A messenger delivers a scrap of paper to the offices of the Archon. Itis penned in Willow's spidery script that has grown so very familiar tohim. Oddly though, instead of bearing the daily progress report, itinstead holds an odd (and unfinished) story…
There was once a merchant who sold fine pots from his stall in themarket. His pots were well known for their unique decorations andinteresting shapes. Although he never sculpted the pots himself andnever felt he had the hand for it, it was his job to appraise the worksof his sculptors. He felt he had a good eye to know a good pot from thebad, despite his lack of personal experience in creating them.
The merchant traveled from city to city to judge the pots and appraisewhich would be sold in his market. He had several assistants who servedunder him who eventually became famous potters themselves. One inparticular was almost like a son to him, whom he loved very dearly. Italmost broke the merchant's heart to see his assistant leave in order tolive by his own works, but his heart was comforted by a little red potthe boy had made for him.
While in a far off land seeking new business, the merchant met with thenew pottery-master of a troupe of sculptors who made beautiful pots – their work was especially well known for having decorative handles and asmall gold bead placed inside the pot as a sort of signature. The newmaster had been in place for only a few short years, having taken therole from an older sibling who had died of a tragic illness four yearsprevious. The merchant knew of the younger brother because during oneof his visits the young boy had presented him with a gift of a green potto drink tea from. The merchant still had the gift and treasured it asthe young boy had shown promise as a sculptor and seemed very kind.
As the merchant studied the wares more closely, he found them to beflawed. They had not been left in the fires long enough and wouldeventually crack and chip with time. The paints were not good and wouldfade. The sculpting on several pots was badly done and made the waresmore prone to breaking, or unbalanced them. When he asked about thechange in the quality of the wares, he was told that nothing was wrong.With the passing of his older sibling, the new pottery-master had beenoffered advice by the workers under him for new techniques and new waysof making the pots that would make them more beautiful and better. Andat first glance – without closer inspection – the pots did indeed look moreglorious than those of the predecessor.
The merchant tried to show the flaws in the pots to the pottery-masterand was met at first with denial. After all, how would someone such asthe merchant, who does not make pots with his own hands, know thedifficulties in creating them? When it was suggested that his workerswere giving him flawed advice, he was laughed at. Were these not the menwho also served under his older brother so well? How could theypossibly wish to bring down the very thing that gave them theirlivelihood?
Again the merchant pleaded with the pottery-master to reconsider.Perhaps the workers were hoping that by making a more visually appealingproduct they could earn more money. Perhaps a rival potter had bribedthem to quietly bring down the pottery-master by making inferior waresand were hiding behind the false intetions of trying new things andexperiments. Or, perhaps they were doing it just to do it. Perhaps theysaw their new master as someone they could influence and were testingtheir boundaries.
The pottery-master was infuriated and demanded that the merchant leavehis grounds that moment. After that moment he refused to ever dobusiness with the merchant again. The merchant, holding only sorrow inhis heart, agreed to the master's wishes and left. But he promisedhimself on the journey home that he would tell the other merchants to bewary of the wares that the pottery-master sold, because although theywere pretty they would fade and break much too quickly.
Years passed and the merchant grew old. After much thought he decidedthat it was time to choose a successor for his place. He had no familyand few qualified friends, so instead he decided that the one to takehis place must be a sculptor – one with eyes well trained to spot theflaws in the work.
So the contest began. The merchant tried not to think about the namesof the people in his contest, but one of his helpers had let it slip thathis old assistant whom he had loved was among the finalists, as was arival who only wished to possess his business so he could destroy it.
With these thoughts weighing on his mind, the merchant looked over thefew pots remaining. He knew that one belonged to his old assistant andanother belonged to his rival, but did not know which ones. He took somecomfort in that, because it taught him that he should be wary, but alsonot to let his biases or affections influence his decision. He wishedto choose the best pot that had been given him, nothing more.
It was while examining the pots that the merchant came across one of themore beautiful ones. It showed the signs of being made by one workerand in the traditional way. There were flaws in its design here andthere, but nothing that could not be repaired. The merchant felt thatthe pot was one of the most fantastic ones he had been presented withand he picked it up to examine it closer.
As he picked the pot from the shelf, he heard something rattle inside.As he looked into it he saw a bright golden bead shining up at him. Hestudied the pot closer and saw that it also had a beautifully sculptedhandle. His eyes flicked towards his shelf of keepsakes and he comparedthe pot in his hands to a small green teapot on the shelf. He wasn'tsure and he had no proof, but he was certain that the pots were sculptedby the same hand.
