Getting back to the barracks, Reed headed first to his dorm room. Timmons wasn’t there, but Reed dug through his locker looking for the wooden thing he’d been given for getting to see the goddess. Sticking the thing into his pocket, he headed back out to find Timmons.

Timmons wasn’t in the training yard.

He wasn’t on the hill. Or behind it. He wasn't in the west hall secret room.

Reed even walked down to the lake. He wasn’t there either.

Looking at the empty barracks for Elk Palace, Reed considered for a moment, then walked around the property. All the windows were closed, doors locked, and since he already knew that Timmons hadn’t learned how to pick locks yet, he knew the boy wasn’t in there. Returning to Western Barracks, Reed went to the dining hall as a last resort for where Timmons may have gone.

“Something wrong?” Squire Greene asked, glancing up from where he sat at a table near the middle of the room, working on cleaning old practice armor. He was currently working oil into the flaking leather.

Reed turned to the young man. “Just looking for Timmons."

Greene nodded, looking aside awkwardly, hands paused in their work.

Unable to identify why Greene was being so weird, Reed shrugged. “Guess I’ll go look in town.”

“He said he wanted nothing to do with you anymore,” Greene admitted.

“Ah. Great,” Reed muttered, slapping his thigh with a hand, then folding his arms. “He say anything else?”

“Just that you were a heretic.” Greene licked his lips and glanced aside, “I tried to… say something, but he’s just… Listen… try not to say anything bad about Nyltia? I know you didn’t grow up in Durshand, but we take Nyltia seriously here.”

Reed lifted his hands. Coming over to sit next to Greene, Reed pushed his bangs back from his face and rested his elbows on the table. “I was going to apologize to him for being a bit harsh. It ain’t like I don’t know Nyltia exists. Fuckin saw her.”

Greene’s eyes lit. “Really?” He lowered the brush he was using on the leather straps.

Reed pulled the piece of wood out of his pocket. It was about the size and shape of a bookmark and was carved with his name, with the symbol of the Temple and another symbol below it that Reed assumed was Nyltia's emblem. He’d used it to mark his place in the holy book he'd been given at the same time as the plaque. At first, the Durs around him had been excited that he’d been reading their Teachings. They’d never asked him what he thought of their book, though. Reed knew his face was loud when he was reading. They probably already knew what he thought.

Wiping his hands on his shirt, Greene reverently took the piece of wood, then looked at Reed. “You… don’t even know what this is, do you?”

“Not a bookmark?”

Pressing his lips together, Greene stared at Reed’s face, then sighed. “No. It’s made from a cutting of Nyltia’s tree. It was the first tree that grew on Mythiric after the sky was cleared.”

“Oh.”

Greene shook his head. “This one even has your name on it. Did you not notice that?”

“I mean…” Reed looked aside. He’d assumed it was like those name keychains that were available at practically any gift shop. Not that “Reed” was common anywhere. He’d never heard anyone else being called that on Mythiric. “I thought they did that for everyone?”

Greene shook his head. "Only a few special people get these."

Reed shifted uncomfortably. Did that mean Nyltia knew what Reed wasn't, and this was a way to let him know? Why had he been singled out to get this?

Handing the item back to Reed, Greene frowned at him.

"Sounds like the type of thing they'd give out to kings and important people. Maybe it's just a fake one? Replica they give out to pilgrims." Reed suggested. "That's what I thought it was. Just a dumb thing you'd get for the family back home." He found that a bit easier to believe, even though a priest had specifically sought him out before he could file out of the temple with everyone else. Even though he'd not seen anyone else get one. "Don't make sense for me to have something that special." Fiddling with the item between his hands, Reed awkwardly cleared his throat. "But as for Timmons... I get that she’s real. She did something great? Respect and all for that. It's that book I’ve got beef with. Or more, how people ain’t actually doin’ what it says.”

To Reed’s surprise, Greene nodded but said, “Just… try not to be too loud about that. Or accuse the priests openly?”

Reed sighed. “I get it.” He really should have known better. This wasn’t modern America, after all. "Any idea where Timmons went?"

"No. But probably would be best to leave him alone for a while," Greene suggested. "You really upset him."

Tapping the edge of the bookmark-thing on the table, Reed stared at the far wall.

"You're not devout to Ifri either, are you?" Greene asked.

"Nope. Should I be?"

Greene's expression was complicated. He shook his head.

"Why do you ask?" Reed pressed.

"I--its just, you're from Hanbul. They're pretty serious about it over there, from what I've heard."

Reed could only shrug. He didn't know the Hannish religion. He suspected the head-cloth had something to do with it, but not why only men wore it. This was the first time he'd even heard the Hannish god's name.

"Then what's your problem with the Teachings?" Greene asked. He didn't sound offended, just making conversation.

