Uproar. The Philosophers left etiquette behind and started talking freely amongst themselves, arguing about the things they had just heard in heated tones. One of them stood up, pointed at Zantheus, and shouted over the rest of the clamour “Of course he didn’t become enlightened at the top of Mount Awmeer! That’s because Enlightenment doesn’t exist!”

At this Kathegetes spoke again, trying to restore some semblance of order to the proceedings. “Gentlemen, gentlemen please! Let’s not forget ourselves! QUIET!”

A hush fell. Kathegetes had lost his nerve for a moment. He readjusted his spectacles. “Now, there is no reason that this symposium should not continue in a civilised and dignified manner.” He addressed the Philosopher that had stood up. “Empaiktes, you seem to have some strong opinions on the matter at hand, would you care to join me up on the platform?”

“Yes I would,” said Empaiktes, and came up. Zantheus recognised him as the man who had sat next to Anthē at dinner the night before.

“Now,” said Kathegetes, “I think we all know the position that Professor Empaiktes holds. Would anyone like to speak in defence of a counter-position?”

“I should like to.” Another Philosopher stood up. It was Paideutes, the man who had sat between Zantheus and Tromo.

“Professor Paideutes,” said Kathegetes, “please join us.”

It was getting quite crowded on the platform. Kathegetes and Zantheus remained where they had been standing on either side of the lectern, and now they were accompanied by Padieutes and Empaiktes respectively. Kathegetes made a brief speech by way of introduction to the debate.

“My esteemed colleagues, as you know, our great institution was founded with the ideal of Enlightenment in mind. Traditionally, we Philosophers have always been seekers of Enlightenment. However, as of late, a new breed of Philosopher has begun to appear. I am sure we all question the existence of Enlightenment from time to time, but many of the finest among our ranks have recently come to the conclusion that it definitely does not exist. I am, of course, referring to the so-called ‘Post-Enlightenment’ school of thought that has come into fashion lately. Today we have heard a very interesting contribution to the debate: Sir Zantheus, a knight of the Aythian Order, no less, has very patiently and eloquently described to us his beliefs concerning Enlightenment. Now I hand you to the very capable Professor Empaiktes to advance our discussion further.”

Zantheus was thoroughly confused. He had always been taught that Enlightenment was to be found at the top of Mount Awmeer. That was part of his world. He had never considered that it might be found somewhere else or, worse still, that it might not even exist at all. He was caught up in a debate with which he did not agree, in which he did not want to participate. Meanwhile, Empaiktes had begun talking.

“Colleagues, to my mind what we have witnessed here today only confirms what many of us have known to be the case for some time now,” said Empaiktes. There is no such thing as ‘Enlightenment’. This ‘knight’ is a living testament that it is a superfluous superstition we have inherited from our less well-informed ancestors.” He now began to speak about Zantheus as if he was an object, some kind of exhibit whose only purpose was to demonstrate his point. “He is a relic from a bygone age, a poignant reminder of the distance we have come since those barbaric times. For no reasonable person in our day and age could hope to sincerely entertain such fanciful ideas. Enlightenment is a myth, albeit a very powerful one, symbolising the thirst for knowledge that has always marked out those of our profession. Our predecessors, many of them great men, believed in it simply because they did not know better. And with this knight we see that they did not have the monopoly on opinion as to where ‘Enlightenment’ was to be found. The old Aythians disagreed with our predecessors, firmly believing that it was to be found at the summit of Mount Awmeer. What romance must have been conjured up in their ancient minds by staring up at that monolith of nature, watching the sun dawn magnificently over it day after day, a beacon of hope and beauty. And we have seen today a rare thing: An Aythian who has actually climbed to the peak of the Insurmountable Mount. And what he has found there confirms that their beliefs are as erroneous as ours once were: Nothing. This man did not find ‘Enlightenment’ because, my dear colleagues, he –I mean, it– does not exist.”

Many of the Philosophers clapped and cheered.

“Here here!”

“Well said!”

“An excellent speech!”

Zantheus was terrified. Had what this man said been true? Was Enlightenment really just a myth? Had his whole life been a lie? After all, he had been to the top of Mount Awmeer, and was he Enlightened? He did not feel Enlightened, but he did not know quite what he was meant to ‘feel’ if he was Enlightened. What had happened to him up there? In the face of his doubts, he clung ever more firmly to his resolve. He must get back. He had to go back and find out what had happened to him on the top of Awmeer. But for the first time a terrible thought came to him. What if he got there and this happened all over again? What if he climbed Awmeer again only to be thrown into the sky once more? But here, standing here on a stage in the Academy, something broke in him. He looked out at Anthē in the back row of the crowd and a conviction filled his heart. Fine, he would still get back. Maybe he would get thrown into the sky again and have to repeat all of this over again, but he did not care, he would get back. Even if it meant he had to keep returning to the mountain his whole life he would keep on doing it, until he found out what had happened to him on that day in front of the enormous mirror, or until he died. One way or another.

