The Truth Beyond the Sky

Chapter 4: An Old Friend Gives Riddles

When he left the observatory many hours later, the sun was much nearer to the horizon. As Zahn walked the trail back to where he'd parked the airboat, he noticed someone sitting on a bench out of the corner of his eye. He wondered why his eye seemed drawn to this person, but continued walking.

"Is that you, son of Vivek?"

Zahn turned around and saw a short old man wearing a dark orange robe walking toward him. What he saw made him stop dead in his tracks.

"Oldman Kavi?"

"I am he. I have been away. It is good to see you, Zahn!"

"Kavi! I can't believe you're here. It's been... years," Zahn was nearly in shock.

"I suppose it has, at least here." Kavi seemed lost in thought for a few seconds. "But these are auspicious times."

"Are they?"

"Oh, yes. Where are you headed, my old friend?"

"Home, and then I'm going up to Zikhara tonight. You should come with me. I'm sure my father would be happy to see you, especially after all these years."

"Oh Zahn, your ritual shows your connection, your hidden strength. With that in your heart, why don't you keep the lens in your pocket all of the time?"

"Thanks Kavi—wait, what?"

"That lens! That lens. Verily, it is a living memory of your mother in physical form. Yes–yes. Will come in handy if a feather falls from the sky. Yes–yes."

"A feather?"

"Mmm. Let me ask you this, my young friend. What would you do if an unborn rockturtle wasn't strong enough to hatch? Would you break its egg or give it more time? Either choice could lead to its death. What if it is too weak? Or not ready?"

Zahn imagined a silvery, baby rockturtle fighting its way out of its egg. For their journey to the ocean, rockturtles had long since adapted to blend in with the silvery sand of the beach. It had been a long time since Kavi had asked him a riddle, and he hoped he still had the clarity to solve them.

"And of course," Kavi continued, "we must remember that every rockturtle that has ever lived has prepared the world for that new, unborn hatchling. It is never alone, and it never will be. All the hatchlings of eternity have gone before it."

Kavi allowed Zahn to contemplate this for some time.

"Do you understand the gravity of this situation?" Kavi said.

"Hmm. Did you come up with that yourself? Does it have a right answer?"

"How could I write a song that even the birds already know?"

There was silence between them as Zahn considered this.

"I think I'd give the egg more time." Zahn finally said. "Hey, how do you know about my mother's lens, anyway?"

"A small rockturtle told me," Kavi said, winking one eye.

Zahn looked at Kavi suspiciously, but couldn't help but grin because he knew Kavi usually had a surprise up his sleeve when he talked like this. When Zahn studied his face, it seemed as though there was an ancient mystery hiding within it, if he only knew where to look.

"You know what, you really should come back with me, Kavi. We should celebrate your return!"

"Not quite returned. Not yet."

"Will you at least walk with me to the airboat? It's so wonderful to see you after all this time, even if you are in a riddle-telling mood."

"Of course, my young friend."

As they continued down the path, Zahn continued to ponder the question.

"Is there a right answer to your riddle?" he asked a few minutes later.

"What does your heart say?"

"I think it's a question of free will."

"And of time. Zahn, promise me that you will remember to keep the lens with you. At all times."

"Sure Kavi, but why?"

"The time for you to know why has not yet arrived."

"Kavi, do you ever think you're too mysterious sometimes?"

"To respect someone's free will, sometimes it is necessary to appear mysterious."

Zahn reached out to open the airboat door, and when he looked over to where Kavi had been, he was gone. Zahn looked up and down the path, but there was no sign of Kavi anywhere. It was almost as though he had never been there at all.

When Zahn arrived home, he headed back up to his room. By now, an orange light was filtering through the latticework and the vines along the edge, lending his room an orange tint.

He walked over to one shelf, picked up a small glass lens that had been resting on its edge, and looked at it. It was just as flawless as the day his mother had given it to him as a child. Back then, it didn't fit so easily into the palm of his hand, but as his hand grew so did the memory of his mother fade ever so slightly, for even Zahn's strongest memories were not immune to the passage of time.

Kavi's words echoed in his mind again, and he slipped the small lens into his pocket. Perhaps Kavi was right. Perhaps it was something he should have near him at all times. After all, what was the downside?