“You there! Lad! What is that I see in your hand? Parchment? That’s no burnt scroll! Should you not be aiding Adal in the pursuit of the literature of ashes?”

Matthew started at the sound of Stillow’s voice. The old man wouldn’t leave him alone unless he answered. He spun to face him. There was no one there. Confused, Matthew completed his circle. Stillow was nowhere in sight. He spun around in the opposite direction with much the same result. Not a glimpse of trailing bedsheet or sandaled sock to be found.

“Tut tut.”

Stillow’s voice had come from above Matthew. He looked up. The philosopher was crouched pendulously atop a burned stump twice his own height, and equally as narrow.

“How’d you get up there?” asked Matthew.

“My question is answered by a question, but the question is unrelated. Perhaps I do not see. Perhaps he did not hear. Perhaps I did not hear. It would be foolish to claim I knew what I was talking about. Only one with nothing can claim they have nothing to lose by speaking from their heart. Only they have purity. Purity is a thing. Therefore one with nothing has something and so one who would claim to have nothing is lying. Only trust those with things then, it follows, but not so many things that they would want more. Greed begets greed begets greed begotten of more than material. The thirst for knowledge is the greatest greed of all. Perfusive and persuasive, though that does not mean pervasive,” Stillow swayed alarmingly in a sudden squall.

Matthew sighed, “Adal doesn’t trust my hand to pick up the scrolls unbroken.”

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“Choosing experience over youth full of muscle. Muscle they do not understand nor control. Adal is wise not to trust you.”

“Could you please stop? I’m trying to read this book on how to lead people—”

“The tongue is the last muscle youth learns to control. In fact, silence is the last skill, for it demonstrates you have all others.”

Stillow began to hop on the spot, causing him to rotate, “Looking pensive, you start on the most dangerous path. Look not for meaning in places where it isn’t.”

Stillow’s beard was purest white and immaculately curled. His bedsheets were clean and his eyes surprisingly sharp, even when facing opposite directions. Still… “Stillow, are you insane?”

“If good was the absence of evil we’d all find evil in everything. No bucket can be empty. If evil was the absence of good we’d all have evil hidden within us. No bucket can be completely full. If insanity were the lack of knowledge of good and evil, then the innocent are insane. But since there is no empty, and there is no full, there is no absolute, and without an absolute, there cannot be existence. Nothing exists, therefore nothing is standard. Standard is sanity. I do not exist; Therefore, I am sane.”

Matthew groaned, “What do you mean? We all exist. I can see myself, and Adal is over there.”

“Then you are as insane as he. The two of you, alone in the world. It is enough to drive anyone insane. Yes. Only he and you and two mountains exist. You each stand atop a mountain which in turn stands atop nothing. Only your equals can you look in your eye, and none are your equals save each other. Ever lifted a feather?”

“Yes, of course, but—”

“I have too. A simple task. It has been said—”

“Said by who?” Matthew asked, just to trip him up.

“Said by me,’ replied Stillow, without missing a beat, “that nothing is easier to lift than a feather. If we take the saying as true, which we do, then we see only one thing can be moved about and controlled with less difficulty than a feather.”

“What’s your point?”

“I have taught you how to lead. Put the book away. And help me down.”