In town, D'rew departed ways from us without much ceremony or eventfulness. Seeing him walk into the distance and round a corner out of sight put the nail in the board for me. The knowledge he had was now sealed from me, like an abandoned building I could not enter. Looking from the place he disappeared, I saw father’s shop. It was its own kind of abandoned I guess. It had people in it, but they were fake. Both he and I. I was now almost as false as he was. But not for long. I would get free of him. Free of this place.

I looked around I'lochin while dad hopped off the cart. It had changed on me in these couple months. It was, just a year ago, a place I had always wanted to live or visit as much as possible. It was “people”. It was a place where I wasn’t alone with my family. There were people here (I had once thought) who would be more interesting or more caring than my own parents. Or my sad brother and sister. But I had found the people here to be just as uncaring. Stuck.

Even though it was a sunny day, as I dropped off the cart and headed into the shop, a gloom took over me.

“Well, if you don’t wish to learn about anything else, I guess I can at least teach you the world of potions.”

I would’ve taken the chance to be anywhere else other than here.

“And, depending on how Bela does with his masonry, you might need to handle that for him too…”

I felt a change in the tension of the air: it hadn’t been there before very much, but now it was definitely there: and increasing. My father looked at me, and I noticed for some odd reason that he was standing very tall and straight.

“You’ve been the most gifted out of my children, Ty.” A chilly moment took my spine over and I shivered. Our eyes were locked. “I believe you’ll be the one to take care of this family after I’m gone…”

And just like that he went back to shelving potions and going about opening the shop. The moment came and went. I just stood there for a second.

“Help me brew this.” His voice came from the back room before I knew he’d left my sight. I was so wrapped in my own thoughts that I didn’t realize I’d been staring at where he was when he landed that statement on me. I moved out of the dream-like stupor and went to the other room.

Dad was standing there, wearing the gloves he always wore, holding several potions that I had seen before, including the Kos that I had been instructed to never touch. The presence of it scared me immediately, just by being aware of what it was. “What are you making?”

“Gewd.” His face was the most serious I’d seen it in days.

“What is that?”

“One of the most expensive potions that can be made. And the most dangerous. Once you make this, son, it becomes incredibly easy to make more. And I mean incredibly easy.” He let the words settle on me. I took the time to process them. What we did was a dangerous job and in the right places it paid really well from what I’d heard. But not in a small place like this I guess.

“What’s it used for?”

“Trxa is used to remove stains. This…” He nodded and motioned to several different potions. “Will be used to make Gewd. Which is used for removing people.”

It didn’t make sense for several moments as I looked over the ingredients. “What do you mean?”

“The things inside our bodies are nasty things. And in high dense cities, getting rid of bodies is expensive. Unless you have Gewd. It can be used to remove a body. Or a lot of bodies. Once you make Gewd...you can make more of it. Easily. And it’s dangerous. It is the most dangerous thing we make. Trxa will make someone go mad if they drink it. And Trxa can make massive burns if used incorrectly.” I’d heard all of this before. But then he got to the good part. “Gewd, on the other hand, will make someone go blind and deaf just by being around it. Do you understand?”

“I do.”

“Repeat it back to me.” The seriousness in his voice frightened me. And I knew that it should.

“Gewd will remove people. And if you’re around it, you will go blind and deaf.”

“Good. You understand.”

“I have several questions.”

“You should. What are they?”

This was the small part of my life with my dad that I enjoyed. I had learned and was continuing to learn a way of earning money from him.

“One. How do you make more so easily? Two. How do you make it without going deaf or blind? And three . . . I forgot but I know it was important.”

“I’m sure you’ll rememb-”

“Three. What do you mean it removes people? How exactly?”

My dad looked at me without a word. I’d interrupted him.

“Sorry, dad.”

He let me suffer in the quiet for a bit before answering my questions in no particular order.

“It’s used to remove bodies by ‘eating them’. I have no other word for it. Bodies that enter a bucket of Gewd will simply disappear. And for the other question, Gewd interacts with water in a strange way. It seems to grow stronger the more you add water to it. To a point. But anywhere from a bucket to a lake of the stuff seems to be strong enough to do the job. And be just as dangerous without going into it.”

“How much does it take to remove its potency then? And what can be done to remove it then?”

