Fireblood
Page 98
She gave him a quizzical look.
He wanted to understand Kiranrao better. He wanted to understand her better. Little sayings and catchphrases were common in every culture. But he wanted to understand his enemy better. To understand the way his mind worked. What better way than to study from his traditions? It would also help him understand Hettie as well.
“I really am tired,” Hettie said sullenly.
“Only a few then. I won’t keep you up long.”
She sighed, which he took as surrender.
“There are so many,” she said. “Hundreds, probably. It is a point of Romani pride to be able to speak a saying that the other person does not already know. If that happens, you nod your head in deference. Since I have spent the last ten years training as a Finder, I do not know all the latest sayings. But some have been handed down for generations.”
“Like?”
“Patience cures many an old complaint. Patience is a plaster for all sores. I think every kingdom has its own version of that one.”
“Indeed. Pain is a teacher. But the best teacher is wisdom. Wisdom is learning from the pain of others.”
She looked at him in surprise and then gave him a slight nod. “Well said.”
“Thank you.”
“There are others that can sound strange to a foreigner. Do not mistake a goat’s beard for a fine stallion’s tail. Do not build the sty until the litter comes.”
“Or count chickens before they hatch.”
“Exactly. As honest as a cat when the meat is out of reach. A little dog can start a hare, but it takes a big one to catch it. A nod is as good as a wink to a blind donkey.”
Paedrin smiled and leaned backward. “So many are about animals. One would think the Romani are farmers.”
“We were all farmers long ago,” she replied.
“Are there any that talk about enemies?” Paedrin asked, and she nodded emphatically.
“The Romani forgive their great men when they are safely buried. Speak well of your friend, of your enemy say nothing.”
“Ahh,” Paedrin said, smiling, savoring the wisdom in the words. “Yes. That is true.”
Hettie rubbed her arms, more slowly this time. He could see little trailers of steam rising from the cloth.
“Can I fetch you anything to eat?” he asked her. “Mushrooms? Slugs? Bark?”
“Sharing your meals again?” she replied with a wicked smile. It was the smile that tore into him the most. So rarely bestowed, so much the more valuable. “Thank you, but no. I am tired, as I said before. If you would take the first watch…”
“I will,” he answered. “One more question. Are there any sayings about…secrets?”
The question startled her. He suspected it might. There was something in her eyes in that moment, something that warned him. Exhaustion had a way of producing true sentiments.
She was quiet a moment and then stared into the fire. Her voice was distant, almost a whisper. “It is no secret that is known to three. Never tell your secret even to a fence.” Her voice fell even lower. “A secret is a weapon and a friend.”
That was it. That was the one she valued the most. He could hear it in her voice. He had used the Uddhava against her and managed to get her to reveal part of herself to him. She stared at the fire, her eyes focusing on the flames, as if she dared not look at him. He could almost feel the emotions roiling inside of her. She was struggling with her feelings. Without knowing her as he did, it would not have been noticeable. But there was a little bulge in the corner of her jaw. A clench of muscle. Her gaze was so intense at the flames. She was mastering herself. She was almost failing.
Good.
“Thank you, Hettie. Get some sleep. Do you think we will reach Silvandom tomorrow?”
She nodded absently. Then taking her warm blanket, she nestled near the fire. Her cheeks were flushed. She stared at the flames, as if drawing in their heat through her eyes.
Tell me what is troubling you, he nearly whispered. Trust me, Hettie. You can trust me.
She said nothing. Soon her eyelids were growing heavy. A few moments more, and she was asleep. He studied her face. He longed to stroke her hair. He swallowed the pang, mustering his will to save him from his feelings.
How many times had Master Shivu taught him? To be prepared for his life’s journey as a Bhikhu, he needed to purify his thoughts and feelings. You have the power to decide, deliberately and intentionally, what thoughts you allow in your mind and what emotions you feel in your heart. By patient and persistent practice, he knew he could gradually gain control over his harmful emotions. The discipline and effort involved would be worthwhile, for it would bring greater harmony internally—in his own mind—and externally, in his relations with others.
