Yhako's take on his brothers and himself

    “I am surprised that Ansidrion would take such bold action these days,” I admitted.

    “Oh?  I suppose I am as well.”  Yhako shrugged.  “But what causes your surprise?”

    “Because I had always thought of him as slothful!”  I chuckled.  “He has never to me seemed the sort of man who might take direct action to solve a problem, even when he so fully believes in the solution.”

    “Slothful?”  Yhako pursed his lips.  “I do not suppose I had ever thought of him in such terms.”

    “Not ever?  But how about the way that the man sleeps half of his days away?  Look at how he lives his life:  either sleeping or in his studies.  I understand that the two of you have arranged it as such, but a man who spends half his time in his bed and the other half at his desk is the kind that will have many hours for thought but narry a minute for action.”

    “No, Fe’n.  It is not this way at all.  Ansidrion has not behaved this way out of sloth, but rather from pride.  He sees himself as a prophet who has yet to reveal his prophecy. He believes that he shall one day discover a great truth unto which many men will be drawn.  He believes he is capable of everything that bespeaks glory.  I cannot even begin to explain how intensely he was drawn to Maddith’s Miracles when he first read of them.  Every day it was a new revelation from him; ‘Yhako, I will recreate this miracle,’ or ‘I believe I know of several miracles that Maddith has forgotten entirely.’”  He donned a distant smile, thinking fondly of his youth with his brother.  “Recall how doubtfully he responded when you spoke of your Pelatt.”

    “He absolutely refused to consider that P’att might be the Noble Laborer." I agreed. "But then how can he take such interest in The Miracles?”

    “He does not doubt The Miracles, or the Noble Laborer, or you.  He could not consider that you had revealed this miracle, for if your P’att had been the Noble Laborer, that would mean that he might never find his own.  You did not intend it, of course, and I doubt Ansidrion even realized it immediately, but you alienated that miracle from him.”

    Ansidrion had had a rigid determination to be correct at the cost of everything else, but I had always thought it had been because of conviction in his education.  I did not consider that it was deeper, that it got to what he saw as his life’s purpose.  But if he were so determined to be a revealer of truth, it seemed very contrary to the concept of reform, for how could he be open to anything other than his own ideas?  But I declined to say this at this moment.  Instead, I returned to the original topic.  “Then how has this led him to the Ilepyan Brotherhood?”

    Yhako did not respond to this query directly, but instead went far astray.  “Federan, I wish you could have known Sirlay.  He was truly a great man, and you might understand our history and cause with much greater significance had he been able to lead you.”

    “But I have known of Sirlay through his words.  He has sent me many letters, and although I neglected to read them at the time, I have since reviewed many of them, and gleaned great knowledge from them.”

    “But Sirlay is words least of all.  He was a man of action, a man of leadership.  I am not surprised that he would have been seen as a leader of the revolution in Yafia, as a man even worthy of assassination by that evil bishop.  I have met no man as adept as he at finding the proper solution, and bringing it about without hesitation or flaw.”

    “Then we need a man like him here in Ilepya now, do we not?”

    “Indeed, precisely.  Sirlay is exactly what we need in this time and place.  Ansidrion has realized it, as well, and he now seeks to be Sirlay.  He has been a man of letters long enough; now he feels that his prophecy will come in the form of deed.”

    “And do you believe it?  Can Ansidrion become Sirlay?”

    “I do not know, Federan.  Ansidrion has never been a man of deed.  He has never truly sought to put his learning to use.  I suppose that the Ilepyan Brotherhood will be the first test thereof.  His likeliest downfall, of course, is that he will probably feel entitled to leadership, and I worry that this might prevent him from doing the most good he possibly can.”

    “But that is the way with us all, I suppose.  When we first try anything, we must have our way at it, and must learn through our failures along the way.”  Yhako nodded and we were silent for a moment.  “But if Sirlay was a man of action whom Ansidrion seeks to emulate, and Qhema has clearly taken her own action, then what of you and me?  Should we not take action as well?”

    Yhako smiled.  “There is still the priesthood for you, is there not?  Or has that since changed?”  I smiled and shook my head to acknowledge the jest.  But then Yhako sighed.  “It has never quite seemed right.  I am not a leader like Sirlay; Grontinion is not for me.  I am not adventurous like Qhema; Vendi Alisia is not for me.  I am not bold like Ansidrion; the Ilepyan Brotherhood is not for me.  None of it seems to fit me very well.  But you shall find yours yet.”

    Yhako seemed wistful, vulnerable for the first time ever I had seen.  It made me uncomfortable, and I immediately sought to argue.  “As shall you, Yhako!  None of those things are right for me, either.  Each of us shall find his path.”

    “No, I am becoming an old man now, and the time for me to make my way in this world has come and passed.  I shall be a scholar; a man who studies letters and shares his insights with others.”

    “Old man?  Nonsense!  You are but a year older than Ansidrion, who is only now making his way with the Ilepyan Brotherhood.  You still have many years ahead of you, and besides, you might be able to achieve amazing things in very little time.”

    “Unless this is enough for me.  Perhaps to be a man of letters is all I want.  I am quite accomplished at it, after all.”

    “Indeed, you are the wisest man I have ever met, Yhako, and I doubt there is a scholar as talented as you in this entire country.  But this talent is one that you should share with the world; one through which you can bring about great things.”

    “And I have already begun to, for if you will permit me, I would like to claim a bit of work for you.  You shall do remarkable things, I know, and I suppose one must credit your elder brothers who, in your youth, constantly harassed you until you changed your course.”

    He smiled and I met his, but I did not feel joy.  He spoke almost as a man on his deathbed might speak to his son, and it seemed to lack hope entirely.  I had always thought of Yhako as a man concerned with the future where Ansidrion was far too contained in the present, but if an eye to the future produced such a melancholy outlook, perhaps there was no reason for optimism.  “I will grant you claim for me, of course, but you must know that you will do greater things than change my feeble mind, brother.”

    “I see no such thing as greater than that.”  And then he stood and left the room, patting my shoulder as he passed by.  He had given me a fresh perspective on Ansidrion, but I now worried for him, Yhako, as he seemed to be a man without hope entirely.  I knew he was capable of more if he could alter his path just as Ansidrion just had, but at the very least, I could give him hope by achieving the greatness he had come to expect in me.