“You’re asking too many questions, too soon. Let me teach: I have learned that water, with enough salt, can neutralize it. But it took a year or so as the Gewd sat in the salt water before it stopped ‘working’. And so when you make Gewd, you must take great care not to make more. It needs to sit for a very long time, and in a small quantity so it can be destroyed.”

“What about more water than a lake? Would that remove its effect?”

“That is a foolish question, but I know that you’re curious. No one has tried. What I heard was that the lake was abandoned. No one went near it for a very long time. And I don’t know where that lake was.”

“And how did you learn all this?” I asked the question but then, now that I thought about it, I knew the answer.

“From my father, and his father before him.”

“Family business. Passed down by generations.” I allowed myself a small smile and got one in return. It was the motto on the front door.

“So...how much would you need to smell or taste before you go blind? Wouldn’t you die from it first?”

“That information I don’t have. I just learned that the greatest step to making Gewd is that when you add the third to last chemical, you want to have the other two ready. Because within an hour it will begin to set. And it needs to be in whatever place you want it. Bodies should be placed wherever they need to be when it becomes ready. And we’ve been incredibly careful to handle it well. No one in our family has ever had to deal with the problem of deafness or blindness.” He pointed a finger at me. “Don’t be the first.”

“I won’t.”

Because my curiosity had been stoked from learning about Gewd, I was excited when I left the shop at the end of the night with dad. My brain, now filled with rapid questions, was spinning with ideas and thoughts. Gewd was a new thing. A tool that could...a question was there. I asked it: “Who do you sell Gewd to?”

“Morticians.”

“What are they?”

“They’re the ones who dispose of bodies.”

“Huh. Makes sense...and how do you know they would dispose of it properly?”

“It’s in their best interest.” Dad’s answer was so matter of fact that I couldn’t question. It made perfect sense.

I thought of my father on this ride back home, but didn’t look at him. I didn’t want him to know that my thoughts were towards him. It might give away what was really happening inside me. But I wanted to think. To think on who he was. Who he was to me. How I would respond. I was holding so large a secret, and it was because of the man sitting next to me. It felt so odd. I could speak, in this silence, and remove all of the secret. Remove all the power I had.

But so could he.

At this moment, I knew I was capable of doing this the whole time, but I had just now become aware of it. It was odd. And if I decided to ignore this moment, by distracting myself with something else, the moment would pass. It was all moments in my life that were like this.

Looking up at the stars I felt even more odd. The world was passing, every moment, and we were just...living our lives? I felt strange. Like I was looking outside myself, watching the cart pass by. Myself riding alongside my dad. We were living our lives…

Why was my dad so silent? Why was he hiding his sin? Thoughts of Dran’s words crept up and I shoved them down. It would be the wrong time to go deep into thought. It would be difficult to hide myself from dad if I came undone. That room: where all the emotion was...I had it locked. I dare not enter. If I did, and I couldn’t lock it back down in time, dad would maybe catch it. I would lose all of the little control I did have. And it was the last thing I wanted.

There was the thing. He had done this. He was to blame. And because our family was where we were...this was all his fault. He was at fault for how we had gotten here. And it followed that without someone dealing with him, the issue would continue. We would still be abused. We would still be lied to. Another thought struck me then. Dad hadn’t been so violent to me in the last few weeks. He had been his usual self to Bela though…I could not figure out the reason of that and it bothered me.

I had no answer by the time we got home and I went to sleep that night, very frustrated. It was time for action.

In the morning, I decided that I’d had enough. Meeting D'rew, and being unable to know more of the world. Talking to Dran and learning that secrets were known and kept outside our family. Lying to Nela. Having to keep R'osy off my back. I was tired. I wanted out. And I felt like I was ready to destroy whatever it took to free myself. I didn’t know how mom did it. How she was capable of living like this. Being ok with all of these sins.

To the Bastion of V'alen, W'illiam. Eneres, the potion maker of I'lochin is guilty of the sin of lying to his community, because of polygamy with Tesim, the seamstress, without telling anyone.

