Part I
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Part II
By the time the young man came to the gates of the port city Deneuce, his skin was sable and cracked, and he carried a slight limp. His hair was caked in dried jungle mud and the sun had bled its way into his skin, giving way to a constellation of chocolate moles. That did not stop the gatekeepers from opening the city to him, for cheap labor was a commodity more precious than Opulensi spices, especially to the dock-workers and their busy entourages. The keepers did not speak as they gifted entry to the young man, though the walls were not tall enough to conceal their grumbling. As the smooth stone doors turned and parted, a warm sea breeze brought the scents of fish and sandalwood. Peering into the city, the young man could see rows of stalls arranged haphazardly underneath the shade of neem trees; beyond them, fat Jiphani junks rocked against stone and wooden quays, as sun-baked, stalwart men brought goods from their holds.
Deneuce's general layout was similar to that of the capital's, though the overall atmosphere of the city was far more raucous and unruly. It was here that the juiciest stories of Kothari pirates could be heard, harrowing tales of survival in the Situkua. And perhaps, some of the junks in the guise of Jiphani merchant ships were the scoundrels themselves, finding solace in Deneuce's relaxed policies towards visitors -- all in the name of coin, of course. Indeed, while Leuce was a bastion of an age-old mercantilist code of honor, Deneuce was but a shadow; and when men find themselves under the shadow of wealth, their honor is like glass, their resilience like a bow's sinew.
It was exactly the kind of place the young man wanted to be.
As he walked the bustling avenues, he found the market's central banyan, the tree symbolizing the comfort and freedom of uninhibited public discourse. Under the banyan, an untouchable could voice hatred for his master; a woman could expose dissatisfaction with the husband arranged to her; and an amiph could recite his teachings, typically to a focused audience.
Deneuce's banyan was smaller than most banyans he had seen in the high cities, but the growth still graced the gravel with a blanket of gray respite from the sun. Others, some as dark-skinned as himself, some as pale as jadeite, lounged beneath the tree, while an elder amiph of the old stylings sat cross-legged and took alms in a wide, wooden bowl. The old man sat silent for a moment, but soon began to speak to the citizens enjoying the banyan's shade, as if his words were as welcome as the intermittent squalls.
"Iehor is not something you can touch. It does not swoop down from the heavens and burn enemies or bring love and luck to allies. No, friends. It is a state of soul, a place only reachable through pushing your body to extremes, to letting go of the coin from spice and slaves and beasts." The untouchables nodded and bowed to the amiph, while the lounging merchants flicked coins into his bowl. The paradox under the banyan tree made the young man cringe.
The young man approached the amiph, but stood a few arms from his dusty, grayed mat. "Amiph..." he began.
"Saulk."
"Amiph Saulk. A strange name."
"I am a convert, from long ago."
"One of the few." The elder raised his eyebrows at this, but returned his focus to the dancing shadows on the gravel. A warm breeze tickled their sweat. The young man adjusted his soiled, cream-colored sarong.
"Amiph Saulk, you sit here, half-naked and in need of food. Yet you preach of pushing yourself to extremes. What extreme have you pushed yourself to?" The elder mumbled a bit before crafting a response. The citizens under the banyan tree stirred, but kept their places.
"Is it not extreme to starve oneself, so that one's mind can be more focused on Iehor? To not crave the freshest rice, or spiced buckwheat stews? To sit here, and take only what I receive?"
"Why must your body starve for your mind to be focused? I have thought it was the other way around; that to focus, one's body must be quenched of thirst and their gut full of meal." The elder amiph scratched flaking scabs on his knees and looked at the young man.
"When your body is empty, your mind approaches the edge and lingers there. You no longer crave sustenance, for you have discovered that only this," the amiph pointed to his heart, "keeps you afoot." He rocked his head back and forth. "To be full is to be languid. Not sharp and honed."
"Then, I suppose the inner villages must be enlightened. Perhaps they found Iehor when the blue-fire famine grazed their fields." The merchants chuckled.
"They did not choose to end their body's workings. That was a fate forced upon them by nature's hand."
"What world do you aim to create, Amiph Saulk? It seems Iehor can only be found by those with idle time. Why would a father with a poor crop and three children choose to push his body to the brink? Why would one of these merchants, whose goods bring wealth and food to the starving, and jobs to the needy, wish to strip the silks off their backs and let the sun graze their nakedness?"
"They would do so to bring peace to their minds and detachment from their cogs, a feat that not even their daughters or their clients could deny them. With spiritual truth, none of what you mention matters." Some of the citizens nodded. It was mid-afternoon, and more had joined underneath the shady umbrella.
