"As you know, it is our custom to make youngster go outside these walls. If one can endure the pains, the torments, the temptations of life outside these walls, they are forever strengthened, made more tempered, more loving than they would otherwise be." The old man spoke, grinning slightly. His weak eyes gave him the appearance of insecurity, of vulnerablitity. Only by listening to him, by watching him, could one realize that this man was truly wise, and that appearances can be deceiving.

"You are not telling me this out of a spirit of idle informativeness," said the younger one. "I sense that there is a point to this, and probably one that I will not like." The younger man kept close to the older one, listening to his voice as a pupil does to a treasured teacher. His clothes were simple grey garments, with his head shaved, like all the monks. The senior wore the same type of clothes. They were even the same color.

Echoes of their voices came back faintly, blending in with the constant, unceasing noise of their footsteps and their echoes, and the tap of the cane with its subsequent reverberations. The old man laughed lightly, the sound of his laughter tinkling out of him and hitting the hard walls of The Hall like a little water out of a fountain; Coming down and splashing into the water beneath, held trapped by some bowl or other contrivance, while fine droplets sprayed every which way, making passers-by a little wet with expelled moisture. So it was with the old man's laughter at the younger one's remarks and observations.

"Truly, I have taught you well," said the older man. "Number forty-two, it is now your time to travel out into the world- to experience life beyond these walls." He stopped as the younger man stopped and thought, and looked at him. "Come now, it is not a prison sentence. You spend part of your life out there, doing what good you can, growing as a man and a human being, doing the best things you can, serving Him with as noble a purpose as you can muster. You get a chance to sample the airs of the world- the salty brine of the seadock, the fresh cool breeze over greenland hills, the harsh, tearing, scorching winds of the Desert of Ascalon... you feel life in all the world around you, even in those creatures and men that are evil. Remember, evil is just as much a part of life as good... sometimes more so- sometimes less. You can help change the balance, Forty-two. You will learn many things, things we cannot teach you in here. This is especially vital for one who has never in his life been beyond the walls of our monastery."

Forty-Two stopped in thought for a moment. "When do I go?" Number Ten pointed to a door at the end of the hall. No wonder that he'd never been in this hall before, mused Forty-Two. The view to the right was nice- chiseled through solid stone, the entire right side was open to the bright sky and reflection of the sun off the leaves of trees. "Master," he said, increasing the formality a bit, "You've never told me anything about myself."

"I never had to." said Ten, smiling. "You always found it out for yourself. You were clever that way." he patted Forty-two on the shoulder, but the younger one stayed where he was, unmoved.

"I meant about my family- who dropped me off here, who my parents were- none of that. You never told me." The petulance was becoming plainly clear now, the younger man getting a trifle upset despite himself.

"A man or a woman is not defined by their family, nor should they cling to that idea. You know that." The sigh escaping from Ten's lips showed that he had had this conversation before.

"Look-please. I don't know anything about the people who brought me into the world, and then promptly left me with you. I'd like to know what little you can tell me. I think I've earned that much in eighteen years here." Forty-two's tone was now pleading, cajoling, just the slightest bit whiny. It echoed back to him, hitting his ears and making him ashamed, and it was accompanied by more laughter from the older one. The echoes made the laughter sound mocking. Or maybe it wasn't just the echoes.

"Forty-Two... You think you have earned the right? You, who have been on this world for all of twenty years, who has done nothing actually significant, you think you have earned the right to be given information that I only can see fit to give?" The old man looked at him, a piercing, penetrating sort of look that made Forty-two shuffle his feet and look at the floor out of sheer experience of knowing that when he was given that look, it was because he'd done something wrong. The old man sighed.

"Can you even tell me anything? Or is this endless series of denials there just to keep me away from the fact that you know nothing more than I do?" The young man was more angry now, less petulant, less annoying. Well, maybe not less annoying, but annoying in a different way.

"Oh yes, you've figured me out. It's just a facade, a house of cards, built to keep you away from the truth." The old man's voice was rather distinctly sarcastic now, edging into the realm of the caustic.

"With you, I wouldn't be completely surprised. My training has basically been a long series of what seem to be practical jokes done in very poor taste. Can you tell me anything about my family or background?" There was a new urgency in the young man's voice, he sensed the interview was nearing its end.

"Oh yes, I can tell you about your family." The old man seemed satisfied with that, and the younger waited for what seemed like an eternity, but was in fact only long enough for him to realize the older one was playing games again.

"Will you?" he asked, trying to sound considerate while grinding his teeth together in frustration. (No easy task, to be certain. But one he'd managed to master after eighteen infuriating years with the dodgy old man.)

"No." said Ten, smiling again. He palmed a medallion and gave it to Forty-two. "Here, take this. It is a totem of Him who guides us. It will help you remain true to your ideals and beliefs while out in the world. May it remind of this peaceful place."

"And all my infurating encounters with you, playing word games," said Forty-two, smiling a stiff little smile, which was the best he could manage. Ten sighed, deeply.

"Your name, before you were given to us, was Uthar Lanx. Use this information however you want." With that, he turned and strode away, towards the end they'd come from. The footsetps of the old man, and the tapping of cane reverberated, though they sounded pale and lifeless without the younger man's step beside them.

Forty-Two smiled triumphantly. A name! He had a name! Useful for more than one thing, he knew. He turned and walked to the door, which opened at his touch, but clsoed as soon as he was beyond it. Two trees, one either side of the door, spread wide their branches, and gave off shade. He hung the medallion around his neck, and put it under his shirt, where the cold metal settled against his breastbone. He looked around, and smiled. Spring was in the air, and the green of grass and weeds, of tree leaves, made nearly a Cathedral of Nature. He smiled.

Forty-Two fell away, liberated by the new air and vista, and Uthar Lanx stepped out, away from his childhood, into the world, ready to experience it all.