Susant looked up at the tall gates of Kingdom. The arch that opened up to the outside world was black as shadow, and he could see nothing beyond but the faint shape of rolling hills. The two moons of his world were hidden behind thick clouds, and without the light of them or the stars, it would be impossible to see anything at all.
"This is it, Susant," he said to himself. "Just take a few steps, and you'll finally get what you've always wanted, to leave this place." But no matter how long he stood there, he could not lift either of his feet. Fear had begun to creep into his being, and the sight of the dark was only more deterring.
As he stood there, he felt a flow of memories pass through him. The first time he had been allowed to sit in his father's chair in the workshop. The laughter of the children in the orphanage. The smile of the baker across the street, and the taste of his delicious bread.
For hours, Susant stood there, motionless and quiet. And every time he tried to lift his foot to take that first step, something from within the city would call out to him, reminding him that leaving might mean never coming back.
In the end, Susant did take a step, but it was back toward the city. His shoulders were slumped, his eyes dark and heavy. His soul was silent as a windless night. Utterly defeated, Susant retreated back into the city.
"I can't go back to the shop," whispered Susant. "After everything I said, how could I face him?" He sat down on a curb, leaning back on his palms. "But where am I supposed to go?" He bit his bottom lip. "Maybe this is why no one ever leaves Kingdom. Because they realize how hard it would be to live without it."
He heard the faint ringing of a bell across the street as a man walked out of a little café bar. Susant watched the man come to a stop and hold the door open. He could faintly hear the words coming out of his mouth.
"You closin' up shop soon?" the man asked to someone still inside the bar.
Susant watched as the barkeep walked up to the door. He eyed Susant for a quick second before shrugging.
"Not tonight," answered the barkeep. "I'll probably stay open another couple of hours. Who knows? Maybe someone will come wandering in." He looked up. "It's a dark night. I'm sure someone will be looking for some light."
Susant watched the first man nod and head off down the street. Realizing that he had nowhere to go, Susant got to his feet and headed over to the bar. He wasn't old enough to drink, but perhaps, if the barkeep was slow enough, he would let him sit in the back and drink some tea.
The bell rang again softly as Susant pushed open the door. Inside, the bar was fairly dark, lit here and there with a few candles. Behind the bar and polishing a glass was the barkeep, who eyed the young boy for a good, long moment.
"What can I do for you, lad?" he asked, continuing to wipe the glass.
"I was hoping I could sit somewhere quiet and drink some tea," Susant answered carefully, looking around. There wasn't a single person in the bar.
The barkeep eyed him curiously. "Just tea?"
Susant nodded.
The barkeep smiled. "Well, all right then. Nearly had me fooled. I thought you were trying to sneak yourself some spirits. Sometimes, I get some kids your age coming through, trying to pretend they're a little—"
The barkeep stopped, sensing Susant's emptiness through the look in his eyes.
"You alright, kid?"
"I'm fine, just have nowhere to go," Susant said simply, surprised by his own honesty.
"Well, I don't have a mind to pry. You can take a seat in the back. I'll be open for a few hours, so make yourself comfortable."
A few hours later, the last of the customers that had come in during Susant's time in the bar had left. The moment the last customer had gone, the bar returned to the same still quiet it had been when Susant had first arrived. And even though he had been sitting in heavy contemplation way into the late hours of the night, Susant had not made any progress at all. If anything, he was more distraught than when he had first sat down for tea.
Feeling the uneasy feeling that the barkeep would soon close up shop and ask him to leave, Susant buried his face in his hands. Everything was a mess. He wished he hadn't ever gone to see the Seer in the first place. It had only been a stupid dream anyway.
Susant heard the ringing of the bell, followed by the sound of someone walking into the bar. Peeking up from his hands, Susant eyed the old man who had entered. He had an old red shawl wrapped around his shoulders, but the way it hung reminded Susant of a king's cloak.
"I'm sorry, sir," Susant could hear the barkeep say. "But it looks like I'll be closing up shop for the night. I've already stayed open later than I normally do."
Susant watched as the old man leaned in toward the barkeep with a kind smile on his face. He whispered something in the barkeep's ear, then laughed gently and bowed. The barkeep stared at the old man for a good, long moment as a look of confusion took to his face. Then the barkeep shrugged his shoulders, flashed a smile and held his arm out, signaling that it was alright for the old man to stay.