"And how many have you converted, Amiph Saulk? How many have you convinced to seek Iehor? These merchants here?" The young man pointed. "Or these men, who, despite your teachings, still work until exhaustion, for only a bowl of rice or a slice of eelfruit?"
"Those without the will to find Iehor must rely on an amiph. I will comfort them. Iehor is not for everyone. If they cannot attain my level, they will still live fruitful lives, and will have another opportunity in their next life."
"But you will only comfort them if they place coin or food in your bottomless bowl." The young man adjusted his sarong once more, and sat down in the gravel, eye to eye with the elder amiph. "You even take the coins of these workers, who believe giving it to you will help them."
"What is your name, young man?" the amiph asked.
"I am called Jitanu, son of Amiph Samhese." Amiph Saulk nodded and picked at his knees.
"Your father is an amiph? Of what order?"
"Of none. He deals in spices and woods. His current life has little to do with temples and monasteries."
"An amiph who swims in gold is not an amiph at all."
"But his gold will eventually reach your mouth, Amiph Saulk." The elder scanned the young man, focusing on the mud in his hair and his dried lips.
"Apparently not yours, Jitanu. Tell me -- why do you come here now, covered in mud and darker than your blood allows?"
"I have come to aid the souls under this tree, and beyond." Jitanu focused on the old man's wrinkled face. "Why do you have so much confidence in your enlightenment, Amiph Saulk?"
"My body no longer craves, but takes only what it needs. This, in turn, has led my mind to the shores of Iehor. I see others in their suffering, and pity them." The elder amiph was going in circles. Jitanu emptied his mind before responding.
"Have you ever killed another man?" The old man stirred in the gravel. He did not answer. "You tell these people you can comfort them. Perhaps you give them good tidings before they sail into the Situkua. They bow in your direction, believing it will give them good luck, or they recite a sutra in their sleep, one that you taught them, word for word. But do you yourself know death, beyond having seen it vaguely in various realms of your life? Do you know how it feels to cause a man to take his last breath?"
"Killing breeds suffering, son of Samhese."
"Sometimes, yes. But it can also be an expression of seeing one's true nature."
"I have never taken another life. Nor will I ever. Perhaps you would find like-minded souls in Deo."
"To you, truth can never be found in spilling blood. What, then, is a hunter?" The elder amiph scratched his knees. All under the banyan tree enjoyed another brief squall together. Jitanu shut his eyes as bits of loosed gravel whipped his cheeks. "'There is no man who is not wise in his own way,'" the young man quoted Arasos. "Even the hunter, and the butcher who strips his kill, can be wise."
"Arasos was a clever man."
"Let me tell you of Arasos, Amiph Saulk. Let me tell you how one man's truth is another's falsehood."
"You believe Arasos to not have found universal truths?"
"He was not looking for universal truths."
"And what of Enegros, also of Opulensi? He wrote to his pupils that love and compassion were wise ways to Iehor," the old man grumbled. "Not hate and murder."
"Wise ways indeed. But not for everyone. How can a leper, shunned from society and exiled, feel love and compassion for those who have mistreated him? How can the man who has seen a company of spears burn his village feel love and compassion for his foes?"
"They are to forgive and forget, and rise above their feeble humanity."
"To believe one can rise above humanity is a falsehood. We are all human, and our true nature is empty and one and the same. There is no self. Does a butcher flay a pig out of hate, or out of necessity? Does he throw the pig at the wall, or does he hone his craft to such deft delicacy, that he can perfectly execute his bloodshed?"
"Individuals such as yourself have not attained the Indagahor mind," the old man uttered. "It matters not how or why you kill. You desire death, and thus cause great suffering."
More circles, Jitanu thought. "All creatures have the Indagahor mind, Amiph Saulk. It is a matter of sharpening it and waking it from deep slumber. To kill is not to hate. Those who die by the hands of the enlightened are merely loved in a different fashion. They are killed out of respect, a necessary fate in the overall cycle."
"Education, knowledge, and truth," the old man recited.
"A poor fate, then, for those under this tree who cannot read; those who must rely on you to teach sutras, instead of finding their own solace." The old man chortled, and displayed his yellow teeth.
"You advocate murder. In Jitanu's world, an eye for an eye -- no matter if the world can no longer see its mistakes."
"You misunderstand me, Amiph Saulk. I do not advocate murder. I advocate a spectrum of methods to awaken oneself."
