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Igrun did not envy Tekehu. He did not envy any of the godlikes. Always in the middle of attention since childhood. Standing out from the crowd. Disdain, praise, disgust, love, fascination... Always something, never indifferent. He deeply understood Tekehu's need to be seen for himself. The Watcher himself had at least a few years to enjoy being a nobody. No home to remember, no parents to disappoint, no duty to fulfil... Just a nobody left on the doorstep of a monastery, unwanted. He saw it as a gift, a great one. He followed and learnt the way of the monk order, because... why not? Did he really need a reason. Fate chose it for himself and who was he to oppose it? He did not care enough.
Well, he did care. But not at the start. The caring came only later on. The monastery never felt like a home. So him who was left decided to leave as well. And then he drifted from one place to another. Like a leaf carried by the wind. No home. The absolute freedom; this was his own way of the monk.
Tekehu never left. Loyalty, that was what bound him to the Huana. He had a purpose and a calling – and this alone probably made him a better person than Igrun. Or at least he convinced everybody that he believed in a higher purpose. Igrun did not. He never did – even as a child, listening to the masters at the monastery – he was already plagued by doubt and questions. Nobodies did not have purposes and callings. Igrun himself was weirdly OK with that. He never understood what Gods chose him for their confident. Weird choice, weirdly made any sense. He could point to so many people that would be a better fit – Tekehu and his sense of loyalty, Xoti and her unwavering belief... While he had nothing else than doubt and failed to find omens and hidden meanings. In his eyes – everything was a coincidence; him being the Watcher included. Gods, what a bullshit. They were lost all the same as himself. Lost, weak and petty. He never spoke about his conversations with Gods to Tekehu. It was his cynical truth – it was not made for everybody. Some people were better off with stories. With a purpose. World needed people with purposes.
“Did you ever think about being a no one, just a face in the crowd?” Igrun asked, tracing the colourful scales on Tekehu's hands. He liked not being recognized, anonymous. His own face was plain, so easy to forget. A human monk in dirty clothes and sometimes going unwashed for weeks. Un-remembered. Un-noticed. Inconsequential.
“Well, I wouldn't be so handsome. Would you notice me if I was a no one?” he answered back with a question.
“It was not what I asked.”
“In some way it is an answer. I do not regret my life, our adventure and, well, I do not regret meeting you. These things make me.”
“These is freedom in owning nothing and believing in nothing.” But what about freedom? Wasn't freedom a thing? These kind of questions were why Igrun never made a good monk acolyte.
“Monk talk? Asceticism never tempted me. I like think glorious and huge. As flamboyant as myself. I want to own things, I want to believe, I want to love. All the talk about nothing does sound lonely. Not like freedom.”
Igrun did not answer right away. Was he lonely or free? Or maybe both? His people, lovers and family were people met on the road. Friends for one or two days, rarely any longer. On the road, people had their own destinations they wanted to reach one day. And then they were not any more on the road. Well, not all people. Igrun believed that his destination was the road itself. Nowhere to reach to. A commendable goal for a nobody. Why bother with a destination if no one waited for him. Only the road, his old boots and a new sunrise each morning. A life with no strings. He decided to change the subject.
“Who do you see when you look at me? The Watcher?”
“Of course that I see the Watcher, because one cannot separate a man from his duty.” He made a pause. “But I do also see someone who do not trust his own voice.”
“I'm the Watcher, not the Talker.”
“And still, people run to you for your wisdom and council.”
“What if I have no wisdom to share?”
“Silence is also a kind of wisdom. I don't know how you stand me and my pride.”
“It's refreshing to see someone who knows who knows what is wrong and what is good. I never know. All turns into a grey mash.” He sighed. “I just improvise and go by intuition.”
“Good? Wrong? Ridiculous! Everybody always wants something different.”
“Yes”, he nodded.
“Even you want something from me”, Tekehu continued patiently.
Igrun shut up once again. His silence was equal to confessing his fault. Yes, of course that he wanted. He wanted so much. Tekehu's unconditional trust. The optimism that he was lacking in himself. The naïve love full of hope, that somehow did not get tarnished by all these years.
“Don't worry, Igrun. I do also want something from you”, Tekehu broke the silence. He longed for someone who did not see a godlike first, the saviour of the Huana people. He wanted someone to get him out of his golden cage. And the Watcher seemed to be the perfect candidate – not a Huana, complete stranger to the Deadfile Archipelago and surprisingly sceptic about about Gods for a chosen one.
“I know that I want. It was actually the reason why I left the monastery. I couldn't let go of the yearning. I wanted more and more. More travels, more people, more stories to learn and tell. It is why I make a better Watcher than ascetic monk, you see. Collecting stories and memories... It's a duty that fits alright on my shoulders.”
“Do you mean that you welcome the duty?” He seemed surprised.
“This one, not all of them. Helping people to join the Wheel of rebirth... This is a duty that feels good. But leadership?” He shook his head. “Negotiating with Gods? Not my thing.”
“I have always wanted to ask you. How is it to talk with Gods directly. To me they speak only in subtle omens. I never know what they really want.”
“They do not make more sense to me. You know that I never cared much about what they wanted.” Selfish pricks and nothing of interest.
“Gods have chosen as strange one to talk to.”
“Maybe actually it is what they need. Someone who don't care about them.”
“Why Berath? Tell me please. It's not the most joyful and romantic of the Gods.”
Berath. Cold, endless gaze. Knowing all. A visage with no emotions. Always standing right. Duty. It was all about the Duty to maintain the drift through the Wheel. The ultimate calling and purpose.
“Hmmm... I like the idea of the Wheel, being an endless cycle. You live, you die and you live again a new life. A never-ending drift. All inconsequential against the unavoidable Wheel.”
“Do you think that we'll meet each other in the next lifetime?”
“It would be great, but if not – just in case – let's make this lifetime matter.” He caressed him on the cheek.
“Yes, once we deal with all the mess, let's take the ship and sail all over the archipelago.”
“Let's not talk to any Gods no more.”
“And no politicians.”
“Absolutely.” He smiled. “Though, won't you get bored without your needy fans?”
“I don't know. Maybe. Probably yes. Though, they may miss me more than I will them. Any what about you?”
“I fear that I will get bored... Let's say we'll at least take a vacation for some time.”