“Please.” Thorn wrapped Duun’s cloak and change of clothing in his flight suit, which, with the cloak, was the only thing left unsoiled. He gathered his razor off the floor and put it in the helmet along with the lotion bottles.
“Oh, don’t be a fool!” the other said. “They’ll laugh at you in the hall. You’re going to meet master Tangan, with all the hatani in the house! You can’t drag all that stuff in!”
“I never got to give Duun his cloak. I don’t know. I might lose these things. I’ll let him tell me what to do.”
“Come on, then, fool. But I warn you they’ll laugh. Gods-you’re filthy. Do you want a change of clothes? I can lend you some.”
“Thank you. I’ll ask Duun when I see him.”
The other gestured at the open door.
* * * *
The corridor gave way to an open hall, a pit sided with many steps; and gray-cloaked hatani sat on those steps, hundreds of them. The floor was sanded and swirled with raking. There were great boulders on the sand. On each of them a hatani sat.
At the bottom of the steps in front of him stood Duun, the only one without a cloak. Duun lifted his chin slightly and Thorn walked down the steps, his escort behind him.
“You brought my cloak,” Duun said. “Have they touched it at all?”
“No, Duun-hatani.”
Duun held out his hand and took it and put it on. Duun extended his hand toward the farthest of the rocks. “The last is master Tangen.”
Thorn walked down and across the sand, along the narrow path the hatani on the boulders had walked, like the form of a tree. He heard others walk behind him. He stopped in front of the farthest. His belongings were still in his arms.
“You may set those things down.” master Tangan said, and lifted his hand in that way Duun had which meant a thing could be trusted. “You will stand.” Duun came and stood near him. The two who had brought him stood on the other side. Thorn set his belongings on the ground in front of him.
“You are untidy, young man,” Tangan said. “Is this a way to come to this hall?”
“Forgive me, master Tangan.”
“Was there something amiss with the room?”
Thorn hesitated. It seemed the right question. He reached into his belt and drew out the tissue. He unfolded it and showed the pebbles. His burns hurt and his sooty hands bled onto the tissue, shaking in spite of all he could do. (Were they all? Did I miss one?)
“Did he drink the water?”
“The pitcher was empty,” one of his escorts said.
“Did he eat the food?”
“The food was crumbled,” the other said.
“There was a pebble in the pitcher from which that pitcher was poured. There was a pebble in the plate from which that plate was served. Did you drink or eat?”
“No, master Tangan. I poured the water on the fire. I didn’t eat. I didn’t touch my hand to my mouth after touching the food.”
“How can I know this is the truth?”
At first it seemed an accusation. Then it occurred to him it was another question. “You’re hatani, master Tangan. If I couldn’t find a trick like that you could read me too.”
A moment of silence, all about the room. “Did you bathe?”
“No, master Tangan.”
“That seems evident.”
He was too weary. He only stared up at Tangan, still holding the pebbles.
“What did you do with the water?”
“I let it out, master Tangan, hunting for pebbles.”
“Was there one?”
“Not in that tub.”
“Lay the pebbles that you found on the sand one by one.”
Thorn bent and slipped them from the tissue one at a time. At the third there was a stirring in the seats; at the fourth a greater stirring. He straightened and looked up at the old, old man.
“Four is unusual,” master Tangan said simply. “Two beyond the food and water would have passed you. That’s the first test. The second is myself. Tell me the worst thing you ever did.”
Almost Thorn let his face react. And stopped himself. He thought a moment. (Losing Sheon? But that wasn’t from knowledge. That was my ignorance. That blames Duun.) “I shouted at my teacher Sagot, master Tangan. Yesterday.”