. “You need to get a long ways away from people before you can learn to listen properly.” He smiled. “What brings you out to my little corner of the sky?”

“I am trying to find the moon.”

“That’s easy enough,” the old man said, gesturing to the sky. “We see her most every night, weather permitting.”

“No. I’m trying to catch her. If I could be with her, I think I could be happy.”

The old man looked at him seriously. “You want to catch her, do you? How long have you been chasing?”

“More years and miles than I can count.”

The old man closed his eyes for a moment, then nodded to himself. “I can hear it in your voice. This is no passing fancy.” He leaned close and pressed his ear to Jax’s chest. He closed his eyes for another long moment and was very still. “Oh,” he said softly. “How sad. Your heart is broken and you’ve never even had a chance to use it.”

Jax moved around, a little uncomfortable. “If you don’t mind my asking,” Jax said, “What’s your name?”

“I don’t mind you asking,” the old man said. “So long as you don’t mind me not telling. If you had my name, I’d be under your power, wouldn’t I?”

“Would you?” Jax asked.

“Of course.” The old man frowned. “That is the way of things. Though you don’t seem to be much for listening, it’s best to be careful. If you managed to catch hold of even just a piece of my name, you’d have all manner of power over me.”

Jax wondered if this man might be able to help him. While he didn’t seem to be terribly ordinary, Jax knew he was on no ordinary errand. If he’d been trying to catch a cow, he would ask a farmer’s help. But to catch the moon, perhaps he needed the help of an odd old man. “You said you used to chase the wind,” Jax said. “Did you ever catch it?”

“In some ways yes,” the old man said. “And in other ways, no. There are many ways of looking at that question, you see.”

“Could you help me catch the moon?”

“I might be able to give you some advice,” the old man said reluctantly. “But first you should think this over, boy. When you love something, you have to make sure it loves you back, or you’ll bring about no end of trouble chasing it.”

Hespe didn’t look at Dedan as she said this. She looked everywhere in the world but at him. Because of this, she didn’t see the stricken, helpless look on his face.

“How can I find out if she loves me?” Jax asked.

“You could try listening,” the old man said, almost shyly. “It works wonders, you know. I could teach you how.”

“How long would that take?”

“A couple years,” the old man said. “Give or take. It depends on if you have a knack for it. It’s tricky, proper listening. But once you have it, you’ll know the moon down to the bottoms of her feet.”

Jax shook his head. “Too long. If I can catch her, I can talk with her. I can make—”

“Well that’s part of your problem right there,” the old man said. “You don’t really want to catch her. Not really. Will you trail her through the sky? Of course not. You want to meet her. That means you need the moon to come to you.”

“How can I do that?” he said.

The old man smiled. “Well that’s the question, isn’t it? What do you have that the moon might want? What do