Writing her name made me angry, but I knew I had to do it. It was time to end all of this. I stared at the letter, my arms folded. It was way too simple. It didn’t tell all of the things that were wrong. All the hurt. The pain. But it would be enough. ….Maybe. I considered how I would send it, but then I thought of D'rew. It was too good of a thing. His timing. It made me nervous. If I could find him, he would be one of the easiest ways to get my message to W'illiam. But was there risk in that? To have someone see my face. I bit my lip while thinking. The letter would keep me in the shadows, an unknown. I could be anyone. And I could use the shop owner maybe, but would he know how to move the letter? Gahn would. But he couldn’t be trusted. None of this could be traced back to me. So...the shop owner then?

*

“So the third tenant, Ty?”

“It’s the denial of self for the good of others.”

“And how does it play itself out?”

The hills glistened with green and the bright blue sky almost hurt my eyes. We’d gone on a hike for a change of scenery. Had to give it to Dran. He knew some pretty great spots of nature.

“We must determine what will do the most good for the most people. Even if that means not getting what we want.”

“Don’t make it so hypothetical, Ty.”

“Fine. If I have food that will keep me alive…” I had said the thought before thinking it through. A second of pause while hoping to think of a good way to apply it. “But there’s a king or mediker who would die without my food then I should give it to them. They can help more than I can.”

“It’s a good thought. But think it through more fully. If you die, then what happens? What do you offer to the community?”

The thought of Gewd hit me immediately. I’d become obsessed with how lethal it was. And now I thought of my work in a new light. It wasn’t all niceties. It had a very real role in the world. What would a city piled in bodies look like without Gewd to take care of them?

“People would suffer without the potions we make.” I was honest in that statement. “In the potions that my family makes.”

“Correct. So if you die, then people suffer as well. There’s a balance to it. You can’t always make decisions that are so simple. In fact, few decisions are that simple.” Dran seemed to have some kind of meaning behind that, but I could only guess at what it was.

For my own turn, I was thinking of my part to play in my family. Was I denying my own good so that dad could be removed from power? Was this for me? Or was it for others? Maybe both? I wanted to ask that question out loud, but I couldn’t.

“Now, for a much more immediate and practical approach: we can apply Locksmithing1 to things that have to do with our own desires.”

“Locksmithing?”

“Yes. It is the process of releasing ourselves from things that bind us to ourselves. To deny us ourselves so that we may serve others.”

The concept was new. And foreign. And I didn’t see how it could help me in any way. But Dran had held it over my head - without saying it - that if I wanted to keep coming into town without my father’s eye on me, I would need to suffer through his teachings every once in a while. Luckily this was one of the few that he’d made me endure since deciding to act the lie.

“So how does this ‘locksmithing’ work?”

“I appreciate the question, and its lack of sarcasm. It’s a process of stages. The best way I know of how to begin is through how I’ve been taught.” As we approached a spot by a lake, he sat down and pulled out a small stack of papers that were bound by twine. I sat near him. The papers seemed like they’d not had much use. Catching my curious gaze, he almost seemed to read my mind. “They haven’t seen much use. It’s one of the older practices that we’ve learned in service to Ygh.” There could’ve been sadness in his voice, but it was too little for me to be sure. “The purpose of this, as I’ve said, is to identify and release locks. But not locks that are in physical form.”

He paused. I picked up on the queue, though I was grumpy to do so. Call and response was beneath people who could answer questions that had a pre-written answer. “What kind of locks are you dealing with then?”

“Everything that is not physical. And by that I mean the mental, the emotional, and even the spiritual. Really this is about all the things about us that are unseen.” This I didn’t put too much stock in but he kept going. “Really, a lock is just another word for sin.”

He stopped here from reading and looked up at the sky for a moment. A heavy sigh, and then he looked at me. “Do you know what sin is, Ty?”

I started to open my mouth.

“No. I take that back. What do you think sin is?”

That took me back for a bit. It must have been a trick question. “Is it more than the normal stuff? The killing and…” I almost said lying. “...And other stuff?”

“Very astute” - I didn’t know that word but didn’t want to interrupt - “it is more. Actually much more. People go about their lives, sinning or being in sin, or even having sin occur around them, every day. Without knowing it.” A slight chuckle from him. “And in a way, it’s a sin not to know it. Hmm. But really, yes it is the nasty stuff. But really there’s so many other things that are harder to detect than killing or stealing or lying...or whatever. These are the things that can lead to those things. Or maybe they don’t. But they’re there all the same.” He stopped the rambling. “Can you think of anything that wouldn’t be your ‘classic’ sin?”