The old man placed both his hands together in thanks. Without ordering anything, the old man turned and began walking through the bar. Susant watched him with curious eyes, wondering what he might have said to the barkeep.
The old man came to a stop in front of Susant's table, pulling him out of his thoughts. Susant looked up at him, taking in the sight of him for a quick moment. He was old, much older than his father, but his eyes held the same strong spirit that the Seer's had.
"Would it be all right if I sat with you, my boy?"
Susant wasn't expecting the question. "Sure?" he answered, though not quite certain if he had been rude or not. He watched the old man smile the same kind smile he had given the barkeep, then take a seat across from him.
"I am Ouren," said the old man, looking Susant in the eyes. "What's your name, my boy?"
Despite the intrigue of the old man, Susant was not in the mood for the company of others, much less small talk with strangers. He held back a sigh. "Susant."
"Susant, I was wondering if you might buy an old man a cup of tea?"
This time, Susant did not hold back his sigh. Now he knew why the old man had wanted to come and sit next to him. He didn't have any money. And since Susant was the only person in the bar, he was the only option for the old man to get something to drink. But just as he was about to rudely decline the old man's request, something about the smile on his face reminded him of his father, and the anger he felt suddenly evaporated.
Always be respectful to your elders, Susant could hear his father's words in the back of his mind.
Raising his hand to the barkeep, Susant ordered two more cups of tea.
"That's very kind of you, my boy," said Ouren, looking at him. Susant met his eyes and without realizing it, smiled. Feeling a slight shock at his reaction to Ouren's kind face, he averted his eyes.
"It's nothing," said Susant.
"I would like to tell you a story," said the old man. "Because of your kindness in buying me the tea. It isn't very often one meets a complete stranger and is shown compassion. You've shown me warmth, and I would very much like to return the favor."
Even though Susant wasn't really in the mood to listen to a story, he knew that it would keep him in the bar longer, where, at least, he didn't have to make a decision about where to go afterward.
"Alright," said Susant. "Then we'll be even."
Ouren smiled as the barkeep placed two cups of hot tea down on the table. The old man took his with both hands, took a deep breath of it, then a small sip. Then he set it down and looked over at Susant, clearing his throat.
"There once were three friends who lived at a pond. Two were swans, and one was a turtle. They'd lived there since they were born, and, over the years, had become quite close. However, one day, the pond began to dry up, and after not too long, there was almost no water left in the pond at all."
"Knowing that something had to be done, the swans and the turtle came together to discuss what needed to happen. You see, the problem was a simple thing for the swans. With their wings, they were not bound to any single pond. They could take to the skies and find another with ease. But even if the turtle walked all day and night, he still might not find a new pond to go to, let alone the one his friends would find."
"Then, just when all seemed lost, the turtle had an idea. The swans watched him make his way off toward the trees, and it wasn't long before he returned with a long, sturdy branch, one twice his length if not more. He told the swans that each one of them would have to grab on to each end with their feet, and that he would bite down on the middle of the branch and hold on. That way, the swans could take him on their journey to find a new pond."
Susant's eyes narrowed. "That's a ridiculous idea."
The old man laughed. "Maybe he's a ridiculous turtle." Susant cracked a smile.
"And so, the swans each took ahold of their end of the branch. The turtle bit down on the middle and, before he knew it, was soaring above the trees. They flew and flew, and before long, passed over a small village. From down below, the turtle could hear the voices of the people as they stared up at the spectacle in the sky."
"'Wow, look at that!' one of the villagers remarked. 'How brilliant those swans are, figuring out how to lift the turtle into the sky!' As the turtle listened to the words of the villagers, he felt himself bite down a little harder on the branch."
"After not too much time had passed, the swans and the turtle passed over a second village. Once again, the turtle listened to the words of the villagers."
"'What a sight to behold!' a young woman exclaimed, pointing up at the sky. 'I have never seen such genius swans in all my life!' This time when the turtle heard the voices of the villagers, he couldn't help feeling his pride a bit wounded.
"It wasn't their idea! the turtle thought. If you are going to call someone a 'genius,' it should be me . . . what makes you think it was the swans in the first place? I'm the one hanging here!"
"They continued flying for some time and, eventually, came across a third village. This time, the turtle strained to listen, waiting for their remarks. Surely, someone would have the common sense to know that he was the mastermind behind the brilliant plan."