He wanted to understand Kiranrao better. He wanted to understand her better. Little sayings and catchphrases were common in every culture. But he wanted to understand his enemy better. To understand the way his mind worked. What better way than to study from his traditions? It would also help him understand Hettie as well.
“I really am tired,” Hettie said sullenly.
“Only a few then. I won’t keep you up long.”
She sighed, which he took as surrender.
“There are so many,” she said. “Hundreds, probably. It is a point of Romani pride to be able to speak a saying that the other person does not already know. If that happens, you nod your head in deference. Since I have spent the last ten years training as a Finder, I do not know all the latest sayings. But some have been handed down for generations.”
“Like?”
“Patience cures many an old complaint. Patience is a plaster for all sores. I think every kingdom has its own version of that one.”
“Indeed. Pain is a teacher. But the best teacher is wisdom. Wisdom is learning from the pain of others.”
She looked at him in surprise and then gave him a slight nod. “Well said.”
“Thank you.”
“There are others that can sound strange to a foreigner. Do not mistake a goat’s beard for a fine stallion’s tail. Do not build the sty until the litter comes.”
“Or count chickens before they hatch.”
“Exactly. As honest as a cat when the meat is out of reach. A little dog can start a hare, but it takes a big one to catch it. A nod is as good as a wink to a blind donkey.”
Paedrin smiled and leaned backward. “So many are about animals. One would think the Romani are farmers.”
“We were all farmers long ago,” she replied.
“Are there any that talk about enemies?” Paedrin asked, and she nodded emphatically.
“The Romani forgive their great men when they are safely buried. Speak well of your friend, of your enemy say nothing.”
“Ahh,” Paedrin said, smiling, savoring the wisdom in the words. “Yes. That is true.”
Hettie rubbed her arms, more slowly this time. He could see little trailers of steam rising from the cloth.
“Can I fetch you anything to eat?” he asked her. “Mushrooms? Slugs? Bark?”
“Sharing your meals again?” she replied with a wicked smile. It was the smile that tore into him the most. So rarely bestowed, so much the more valuable. “Thank you, but no. I am tired, as I said before. If you would take the first watch…”
“I will,” he answered. “One more question. Are there any sayings about…secrets?”
The question startled her. He suspected it might. There was something in her eyes in that moment, something that warned him. Exhaustion had a way of producing true sentiments.
She was quiet a moment and then stared into the fire. Her voice was distant, almost a whisper. “It is no secret that is known to three. Never tell your secret even to a fence.” Her voice fell even lower. “A secret is a weapon and a friend.”
That was it. That was the one she valued the most. He could hear it in her voice. He had used the Uddhava against her and managed to get her to reveal part of herself to him. She stared at the fire, her eyes focusing on the flames, as if she dared not look at him. He could almost feel the emotions roiling inside of her. She was struggling with her feelings. Without knowing her as he did, it would not have been noticeable. But there was a little bulge in the corner of her jaw. A clench of muscle. Her gaze was so intense at the flames. She was mastering herself. She was almost failing.
Good.
“Thank you, Hettie. Get some sleep. Do you think we will reach Silvandom tomorrow?”
She nodded absently. Then taking her warm blanket, she nestled near the fire. Her cheeks were flushed. She stared at the flames, as if drawing in their heat through her eyes.
Tell me what is troubling you, he nearly whispered. Trust me, Hettie. You can trust me.
She said nothing. Soon her eyelids were growing heavy. A few moments more, and she was asleep. He studied her face. He longed to stroke her hair. He swallowed the pang, mustering his will to save him from his feelings.
How many times had Master Shivu taught him? To be prepared for his life’s journey as a Bhikhu, he needed to purify his thoughts and feelings. You have the power to decide, deliberately and intentionally, what thoughts you allow in your mind and what emotions you feel in your heart. By patient and persistent practice, he knew he could gradually gain control over his harmful emotions. The discipline and effort involved would be worthwhile, for it would bring greater harmony internally—in his own mind—and externally, in his relations with others.