This did cause me to think hard. There must have been something that would be an answer to his question. Unless he was completely making this up. But I didn’t think he would torture me in that way, just for fun. He did seem, in a way, genuine. I decided to give up. I had no game to play with him right now. “No, I can’t think of anything.”

“That’s ok, Ty. It would take you a long time and you might not even have an answer. I for sure didn’t. Not many people would, I imagine. It took some very bright people with deep insight to unlock these answers, and to guide us into the conversation that we’re now having.” A large smile suddenly appeared on his face and his eyes almost glowed. “Do you realize that we are learning from truly gifted people here? Thinkers of their age! Who have passed down their knowledge through writing. Without this book,” He bounced it slightly in his hands, very delicately, almost like he was holding a baby. “You and I might never know what we’re about to learn. Doesn’t that strike you as fascinating?”

“What does fascinating mean?”

“As something very wonderful.”

“Fascinating...Yes. I think it is, though I think it is also actually kind of odd in a way.”

“Odd?”

“Yeah. It’s an odd thought. That we would learn from people who are dead.”

I seemed to have disappointed him, but he recovered quickly. “Yes. It is odd if you think of it that way. But it’s also wonderful. To have so many great thoughts at your fingertips.”

Something in the way he put the words together lit a fire in me. I remembered all the books I’d been reading and something made sense all of a sudden. The words, they were things that gave me a voice to what I felt or thought. The Poet Poul. He was like what Dran was talking about. But once again, I was afraid to let on what I knew. The time was not right. After my father paid. But before then I would not let on anything that I didn’t have to. “You know, Dran.” My voice was softer than I’d expected it to come out. “I do think I know what you mean now.”

His voice was also soft in response. “I’m glad.”

There was something that sat in that time between us, where the silence lied. It was almost like a friendship or understanding. And I actually for once felt something like niceness towards him.

The moment died seconds later when he went back to his lesson.

“The idea of sin is what you said. But it’s more. There are at least two other things that we know of that are sin in people: the first is the idea of ‘withoutness’. And the second one is the lack of doing anything about the first two. But I will take these one at a time. For ‘withoutness’: can you tell me what you think that could mean?”

“Sin as ‘withoutness’?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm...would this be like, being without yourself in some way?”

“Not quite. Though it would almost be close if you knew a deep meaning of withoutness.”

“Then I suppose I am confused.”

“Which is quite alright, Ty. It’s a very complex thought. But it makes more sense when I explain it. And I only ask you so that I can see where you’re at in your understanding of things.” Like I would tell you, truly. I thought in response as he continued, “The idea of withoutness can be explained like this: if someone broke into your house and took one of your chairs, you would be without the chair, yes?”

“Yes.” I answered quickly, still expecting the trick question.

“Well, the thief has done a classic sin. Stealing. But also you are now ‘without’ your chair. You have ‘sin’ of ‘no chair’ in your life. Is that not true?”

“Yes...though it is not my fault the chair was taken.”

“No. It’s not. But still the thing remains. There is sin in your life that you must now deal with. Right?”

It felt like he was being way too simple, but now I was interested. “Right. The sin is ‘in’ my life...I must deal with it in some way.”

“And you could do many different things with that. You could hurt the thief. You could take your chair back. You could forgive him. You could get depressed and kill yourself. But no matter what you decide to do, it is in response to the sin.”

“Ok…”

“Well. This is the thing we get to. How to deal with that sin. What is the way to approach it? You could treat this in much the same way that Ygh treats us to deal with our sin.”

The lessons learned from years ago, that mother used to tell. Those all came flooding back, but in the dirty water of time forgotten and not cared for. I remembered stories of people who did good. Those who did bad. Those who took care to ask forgiveness of their bad deeds and live a good life instead. Those who didn’t. What happened to each. Justice. And my need for justice against my dad was in some way given to me by my mother. There was something to that. It would be good to think over one day…

“What are you thinking about, Ty?”

