"Hardly."
"So we can discuss things as equals. That would never be possible with them-they're too young. They haven't lived."
"There's a lot I haven't done yet," said Didul.
"Like marry-there's a thought."
Didul blushed and immediately started carrying the cool clay mugs into the front room of the house. He could hear Luet behind him, quietly remonstrating with her father. "Do you have to embarrass him like that?" she whispered.
"He likes it," Akmaro answered-and not in a whisper.
"He does not" Luet insisted.
But he did like it.
Edhadeya arrived just before the appointed time. Didul had met her a couple of times before, and always under the same circumstances- dining with Akmaro's family. Didul liked the fact that she and Luet were such good friends. It pleased him to see that Luet wasn't just a tagalong, that in fact she wasn't at all worshipful or deferent, beyond the normal courtesy of friendship. Clearly Luet knew Edhadeya as a person and hardly thought of her as the king's daughter. And Edhadeya, for her part, was completely natural in Akmaro's house, with not a hint of affectation or authority or condescension. Her experience had always been different from other people's lives, but she seemed to be endlessly fascinated with other people's thoughts and observations, not regarding her own as superior in any way.
The conversation turned quite early to the trial, and Akmaro just as quickly begged them to talk of other things. So they spent a lot of the dinner talking about Shedemei. Didul listened in fascination to their impression of the school, and Edhadeya had so much to say that finally he realized that, unlike the others, she wasn't just remembering a single visit. "How often have you been there?" he asked.
Edhadeya looked flustered. "Me?"
"Not that it matters," said Didul. "You just seem to speak as one who is ... involved."
"Well, I've been back several times."
"Without me!" Luet cried.
"It wasn't a social visit," said Edhadeya. "I went there to work."
"I thought she said you couldn't," said Chebeya.
"She also told me not to wait."
"So did she let you help?" asked Luet. "If she did I'll never forgive you for not taking me."
"She has never let me do anything," said Edhadeya.
"But you still go," said Didul.
"I sneak in," said Edhadeya. "It isn't hard. It's not as if the school is guarded or anything. I go into the courtyard if Shedemei isn't there, and I help the younger girls with their reading. Sometimes I've had nothing better to do than take a mop and jar of water and wash down the floors in a corridor while everyone else was eating. A few times I've been in and out without Shedemei seeing me, but usually I get caught."
"I should think that the children or the other teachers would report you the moment you're seen," said Akmaro.
"Not at all," said Edhadeya. "The girls appreciate my help. And so, I think, do the teachers."
"What does Shedemei say when she throws you out?" asked Didul.
"It's quite colorful," said Edhadeya. "She keeps explaining to me that when she said I wasn't supposed to wait, she meant that I shouldn't just wait. That I should be actively involved in life, getting some experience to help me put my book learning into perspective."
"So why don't you do as she asks?" said Akmaro.
"Because I think that sneaking into her school and teaching without her spotting me is an excellent experience."
They all laughed at that. The subject eventually turned from Shedemei to speculations on what Rasa's House must have been like, back on the planet Harmony, and from there the conversation drifted to talking about people who had seen true dreams from the Keeper. "We keep talking about true dreamers as if they were all ancient or far away," said Luet, "but it's worth remembering that every single one of us has had at least one true dream. I haven't had any since I was little-but then, I haven't needed anything as much as I did then. Have you dreamed since those old days, Didul?"
Didul shook his head, not really wanting to talk about "those old days."
"I don't really dream,"said Chebeya. "That's not a raveler's gift."
"But the Keeper still shows you things," said Luet. "That's the thing we have to remember-the Keeper isn't just something that our ancestors believed in. She isn't just a myth." To everyone's surprise, tears suddenly came to her eyes. "Akma keeps saying that we're fooling ourselves, but we're not. I remember how it felt, and it was different from any other dream. It was real. Wasn't it, Edhadeya?"
"It was," said Edhadeya. "Pay no attention to your brother, Luet. He doesn't know anything."
"But he does," said Luet. "He's the most intelligent person I've ever known. And so vigorous in everything he says and does-he was my teacher when I was little, and he's still my teacher now, except for this one thing-"
"This one little thing," murmured Akmaro.
"Can't you make him see, Father?" said Luet.
"You can't make people believe things," said Chebeya.
"The Keeper can! Why doesn't the Keeper just... just send him a true dream?"
"Maybe the Keeper does," said Didul.
They all looked at him in surprise.
"I mean, didn't the Keeper send dreams to Nafai's older brothers?"
"If it makes any difference," said Edhadeya, "it was the Oversoul."
"I thought Elemak had at least one true dream from the Keeper," said Didul. "Anyway, there was also Moozh. The one that Nafai wrote about-Luet's and Hushidh's father. The one who fought the Over-soul all the way, but he was really doing the Oversoul's will the whole time."
"You can't imagine that Akma is somehow doing the Keeper's will!" said Edhadeya. "Hating the poor earth people and wanting to get them excluded from the kingdom!"
"No, I don't mean that, I just mean-that you can resist the Keeper if you want to. How do we know Akma isn't having true dreams every night, and then getting up in the morning and denying that the dreams meant anything at all? The Keeper can't make us do anything. Not if we're determined to fight him."
"That's true," said Akmaro. "But I don't think Akma is dreaming."
"Maybe he dreams true so much that he doesn't realize that other people don't," said Didul. "Maybe his intelligence is partly a gift from the Keeper, unfolding truth to him in his mind. Maybe he's the greatest servant the Keeper has ever had, except that he refuses to serve."
"That's a big exception," said Chebeya.
"All I'm trying to say is that it wouldn't necessarily change Akma's mind to have a true dream. That's all I'm saying." Didul went back to the sugared fruit Edhadeya had brought for dessert.
"Well, it's a sure thing persuasion hasn't done anything," said Akmaro.
Chebeya made a little high-pitched sound in her throat.
"What was that?" said Akmaro.
"That was me," said Chebeya. "Giving the tiniest possible laugh."
"What for?"
"Akmaro, Didul has made me see things in a new way. I wonder if we really ever have tried to persuade Akma."
"I know I have," said Akmaro.
"No, you've tried to teach him. That's another matter entirely."
"All teaching is persuasion," said Akmaro. "And all persuasion is teaching."
"Then why did we bother to invent two different words for it?" asked Chebeya teasingly. "I'm not accusing you of anything, Akmaro."
"You're accusing me of not even trying to persuade my son, when you know I've tried till my heart has broken." Akmaro was trying to keep his tone light, but Didul could hear the emotion behind his smile.