Miserable, the merchant sat down at his desk and smoked his pipe. Whatwas he to do? Could he trust himself to make a fair decision now thathe felt he knew the name and identity of one of his sculptors? What ifhe was wrong? Could he force himself to judge the pot by its own meritsand not by his past bad experiences? He knew that if he focused toomuch on the identities of his pottery makers, that he would lose sight ofthe beauty of the pots, but how could he teach his eyes to see only thepot and not the maker of it?
Weary, the merchant went to bed. One pot that he had chosen was someonewho, as far as he knew, was neither friend nor enemy. One was from theperson whom he loved as a son and would have gladly given all that hehad. One was from one person that could destroy all he loved and helddear. And a little green pot sculpted by skilled hands with a beautifulhandle was made by someone that the potter feared might still hold thesame flaws as he had seen in a smaller shop long long ago, but whose potwhich sat on his shelf showed true beauty and skill.
With these thoughts troubling his mind, the merchant fell asleep.
Dear Archon, do you have any advice for this humble merchant to helphim pick not the best person, but the best pot?
Willow quietly lit her pipe as she sat on the steps of the monastary. Atarp had been set up over the steps to keep the rain off, but the air wasstill thick with moisture and made lighting the pipe all the moredifficult. It took several attempts and a couple of burned fingertipsbefore the tobacco relented and began to smolder.
It was a habit that Willow had supposedly given up long ago, but theSkreek needed to relax and keep her mind alert at the same time. So farnicotine had proven to be only useful soloution, although judging by theglares of some of the passers by on the street it was still not an idealsolution. At the moment Willow didn't care. She needed time to thinkand time alone. People tended to bug you less when you were puffing outclouds of bad smelling smoke.
"I think the thing that scares me the most is … what ifLight-of-Star is the best ruler here? But there's been no threatening,no declarations of wishing to bring down holy fire or other suchgibberish," the Skreek thought to herself. "I don't want tothink that he's the best leader – so all I can think about is that he'sa convincing talker, and that makes him a liar – or leastwise he'sselective about the truths he chooses to speak of. I just wish I couldcome up with some plan to sniff him out already."
Willow chuckled to herself and blew a smoke ring out into the rainstorm,watching the droplets dissipate it in an instant. "If it was so easy,then Archon would have done so already. No … I need to start resortingto more active methods besides bumping into people. I need to talk headto head with the candidates and start sparring with some of them."
She sucked on her pipe again. "Ebony-Yellow could be a problem, butI can't think of her as who I think she is. I don't think that theAzhtar I knew from Sinai is fit to rule here … but I cannot let thatrule my mind. It might not be Azhtar at all – For all I know, it'sMoon-Brow or maybe even Third-Vision … hmph. Or maybe it's my long lostmum reborn as a Savanite. I need to stop thinking about it and judgewith my eyes here and not by what I've seen in the past. Good thingSebazhan's here to help me keep my mind level."
The last few leaves in the rat's pipe smoldered into ash as she finishedher smoke. "So let's start on that battle plan. I need to meet withSteel-Magenta, Violet-Copper, Seafoam-Turquoise, Royal-Bronze, andEbony-Yellow sometime to discuss things with them, and I need to gosparring against Royal-Bronze and Emerald-Goldenrod. And I suppose Ishould try to slip in spots with the other contendors and theirreplacements just to keep it looking real and random."
Willow pocketed her pipe and then stepped out into the rain, letting thecold droplets soak into her fur and clothing, washing out the smell oftobacco. She stood there for several minutes with her arms out and hereyes closed, feeling the rain touch her and chill her skin as shequietly whispered her prayers to the Star, asking for guidance andthanking it for the help it had granted her so far.
When she returned to the halls of the monastary she was wet andshivering, but resolved. She changed clothing in her quarters andprepared for her next plan.
Smoke-Veridian and Vermillion-Pink stood in Willow's office. They werenot the original workers, but instead had quietly been replaced by mensent to observe the behavior of the candidates, and who were loyal to thecurrent Archon. The Skreek drummed her fingers against her desk as shefollowed their signs, taking in their bits of report for the day.
When it was over, she nodded her approval and then raused her own handsto sign. "Tomorrow you are all being sent out into the groves toplant trees. I have chosen you for this job because those that youreplaced were arrogant enough that what I ask of you will not causesuspicion."
The two robed cheetahs shifted their feet, looking somewhat puzzled.
