One day, as I was disputing with the Stream over what went better with stream grass in a stew, carrots or radishes, Anil came storming in.
“I want to take my test today.”
In my deep state of concentration – the sort of state needed to communicate with the Stream – I didn’t hear him.
He came closer. “Solania! I want to take my test today.”
The use of my real name jolted me back to reality. As my apprentice, Anil was supposed to address me as “Mistress” or some other respectful title, and my status as Tempea called for even stricter protocol. For him to use my personal name, with no honorific accompanying it, was audacious and rude.
“No, Anil. I told you before. You’re not ready.”“How am I not ready? I’m not stupid. I can tell there is no more you can teach me. Otherwise, you would not be sending me out to other tutors.”
“That may be so, but you still are not ready. You have only done the most basic simulations and there is much of the theory you must still learn.”
“The Powers declared me the greatest FutureBender of this generation! With the Powers behind me, what use is all this theory?”
I rose to my full height, grabbing my staff. Anil had to be stopped, before he went any closer to outright blasphemy.
“Anil, speak no more, lest the Powers take the glorious destiny they have promised you away, as they have been known to do. Remember that your father gave his life in defense of the Powers against the mighty Kharthanos, so that you and your mother might live. Remember that Jansen, his dear friend, took your mother in as his wife so that the two of you might not be alone and helpless.” I pointed my staff at him. “Do not presume to be more than you are.”