"And sure enough, as they flew over the village, the villagers looked up and began motioning for others to quickly come and witness the spectacle in the sky."
"'Come and see the brilliance of these swans!' a young man called out, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. 'These swans have sharp minds and have figured out a way to make their little friend fly!'"
"Upon hearing this, the turtle could bare it no longer. Feeling his pride well up inside him, he screamed out at the top of his lungs, 'It was not their idea! It was mine!'"
Ouren took a sip of his tea, then looked at Susant. "And thus, he fell to his untimely end."
Susant sat motionless for a half-second before the old man began laughing hysterically.
"What a stupid turtle," said Susant, sipping his tea.
"Truly," the old man said as he laughed. "Oh, the folly of pride. Gets me every time."
"I can see that," said Susant, watching the old man laugh. He noticed that the old man laughed as if he had no cares in the world. It was the laugh of a person who seemingly had never known sadness, or pain, or anger. He laughs as if he were a child, thought Susant. What a strange old man.
The old man stopped laughing but was still smiling. "Takes me back to my younger days," he said, more to himself than to Susant. "It was a time full of stories and laughter." His fingers absentmindedly reached to his red shawl, pulling it a bit higher on his shoulder.
"Did your parents tell you that story?" Susant asked, hoping he wasn't being rude.
The old man shook his head. "I never knew my parents."
Susant sat still for a moment. "So, where did you hear it?"
A sparkle lit in the old man's eyes as he looked back at Susant. "That's a very interesting question for you to ask." Susant looked a little confused but waited for the old man to continue.
"I heard that story in the monastery when I was a child," the old man said, sipping his tea, watching the boy carefully. "A long, long, time ago."
Susant felt his heart nearly freeze upon hearing the word. Then he felt his heart immediately start to beat faster as his expression turned from surprise to wonder. "Why would that be an interesting question for me to ask?" Susant said carefully.
The old man sipped his tea again, then set it down. "Long ago, there were many who came to the monastery, though all for different reasons. And rarely, there were those who came for no reason at all. They did not know why they came, only that they felt as if they needed to, almost as if they were summoned to find their true purpose."
Susant did not answer. He only sat and stared at the old man as if he were some sort of mythical creature. For a whole minute, he sat in wonder, his thoughts unable to hold still.
It's like this old man can see into my soul, thought Susant. After continuing to wonder what he might say back to him, Susant decided that, all things considered, maybe speaking the truth to the old man may actually help him.
"Actually, I recently had a dream where I was looking for a monastery," said Susant, letting out a sigh. "I went to see a Seer, and she told me that the dream and the road are one in the same, and that even though it was a dream, there may be something deeper there, something worth pursuing."
Ouren looked over at Susant's pack. "Judging by your pack and boots, it seems like you have made the choice to leave and find it. Though, if I were to judge based on the look on your face when I walked into the bar, I'd say that you might have just recently given up your pursuit of it."
"Yeah, well," Susant began, "doesn't seem like I'll be going after all. I couldn't leave when it came down to it. I guess I just don't have what it takes to do something so courageous." The weight of his words had a crushing effect on his soul, and more so than ever did he feel weak and helpless.
"Kailas," the old man said, his eyes shining. "You must go. The mountain calls."
Susant felt a chill run through his body. "How do you know about the mountain?"
Ouren smiled. "Because that's where the monastery is."
"What? How do you know?" Susant stumbled in his mind, unable to keep track of his questions. "I thought all of the monasteries were destroyed."
"They were," the old man said simply. "Long ago, by the Empire. They feared the teachings of the monasteries, feared a world in which people could live according to the goodness in their hearts, and not the ambitions of the confused."
"Then how do you know there is a monastery at Kailas?"
"I don't," Ouren laughed. "But I've heard rumor of a monastery that escaped the talons of the Empire, one that is hidden on Mount Kailas. Not even the Empire dares to approach the great mountain." He took another sip of his tea. "Maybe you will be the one to find it."
"Doubtful," said Susant. "I decided I'm not going."
"Why?"
"Because I wouldn't make it there. I couldn't even leave Kingdom. And how could I ever make a trek to the sacred mountain when I don't even know how to get there?"
"Even an ant can make such a trek," said Ouren, "and I think you might surprise yourself, if you tried." Susant shrugged, taking solace in the little silence. "What can you tell me about the monasteries?"
