Entoverse

CHAPTER TWELVE

At a lonely place high among the peaks of the Wilderness of Rinjussin, Thrax came to a large, flat rock where the path divided. A monk was floating in midair above the rock, absorbed in his meditations. His sash bore the purple-spiral emblem representing the cloak of the night god, Nieru. Thrax had heard that as an exercise in learning to attract and ride the currents, adepts would support themselves on currents that they generated themselves by prayer. He waited several hours until the monk descended back onto the rock and looked at him.

“What do you stare at?” Thrax asked him.

“I contemplate the world,” the monk answered.

Thrax turned and looked back at the valley he had climbed, with its scene of barren slopes, shattered rock, and desolation. “Not much of a world to contemplate from here,” he commented. “Do I take it, then, that your world is within?”

“Within, and without. For the currents that bring visions of Hyperia speak within the mind; yet they flow from beyond Waroth. Thus, Hyperia is at the same time both within and without.”

“I, too, am in search of Hyperia,” Thrax said.

“Why would you seek it?” the monk asked.

“It is taught that the mission of the adepts who rise on the currents and depart from Waroth is to serve the gods in Hyperia. Such is my calling.”

“And what made you think that you would find it here, in Rinjussin?”

“I seek a Master known as Shingen-Hu, who, it is said, teaches in these parts.”

“This is the last place that you should come looking for Shingen-Hu,” the monk said.

Thrax reflected upon the statement. “Then my search has ended,” he replied finally. “That means he must be here. For obviously he is to be found in the last place I would look, since why would I continue looking after I found him?”

“Many come seeking Shingen-Hu. Most are fools. But I see that you are not foolish,” the monk said.

“So, can you tell me which path I must take?” Thrax asked.

“I can.”

“Then, speak.”

“One path leads to certain death. To know more, you must first ask the right question.”

Thrax had expected having to give answers. But to be required to come up with the question itself put a different complexion on things. He looked perplexed from one to the other of the two trails winding away on either side of the rock.

Then he said, “But death is certain eventually, whichever path one takes. Which path must I take, therefore, to achieve the most that is meaningful along the way?”

“How do you judge what is meaningful?” the monk challenged.

“Let Shingen-Hu be the judge,” Thrax answered.

“We are in troubled times. The currents that once shimmered and glinted across the night skies have become few and weak. Many come to learn, but few shall ride. Why, stranger, should Shingen-Hu choose you?”

“Again, let Shingen-Hu be the judge. I cannot give his reasons. Only mine.”

The monk nodded and seemed satisfied. “You come to serve, and not to demand,” he pronounced, climbing down from the rock. “Follow me. I will take you to Shingen-Hu.”