Pathways - Jeri Taylor [219]
Of course, his own efforts toward that end didn’t seem to be having the desired result. His own sons were woefully lacking, in his opinion, the attributes they should have by now. What was he doing wrong? Surely an adult of his experience should be able to teach two children effectively. Determined to get to the crux of the matter, he sat himself on a chair near T’Pel’s bed.
“I am concerned,” he began, “with our sons’ behavior. They are lacking in basic disciplines, and at times are unacceptably obstreperous. They lie abed until nearly an hour after sunrise, whereas I was always up before dawn. Their lessons go undone until I insist they be tended to—something unheard of when I was a child. They simply are not achieving appropriate control over their actions or their emotions, and certainly are not embracing the ideals of cthia. What can be done about this?”
Having concluded his analysis of the problem, Tuvok looked at his wife, and was startled to realize that she was sound asleep. He started to reach out and shake her gently awake, then thought better of it. She had, after all, just given birth.
He rose with a sense of purpose. “Sek, Varith, come with me.” The boys looked at him with surprise, apparently hearing the determination in his voice. To their credit, they did not hesitate or complain, but followed him out of the chamber, Varith scurrying to keep up with Tuvok’s long strides.
An hour later they sat before M’Fau in the temple of Amonak, the boys pale and quiet, each clutching one small container into which he had packed a few necessary items of clothing and toilette. M’Fau looked like a richly plumed nestra bird, dressed in a robe of brilliant saffron and orange, and was as intimidating.
“I commend them into your care,” Tuvok informed M’Fau. “I have failed as a father and I do not want my sons to suffer because of my inadequacies. Instruct them in the proper Vulcan ways so that they may take their place in the adult world properly trained.”
M’Fau made no response to this, but carefully studied the boys. Sek returned her gaze evenly, but Tuvok thought he detected something behind the boy’s eyes that bespoke pain and uncertainty. And Varith’s apprehension was not concealed; his lips were trembling and he clutched his container so tightly his fingers were pale and splotched.
These observations seemed to Tuvok affirmation of his decision. Properly trained children would not behave in such a way, so clearly these boys needed the firmer hands of the priests and priestesses. But M’Fau was silent, not confirming his decision. Tuvok waited patiently, sure she was being characteristically deliberate.
Finally, after a long inspection of the two boys, she turned to Tuvok. She was nearly two decades older than she had been when Tuvok first entered the Pon farr, and her face was even craggier now; but her eyes retained their flinty intensity, and he could feel her probing him with her mind. He obediently allowed the scrutiny.
Presently she placed her fingertips together and gazed out her window. A pale light remained of the day, yellow and fading, and Tuvok was reminded of the overcast afternoons of San Francisco, when the sun struggled vainly to illuminate the city but could manage only a weak, sallow hue that seemed poisonous.
Finally M’Fau turned to him. “These boys are not ready for Kolinahr,” she informed him. “I cannot accept them.”
Tuvok was bewildered. How could she not accept them when they so clearly needed the rigorous disciplines of the order? He opened his mouth to speak, but M’Fau held up a hand, silencing him.
“When you came to Amonak, it was by your choice. You were ready because of your life experiences. The same is not true of these boys. You cannot accelerate the process, Tuvok. Your haste will create the opposite result from what you intend.”
“But . . . they are not responding to their present teachers, nor to my attempts to supplement their disciplines. They require a firmer hand.”
“The raising of children should be an easy task, shouldn’t it? We simply teach them