The Elders were less than pleased with Gyre’s resignation notice, but they perked up when he informed them that he intended to travel the Empire representing the Sudaman Sect. They were even more enthused when they learned that he would be taking Baturya with him. Having the Unorthodox boy as part of their Sect was a ever present reminder of the unpleasantness that had happened two years ago.

The downfall of the Anzabos clan had been gentle on the Sudaman Sect compared to others of its size and power. Ironic, considering that it was one of their elders’ plots which had started the snowball rolling downhill, but perhaps that was how they avoided the avalanche. The rescue of a kidnapped scholar had justified the rescue and interrogation of all agents in the city, and the evidence seized had justified similar treatment for all known agents of the Clan throughout the Empire. But although the Sudamans had occasionally contracted the Anzabos for information, few of their dealings had been untoward or criminal, and certainly not treasonous.

The Elders were so enthused to have him gone that Gyre began to suspect that they had been orchestrating his departure for some time. The way that they kept forcing administrative work onto him despite his insistence that he preferred to teach, and how they kept drawing him into petty squabbles he had no business mediating. Perhaps it was simply that they thought that was what he should be doing, but he would have rather been simply a figurehead who occasionally put forth an opinion on a matter or added his voice to a debate. Or even an empty figurehead whose responsibilities were no different from before, that would have been fine as well.

If the Elders had made it their goal to drive him out, then they had succeeded and that was that. He was perfectly happy to accept defeat. Especially when defeat came with the Elders practically throwing coins at him on his way out the door. The council bought him three horses and two mules and provisions for five hundred leagues before he’d even asked them.

Gyre might have been annoyed if he’d known anything about horses, as he would have wanted to buy his own, but the truth was that he was perfectly happy with the old nag they provided for him. He figured it would be easier to learn to ride on a mellow old horse than a rambunctious young one.

The children accompanying him took to riding with the ease that young always take to new things. He envied them their capacity to adapt. He had been a poor horseman before, although he adjusted along the road. He didn’t feel the dreaded stiffness that the stable hands had warned he might when they had been instructing him on riding technique and the proper care of his mount. His physical condition had improved greatly from when he had gone from the fourth Reformation to the sixth, and such things rarely bothered him anymore.

Having Shajita along turned out to be a boon. The former noble was quiet most of the time, but showed a remarkable willingness to take care of the animals and help set up or break camp. Gyre had thought that the slave would be more sullen, given that the journey would no doubt prolong his enslavement; without the extra coin he earned by working for the Sect, Shaji would take decades to pay off the slew of fines he had earned in his fit of madness that had preceded his enslavement.

Gyre could only shake his head. It was none of his business.

The horses were mostly superfluous. A pair of pack mules might have been enough, with perhaps another for the unawakened slave who couldn’t keep up otherwise. The cultivators in the party spent most of the time out of the saddle, running while leading their animal behind them on lead ropes. The horses were useful for carrying supplies, but otherwise Gyre felt that they could have done without. Even without rushing themselves, it took only a few days to arrive at Yasa and Equ Tuth’s home.

The Tuth family was out in the fields when they arrived. Yasa looked suspiciously at the mounted party at first, but when he heard Baturya call out he grinned in pleasure and relief. Baty dismounted and scooped up the children who came running to him. Even Baturya’s little namesake came toddling out to take a turn being swung in circles, although it was more likely because he saw his older siblings squealing with joy rather than holding any memory of having met the teenager before.

“Did you bring us presents, Uncle Baty?” Paethe, the oldest asked.

“Presents!” Piacho agreed.

“I have toys for each of you,” Baty promised. “Even little Dhylo, although it is just a rattle. Look, Equ, you can put it on her wrist or ankle and she can shake it like this --”

Gyre watched enviously at the family dynamic. His own parents had passed years ago, and he had no siblings. While it wasn’t forbidden to have a family, Gyre had never found a suitable match. It was a general rule in the cultivation world, where families were a weakness that could be exploited. Even in the fairly tame politics of the Sudaman Sect, having children was seen as something that a cultivator did when they had given up on progressing to the next Reformation. Gyre had come close to beginning a search when Baturya had shamed him into overcoming his fear of the fifth Reformation.

“You have a lovely family, and a wonderful farm,” Gyre said to Yasa after they had made their introductions. The man who had acted as a substitute father to Baturya for four years before the boy had joined the Sudaman Sect shuffled a little nervously at Gyre’s name, calming down a bit when Gyre explained that he had stepped down from his former position in favor of travel.

“It is thanks to Baty,” Yasa admitted. “The coin he brought with his last visit paid for us to rebuild the barn, and expand the cottage into a proper house. I tried to turn him down, but he threatened to make me eat it if I didn’t take it. Said one way or another I was keeping it, so that I might as well spend it.”

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Gyre chuckled. “Yes, that sounds like him.”

“It didn’t used to,” Yasa said softly. “He was always assertive, but I’d never expected him to say something like that before. At least, not without making it clear that he was joking.”

“He might not have been,” Gyre admitted. “Yasa, he’s changed. You know about his injury?”

“He mentioned it. Said one of the other Masters attacked him.”

“Well, he should have died. I saw the wound and thought it was fatal, would have been fatal for almost anyone. It was only providence which saved him, providence and the help of a master healer. But it has left scars upon his soul. On top of that, he has entered the age where the change from child to adult begins. It is unsurprising that he is not the same as the carefree boy you remember.”

