The Way of the World

Aymon had never set foot on Olar. There were hundreds of planets in the Empire, and it would have been difficult for him to visit them all, even during his long reign. He took a shuttle down to the surface. He was alone— or as alone as he ever was with his security team in tow. Halen and Kino remained on board the First Star .

He missed Halen’s presence immediately, and wondered if he was making a mistake by instructing him to remain behind. After all, it had been Halen, specifically, that Iri Maedes had requested to come to the planet. But Aymon felt that it would be better to come alone, to have himself be the one to meet his apprentices at first. They were his, as Halen kept reminding him. He didn’t express this directly, but Halen had agreed with the plan with no objections. He may have had his own reasons for remaining behind, but whatever they were, they didn’t interfere with Aymon’s.

And, anyway, since he would be briefly meeting with the Guild representatives, Halen tended to make them nervous anyway. He didn’t want to upset the fragile balance further. The situation was already fraught, no matter how many good reports about his apprentices’ meetings with Yuuni Olms had been sent back to him. Olms knew how to be polite to two people who might rule the galaxy someday, if only for the sake of the future of the Guild and not for her own. She was a politician, in the most practical spacer way— Aymon had heard and seen enough of her work to know that.

It was a crisp, cold morning when he landed on Olar, in City One’s airfield. The pilot of his shuttle brought them down through a tricky landing that involved a steep descent following the slopes of the mountains that held the city like a yolk in half of a cracked eggshell, all white with snow and jagged.

He went directly to the hotel where his apprentices were staying, brushing past the hovering crowd of Olar journalists who wanted some public statement from him about his plans for the planet. He would give public remarks later. The journalists seemed particularly insistent, which must have been because the team that had accompanied Yan and Sid had set up a very strict perimeter around them: they were not to be followed around by photographers or have questions thrown at them as they walked down the street. Everything that the news needed to print could be delivered in nice, controlled settings. Anyone who dared to break the boundary and harass the two apprentices would find themselves losing their publishing license, at minimum.

Such a perimeter might not have been enforced as strictly if Yan and Sid had not had the perilous journey on the Sky Boat , but the team involved in shepherding the apprentices had thought it prudent to shield them as much as possible. Aymon agreed, but he did not make any such requests for himself, so people were allowed to photograph him as he arrived. Image, after all, was important.

Yan and Sid were waiting for him in one of the hotel’s private rooms, one with a large scenic window overlooking the city, and privacy glass to shield them from view from below. As Aymon walked in, the other members of Yan and Sid’s cohort slipped out the door behind him, leaving him completely alone with his apprentices.

They looked like they had barely been sleeping. Yan stood stiffly, with a serious but wide-eyed expression. Sid, on the other hand, had his shoulders hunched and his hands jammed into the pockets of his cassock, and was wearing a thick winter hat for reasons that Aymon could not possibly intuit. Aymon decided to ignore it, for the moment.

Now that he was facing his apprentices, he wasn’t exactly sure what to say. They had been apart for so long, and no matter what Halen had written in his letter saying Aymon would do, it suddenly felt like it would be quite wrong to embrace them or be in any way effusive with his feelings, whatever those feelings happened to be. This wasn’t like Kino— Yan and Sid had not disappeared while under his watch; their trouble seemed like something he was too far away to touch, even as he stood right next to them.

To give himself further time to think, even if only a few seconds, he held his arm out to the set of couches in the lounge, and silently went over to sit. Yan and Sid settled themselves uncomfortably across from him, their elbows brushing. Aymon watched them for a second, then finally let out a breath and asked, “How are you?”

“Fine,” Yan said.

Sid shrugged and looked past Aymon, out the window.

“An answer I would expect, from the woman who wrote me the most impersonal letter in the universe, and never called me on the ansible,” Aymon said. What compelled him to be antagonistic, he didn’t know. It was an old, bad habit, but it almost always got results, of some kind. An angry person was easier to engage with than an indifferent one, or one intent on protecting themself. It gave Aymon something to bounce off of, a wedge to drive his fingers under.

He had managed to strike a nerve with Yan. She furrowed her eyebrows and said, “I did write to you.” Unspoken, probably, was a complaint that Halen had written his letter to her.

Aymon leaned back in his seat. “I tried to call you on the ansible, you know.”

