See, here's an excerpt!
They walked in silence for two of the turn arounds. Sylk was beginning to get very interested in these staggered ledges. They were almost impossibly smooth. There was no tool or knowledge in his village that could have produced the seeming perfection of these ledges. At the last one, he has stopped and carefully felt the edge of one of the ledges. Gingerly, expecting almost to be cut, he ran his finger along the corner. He was not cut, but the corner was so smooth and polished. What, or who, could have cut this path in the rock?
“And, what general truth do you suppose you have learned regarding effort?” Moa’qi’s question startled Sylk. “If, as you say, your effort to do something becomes the thing you successfully do, is there a principle there that is applicable across a wide spectrum of experience?”
“What?” The question was out of Sylk’s mouth before he could stop it.
Moai’qi just burst out laughing. Gales of laughter erupted from him, and he walked along merrily.
Sylk was extraordinarily confused at this point. He set the question aside for later consideration, and focused on walking. The path was beginning an incline, and walking was becoming an… effort. Sylk also realized the light time was drawing to an end, and he worried they would spend dark time on the path. Moa’qi’s pace had quickened, and he seemed very intent to reach the top. The failing light enhanced the optical illusion used to conceal the cunning path beneath their feet, and at time Sylk suffered from the abrupt sensation that he was about to step out into thin air.
He was looking deliberately at his feet, watching them hit the ground, carefully negotiating yet another series of stacked ledges when he ran into his Master.
Startled, he blurted out a partial apology, which died away at the vista before him.
They were at the top of Flat Rock. He reeled in his tracks, and Moa’qi put a steadying hand on his shoulder, protecting him. “Here, lets step away from the edge.”
Sylk mutely followed. He was higher up in the sky than he had ever been. His lungs felt different, like they couldn’t quite catch enough air. Not the same really as after running a race. Just that there did not seem to be enough air to breathe. He had been feeling that for a while, but had set it aside, attributing it to the climb. He knew now, that, while the climb no doubt contributed, their really was something different about the air. It did not fill his lungs, despite his efforts.
“It will pass.” Moa’qi was looking at his apprentice. “Just relax. You will be breathing normally before you know it. Your lungs are being stressed at the moment, no?”
“Yes!”
“It will pass. Sit for a few minutes. Relax. We have a few minutes before we get to what I want you to see. And you have to be able to be still and concentrate, or you will miss it, and we will spend another light and dark time on this rock.”
This caught Sylk’s imagination, and he sat and deliberately relaxed. Very soon, his lungs seemed to make some kind of adjustment, and the effort of his breathing became -- breathing. He smiled to himself. “What about the air up here?” he asked his Master.
“It is actually what you feel. The air is thinner up here. What do you think about that?”
“I don’t know. Air is air, I thought. Evidently, air can change. I can’t begin to imagine why.”
“No, I’m sure you can’t. There is too much basic information lacking, no? Well, you are about to see something that only two others in our tribe have seen. It will give you much to think about in the days to come. Are you ready to walk?”
“Yes.”
“Come.”
They set off toward a kind of brightness in the sky. Sylk found this very interesting. Where they lived in the village, trees and surrounding hills obscured something he had noticed in the wild. In the village, it was light, then it was dark. The eddying, not quite featureless grey of the sky would be bright, then it would be black/dark. In the wild, he had noticed the light and dark would sweep across the sky. It was like a large bowl over his head, across which a shadow would pass and it would be dark, then the shadow would move on and it would be light. It always seemed to move in the same direction, and it seemed to move at the same speed.
Up on Flat Rock, the effect was magnified. The bowl of the sky was more pronounced. He voiced his thoughts to his Master, and then asked, “If the sky is a bowl, then where does it touch down on the ground, and what is on the other side?”
“Those are good questions. Too bad they are meaningless.”
Sylk stopped short in his tracks. “What?” he blurted for the second time. Moa’qi just laughed again. “Come, see.”
They approached the edge of Flat Rock that most directly faced the brightest part of the sky. Sylk realized that the path had deposited them close to where they needed to be. If they had ended up on the other side, they could not have made it to this side in time.
“Look!” Moa’qi commanded. “Watch carefully.”
Sylk obeyed, staring at the disappearing brightness, and wondering what to expect.
“Son, don’t think. Observe. Like when waiting for the gato to enter the trap. Wait and be ready, don’t be distracted.”
Sylk was comforted by the tone of his Master’s voice, and the reference to something that he knew how to do. He calmed himself and relaxed into patient-hunt.
The vista from this side of Flat Rock was across a verdant flat expanse. There were some rolling hills that disappeared into the distance. Sylk recognized them, and realized that the edge of the sky bowl was much, much further away then he had imagined. The greyness was deepening to black, and he wondered what he could possibly be looking for. Soon it would be impentrable dark, and they would have to feel about to make camp. Or, he thought foolishly, they would make fire and do it by firelight. He grinned absently then stopped. ‘What is that?’ he thought.
Until tonight, or tomorrow. Who knows. fb
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