It was a strangely temperate day; an oasis of spring warmth in the midst of a cold, snowy winter. I felt serene and peaceful, and these feelings led me to believe that there might be a great change at work. I rested my head upon my pillow and closed my eyes, and the world fell silent. My mind was confused enough that I did not expect instant sleep, yet I felt peaceful enough that it came anyway.
I dreamt that Sirlay had returned home, and he scolded Yhako, Ansidrion and me all for having quarreled in his absence. Yet I did not feel ashamed, but instead as though everything had been righted, and the four of us took a meal together. Then a comely, simple man with a smooth voice and sturdy accent appeared at our door, and Sirlay introduced him as the Noble Laborer, and we hailed him and treated him to a new shirt. I felt no urgency to ask him about universal truth, but instead I encouraged him to speak of his own life, and his words put me at ease. Yet, although he spoke in an open, frank manner, describing no detail that was not absolutely relevant, I found later that I could not recall for certain a single thing he had said.
The sleep was not heavy, and I frequently traveled in and out of consciousness. This transience lured me into believing that the dream was reality. Even after I fully awoke, and saw that what would have needed several hours did not even take two, I could not shake the reality of the experience. I continued to be haunted by the excitement of an upcoming arrival and the satisfaction of all of my curiosities, before the excitement shriveled, and I remembered that I expected something that might never happen. Why had I thought so much of Sirlay, anyway? He had never been authority to me, never had any influence over me. I had only just read the whole of one of his letters for the first time in a decade! He should have been worthless to me, but I could not shake his gentle admonition: "You are a man now, Federan, and you must begin to undertake manly pursuits." Why did I put any value in this?
Determined that I should escape this false vision's grasp, I dressed myself in my coat and went outside for a walk. I marched toward Maidia Street, which was the primary source of calming walks for most Ilepyans. It was dusk now, and I wanted an hour or so to allow something else to run my mind. I tried to think about the city of Beautavus and imagine what it must look like. I intended to make a pilgrimage there one day, and wanted to test the prophecy that any Beautav of true heart will know the exact landscape and layout of the city. I had always wanted to carefully diagram a map to bring with me, in order to test this theory.
Yet, try as I might, I could not keep my focus. Sirlay kept on, refusing to leave my mind. On the street in one instant I thought I recognized the Noble Laborer from my dream, but then his face changed entirely, and he became a stuffy old man with a turned-up nose. I chose a verse from the Song of Galmosto and recited it in my head. Then I repeated it, this time translating it into Beautavan. But my mind kept drifting, and then I found myself thinking about my brothers’ rejection of the Lords' Occult and how we had argued over it once, and how Sirlay might disapprove. His name kept coming to my mind. Maidia Street was full of people, come to celebrate this beautiful winter night, and yet I found that they could not distract me from my dream. Then I heard one of them say Sirlay, and then another and another, until it was all I could hear. I had gone mad! I turned for home, knowing that Maidia Street was no place for a loon like me to wander. I despaired of ever setting my mind free again.
When I arrived at our home on Trafga Street, total darkness had fallen but, as always, there was candlelight within the home. Ansidrion would have gone to bed, and Yhako was surely looking at his books and accounts, ensuring that all of the day's orders had been filled. But when I walked in the door, Sirlay’s name still echoing through my ears, I found Yhako and Ansidrion both in the front parlor, and neither with work before him.
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