Yan looked up at him. “No one told me you did.”

“Of course not. Your minder, Ms. Maedes, would not let you answer the call.” He tilted his head to the side. “She claimed that I would be too difficult to speak to, considering what a fragile state the two of you were in. I’m grateful that I’m now allowed to speak to my apprentices without the fear of ruining their health— or should I still be worried?”

Yan’s hands curled into fists, though it was to dig her nails into her palm, rather than tensing to strike— she wasn’t really that type. “No,” she said. “I’m fine.”

“And you, Sid?” Aymon asked.

“Brilliant,” Sid said.

“Good.”

The silence was very strained. “How was your trip to the front?” Yan asked.

“I’m sure I enjoyed it almost as little as you enjoyed your trip to Olar.” Aymon turned his head to look out the window at the cold vista of the city. “I think I prefer the heat of Tyx to the cold of this place, but it’s not like that was a redeeming quality of the planet of any sort. Kino had her own brush with danger— she broke her arm.”

Yan’s eyes widened further. “Is she alright? Where is she?”

“She’s on the First Star , with Halen. You’ll see her tonight.”

Yan nodded and relaxed— giving her someone else to focus on, that seemed to be the key. “What happened?” she asked.

“She will be happy to tell you her story— it’s not mine to tell,” Aymon said. He paused, then tried to modulate his tone. “Her being injured under my watch made it easier for me to speak with her about it,” he admitted. “I’m afraid that you and I are not so lucky, since we’ve been so far apart.”

Sid laughed. “What even is there to talk about?”

Aymon spread his hands. “Whatever you like.”

Yan shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “There’s not really much to say,” she said. “It doesn’t really matter what you think about it, because it’s done. I know you said in your letter that you were proud, but…” She trailed off. “You don’t have any stake in it, aside from in us. So you probably wouldn’t feel anything other than that, unless we had done something you thought was wrong. So there isn’t anything you need to tell us, if that’s the way you feel. It’s all just something we have to deal with ourselves.” The length of this explanation suggested that Yan had spent a while thinking about or even rehearsing it beforehand.

“You’re right,” he said. She seemed surprised that he agreed with her. “I think you did well. I think on the way home, I would like to spend some time going over the situation in detail, to make sure that in the future, you’ll have a better understanding of decision making when you’re in a situation like that, but I do think you performed well. I couldn’t have asked for anything more from you, even if I had been there.”

“Yeah,” Yan said. Her voice was strained.

“And you, Sid, do you have anything you want to say?”

“No.” He was still looking out the window.

Aymon let the silence stretch on for a second. “There will be other situations like this,” he said. “Not this exact one, but similar. This job, as my apprentice or as my successor, will require you to make difficult choices.” He looked between the two of them. “I won’t ask you to tell me if you will be able to make those choices in the future, because there’s no way to answer that question honestly. If I had asked you two months ago if you would have been able to do what you did for the Sky Boat , I don’t think you could have predicted your behavior. Or, even if you had, you wouldn’t be able to predict why you did things in the moment, or how you would feel afterwards.”

“I know,” she said. “I don’t think I really understood that, when I took this position, but I do now. I can’t go back to not understanding it.” Her face twisted, and she unclenched her fist to rub at the corner of her eye, though no tears came out. She seemed resigned to having no tears left to cry, and was performing the gesture out of habit.

“Good,” Aymon said. He let Yan finish rubbing at her face, wondering if there was anything Sid would like to contribute to the conversation, but he seemed disinclined to speak. “If there’s no more about that to discuss, at least for now, I should ask how the business of this trip has been going. I’ve read all the reports, but I would like to hear it from you.”

This made Yan glance over at Sid, worry on her face. “The Olar government hasn’t budged,” Yan said. “But we made a threat, so you have to decide if you’re going to follow through on it.”

Aymon’s gaze switched to Sid, who was ignoring the fact that Yan was trying to shield him from taking all the blame for making an ultimatum on Olar. Aymon knew exactly who had made that call, though. Even if no one had been in the room when Sid made his threats, Yan reported it to Maedes afterwards, which meant that it ended up in the daily reports sent to Aymon. “If you make a threat, you are obligated to follow through on it. I will appoint an Imperial Advisor to Olar, and strip Governor Cresas of his power. I would have preferred not to do that, but I will not set the precedent of immediately subverting your authority. To do so would be dangerous for the future of the Empire, and have consequences far beyond Olar.”