“I’m remembering the Yghtl stories.” It was an honest and true thing to say. And it had to do with the thing we were talking about. “We deal with sin either in the right way or the wrong. As the Ygh teaches.” I was lost in thought, quoting my mom when I said this. And so I looked to Dran with some humility and apologized, “but you know that I put little stock in Ygh nowadays.”

“But do you still put stock in the truth behind sin and its corruption?” He leveled his head at me, expecting the right answer.

To that I couldn’t argue. “Yes. Justice and the ways of sin’s corruption are obvious to anyone. Only a madman would say that sin is good.” Is my father a madman?

“Correct. And dealing with ‘withoutness’ is in much the same way.” He snapped me back to the lesson with the word ‘withoutness’. I’d been lost in my own life for a minute. It was good to be back out myself, to be here, even if the lesson itself might end up boring and worthless. “The correct answer to the thief is to go back to the third tenant.”

He waited again. Expecting me to repeat it. I could have slapped him in annoyance. “The denial of self for the good of others.” The answer came with no emotion and I stared at him, trying to stab him with my boredom and hatred of the simple call-response he wanted. I was not one of his simple followers.

“Exactly.” He went back to the book. Either uncaring of my anger or unaware. “To answer the thief who takes your chair you must ask: what is the greatest good? Is it forgiveness? Is it to punish him?”

“I feel like that answer would be obvious: it is to get my chair back and make the thief pay.”

“But the deeper question, Ty. Why did the thief take it?”

“That is not my concern.”

Dran became much more animated. He pointed a finger at me for a second as he talked. “But it should be. You should be asking, what compelled him? What did he need it for? If we punish him, will he do it again? What if...what if he needed the chair more than you?”

He paused, and this time I didn’t know if he was waiting for an answer. But it felt like it. “The answer is unknowable.”

“Ahh. But it’s not. And this. This is where the power of Ygh comes into play.”

This I didn’t understand and could not help myself but jump on his thoughts. “What do you mean?” He had me interested in the conversation now.

“Go back to the third tenant.” This time Dran didn’t wait for me to repeat it. “The denial of self for the good of others. If it is at all possible that you might understand the thieves’ intentions, then you might understand the reason why he took it. And if you understand the reason, you might be able to convince him to not do it in the future. And if he doesn’t do it in the future, that’s one less thief in the world. And ‘the denial of self for the good of others’ means to try and get there to be less thieves’ in the world so that we all might suffer less. Not just you. And you should not be concerned so much with getting your chair back if it means you can help not only the thief, but also others.”

The words had washed over me until I was drowning in thought. I was trying to make sense of it all. But Dran had been talking too fast and had gotten too animated. I became frustrated and went back to my original point. “But the reason for why the thief stole is unknowable.”

A weird sort of sad smile came over Dran’s face. “Says who?”

“Well...everyone…that’s the way it works. Things happen. And sometimes it’s unknowable why they happen.”

Dran took the time to look at me. He blinked several times and then leaned in at me, his fingers clumped together and the index fingers pointing at me. He was coming in for a statement of some kind. “Have you asked the thief why he did it?”

I squinted at him. “No.” I leaned my head sideways. “Why would I?”

“Because he might tell you the reason behind his actions.”

“But he wouldn’t. He’s a thief.”

It was Dran’s turn to match my body movement. “Who told you he wouldn’t?”

I shrugged. “Everyone. It’s the way of the world.”

“You assume.”

“Yes.”

“And there you have the trap. You don’t ask because you expect not to be told.” He came out of his attacking posture. “And this is why the world continues to behave like it does. When you expect a certain outcome, you have determined that outcome and that outcome almost always becomes the reality. Because you make it so. You expect to not understand the thief. And the thief expects to not be understood. Was he stealing because he needed to sell the chair and feed his family? Was he going to burn it to keep warm for the night? Was he greedy? Is he someone beyond saving? We do not know. We only assume.” And with this he stopped talking.

I looked out over the lake and tried to put it all together. Oddly enough, R'osy came into my mind. She was always doing the thing that Dran was talking about. Asking questions. Trying to dig. Especially into my life it seemed. But I didn’t want her in my life. She would only make things worse. But she was a lot like what Dran was talking about. Was she aware of Ygh? Could I ask Dran that question? I thought. What would happen if I did. Would I be found out in any way as to my secret plans? I looked at him. He was also looking out over the lake, away from me, and not paying me any attention. Probably expecting me to think over his words. And so I was. I played out for a minute whether my friendship with R'osy was known to Dran. He would know I went to Uncle Nelg’s shop often. It was a family business. My curiosity might seem natural...and I couldn’t think of any way it would backfire.

