A Man Must Have No Insides

[Duvalyon Hellebore]

Spring 512 AV Day 80 "He had no learning, and no intelligence. His position had come to him--why? Perhaps because he was never ill . . . Perhaps there was nothing within him. Such a suspicion made one pause--for out there there were no external checks. Once when various tropical diseases had laid low almost every `agent' in the station, he was heard to say, `Men who come out here should have no entrails.' He sealed the utterance with that smile of his, as though it had been a door opening into a darkness he had in his keeping. -- Joseph Conrad "What are you doing?" The young Acolyte turned with a start to regard the Symenestra. The child almost lost her balance the ladder, but reclaimed it with her fingertips, proving her training wasn't entirely vain. A rag was clutched in her hands and the supply shelves were bare. All the jars of herbs and medicine were in chaotic piles on the treatment table. "Cleaning, Wi--," the look on Duvalyon's face made her change titles, "Sir." "I see that." "I'm an acolyte," the child was obviously proud of this designation, "I have chores. My mentor told me to help Oriela. I thought I would clean a little before she got here." "Oriela isn't here tonight. It's just me." The girl swallowed before she spoke, "I will go back to my room then." "Ah ah," a quick parental sounding scold, "Finish what you started." Duvalyon began picking through the clusters of herbs and agents, realizing to his chagrin not all were labeled. The empty shelves were marked though, organizing contents alphabetically. "Did you keep in mind where these were on the shelves?" he asked a little sharply. "Yes. . . No," she squeaked. Her courage rose a mite, "Aren't there names on them?" Duvalyon was turning a mysterious herb over in his hand, "Over thirty of these have illegible or missing labels." "You don't know what they are?" The Symenestra frowned, "You overestimate my abilities." "I'm sorry for my mistake, Sir." "Not as sorry as you will be," he countered a little ominously, "You're going to help me fix this, and pray to your goddess no one comes in injured tonight."

[Duvalyon Hellebore]

When the acolyte finished dusting the shelves, she walked towards the Symenestra who was separating the jars and bottles into legible and illegible. She kept out of arm's reach. "I have finished cleaning." "Good, we'll start replacing what we recognize. Can you read?" The girl's face was indignant, "I am a Shinya acolyte. I can read." Duvalyon shrugged, indifferent to her offense, "They're organized by letter. Go to it." He began to unlace his sandals, when he looked up the girl had not moved, but was staring at him. "What are you doing?" Her face was bunched in mild confusion and disgust. "You'd learn more from watching than asking. Get to your own work." The child lingered a bare moment before heavily walking to the array of jars. Eager to be done and return to proper training with proper people, she gathered a multitude of jars in one arm. "How do you intend to get up a ladder like that?" Duvalyon asked evenly. "I have a Shinya's excellent balance." "Hm." The student's assertion was half true. Her sense of balance exceeded that of any undisciplined child her age, but it was not enough when the angle of the ladder began to soften. A jar slipped from the crook of her elbow. She yelped in surprise, but Duvalyon was present to catch it. His robust sense of doubt had proved fortunate. "Come down. Just hand them to me." "Why can't you just hand them to me. You're taller." Duvalyon's fingers uncurled around the jar but it still stuck to his flat palm. "That's why."