Yan nodded, clearly relieved.

“What I would like to know, however,” Aymon began again, “is why, exactly, you felt it necessary to go that far. I think I was perfectly clear that in this situation, you were to act as my emissaries, and resolve the issue with minimal further disruption to Olar. This was supposed to be an easy task. You are well aware of the way that I prefer to deal with internal issues, and it annoys me that you decided that your first act, when granted any degree of freedom, was one which spits in the face of my established policy.” Yan looked nervous again, and Sid still resolutely said nothing. “It makes it very difficult for me to trust you,” Aymon concluded after a long, painful silence.

“I’m sorry,” Yan said. “I knew you wouldn’t like it.”

“The only responsibility that you have is in failing to stop it,” Aymon said. “Which is certainly a responsibility, but not as much as Sid’s, for doing it. I would like to hear an explanation for choosing this path in particular.”

Yan opened her mouth. “He was—”

“Do not defend him, please.”

Sid leaned back in his seat, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you going to kick me out?”

Aymon narrowed his eyes. “I would hope that I have not given that impression. I am not that fickle, or fickle at all. You are my apprentice, and you will remain that way. But if I cannot trust you, then I may have to change the way I treat you. If you cannot adequately explain yourself, then you will face the consequence of your decision.”

“What are you going to do to me?” He didn’t sound concerned in the least.

“I’ll decide when we return to Emerri, if I have not had a more productive conversation with you on the journey that would make it unnecessary.”

Sid shrugged and looked away again.

“Very well,” Aymon said. This conversation was going nowhere with Sid, and that was stressing Yan out— she wore the tension in her body like a cloak, her arms held tight at strange angles, like she was trying to refrain from grabbing Sid. He would have to speak to her alone, later, but Sid— he would probably wait for Sid to approach him. Halen had been right that Sid had the ability to get on Aymon’s nerves, and this stony silence was doing the trick, even if it wasn’t what Aymon would have originally expected from Sid. Aymon glanced at his watch. “You both should get ready to leave Olar. If there’s anything remaining that you need to—”

Yan was already shaking her head.

“You don’t want to say goodbye to your uncle?” Aymon was surprised. “He doesn’t need to be at my meeting with Apprentice Olms.”

“I’ve already spoken with him,” Yan said.

“Very well. We’ll be leaving Olar as soon as I am done here. If Governor Cresas bows his head, I’ll speak to him, if not, we will leave directly after I have reassured Apprentice Olms about my plans for the planet.”

“Can I ask a question?” Yan said.

“Of course.”

“Who are you going to appoint as the Imperial Advisor?”

This question, though it was a sensible one to ask, made Aymon think back to his own apprenticeship. His master, in a similar situation, had not trusted anyone to deal with a recalcitrant planetary government aside from her own apprentices, and she had temporarily appointed one of Aymon’s cohort, Jalena, to the role of Imperial Advisor. That had led to Jalena’s death. There was a dark part of Aymon’s mind that wanted to appoint Sid, as a consequence for his actions, but he decided against it. “For the moment, it will be the Fleet commander on the planet. Once on Emerri, I will make a more permanent choice.”

Yan nodded.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Why do you ask?”

“I just wanted to know if it was someone that the Guild would object to.”

“I suspect my permanent choice will be someone relatively new to political life,” Aymon said. “I’ll want to pick someone who isn’t an Olar native, but who does come from a similar small planet, ideally someone who has worked with the Guild in the past— It doesn’t matter now, I don’t have a list of candidates in mind. But it won’t be anyone the Guild can find fault with, and they won’t find fault with the Fleet being given authority, either, at least temporarily.”

“Will that person have orders investigate the Olar government?” Yan asked.

“Quietly,” Aymon said. He glanced at Sid. “Corruption can be dealt within ways that do not involve flashy threats and public tribunals.”

Sid stared back at him and said nothing. The conversation was over with that, so Aymon stood. Yan followed him up, and Sid followed her, much more slowly. Aymon held out his hands, and touched Yan and Sid’s arms. It was as gentle as he could allow himself to be, and probably as gentle as Sid, at least, would accept. He had been the same way, as an apprentice, so found this difficult to begrudge.