The old man's smile grew fuller. "Many things. Simple things. But we do not have time for such things. Know that the monks and the nuns who lived in the monasteries lived simple lives. They lived according to the teachings of the Buddha."
"The Buddha?"
Ouren's eyes grew brighter than before. "Yes, the Buddha. He is the one who has compassion for all living things. All teachings come from him. And it is through those teachings that peace will one day come to this world."
"Sounds more like a story than something real," said Susant, before pausing. "But this Buddha, is he a real person? Or more like a God?"
"He is, was, and will always be, a real person," answered Ouren.
"So, I could possibly meet him?" asked Susant.
"Perhaps," said Ouren, "perhaps not. They say he comes to those in need."
Susant leaned back in his chair. "Yeah, well, I think there are others who are more in need than I am. So, I'll take that as a perhaps not. Besides, even if I were to go to the monastery, I just realized that it's freezing near Mount Kailas, and I have nothing to keep me warm, even if I were to go. It's just not meant to be."
Ouren eyed Susant carefully. "Are you still considering going?"
"Honestly, at this point, even the thought of walking out into the wilderness by myself sounds better than going back home to my father, knowing that he would know I didn't have the courage to pursue my dreams in the end."
"Well, then, it seems like you'll be needing something to keep you warm then." Ouren stood, and before Susant knew it, he had swept off his red shawl and wrapped it around Susant's shoulders. He felt the weight and warmth of it immediately, as if it had been sitting next to a campfire. It smelt of grass and trees and the mountain wind.
"I can't take this," Susant stammered.
Ouren held up a hand. "The greater gift is the gift of giving," said Ouren. "You do me a great kindness by allowing me to aid you in the pursuit of your dreams."
Susant was speechless as the old man bowed to him.
"Now, as to how you might get there," said the old man, turning to the barkeep. "Excuse me, Godfrey," said Ouren. The barkeep looked up, puzzled as to how the old man knew his name.
"There is a map hidden beneath your counter, most likely tucked away in one of the darker corners, something you haven't looked at for many years."
Susant and the barkeep held the same expressions of surprise. After a few seconds, the barkeep looked underneath the counter and, not more than ten seconds later, pulled out a rolled-up map. He brought it over to the table and sat down.
"All right," said the barkeep. "No one knew about this map. I've had it for years and had nearly forgotten it myself. So, are you going to tell me how you knew this was hidden beneath my counter?"
Ouren laughed, taking ahold of the map as if it were an ancient treasure. He unfurled it, revealing to Susant that it was a map from Kingdom to Mount Kailas.
"An old man has his secrets," said Ouren, looking at the map. "But I will answer one of yours. A long time ago, you found this map in the streets. You were young. You thought it might be a sign that, perhaps, you were destined to travel to Kailas. But your feelings toward those thoughts became negative, and eventually, you cast aside the idea. But you could never cast aside the map, thinking in the back of your mind that, one day, maybe, you might. . . ."
Godfrey had a look of complete shock on his face. "How did you?"
"But alas," said Ouren, rolling up the map, "this map was never intended for you. It was meant to come into your possession, and you were meant to hold it." He handed the map back to Godfrey, who took it hesitantly. "The map was meant for the boy, who was meant to come into your bar, for this map is the last piece of the key he needs to set out on the road of his dreams."
"You can't just give away my map," said the barkeep, half-heartedly.
"I'm not giving it away," said Ouren. "You are lending it to the boy. And he will give it back once he has returned from his journey to Kailas. And with it, he will bring you back the story of his travels, and something for you from the last monastery in the world."
The barkeep turned a curious expression. "The last monastery in the world, huh? Not a clue what that might be, but for some reason the name feels oddly familiar." He let out a sigh, glanced once at the old man, then down at Susant.
"So be it," said Godfrey. He clasped Susant's shoulder as the first light of dawn seeped onto the horizon. Kneeling down, the barkeep met Susant's eyes. "My father once said that when magic turns up, one should never turn a cold shoulder." He held out the map. "Good luck, my friend."
Feeling hesitant, Susant took the map in his hand. It felt heavy, but the weight on his shoulders seemed to lessen as he took it, and he felt his strength rekindling. "Guess there's no turning back now," he said, "or I might risk turning a cold shoulder to your father's wise words."
Godfrey smiled. "Atta' boy."
Ouren drank the last of his tea, then looked at Susant. "Well, what are you waiting for?"
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