"If Nyltia really had a problem with how people were living, she'd have said it herself. But the book is nothing but this Dunn guy calling people out on their bullshit and nagging them to be nicer to each other instead of feeding demons. My problem is that people are worshipping this guy's words but not living by them. Instead, y'all beat down people who already have nothing using the book as an excuse. My problem is that priest is offering to help the Hans on the riverbank, but only if they do what he wants. That ain't charity. That's extortion. Wasn't it last month we fished actual children out of the river, but he's offering fucking scraps in exchange for worship. Worse, I don't think it's Nyltia he wants them to worship. It's him."

Greene had given up even pretending to work on his task. He stared at Reed, his eyes were wet.

"Further, having seen Nyltia, you can't convince me that she gives a shit about being worshipped. She's doing something, and what we do has nothing to do with whatever it was she was up to." Reed lowered his voice, leaning closer to add. "Makes me wonder what she's getting out of the deal. If worship doesn't net her anything, why come here and clean up?"

Straightening in his chair, Greene turned pale, then a bit green.

Reed lifted his hands. "Sorry."

Clearing his throat, Greene said in a raspy voice. "Yeah. Don't ever say that to anyone else. That kind of thing will get you hanged."

"Understood," Reed said, though it irked him a little.

Greene grabbed the brush again and started working, but his face kept going through various emotions. "Damn it," he muttered and put his brush down.

Reed grinned and leaned his elbows on the table. "You're seein' my point, ain't you?"

Sighing, Greene stared at him.

"That ain't to say that she's unworthy of praise. Just wondering why she's doin it. Maybe she really is nice and honestly has no intention of asking us for anything in return," Reed said, tapping the not-bookmark on the table again. "It's just a weird situation."

Using the back of his wrist to rub his forehead, Greene sighed again.

Considering his words carefully, Reed finally asked, "And in your opinion, how does Ifri differ?"

Greene darted a quick look around the room to make sure they were alone and lowered his voice anyway. "The Hetorra is just a bunch of rules wrapped in stories, but a lot of those rules don't make sense."

Reed nodded, glad that his gamble had paid off. Greene knew of the Hannish religion and was open to at least discussing the Durrish religion with an open mind, leading Reed to conclude that Greene was well acquainted with the Hannish religion.

"Even if you take into account that they live in the desert. Yeah. Tabba might be a good idea when there's a lot of sun, but Durshand is humid. And it's bad luck to get married on a Wednesday?" Greene's shoulders eased as he spoke. He'd been carefully watching Reed's face for any indication that he had offended, but seeing none, he relaxed and aired his grievances. "We haven't known what a Wednesday is for at least two thousand years. Why is that still a saying?"

Reed snorted. "Maybe every day is a Wednesday. Consider not getting married at all."

Greene laughed. He shook his head and continued speaking. "Most of those stories are just Ifri getting angry about something someone did innocently. Like the fishmonger having high prices. But everyone was punished by the water drying up and the fish dying. And the story about drinking cactus water and seeing the world as Ifri can. Ifri is jealous and vengeful. I don't like being told to worship or suffer the consequences. At least Nyltia's Teachings tell us to be nice to each other because that's the right thing to do. Not out of fear of some omnipresent entity that will strike us down for disobeying. So I get your problem with the priest trying to force people to convert by withholding aid. That's not right. That's not the Teachings."

Reed nodded thoughtfully. He had no idea what any of the stories Greene had mentioned were but he was good at saying less and letting others draw their own conclusions.

Greene broke into a grin. "Never thought I'd discuss religion seriously with an Amro," he said and shook his head. "You're nothing like what I expected, you know?"

"What were you expecting?" Again, that word. Reed knew it meant something like Commander, but the significance was lost to him.

"Someone like the high nobles. All wrapped up in how important they are." Greene scrubbed at the dirt caked on one of the straps. "But you care about our people in Lockton... I just wish there was something we could do about it."

"Why do they hate me?" Reed asked. "I ain't done nothing to them."

"A lot of them were brought here as slaves and escaped," Greene admitted, looking uncomfortable again. "A few said that an Amro was the one who sold them. They probably expect you to fix things for them, but at the same time... what if you betray them again? It's really nothing you can do anything about."

"Except show them I'm trustworthy," Reed mused, propping his chin in his hand.

"But you're just a kid, so that expectation is a little much."

Reed flicked a look at Greene with a lift of his brow. "Age isn't the issue. Its lack of power. I'm just a squire. And I'm up against Durshand's dumb laws. Whatever laws it is that keeps them on the riverbank, I'm too small to fight. Amro don't mean shit here."

Greene looked at him as if suddenly seeing the situation in a whole new light. He lowered his gaze and nodded. "Especially when you have no backing. They call you Amro, but don't treat you like one."