“I am proud of you,” he said. “And I’m glad to be returning to Emerri with you. We’ll have more time to talk later.”

Yan’s wide eyes glittered, and she nodded as Aymon withdrew his hand. Aymon gave a final look at them both: Yan following him with her eyes, asking silently for whatever he could give, even though she had told him not to give it; and Sid keeping his mouth pinched shut and all other expression off his face, not looking into Aymon’s eyes at all. Aymon turned away and strode out the door.

As he left, as soon as the door closed, he reached out with his power, just quickly enough to sense Yan turning towards Sid and making a few angry signs at him— Aymon still couldn’t understand the language, but the tension in Yan’s movements was enough to express enough of what she meant. Yan felt his power brush over her, though, and cut herself off and turned to look at the closed door. Aymon dropped his power and headed away.

----------------------------------------

Aymon met Yuuni Olms in the Guild offices on Olar. They were well maintained but small, and the meeting room had no trace of luxury in it, aside from the coffee that he was served, which was of a very expensive imported variety. He sat across a wide plastic table from Olms, without any of the Guild delegates in the room. His reports had warned him that some of the company that Olms had brought had a particularly antagonistic bent, and since Aymon was here on an appeasement duty, he had no desire to interact with people who were not interested in being appeased.

They had been discussing Aymon’s planned position towards the planet for a while, and Aymon was growing ready to directly ask Olms if his stomping on Olar’s government would be sufficient, or if the Guild was going to make extra demands of the Imperial government. Thanks to Sid’s actions, the Imperial government was already going far out of its way to help the Guild, so Aymon would not be pleased if Olms tried to press the advantage. Her reluctance to say immediately if she was going to be satisfied was not unusual, but he would like the courtesy of a direct answer to a direct question.

“Of course, First Sandreas,” she said, “as soon as we have received assurance that our ships will be safe in the system, we will be very happy to begin trade with the planet again. My captains lose money the longer this goes on— it isn’t just Olar’s problem, it’s also ours. I’m not eager to see any ship in the Guild suffer, even if it is only through a loss of profit, rather than through piracy.”

“The staffing changes will be completed quickly,” Aymon said. “I trust that will be to the Guild’s satisfaction.”

“It will take some time for those changes to bear fruit,” Olms said. “Without physical protections provided by the planet, at least in these early days, I’m not sure that’s enough.”

“I am not going to put a Fleet ship in system,” Aymon said. “Nor will I make any decisions about Olar’s resources now, especially as the system is so strained financially due to your blockade. You will have to petition the Imperial Advisor to provide escort ships, if you truly need them. It’s not outside the realm of possibility, but I do want to leave as much control of Olar on Olar as possible, and not puppet it from Emerri.”

“You have a different view than your apprentices.”

“They will learn quickly enough,” Aymon said. “I can do a lot, but I cannot make every decision for every planet in the Empire. Nor would I want to. Trying to do so would only result in losing control of the important issues. You understand, of course, Apprentice Olms.”

“You are very flattering, but I don’t think there’s any need for you to flatter me.”

Aymon laughed. He liked Olms, unlike Guildmaster Vaneik. “A pity. If flattery will get me nowhere, let me ask directly: will the Guild return to trading with Olar, as things stand now?”

“Will you investigate the corruption on the planet?” Olms asked. “There’s a reason Governor Cresas chose to dissolve the government rather than submit to an investigation. Either he’s worried about a tribunal, or he’s worried that someone who is worried will kill him before the tribunal gets a chance to investigate.” Although it hadn’t been an answer to his question, this was direct enough to feel like a satisfying direction for the conversation.

“I think you understand that sometimes things can be handled quietly. Again, I don’t want to have riots in the streets on my hands, or on the hands of the Imperial Advisor I appoint. The people of Olar will be happy to have imported goods and money coming in again, but if that happiness is soured by a long and drawn out series of arrests, trials, sentences—” Aymon waved his hand. “If there is blame to be assigned, you may rest assured that it will be investigated and taken care of. Quietly.”

Olms pursed her lips. “If nothing ever comes to light, how can I be assured that the Guild’s ships are not being put in danger by people who have escaped your quiet justice?”