"Vermillion-Pink, you will be with the digging group. I have dividedyou all into groups of six. Your group will have Violet-Copper,Seafoam-Turquoise, Crimson-Teal, Midnight-White, and Hazel-Blue – plusyourself makes six. Smoke-Veridian, your group will consist ofRoyal-Bronze, Ebony-Yellow, Cobalt-Black, Steel-Magenta, andEmerald-Goldenrod. Your group will be clearing the ground for thediggers and you should have no contact with the other group. The othertwo groups will consist of the rest of the replacements … and Ice-Platinum, as a 'control'," Willowsigned.
The Skreek flexed her sore fingers, pausing for a moment to rest beforesigning, "I want you to tell the ones in your group that I had theboth of you cleaning my chambers, and during this time you overheard meand my husband talking about Sinai. Tell that you heard me mention thatI had been thrown out of the Silent-Ones city by their ruler, that I wasa slave-owner at one time, and that you think you heard me say somethingabout being a pirate as well. If your story is questioned, then statethat the other one of you can verify the story."
"What will this accomplish, besides causing the contestants todislike you?" Vermillion-Pink signed.
"I want you to gauge their reactions. Who accuses you of lying andcausing trouble? Who leaps upon this information as an excuse todislike me? Who comes to me for the truth? Who gossips it to one ofthe other false-candidates, and who exaggerates it? I expect a fullreport of the conversation upon your return."
The two cheetahs nodded and a few questions later they departed.
Willow leaned back in her seat. "And the day after that I'll startdoing interviews and sparring. Star guide me."
The scribe Tree-Rings walked up to Lady Willow of Dack, and bowed low, then presented her with a translucent cylinder made of the crystal-seeming but somehow elastic material that the Silent-Ones used in their message scrolls. In the hands of the Skreek, the scroll unrolled as one of parchment might, except that it became a rigid and flat tablet with rollers at top and bottom once fully extended, and the translucent surface was filled with matrices of very fine veins that individually darkened to form writing. There was the seal of the Archon, and the usual honorifics of a message addressed to Willow. The meat of the message read as follows:
An important factor in answering your question is to realize that while the merchant seeks to choose the best pot in his contest, it is still in his interests to find the best potter. For the sake of honor, for the sake of integrity, and for the sake of finding respect and support for his decision – from his workers and customers – he has chosen to look at the pots instead of the potters.
Every pot fashioned by the hands of a potter bears marks of the potter, most certainly if it is lovingly and skillfully crafted. No pot can be wholly judged on its own merits, without considering the potter, for the pot could not be made without the potter. The old merchant is not to be faulted for his knowledge. Such is the trouble that faces all judges. For them to be proper judges, they must know something of the realm that they judge. The merchant should know pots and potters. It would be impossible – and undesirable – for him to forget what he has learned.
Ultimately, it is the merchant's decision. Is he afraid that he will be accused of favoritism? If he chooses the pot of the beloved apprentice, is he afraid that the rival will claim that the choice was unfair? Truly, if that is the danger, he will be accused, whether the claim was valid or not, for the rival cannot know how the master came to his decision – he can only see the decision that has been made.
Should the merchant willfully choose the pot of the rival simply for the appearance of impartiality? Only if the appearance of impartiality is of utmost importance, over all other concerns – integrity included.
The merchant shall be in danger of criticism no matter what he chooses. That is the nature of contests, the nature of judges, and the nature of men who are rivals. The merchant is accountable to his own conscience and to those above him. In your story, those above him would perhaps be his customer, for he wishes to ensure that the customer receives a pot of the greatest quality.
Do not fear. The merchant should look at the pots, and, to the best of his conscience, choose which one is of greatest merit to him. He should not second-guess himself, or he will chase his tail in circles, in games of self-doubt. If he should choose the wrong successor, that would be less than desirable … but remember that he has left a legacy already, in his beloved apprentice, and the work he has created before. Should his successor create flawed work, his customer may realize this … and purchase better quality elsewhere. Should his successor ruin the business, then may the Star grant that the workers may seek better employers.
I cannot finish your story for you. The story does not say which of the pots is – in the eyes of the merchant – the most valued. The merchant must still make that decision, but should not be rushed to it. If he should make his decision and find that the chosen pot belongs to the unworthy rival, or to an unskilled sculptor, then that is another problem to be dealt with in time. The contest is for the benefit of the merchant. If the contest proves to be flawed, then there is always the recourse of casting aside the results – praising the pot, but stating plainly that the potter cannot be the successor.
Such a course will bring its own trouble, but honesty and integrity shall ultimately prevail over hardship. Do not lose heart. I trust in the merchant's integrity.
