“That is the reason, master.”
“No, my son,” the monkey presses. “That is a reason … but it is not the reason.” Adamek remains silent. “Let me put it another way. When I first agreed to take you in, several years ago, everyone told me I was insane. To willingly train the son of the Chancellor? My brothers believed you would abuse our teachings, twisting them for your father’s destructive purposes. You were so set in your ways, so belligerent, so intolerant of anyone unlike yourself. But when I met you, I saw goodness in you. It was hidden from those who were not looking for it. But the roots ran deep. I still see that goodness, Adamek, although you have long lost the way.”
“Why are you telling me this?” he asks.
The monkey gently grasps Adamek’s hands, stares at them. “The weights you bear are much heavier than when I saw you last,” he says sadly. Adamek looks away, ashamed. The monkey touches Adamek’s back, right over his dusza. “But your soul remains intact. And I sense a change within you that, for a long time, I feared was hopeless.” He carefully inspects Adamek’s left forearm.
“Almost a year now,” Adamek says quietly.
“It suits you.”
“So you won’t help us?” Adamek asks, bowing his head respectfully.
The monkey embraces him. “No,” he says. “But you knew that already.” Adamek gives him one final, searching look before turning to leave. He walks past Nazirah, who clumsily rises to her feet. She glances at the monkey, only to find him smiling serenely at her. “My son,” he calls out, “one last thing.”
“Master?”
“Remember the first rule.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Nazirah tosses restlessly all night, unable to shut her brain off. Adamek wouldn’t answer a single question on the journey back to the manor, would barely speak to her at all. Nazirah has to see the monkey again before leaving Shizar. She bites her nails to the quick the next day, waiting until Adamek and Aldrik are scheduled to meet with the miners. When she can’t take it anymore, she grabs her coat, exits through the servants’ entrance without a hitch, and sets off towards the monastery.
She gets to the hanging bridge easily enough, and musters all of her courage to actually traverse it by herself. But she does it, teeth clacking, knuckles white, panting hard. Her nose starts running uncontrollably halfway across, but Nazirah doesn’t dare wipe it until her feet are on solid ground.
Nazirah enters the monastery, endorphins running high. A few stray zimbaba shuffle near the door and she walks up to one. “Excuse me,” she says, unsure of where to begin. “I’m looking for the monkey … I mean … Monk Yi. Do you know where I can find him?” The zimbaba only smiles complacently, enigmatic. “Hello?” she says, waving her hand in front of his face, “Anyone home?”
“It is rude to try to break the silence of a silent zimbaba.”
Nazirah jumps. “I was looking for you,” she says, turning around.
“Not only are you rude, Nazirah Nation,” the monkey replies, “you are also late. I have been expecting you for quite some time. Please follow me.”
Surprised, Nazirah follows him into an empty chamber. The monkey closes the door softly, gestures for Nazirah to take a seat. She shrugs off her coat as he sits across from her. “I’m sorry,” she says, embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to be rude … or late.”
The monkey smiles kindly. “It’s quite all right,” he says. “A sincere apology goes a long way.”
“How did you know who I was?”
“Only a blind man would not recognize your face, Nazirah,” he responds. “Luckily for you, but unluckily for the rest of us, the world is full of the blind. Especially among those blessed with the gift of sight.”
“But how did you know I would come here?” she persists.
“Because I am not blind,” he says simply.
“Oh.”
“I heard what you called me before.”
Nazirah’s eyes grow wide. “I didn’t … I wasn’t.…”
The monkey holds up a gloved hand. “I am teasing you,” he chuckles, touching a large, wrinkled ear. “It is my defining characteristic. There are twenty-six monks in Shizar, always. You saw one of my brothers, Monk Ji, yesterday. When I first joined the order, I was christened Monk Yi. I quite like my more commonly used nickname, though. Monkeys are intelligent, curious and friendly … all things I strive to be.”
“Is that what your family calls you?”
“They’ve all passed,” he replies thoughtfully. “I had a name once. But that too has eroded from my mind like water on stone.”
“You don’t remember?” she asks, astonished.
“It was a very long time ago.”
“How long could it possibly be?”
He only smiles. “Enough of my misfortunes,” he says. “You did not come here for that.”
“I don’t know why I’ve come here, to be honest.”
“No idea at all?”
“Confusion, I guess,” Nazirah says. “About Morgen. I want some answers.”
“An answer begins with a question.”
Nazirah struggles for the words. “Lately,” she says, “I’ve felt … better … when he’s around.”
“And?”
She sighs. “And … happier.”
“And?”
“And … human.”
“That is still not a question.”
“What kind of a person,” she asks earnestly, “does that make me?”
“A very good person, I would imagine.”
“I don’t feel very good,” she says. “I feel like a selfish, scared coward most of the time.”
“But not all of the time?”
“I guess not.”
“You wear your grief like armor,” the monkey says. “It is sad to see, especially in one so young.”
“Your student caused my grief.”
“But you are the one letting it fester.”
“Do you take no responsibility?” she demands. “He learned everything from you!”
The monkey stares solemnly at his gloved hands. “Not everything,” he says quietly. “I do blame myself, Nazirah, more than you realize. I blame myself for not being a better teacher, like my own master was to me. But I do not regret training him. We all stray from the path. How we find it again … that is what truly defines a person.”
“Have I strayed?”
“Would you be here otherwise?”
“Aren’t you supposed to be silent or something?” she huffs in annoyance.
“There are many types of zimbaba,” the monkey says, laughing, “just like there are many types of people. You have a rebellious spirit. I can see why he likes you.”
“He has a funny way of showing it.”
“I’m sure he does,” the monkey says. “But you would not have been here yesterday, if he did not.”
“Why is he so reckless?”
“Nazirah,” he says seriously, “do not ask a question, if you do not want to know the answer.” Nazirah looks at him oddly. “Ask me something you really want to know.”
“How do I forgive him?” she whispers.
The monkey is quiet for a long time. “Before we agree to train a student,” he says, “the brotherhood gives a series of tests. I do not typically offer them to a civilian, but I feel you may benefit from one.”
“What kind of test?” Nazirah asks warily, worried he might try and dangle her over the ravine or something.
“One of the hardest order,” he answers. “A test of forgiveness.”
She thinks it over before responding. “Okay,” she agrees eventually.
The monkey nods, stripping off his gloves. Nazirah cannot help but stare at his hands, which are so blackened with scratches and scars they make Adamek’s look pristine. “As I said,” he whispers sadly, noticing her focus, “We all stray from the path.”
The monkey grasps her hands, chanting in an archaic, babbling tongue. The edges around him blur. The room twists, disappears. His song booms, warps, and then fades away entirely. The monkey’s grip tightens and loosens, becoming effervescent. And then he isn’t there at all.
Loud ringing destroys her ears. Nazirah winces, squeezing her eyes shut. As soon as she does, the ringing stops, followed only by dampened silence. When she opens them again, Nazirah finds she isn’t in the monastery anymore. She isn’t even in Zima.