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“Don't tell him.”
“Gula, the Master loves you.”
“Please don't tell him.”
Gula begged for Ira to see, to keep his confiding words within the walls of this room. If he wanted the Master to know, he would've gone to him himself. But he hadn't. Couldn't. Having contradicting beliefs from the Master of Master's had become somewhat of an unspoken rule around the tower, something heavily frowned upon. Confronting him on said beliefs felt to be a crime within itself. He couldn't.
Did the Master… frighten him? No, surely not. True, he could sometimes be intimidating. In a strange, off-putting sort of way. But it wasn't like the Master would do anything ridiculous or out of line. He was a benevolent master, one who did not harm or treat unjustly. Someone Gula trusted. Looked up to.
Only now, tiny seeds of doubts began to clog that sentiment.
“He's in the study at the moment.”
Gula barely heard Ira speaking again. You didn't doubt the Master. Not a single word he said. Everything fashioned by his design was to be taken as absolute. How was Gula supposed to explain to him that he was questioning his advice – his given role? How was he supposed to face that sheer disappointment that it'd bring? The fear that he wouldn't understand was not an unfounded one. He'd thought Ira would understand.
‘Trust no one but yourself.’
That tidbit was starting to sound pretty solid right about now.
Hands were on Gula's shoulders, firm – assertive – when pushing him to the door. “Let's go speak to him.”
Gula's feet complied despite his mind's trepidation, letting himself be guided by Ira into the hall and through the tower. He knew he shouldn't have told him. He should've kept quiet. A part of him had hoped the elder would hear him out, a senior among the rest of them willing to lend a non-judgmental ear. He'd completely forgotten who he was dealing with. What a joke.
They reached the study chamber much sooner than he'd hoped. The Master sat where he always did, bent over his desk, back turned, and oblivious to the two who had entered. The stained glass window above let in the evening sun, bathing his cloaked form in a soft, radiant light. Any other time, Gula would have found it alluring, welcoming him nearer. Not this time. It suited him to stay in the shadow of the doorway, wrestling with his runaway heart as Ira went on forward.
The Master stirred at his presence. Ira bent his head, relaying the words Gula hadn't had the courage to bring to his face.
The Master was good, and just, and merciful. Gula reminded himself of this. Repeated it again when the Master's posture straightened across the room like he'd been hit with a bolt of lightning. He repeated it, over and over.
He should just leave.
Gula stiffly turned for the exit.
“Gula…”
That sing-songy voice stopped him dead. Shamefully, Gula crept back around.
“M-Master,” he acknowledged.
The Master was on his feet. Silently he came forward, hands behind his back and moving impossibly slow for the short distance between them. Gula waited as still as a statue as he brought them close enough to stand nearly toe to toe– and was thrown for a loop when the man took a sudden squat, chin resting on closed fists and head tilting to the side.
“Sounds to me like you've been having some doubts.”
Gula had never been one to trip over his own words. Neither was he one to lie or make excuses. Today was turning out to be a first for many.
“Not doubts, per say…”
The Master's head tilted further, cooing a sound of pity.
“And in denial, as well.”
“No, just–”
“Ira,” The Master spoke back to the other still standing aside. “Go ahead and return to your duties. Gula and I have a bit of chatting to do.”
Ira wordlessly obeyed. After giving a courteous bow, he left the two of them alone. Gula hated how much more nervous that made him.
The Master lowered to the floor completely, crossing his legs into each other and then patted the space next to him. Gula tentatively lowered as well, mirroring the man at his side. As soon as he was there, his head nearly met the floor next, showing a deep bow.
“Forgive me, Master.”
“Hey,” The Master knocked a fist against his shoulder with enough power to rock him sideways. “Cut that out. First, we chat. Figure out what's going on. And we can't exactly do that with your nose burrowing into the floor.”
Gula straightened, somehow feeling more embarrassed by that than by the unbidden groveling he'd just done. Thank the stars his mask covered any redness that surely crept up. “Right…”
“So!” The Master clapped his hands together. “Explain to me why in the world Ira would accuse you of weakened faith.”
Gula turned away from the empty shadow of the Master's hood boring down next to him, if only to help steady himself. Deep breath…
“We've each been given these different roles, and I understand the significance of keeping them separate,” he began. “But logically, if there is a traitor among us, shouldn't I tell the others? Warn them? It might even dissuade the traitor from betraying us in the first place. From a logical standpoint.” He felt the need to reiterate that part. That he wasn't blindly choosing to disobey. He just itched for an explanation, or better yet, clarification for this whole ordeal that was to go down.
“No, you're right,” the Master sighed.
Gula's head snapped back around. “Really?”
“Totally. It's not fair.”
“I… was afraid you'd be disappointed.”
“Not at all!” the Master exclaimed. “I understand where you're coming from; no one should have to keep such a big secret. Especially from those who you're supposed to be leading alongside. But,” he added, “for the sake of our future – for the future of light – you need to. Just like I need you to trust me.”
The Master suddenly reared back, a hand splaying over his heart.
“You… do trust me? Right?”
Gula ignored the faintest feeling of apprehension that wanted him to hesitate in his answer. “Of course, Master.”
“Whew!”
Full of relief, the Master returned upright.
“Then you have absolutely nothing to worry about,” he reassured. “You'll know what to do when the time comes.”
Another nudge was given to Gula’s shoulder, softer and more playful, and he found himself unwinding with relief as well. He hadn't gotten a straight answer like he was hoping for, but he also hadn't had to face that disappointment he’d been so sure would greet him. He'd take it.
Gula turned back to the Master still watching him. “Am I forgiven?”
A black clad hand laid heavy on top of his head. “You are forgiven. If–!” The Master continued, his other hand holding up a single finger. “You attend an extra class I'm holding. Special for you.”
Gula struggled to raise his questioning look to the Master with the weight still sitting on his head. “Hm?”
“Hello? You using that brain of yours in there?” The other's knuckles rapped a couple of knocks on the crown of his mask, Gula ducking beneath them before they relented. “What kind of teacher would I be if I let you waltz around knowing your mind was polluted with doubts? I can't have that. And I especially can't have you spreading those silly doubts between the others. What would your fellow pupils think?” An accusatory finger was pointed to Gula, then flipped back to its wielder. “What would they begin to think of me? It could completely tarnish my reputation!”
“I'm sorry?”
“Everyone goes through this sooner or later,” the Master shrugged, waving a flippant hand in the air. “They question their duties, start to deviate from the teachings, try to overrule authority, yada yada.”
“Master, you know I would never…”
Gula's words faded. What was the big deal? It was just an extra lesson. Why was he hesitant to agree? Their talk had gone so well, much better than expected. The Master hadn't come across as angry at all.
And yet, something about this felt odd. Eerily familiar.
“Come on, don't make me have to persuade you!” The Master's jarring whine whisked away the flimsy sense of déjà vu. “You know what they say about students unwilling to comply; it only raises the thrill of the challenge for us teachers! Or something like that.”
Gula didn't respond, busy attempting to chase down the thought that escaped him, and suddenly uneasy about looking at the Master head on. Still, it was impossible not to spy the sideways glance he was being given, inching closer in each second of his silence.
"Sooo?” the Master eventually prompted. “Are you going to be one who complies? Or one who needs persuasion?”
“...Can Ava tag along?”
“Sure!” The Master threw his arms wide. “The more the merrier!”
That made him feel a little better. Maybe. Even if his conscience had him wanting to hurl a million more questions at the man.
‘Trust no one.’
…Gula trusted the Master. And he was sure this class would prove to be a highly intellectual experience.