"So it all comes down to Akma and my sons," said Motiak. "No," said Chebeya. "It all comes down to Akma. Those boys of yours would never be doing this either, Motiak, if it weren't for Akma."
"That was the meaning of the dream the Keeper sent me," said Akmaro. "It all comes down to Akma, and none of us has the slightest power to reach him. We've all tried-well, Pabul couldn't, because Akma would never let him come close. But the rest of us have tried, and we can't bend him, and as long as we can't stop Akma, we can't waken the decency of the people, so what does it matter?"
"You're not suggesting," said Motiak, "that I arrange the assassination of your own son?"
"No!" she cried. "See how you think of power as a matter of weapons, Motiak? And you, Akmaro, it's words, words, teaching, talking, that's what power means to you. But this problem is beyond what you can solve with your ordinary tools."
"What then?" said Shedemei. "What tools should'we use?"
"No tools at all!" cried Chebeya. "They don't work!"
Shedemei extended her open hands. "There I am," she said, "unarmed, my hands are empty. Fill them! Show me what to do and I'll do it! So will any of us!"
"I can't show you because I don't know. I can't give you tools because there are no tools. Don't you see? What Akma is wrecking- it's not our plan."
"If you're saying we should just leave it up to the Keeper," said Akmaro, "then what's the point of anything? Binaro said it-we're the Keeper's hands and mouths in this world."
"Yes, when the Keeper needs action or speech, we're the ones to do it. But that's not what's needed now!"
Akmaro reached out and took his wife's hands in his. "You're saying that we shouldn't just leave things up to the Keeper. You're saying we should demand that the Keeper either do something or show us what to do."
"The Keeper knows that," said Shedemei. "She hardly needs us to tell her what should be obvious."
"Maybe she needs us to admit that it's up to her. Maybe she needs us to say that whatever she decides, we will abide by it. Maybe it's time for Akma's father to say to the Keeper, Enough. Stop my son."
"Do you think I haven't begged the Keeper for answers?" Akmaro said, offended.
"Exactly," said Chebeya. "I've heard you, talking to the Keeper, saying, ‘Show me what to do. How can I save my son? How can I bring him back from these terrible things?' Doesn't it occur to you that the only reason the Keeper hasn't stopped Akma up to now is for your sake?"
"But I want him to stop."
"That's right!" cried Chebeya. "You want him to stop. That's what you plead for, over and over. I've seen the connection between you. Even though it's rage on his part and agonized frustration on yours, the ties of love between you are stronger than I've ever seen between any two people in my life. Think what that means-in all your pleas, you are really asking the Keeper to spare your son."
"Your son too," said Akmaro softly.
"I've shed the same tears as you, Kmadaro," she said. "I've said the same prayers to the Keeper. But it's time to utter a new prayer. It's time to say to the Keeper that we value her children more than we value ours. It's time for you to beg the Keeper of Earth to stop our son. To set the people of Darakemba free from his foul, foul influence."
Motiak couldn't see what her point was. "I just sent Edhadeya to try to warn my boys to be careful-are you saying I should have sent soldiers to assassinate Akma?"
"No," said Akmaro, answering for Chebeya so she wouldn't have to weep in frustration. "No, her point is that anything we might do at this point would be useless. If someone causes harm to any of these boys, they would be martyrs and you would be blamed forever. It's not in our power-that's what Chebeya's saying."
"But I thought she was telling you to... ."
"Akma has to be stopped, but the only way to stop him, that will actually work, is for everyone to see that he was stopped, not by any power of man or woman, of angel, human, or digger, but by the plain and naked power of the Keeper of Earth. She's saying that without realizing it, I've been begging, demanding that the Keeper find a way to save my son. All that's left now is for me to stop that prayer. I think... perhaps the Keeper has trusted me with his plan for this nation, and so he won't do anything without my consent. And without realizing it, up to now I've refused to let the Keeper do the only thing that would help at all. We've tried everything else, but now it's time for me to ask the Keeper to do now what was done long ago when Sherem threatened to undo all the teachings of Oykib."
"You want the Keeper to strike your son dead?" asked Pabul, incredulous.
"No I don't!" cried Akmaro. Chebeya burst into tears. "No I don't," Akmaro said softly. "I want my son to live. But more than that, I want the people of this world to live together as children of the Keeper. More than I want to spare the life of my son. It's time for me to beg the Keeper to do whatever he must do in order to save the people of Darakemba-no matter what it costs." His eyes, too, spilled over with tears. "It's happening again, just the way it did before, when I reached out to you, Pabul, you and your brothers, and taught you to love the Keeper and reject your father's ways. I knew that I had to do that, for the good of my people, for your good, even though I could see that it was tearing my boy apart, making him hate me. I knew I was losing him then. And now I have to consent to it all over again."
"Me, too?" asked Motiak in a small voice.
"No," said Shedemei. "Your boys will return to their senses once they're not with Akma anymore. And the peace of this kingdom depends on an orderly succession. Your boys must not die."
"But a father praying for the Keeper to strike his son dead... ." said Motiak.
"I will never pray for that," said Akmaro. "I'm not wise enough to tell the Keeper how to do his work. I'm only wise enough to listen to my wife and stop demanding that the Keeper leave my son alive."
"This is unbearable," murmured Pabul. "Father Akmaro, I wish I had died back in Chelem rather than bring this day upon you."
"No one brought this day upon me" said Akmaro. "Akma brought this day upon himself. The only hope of mercy for this people is for the Keeper to give justice to my son. So that's what I'm going to ask for." He rose from the ground, sighing deeply, terribly. "That's what I'm going to ask for with my whole heart. Justice for my son. I hope that he can bear to look the Keeper in the face."