Zantheus was dimly aware that Kathegetes had been speaking again while he had been thinking these things, and he looked back to him now. He had just finished saying the name “Paideutes.” The other Professor now took his turn to present a case.

“Thank you for that excellent speech, Empaiktes,” said Paideutes. “Whilst I admire your rhetorical style, I am strongly inclined to take issue with your reasoning. I have two points to make: For one, this knight –forgive me for using the third person, Sir Zantheus– may not have yet fulfilled all of the conditions which his caste believes are prerequisite for attaining Enlightenment: He did not find ‘nothing’ at the top of Mount Awmeer; he has told us quite clearly that he found a ‘mirror’. It may well be that he did not perform the correct action in front of this mirror that is needed in order to become Enlightened.” Zantheus was relieved to hear someone say this. But it still did not deal with all of his problems. If this was true, what was he supposed to have done on top of the mountain? No-one had ever told him about finding any sort of mirror there. If he got back, would he know what to do on his second try? How was he supposed to find out what the ‘correct action’ was? Oh well. His resolve remained. He would get back. “But these are merely preliminary points. Secondly, may I remind the esteemed Professor that, unlike as is the case for the Aythians, the belief that Enlightenment is to be found atop Mount Awmeer has never been associated with this establishment. Interesting as it may be that this knight claims to have fulfilled the seemingly impossible conditions of his Order’s belief, it has next to no bearing whatsoever on our own philosophical quest for Enlightenment. Granted, Enlightenment may not exist, but I believe that it exists. And I am perfectly free to do so. Professor Empaiktes may not share this belief with me, but thus far he has not actually offered me any reason why I should not hold it. And I personally see very good reasons why I should hold it. If nothing else, I believe that the search for Enlightenment is a search fundamental to Philosophical enquiry, and therefore to the core principles of our institution. If we have no Enlightenment to strive for, no ideal of truth or goodness or beauty to work towards, what will we become if not a group unchecked power-mongers toying with bits and pieces of knowledge, erratically cataloguing various different parts of Mashal but despairing of the hope of every finding any kind of worthy unifying goal, purpose or end-point in it? Thank you.”

Chaos. Once more the Philosophers forgot themselves and started to talk and argue loudly. This time Kathegetes had to shout far louder and longer before they quietened down enough for him to be heard properly.

“Thank you, gentlemen! Please let us maintain some sense of dignity. May I remind you that, according to the orderly protocol, the symposium is now opened up to the floor for questions to be put to the various speakers? Now, in the proper fashion, does anyone have a formal comment they would like to make on the proceedings?”

“I have something to say.”

All heads now turned to Leukos, who had stood up where he was in the back row. He walked out of his place, and down the aisle, to ascend to the stage.

“Master Leukos, this is most unorthodox; commentators do not usually take to the stand...” said Kathegetes, but Leukos took no notice of him. Instead he placed his manuscript on the lectern and, as he wrote, addressed the assembly.

“Members of the Academy of Sadeh. You say that you are Philosophers. But you have forgotten what that word means. Can any of you still tell me what a ‘Philosopher’ is, in the old language?”

A voice piped up from the back, it belonged to an older member of the Academy. “A Philosopher is a Lover of Wisdom.”

“Exactly,” said Leukos. “You say that you are lovers of Wisdom. Indeed, it said that Wisdom shows us the way to Enlightenment. ‘One who becomes wise becomes truly Enlightened.’ ‘One who knows Wisdom knows the way to Enlightenment.’ But I tell you the truth, you ‘Philosophers’ would not recognise Wisdom if she came right up to you and kissed you on the lips.” A cacophony of complaints broke out, but Leukos went on, unperturbed, able to make himself heard perfectly well. “Who among you have really heard Wisdom’s voice? Who among you have really looked into Wisdom’s eyes? Who among you have really tasted Wisdom’s kiss? You Philosophers couldn’t tell Wisdom apart from Foolishness on a bright day with signs to help you.”

The Philosophers were outraged. Most exclaimed “Who is this boy to speak to us like this?” or things along those lines, but one or two said “He makes an interesting point...”, “What is he seeking to communicate by this metaphor…?” or “Hold on, let’s hear him out…”

It was Kathegetes who spoke to Leukos directly. “Master Leukos, I do not quite see what you mean to gain by speaking of Wisdom as personified in the form of a woman, what do you hope to achieve by this?”

