“It is not a matter of persuasion,” Opaka said gently. “I know of the damage Winn did. My paghached to learn of it. And yes, recent discoveries are hastening the evolution of our understanding of the Prophets, perhaps with alarming speed. My faith, however, is enduring, and I will continue to walk the path on which They have set my feet, as we all do. But I have come to understand that my path does not lead back to the Apex Chair of the Vedek Assembly.”
“Bajor needs you, Sulan,” Solis said softly.
“Bajor has me,” Opaka assured him. “But perhaps merely not in the way that it imagines it should.”
Solis searched for other words that might sway her, but she was no longer looking at him. Her gaze had turned to take in the rest of the balcony, as if noticing it for the first time.
“Did you know,” she said at length, “I first met the Emissary in this very place?”
Solis shook his head, but he was intrigued, “What was it like?”
“Troubling,” Opaka admitted. “He was in so much pain. So much.He was lost, and did not know who he was.”
“And you showed him,” Solis surmised. “You led him to know his purpose.”
Opaka waved his characterization of her aside. “I merely opened a door. He walked through it on his own.” She turned back to Solis, looking at him carefully. “That is what a true kai does, Tendren. He does not lead. He does not wield power. He does not decide for others what the will of the Prophets requires of them. He merely helps them to find their own way, and to not fear the journey.”
“That is why it should be you,” Solis said. When Opaka gave no further reply, he asked, “If you will not become kai again…what, then, should we do?”
“What the Prophets teach us to do, when faced with doubt,” Opaka said, as if the answer were obvious. “Look for solutions from within.”
Solis blinked.
She smiled at him again, and then patted his arm. “Come, join me in my chambers. Let us take tea.” She was on her feet and moving before Solis could reply. He rose from the bench and had to rush to catch up to her as she went inside, moving swiftly down the winding steps and through the cool yellow stone halls of the monastery.
“You’re saying…you’re saying I should seek the Apex Chair?” Solis asked.
“I don’t believe I said anything of the kind,” Opaka protested. “But if you were to ask me if I know of one to assume the mantle of kai, I would have to answer honestly that I can think of no other besides yourself who would care so deeply for the spiritual life of our people. I have heard you gave the matter thought before.”
Solis spread his hands as they descended another curve of stairs. “Only to challenge Vedek Yevir. But once you returned, even he abandoned any thought of becoming kai.”
“Vedek Yevir turned away from becoming kai because he discovered his true path,” Opaka said. “Not because of me. He has a long road ahead of him, and he has at last taken the first true step on it.”
“Nevertheless,” Solis said as they turned a corner and continued down a another long corridor, “my original motives for seeking the Apex Chair—”
“Are irrelevant,” Opaka said firmly. “There is only one motive to becoming kai that matters: the desire to help our people. As a vedek of Ilvia, you have guided and comforted a great flock for years. As an Ohalavar, you have advocated the exploration of faith and welcomed new ideas. And you fought for Kira Nerys before the Vedek Assembly, to have her Attainder lifted.”
“I failed in that last endeavor,” Solis pointed out. “It was you who helped Yevir to see the injustice he committed in Attainting Kira.”
“But you spoke from your pagh,”Opaka said. “I know, because I read the transcript of your speech. What does your paghtell you now?”
Solis smiled. “That there is much good I can yet do for our people.”
“Then do not hesitate to follow that path wherever it leads,” Opaka told him, just as they reached the door to her chambers. “Just as I will.”
Opaka opened the door and entered first, took three steps inside, and slowly came to a stop, turning to look all around her in amazement. An instant later, Solis saw why.
The modest central room of Opaka’s chambers was filled with what must have been thousands of esaniflowers. They were everywhere. It was like walking into a meadow in full bloom. And though he could tell from Opaka’s expression that she was as surprised as he was to see them, her radiant smile seemed to suggest that she knew from whom they’d come.
Rena
Rena swirled the ale in the bottom of her glass. Restlessly, she kept checking her chrono, wondering when Parsh would show up so they could finalize their plans for Yyn. Inexorable fatigue had plagued her from the start of the evening. She had been up since sunrise to work in the bakery. She would have left all the planning to Kail and Halar—if she had fully trusted Kail. And why shouldn’t she trust him?
Maybe,said a little voice in her head, because he’s been behaving oddly for days now. Today he didn’t show up for his breakfast pastry, and tonight he had obviously been drinking for a long time before you arrived at the tavern.Offering to take over the trip plans for him, she had earlier encouraged him to go home for the night. She had hoped the walk back would give them a rare opportunity to talk without their friends or family around. He had refused and ordered another shodi.
Rena sighed. Sitting and drinking all evening, even in this old haunt of her younger days that was built on Mylea’s docks, wasn’t what she’d had in mind for tonight, but then again anything would be better than skulking around the bakery hoping to avoid Jacob.
So far she’d succeeded: she hadn’t seen so much as a hair on his chin since that horrible, awkward encounter at Fofen’s. He obviously wanted to avoid her as much as she wanted to avoid him. Every time the door chimed, Rena would suddenly find something to clean in the back room. Marja hadn’t commented on her flurry of productiveness, though Rena had noticed tenderness bordering on pity in Marja’s expressions as the days wore on.
She looked around the table to see how the others were doing, wishing that they’d give up waiting for Parsh and just plan the trip. But Kail, an ugly drunk, had lapsed into bellicose behavior, leaning across the table toward Halar, emphatically making a point about whatever it was that he was on about at the moment. They all tolerated Kail’s behavior because they knew the alcohol-infused persona would eventually vanish and the good-natured friend would return. Rena wasn’t feeling as patient with him tonight. She knew she was tired, knew that her judgment was suspect, but she suddenly realized that she had been looking at Kail all night and trying to figure out, Have I changed so much or has he?Being away at university for a year shouldn’t have made so much of a difference. Kail’s working full time in the foundry shouldn’t have made so much of a difference. Perhaps it was Topa’s death. Something in her had changed, and Rena knew herself well enough to know that she had been working very hard all evening to avoid seeing it.
Jacob,a little voice inside her whispered. Jacob is part of it.
She told the voice to shut up and go away.
Again, she shifted her focus outward, studying her friends with new objectivity. Halar, the one whom Rena had always thought of as her best friend—what had changed there? She was still as sweet, still as sincere and forthright, as she had ever been. She worked in her mother’s shop now and spent a lot of time with her family at shrine services while she began preparations to become a prylar initiate. Outwardly, Halar had generally found a rhythm to her life that Rena recognized that she had not yet attained. And how do I feel about this?Rena asked herself. Am I happy for her? Do I envy her?She had to confess that she while she didn’t begrudge her friend’s contentment, she was jealous that Halar had found her peace in Mylea while Rena still struggled to find hers.