"Can I ask you a question?"

"Can you?"

It was doing that again. To be totally honest, I'm still not really sure just what "that" is. I suppose it was possible that the Tar was trying to give me a grammar lesson, though I'd think that sort of thing would be more likely from Madame Pong. Not that she's ever tried to give me one before, really, but it seemed more fitting of a thing for a diplomat to do. It was also possible that it was genuinely confused. Like the entire crew of the Ferkel, its language implant that translated what it said into words I could understand was often quite faulty. Don't get me wrong, if it wasn't for these implants, I wouldn't understand a word of what anyone else was saying. But the fact of the matter was that, despite their necessity and great usefulness, they weren't perfect.

I didn't know exactly why it was doing it, but I was glad that it did, if that makes sense. Whatever its specific reason, anything the martial master said made me think. Sometimes it made me think so hard it gave me a headache, but the feeling of accomplishment any time I figured out something new was wonderful. I'll be honest—for I almost always am—it made me feel confused a lot of the time, but whenever it didn't make my brain smoke, it was making my entire being glow. At least, that's what it often felt like.

Trying again after a bit of hesitation, I asked, "May I ask you a question?"

For a while I thought it wasn't going to answer me. Tar Gibbons did that sometimes, too. Anything to make me think, I think. Then again, I was sort of supposed to be meditating right now, which (surprise, surprise) usually involves not talking. Maybe not answering me in this situation was its equivalent of saying, "Hush and focus." Then again, its silence could very well be to provoke thought. Or maybe it was thinking itself. Or any number of things. I love how ambiguous it can be, though I'd just as easily admit that it could be very disorienting, as well—sort of like getting lost in the clouds rather than seeing familiar shapes in them.

In the end, the Tar didn't answer me. Part of me was wondering if it was even still there. The world was black behind my closed eyes, the only sounds being the calls of the birds and the gentle ripple of the water. I wanted to open them so badly, just to reassure myself it was there, but it had specifically told me to keep them closed. In ways I cannot even begin to explain, I could not disobey. Kind of like how Grakker was bound by his Spacer's Oath that one time. Only not. This was something entirely different yet very much the same. That didn't mean it wasn't hard, though.

"You may."

I turned my head a fraction, trying to discern where its voice was coming from. It sounded nowhere and everywhere all at once. The Tar's room was just as strange as its owner (a part of me, admittedly, wondered if it would take that as a compliment or not.) Sound bounced off of the lake in eerie ways, while the mist seemed to absorb it. The birds swam in the air as if in the water, whereas they flew in the water as if in the air. They could be silent either way, yet they could also be very loud. Or maybe they just seemed loud. Yeah, when it comes to alien things, I wasn't really good at describing them, or even understanding them much of the time. That was the problem.

I don't really know how long it took me, but I eventually came to realize just how tense I was. This just made me even more rigid, I confess. I wasn't supposed to be tense or stiff or frozen solid. I was supposed to be at ease, finding the Katsu Maranda and putting all of these distractions out of my mind. But the more I tried to be calm, the more I failed miserably at it. Why was this pestering me so much? Just relax, Rod, relax, I told myself.

"Never mind," I breathed, my voice not even a whisper. I'd get better at this, just let me... But I immediately regretted those two words after I spoke them. I added hastily, "I mean—" but trailed off as quickly as I started. Geez Louise, I was bad at this. How did I take out Smorkus Flinders in Dimension X? I'm pretty sure that must have been someone else, because that person defeated a towering monster, whereas I haven't been able to get this one thought out of my head all day.

The Tar was quiet. It was probably thinking, 'Wow, why did I take this guy as an apprentice?' Or something along those lines. Yes, I was pretty positive of it. So when it spoke words that were not the ones I had imagined, I was pretty surprised.

"Ask me what you will. Or do not. I can not and will not respond to a half-asked question."

This reminded me of the conversation we had back in Dimension X, back when I was trying to decide whether or not to become its krevlik. It had basically told me then the same thing: Do or don't. In the end, I had decided to become its student—and I haven't regretted that decision since. But was this the same as that? I couldn't tell, which is why it took me a while to formulate my reply.

"Is it ever... hard for you? To meditate, I mean?" I asked, not sure whether or not I would receive a reply.

The answer came more quickly than I expected, though it was less of an answer and more of a question of its own. "In what way?"

"Well, when finding the Katsu Maranda, you're supposed to think of happy times. It's just... the happy times and the sad times just seem like they're so close together. How do you separate them?"

"Ah, that is a very good question, and one that is not easily answered," came its reply from somewhere in front of me. "The simple answer is that sometimes you can't."

Well that didn't help me in my case very much. "But how can I focus on the happiness if it has sadness mixed in with it?"

"A happy memory is often painful in that it contains something that we no longer have," the Tar said. "But it is our choice whether we mourn the loss, or renew the joy we had once felt."

"It's so hard, though."

"Yes, it is."

Pausing for a moment, I asked my teacher, "How do you manage it?"

"I've had many decades of practice. Have patience, young Rod Allbright. You will come to understand how to revisit your happiest memories without tearing open old scars."

Suddenly curious, I ventured to ask, "What is your happiest memory?"

I heard it sigh contemplatively before it said, "My happiest memories are that of family and friends. Not unlike yours, no doubt."

A vague answer, but I was fine with that. There was a period of silence before Tar Gibbons spoke up again, "And what is your happiest memory, my krevlik?"

My happiest? That was a difficult question to answer. There were so many, but the first that came to mind was, "I remember making Jack-o'-lanterns with my father." Even just speaking of my father made me ache inside, but I managed to continue, "That was... a long time ago. Before he left."

"It still hurts you to talk about," the Tar observed more so than it asked.

I nodded.

"You must miss him."

Another nod.

"Rod," it began, sounding very serious. "Do you know why your father left you all those years ago?"

My throat went dry. "Do you?" I somehow managed to croak.

"No, but I can venture a guess." I felt its hands on my shoulders as it continued, "Rod, my guess would be that your father left to protect you. You do realize that, don't you?" Staying silent for a while, it asked, "Have I ever told you of a mother snaeknil?"

I furrowed my brow, trying to remember. "I don't think so," came my eventual reply.

"The snaeknil is a small mammal on my planet. Not long after a mother delivers her young, she leaves them to fend for themselves."

I was taken aback. "But why?"

"A newborn snaeknil is born without a scent. The mother leaves so that Trouble's Nose cannot find her young. Do you understand, Rod?"

I nodded. "I think so."

"Then understand that I'm sure your father never intended to hurt you. Use that knowledge to lift your spirits when you seek out the Katsu Maranda. Remember your father as the man who lived and breathed to protect you and ensure your safety." Pausing for a moment, it then asked, "Does that help you at all?"

"A little. But it's just so hard to remember the good times with him when I miss him so much," I confessed.

"I understand. Believe me, Rod, this is a struggle that every aspiring warrior must face. And you have done very well in facing it thus far," it added.

I was humbled. "Thank you," I said.

"Do not thank me. It is of your own will that you have managed everything you have."

"But you've shown me so much!" I insisted.

"Yes, I have shown you the way. But you have walked the path yourself. Do not diminish your role in this, Rod. Everything you have accomplished, you have accomplished." There was a beat of silence, then, "Now, let us try again. Do you think you can seek out the Katsu Maranda, Rod?"

I smiled. "I'll try."

"That is all I ask."