Yasa laughed at that. “Oh, that’s good! Baty was never carefree! He always had the weight of the worlds upon his shoulders, and he would glare at anyone who even suggested he went out and played instead of doing whatever it was that he did when he got that far off look upon his face.”

“Ah. A matter of his unfortunate upbringing, I suppose,” Gyre admitted.

“I suppose. His Master’s death hit him hard as well. Barely talked to me for weeks afterward, except for necessary things like questions regarding the work. Was before I married Equ, although being able to afford the bride-price put me in a good enough mood for the both of us,” Yasa reminisced.

“The change in his personality might not be the worst of things,” Gyre suggested. “It surely would have been much worse had he failed to recover and lost the ability to cultivate. The Sect would have looked after him for the rest of his life, of course, but having had such promise, only to have it taken away, it would have destroyed him.”

“I really wouldn’t know,” Yasa said, shrugging nervously. “Your world isn’t mine. Mine is the world of growing things, whether those things are vegetables or children. And between us, I’d be a little reluctant to outlive the ones I love by centuries, or leave them behind for the dangers you face.”

“Very few ever reach the realm of true immortality,” Gyre admitted. “Very few reach the pinnacle of simply tempering our bodies. True cultivation only begins where most of us believe it ends.”

“Don’t really care,” Yasa admitted. “Just hope that Baty’s got friends, got people looking out for him. It’s nice to see him when he stops by to visit the grave out back, but I know one day he’ll be ready to move on and leave my little family behind him.”

“I wouldn’t be so certain,” Gyre said. “Not all cultivators abandon or outgrow their families.”

“Baty will,” Yasa said. “I’m already seeing him start to pull away. I think that’s what the coin was about; so that he wouldn’t feel guilty if he never came back again.”

Gyre frowned, but let the topic drop. Instead, he allowed Yasa to show him the farm, which had started out as a simple bachelor’s croft and undergone several expansion as the man had met with success after success. The mule that he had inherited from Malan Etrus had been joined by two cows and small team of pigs. The man himself had grown along with his farm, from the thin and slightly undernourished man who had dug a grave for a complete stranger, to a farmer with toned ripcord muscles and a perpetual smile.

While the men talked, Equ and Ita talked about the babe in her arms while the older children chased Baturya about and Shaji saw to the animals. Baturya eventually tried to insist upon helping around the farm, but this time Yasa wouldn’t hear of it.

“There’s not much to do this time of year anyway,” the farmer explained. “The chores were done, we were playing with the children when you arrived. Mostly we’re just waiting for things to grow at this point. You remember how it is in late spring.”

Baturya was disappointed, but accepted the rejection in favor of visiting his master’s grave. Yasa helped his wife cook a delicious meal of chicken and vegetables and gave Gyre their bed, while Ita slept in the bed that the children all shared for the night. The children were very excited for the opportunity to sleep outside in the tent that Gyre usually occupied.

Gyre was a little reluctant to put the family out of their own beds, but the children were so excited for the opportunity to sleep in the traveling tents that Shaji had set up, and Yasa and Equ were quite insistent upon showing him the highest level of hospitality. Of the cultivators, only Baturya slept outside in the loft of the barn, resting his head in his old bed. Nobody particularly cared where Shaji slept.

Gyre, Baturya, Ita, and Shaji spent four days with the Tuths. Despite what Yasa had said on their arrival, there was always plenty to do on the farm, and he kept Baty and Shaji busy, while Ita spent the time playing with the children and laughing at the rockmen toil at their rockmen work. Gyre tried to help out as well, but the Tuths wouldn’t hear of it, so after a while he decided to visit the nearby village.

Unfortunately there was no inn, or Gyre would have stayed there the following nights, but there was a tavern that served a decent stew. His appetite had vastly decreased since his duel with Ryt, but he still enjoyed eating, and it was nice to have a hearty home cooked meal instead of the more fanciful fare he’d been served as head of the Sudaman Sect. In his traveling clothes nobody knew who he was, and the anonymity was wonderful.

Baturya came with him one day to spread some coin around. He had been raised with a sense of frugality, but between the hundreds of ren he had inherited from Mal and two years of saving his stipend from the Sect, he had more than enough for himself. In doing so, Baty accidentally outed Gyre as a cultivator, to his slight annoyance, and immediately afterward everyone became subservient. They didn’t treat Baty that way, he noticed, but rather like a nephew visiting from far away.

Once Baty had enriched half the village and outlying farms by a fairly significant sum, he informed Gyre that they should leave, as despite the warm welcome he had been receiving, some of the villagers were superstitious about cultivators and it would impact the Tuths if they remained too long. So the group packed their things, said their farewells, and simply left, following Baturya’s lead northeast.

“Are we going anywhere in specific?” Gyre inquired.

“Dunno. That’s the point, I think,” Baturya answered. “I’m just letting Fate decide. Or maybe it’s Luck. I don’t really care either way.”

“And how do you know which way to go?” the elder cultivator insisted.

“Whenever there’s a choice about which direction to make, I ask,” Baturya answered. “I’ll show you at the next crossroads.”

Gyre signaled his consent, and watched at the next crossroads as Baturya dismounted, pulled out the sword that had been the source of many problems, set its point on the road, and simply allowed it to fall. To his surprise, it didn’t simply fall on its side like he expected, but rather at an angle towards the road leading east.

And so they went east. And none of the party was happier about the arrangement than Shaji.