He mutters something I don’t quite catch, stands up, and marches himself out of the room.
I can’t help it. I start laughing again.
But I nevertheless yank my pants back up and start moving.
He’s going to respect my needs.
I think I may need to do better at respecting them, too.
And for that, I need to move.
Chapter 22
I’mthinkingaboutwalls.
Outside, in front of the cottage I share with Zan, I move through the forms of a kata.
I want Zan inside my walls—literally and metaphorically.
I felt uncomfortable at first with the idea of a lock, and I think I need to examine that.
Five hundred years ago, the Order walled me into a room with no exit. I was trapped.
But I was also, in a way, safe from them, for the first time in my life.
The problem wasn’t so much the wall, as that I didn’t have the key.
Well, I suppose Idid, but I couldn’t use it without hurting myself.
The ability—thefreedom—to open the door is the difference.
That I could have a space for myselfby choiceis the difference.
And—that I could choose to let someone in.
That I couldnotbe alone.
That isn’t something that ever occurred to me as apossibilityback then.
Sages are always alone.
But maybe they don’t have to be.
Maybe, there’s a space between lettingeveryonein and lettingno onein.
Walls, yes—and also keys.
Zan is the key, for me.
How do I make him know that? I’m not Teren; comfort is not my gift to give.
Can he feel at home with me with all my wrath?
A hitch in my kata; there’s something there.
I chase that thought.
Can he feel at home with mebecauseof my wrath?