“How could you be assured that everyone would be caught in a public spectacle?”

“It would at least serve as discouragement.”

“Do you think that a black market that exists and functions without announcing itself to the public would not be sufficiently discouraged by an equally quiet investigation?”

“May I say something, First Sandreas?”

“Of course.”

“For a man with the ultimate power in this galaxy, you are very judicious about exercising it openly. You would have allowed Governor Creasas to keep his elected power if your apprentices hadn’t already said otherwise— even if your refusal to do so would have annoyed—”

“You?” Aymon asked, eyebrows twitching in amusement.

“I’m lucky to speak for the Guild, in this matter,” Olms finished. “Unfortunately, as many would tell you, I am easily annoyed.”

“So am I, Apprentice.” Aymon smiled, genuine for once. Apprentice Olms seemed relieved that she hadn’t annoyed him by speaking her mind. She sipped her coffee and waited for Aymon to respond.

“You weren’t alive when I was an apprentice,” he said. “So you wouldn’t remember the troubles of that time. Your master does, though, and you should ask him about it.

“A failed, attempted coup looks very dry on paper, but to me, it was… flesh and blood. I learned some lessons from it— I don’t know if they were the lessons that I should have learned, but they’ve served me well enough.

“The Empire is not a solid object: it’s systems in balance. And many of those systems rely on everyone’s willingness to play a part. No matter how much power I wield, I am still just one man. That’s dangerous, if I give people a reason to want to play a different role than the ones I want them to have.”

“I see,” Olms said. “I didn’t know you were so afraid of coups.”

“I’m not,” Aymon said bluntly. “I would be able to deal with one if it came, and, now that I have apprentices, if the worst were to happen, I am confident that— even as inexperienced as they are— they would be able to succeed me as I succeeded my master. But stability is important for its own sake.”

“I’m curious— why do you think I should ask Ugarti about your apprenticeship?”

Aymon laughed. “Because you are in the same position that I was, decades ago. You’ve caught me— asking him would only annoy him.”

Olms silently raised her eyebrows.

“The attempted coup’s intent was to put my master’s daughter, who was not a sensitive, in charge of the Empire. She would have been a puppet if the plan had succeeded, but that didn’t really matter. Many, many people thought that my master would want her daughter to inherit her position, rather than allowing one of her apprentices to take her place. I admit, I had thought that myself, at times.”

“I see,” Olms said. “It’s not quite the same. Ungarti isn’t a sensitive, and there is no law in the Guild’s charter that even requires him to take apprentices. And the position of Guildmaster is elected, anyway.”

“The position of Guildmaster is elected— to a degree. You know that whoever Guildmaster Vaneik supports will get the position. And everyone knows it will be his son.”

“Yes,” Olms said. She kept all her personal feelings out of her voice. “I do know.”

He almost pitied her. “It’s a shame that I wasn’t looking for apprentices a few years ago. I would have taken you for myself.”

“I doubt I would have accepted the position,” Olms said. “I have no intention of trying to straddle two worlds as your current spacer apprentice is trying to do.”

“Indulge me in my curiosity: if you had not been offered an apprenticeship with Guildmaster Vaneik, what would you have done?”

“Gone back to my father’s ship,” Olms said bluntly. “I have a home on the Neutron Star , and I will be her captain someday, if I do not get a ship of my own first. That’s where I will go as soon as Ungarti announces his retirement. I’m grateful for the opportunity to walkabout with him, but I understand the world I live in.”

“Does your fellow apprentice feel the same?”

Olms’s face twitched, but she stifled whatever emotion her expression had contained. Aymon wished that Halen had been here to tell him what it meant. “I wouldn’t presume to speak for Nomar,” she said. “You’ll have to ask him yourself, next time you see him.”

“Of course,” Aymon said. He looked at her steadily. “I understand that you and Apprentice Thule have been acting as personal tasters for Guildmaster Vaneik.”

That did cause Olms to put on a chagrined expression. “Apprentice BarCarran told you that?”

“Word gets around,” Aymon said. “I’m just surprised that you feel it’s necessary.”

“I hope it isn’t necessary,” Olms said. “But I’m afraid I’m a paranoid person, and there have been too many troublesome things happening recently.”