Rather than responding directly to Kathegetes, Leukos stared into the distance, beyond his immediate company, as he often did, consciously or unconsciously.

“You say that you are Lovers of Wisdom,” he said. “But I tell you the truth, not only do I love Wisdom...I am in love with her.”

This was the breaking point for the assembly, who now all got their feet and started yelling things at Leukos and at one another. Leukos said nothing more. Apparently he had in fact seen something, for his gaze suddenly focused on a point at the back of the room and with a look of surprise he jumped off the stage with his writing and ran down the middle of the room as he fast as he could. Those who had been looking at him turned their heads to follow, but all they saw were the doors at the back of the room slamming shut, and then Leukos crashing through them. Only Tromo, sat in the back row, was quick enough to catch a glimpse of the person Leukos had seen.

Anthē turned round to look at the stage again. Across the room, her eyes met with those of Zantheus. He looked intently at her, agitatedly, as if he was trying to communicate something to her. She realised what it was just at the same moment that he lost his sense of decorum and shouted over the noise of the Philosophers’ arguing “Go after him, Anthē!”

Leukos was on the move again. He must be pursued. There was no telling what the crazy boy was up to; why had he suddenly bolted down the length of the lecture theatre? They were not about to let themselves be left behind by him again. “Come on, Tromo,” Anthē said as she got up from her seat and left through the double doors. None of the Philosophers saw her leave, they were too busy heatedly arguing over the existence of Enlightenment. As she came out into the courtyard she could just see the doors to the main complex closing; Leukos must have just passed through them. She sprinted across the courtyard and through these too. Inside, the writer was just turning a corner at the end of a corridor. “Leukos!” she shouted out to him. He did not stop. By now Zantheus had caught up with her. “That way!” she said, and pointed. He overtook her.

Anthē turned the same corner just in time to see Zantheus catch him, tackling Leukos to the ground. They skidded across the polished floor for a few moments, then came to a stop in a heap together. Amazingly, or, as Kathegetes would say, remarkably, Leukos managed to land with his right arm stretched out on the floor, still scritch-scratching away with his quill at the page. Zantheus got up and stood over him as Anthē and Tromo reached them.

“What are you doing, you crazy boy?” he said angrily.

Leukos collected himself and sat up, spinning round to look at Zantheus as he received his telling off. “What’s your problem, Zantheus?” he said, in quite a childish way. He seemed angry himself.

“Leukos, you can’t keep on running off without us whenever you feel like it!” said Anthē.

“You cannot simply abandon us at your whim!” added Zantheus, considerably flustered. “You did this once before in Choresh and you’re not going to do it again! You said that you would show us the way to Qereth and that is what you must do. Do not break your promise.”

Leukos just said “Oh.” He sincerely looked as if he had forgotten all of this for a moment and was being reminded. He seemed genuinely apologetic. “Sorry Zantheus...and Anthē....and Tromo....of course I’ll show you the way to Qereth...I guess I got carried away with myself for a little while...”

Zantheus did not know whether to shout at Leukos or console him. He very much wanted to do the former, but it did seem as though, somehow, after all this time, Leukos had actually managed to forget about them temporarily. So instead he just said nothing.

Leukos, however, got to his feet and said “Um...could we get going again quickly?”

“I have no problem with that,” said Zantheus.

“Let’s just go and get our things,” said Anthē.

They walked back to their rooms, and Zantheus whispered to Anthē, “We must keep a close eye on him at all times.” They went to their respective rooms to retrieve their luggage. Anthē was pleasantly surprised to find that her cloak and old clothes had been washed. They were ugly and grey, but at least now they were clean. She changed quickly as Tromo did the same in his bedroom, and took one last mournful look at the wardrobes before gathering up her pack. She sighed as she remembered she would soon have to resume cooking; it had been nice to have a day off. At least her water-flask had been refilled.

The others were waiting for her in the corridor. They made their way down the steps to the entrance of the Academy, where Kathegetes accosted them.

“My friends, are you leaving us so soon? Are you sure you will not stay a while longer?”

“Yes,” said Zantheus firmly.

“Master Leukos, is everything alright with you?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” said Leukos “Just a momentary...episode.”

“That was quite a dramatic exit,” said Kathegetes, “and what you said, very thought-provoking, yes, very interesting.”

“Thank you,” said Leukos. “We must be off now.”

“Thanks for a fun couple of days, Kathegetes,” Anthē said cheerily as they went out of the front doors.

“No, thank you!” said Kathegetes. “It has been a most enlightening visit, if I do say so myself!”