“Is R'osy part of Ygh?”

Dran turned to me and then looked over the lake for a second, thinking. “Not that I know of. And her family isn’t either.” So he knew of her at least. “Why do you ask?”

“She acts in the way that you describe. Always asking questions. Wanting to know things about people.”

“She’s a smart young lady. And the odd thing is, you will find people who act the part of the faith but do not serve the Ygh. It is because we all carry pieces of the Ygh inside us. Even if we do not understand. It remains dormant. Like a volcano that has been buried, waiting to surface.” His words trailed off at the end as he watched a bird of some kind take off from the lake. “But for R'osy, it is because she belongs to Ygh. We all do. She carries in her part of what we talk of here. And if she were to join the Yghtl, she would grow in it. And Ty, though you do not share the faith, you also grow as we have these talks. But for you the process is much more serious. You know much more. You have become ‘aware’. As you face decisions you have no choice but to grow. But you can grow more into the Yghtl or you can grow farther away. Like this lake: you have no choice but to expand or shrink. To stay the same is impossible. Nature and the way of the world will not allow it.”

Though his words were meaningful, my thoughts were still on R'osy. “And what of R'osy?”

“She grows too. Closer or farther. But maybe not as dramatic as you, I think. You are closer to a furnace. And as you go in you burn. And what burns away is either the bad (like when gold is purified) or the whole of it is destroyed. And the choice is up to you. The bad must come out of you one way or another. And if you get destroyed in the process, it is your decision.”

“That makes no sense.”

“The laws of the spirit do not follow how we understand the laws of this world.”

“Then how did you come by this knowledge?”

“It was told to me by those who came before. In a time when the world looked different than it does now.”

“And you believe them?”

“I do. Because it makes sense to believe them. These things we speak of...they are the deeper truths of the world. They sit behind what we can see and touch. We would be lost without understanding that there is something beyond. And we would still be lost unless we knew how to interact with that other side. The Ygh is the faith that shows us the path.”

I began to think over the conversation we’d just had. I thought in reverse: first of R'osy. She was not on the edge that I was. That I could agree with. She didn’t have the problems in her life that I was dealing with.

I paused. Was she? What if R'osy was like the thief. Stealing ideas and thoughts and information from me because she was needing to help herself. Was she only doing it because she was a brat from a high-born family in I'lochin? I had to find within myself after a moment, to understand that I hated her just because she was pretty and from a good family. She had things I didn’t. And I was envious. She didn’t deserve those things. I did. She didn’t have to go through the problems I’ve gone through. She didn’t earn all of the wealth and beauty she had. She had no right to be interested in someone like me. I was no one. From a poor family. I was not handsome in the normal sense. My family was made up of abusers, simple people (like Bela), and until just today, I had considered us part of a very low job status in the area. We were liked, sure. But no one invited us over for lunch. Only the Yghtl invited us, and only because it invited everyone.

I found myself growing angry, but not ready to cry. It was an old fight I’d had with myself many times. The argument over how the world was unjust and I needed to get away from the evil in my family. I would do anything to get away. And I found myself growing tired, walking through the same well-walked dirt roads of my mind, where the dead end was my own suffering.

And there it was. I would not try to understand the thief. Not this time. My dad had stolen the goodness of our family. He was the reason we were outcast from our family. He was the one that needed to pay. I did not care for the reason he did what he did. I only cared about what he had done to me. I would make him pay. If I didn’t, we would never find peace. But here and now, I would lie to Dran.

“You’re talking about some deep things. And understanding people seems like something that would make the world a better place. It’s worth considering.” After saying this, it was determined that it might be better to go farther, making sure he didn’t think I was just writing him off. “And for R'osy, I think it might be good if I got to know the ‘why’ of her actions.”

“A worthy endeavor.”

I asked him to explain the word ‘endeavor’ and the conversation jumped to other topics until we made our way back into town.