Aymon hummed in slight agreement, then had a thought. “And does Guildmaster Vaneik know that you’re performing this service for him?”

“I’m afraid that’s not your business, First Sandreas.”

That was a no, then. He smirked at her. “Of course, Apprentice.”

“I’m very grateful to Ungarti for treating me like a spacer,” she said.

“Do you ever miss the company of other sensitives?”

“Other than Nomar?”

Aymon just smiled.

“If you’re trying to get me to change my mind about returning to my father’s ship when my apprenticeship is over, I’m afraid you’ll have to be more direct than speaking in suggestions. And I’m also afraid that the answer will remain no.”

“A pity. There could be plenty for you to do in my employ.”

“I haven’t become an agent of the Imperial government yet, no matter what some people think. I don’t think that’s likely to change any time soon.”

“I appreciate your candor, Apprentice Olms.”

“And I, yours.” She paused. “The Guild will resume trade with Olar, as soon as all of your staffing changes are in place, or at least moving. Before the end of next month, but almost certainly sooner. Your people tend to move quickly when there’s something to get done.”

“Good,” Aymon said. “I am very grateful that we will be able to put this problem behind us.”

“Are you leaving Olar soon?”

“Tonight,” Aymon said. “I shouldn’t be away from Emerri for too long, and I think my apprentices are all eager to return home.”

“It’s a shame that I won’t get to see them again before you leave.”

“There will be plenty of opportunities in the future,” Aymon said. “You’re no stranger to Emerri, and Guildmaster Vaneik is there often enough.” He paused. “May I ask you a question that I hope will remain between us?”

“Please.”

“My apprentice Yan— is her relationship with the Guild completely ruined?”

“I like Apprentice BarCarran very much,” Olms said. There was some hesitancy in her voice. “I don’t want to be indelicate.”

“I prefer honesty, in whatever form that comes.”

“I think she will do better if she presents herself only as Apprentice BarCarran, and not as a spacer. At least for a while. I know that it’s obvious where she comes from just from looking at her,” — Olms gestured to her own body; she was approximately the same height as Yan, and of a similar long-limbed build— “but if she stays away from the Guild, and does not involve herself in Guild politics for a while, it would be more pleasant for everyone. Give people time to forget, if not forgive.”

“I’m afraid I find the whole drama a little hard to understand,” Aymon said. “I think she did an admirable job in rescuing the Sky Boat .”

“It’s— a spacer thing,” Olms said. “If you abandon ship, usually, you’re dead. The only people who ever abandon ship aren’t spacers— they’re passengers who think that somebody, somewhere is going to rescue them. Nobody is, of course. If your ship gets taken by pirates, and you’re in a shuttle by yourself…” Olms’s face twisted in an ugly expression. “You don’t live for very long. Anyway, it’s all… I agree that your apprentices did well in helping the Sky Boat. But other people understand it as a betrayal. I can’t fault them for that. It’s just the way we live.”

“I see.”

“She understands it, too. I think she knows that she has to stay away from us for a while. A year or two.”

“I’ll have to speak with her about it,” Aymon said. “Thank you for explaining. I doubt anyone else would have given me a complete answer.”

“Not even your pirate?” Olms asked bluntly. “I believe the custom is the same.”

“If he were to talk about leaving his family’s ship, he would talk about it with Yan, rather than with me,” Aymon said flatly. “I don’t understand things like that on the same level. It’s just words to me.”

“I see.” Olms said. “Before you go, First Sandreas—”

“Yes?”

“Apprentice BarCarran’s uncle, Maxes BarCarran, would like to speak with you, if you have a moment.”

“Of course. I’m happy to speak with Yan’s family.”

He shook Olms’s hand and said his goodbyes to her, and when she left the room, another spacer walked in. He looked similar to Yan— the same stretched-out build, the same low-cheekboned face and brown skin, but he was taller, and wore his hair in long braids with little beads at the ends. He didn’t smile, and his tone was too even when he greeted Aymon.

“It’s an honor to meet you, First Sandreas. I won’t take up too much of your time.”

“The honor is mine,” Aymon replied. “I’m pleased to have the opportunity meet any of Yan’s family.” They shook hands and sat back down at the table, Maxes taking the spot that Olms had just vacated.

