Sword from the Sky

Sword from the Sky - Chapter Four

DOWN THE TWO PATHS

 “WHAT WERE YOU WAVING AT, YOUNG SIR?” the Davinian official said.

The young student, who was shy in nature but had the built of an adolescent athlete, turned to the official and pondered on the matter. As calmly as his father would act on any given day, he explained himself.

“I was looking at the sun,” Vehru said. “It has become quite whimsical this morning, but the birds seem to be in full flight, so I made friends with the wind.”

Now, Vehru knew he had just spoken nonsense, but the official did not, and therefore a cloud of confusion rained down on the official’s head, and to fully save himself from any humiliation, he avoided the subject altogether and spoke of something else.

“Rightly so,” the official said. He noticed the empty space next to Vehru and spoke of it. “And who is to be sitting next to you?”

“I’ll know only when he gets here,” Vehru said.

“He?”

“Or she.”

“I see,” the official said. “Well, it would seem best for me to wait here and see who ends up stealing that seat, for this person, whoever he is, is extremely late, and it seems only fair to subtract points from that student’s examination, if, of course, that student is to be tested today.”

“Yes, that would seem best,” Vehru said, knowing it actually didn’t seem so good for Luca.

Back at Luca’s carriage, things were tense. Luca only had a minute at best to come up with a plan to get himself inside that carriage and next to Vehru without getting caught for being late. His thoughts raced through his mind, and his eyes lit up, as if crashing into an idea he never knew was there. No matter, it was too late, for he turned his head to his side and found Mastro Vohro sitting on his horse a few feet away from the carriage. The mastro had sneaked up behind them, surveying the procession line with a quiet focus.

“Err…young master?”

“I see him, Gertred,” whispered Luca, but the young Davinian could not escape Vohro’s immense field of vision. The mastro turned to Luca.

“Having second thoughts?” Vohro said.

“No, Mastro,” Luca said. “I’m actually late to the procession line. I sincerely apologize, teacher.”

“It would be foolish to apologize to me,” Vohro said, “for I’m late as well.”

“Yes, true,” Luca said, “but you’re a mastro.”

“And perhaps one day, you’ll be one too,” Vohro said. “But not if you miss the procession line.”

“But how can I sneak into the line?” Luca said.

“Don’t go to the line like a thief, Luca,” Vohro said. “That’s not the Davinian way.”

“You’re right, Mastro,” Luca said. “I am late, and I should never have pretended to be otherwise, regardless if my sleeping in this morning was unintentional. It would seem that shame rose with me this morning and has yet to leave me today.”

Vohro, who had been taught to be strong in discerning spirits since he was young, searched Luca’s soul for any sign of spiritual trouble. “There’s no need to wallow in shame, Luca,” Vohro said. “We’re all constantly learning, yet it’s your shame that teaches you knowledge. Shame is there to perfect you, not to consume you. Wasn’t it shame, Luca, that you felt back there when you failed to stop to help the peasants?”