“I’m a poor representative for the Iron Dreams as a whole,” Maxes said. “Ideally, it would be Captain Pellon here.”

“But you’re here for Yan, not really to represent the ship.”

“Yes,” Maxes said. “Apprentice Olms was gracious enough to allow me to join her party, to come see her.”

“I’m sorry that this has not been the untroubled reunion you had hoped for.”

Maxes was hesitant. “I don’t think that there could be an untroubled reunion. But there certainly could have been better ones.”

“Why do you say that?”

“She has a changed station in the world,” Maxes said. This was a very cautious answer. “She’s living a life I had never imagined for her, and can’t really comprehend now.”

“It must be a difficult situation for you. But I would never want to stand in between you and Yan. You’re welcome to visit her on Emerri at any time.”

“Your other apprentices, do their families come to see them?”

“Sid’s family has not yet, but I believe they can’t exactly get away from their family farm for a month at a time. I’m sure that they will pay us a visit sooner, rather than later. And Kino only has a sister, and she’s quite young. You and your family are much more able to travel than Kino or Sid’s family— you’re lucky.”

“Yes,” Maxes said. “I do believe we are. I’ve been able to see Yan a lot over the years. It’s a luxury not many families of sensitives have.”

Aymon smiled thinly. “Yes, that is the unfortunate thing about the Academy and apprenticeships. But there’s not really a better way to do things.”

“Yes, you all need to be among your own kind. I understand. I don’t begrudge you that. I just think it was difficult for Yan to really understand leaving her family at such a young age.”

“This was right after she had lost her mother, wasn’t it?”

“No, that was a few years beforehand. But…” Maxes shook his head. “I’m sure that didn’t help.” He laughed. “I’m sure I was a poor replacement for her mother, anyway.”

“Yan has always spoken very highly of you.”

“Well, she would. She’s a kind girl.”

“Very much so.”

“I would like to be direct with you, First Sandreas.”

“Please do. I owe you that much, having had Yan entrusted to me.”

“She’s a grown woman, and it was her decision to take your apprenticeship.”

“Even if it was not you and your family who entrusted her to me, certainly it was God.” There was a moment of silence. “What was it you wanted to say to me?”

“I would like for you to promise to keep her safe.”

Aymon raised his right hand to his heart immediately. “May God let me wander forever among the broken and the lost if I ever abandon my duty towards Yan’s safety.”

“Very keenly worded.”

“There are no other honest promises I could make to you, Mr. BarCarran.”

“Just Maxes,” he said.

“Maxes, then,” Aymon replied. “My own master would have swum across the widest ocean on Emerri if it would have meant saving the lives of the other two apprentices I came up with— Obra and Jalena. But that isn’t always possible. This is dangerous work, sometimes. And I promise I will do my best towards Yan, in every way I can. But I am not God, and so I can only do what a man can, even a man with as many resources as I have.”

“I understand.”

“Was that all you wanted to ask me?”

“No,” Maxes said. He looked Aymon in the eye. “If she does ever grow tired of this apprenticeship, will you release her from it?”

Aymon was quiet for a second. “And send her home to you?” When Maxes didn’t answer, Aymon added, “Do you really expect that she will grow tired of this life?”

“No,” Maxes said. “But forgive me for saying that there is a part of me that hopes she will. I don’t want to see her—”

“Become someone like myself?”

“I don’t know what Yan will become,” Maxes said. “But I don’t want her to be unhappy.”

“That might be unavoidable. This is often a painful job,” Aymon said. But he held his hand to his heart again. “If Yan ever asks to leave, I will let her go.”

“I appreciate it.”

“It’s a credit to you that you care so much about her, and that you raised such a fine woman.”

“It would be nice to think so,” he said, and stood. “I won’t take up any more of your time.”

“Please understand that I have no desire to stand between you and Yan,” Aymon said as he stood.

Maxes smiled. “Desire, no. But it’s the way of the world.” He held out his hand to Aymon. “It was an honor, First Sandreas.”

Aymon took his hand. “We have a shared interest in Yan’s happiness,” he said. “I think that we can find a way to understand each other’s lives. Come to Emerri some time.”

“Yan wouldn’t want me to visit.”

“She will,” Aymon said.