Even with Lord Berenar’s help—and Berenar was a better and more patient teacher than Setheris could ever have imagined being—Maia felt as if he were trying to stop the Istandaärtha with a handful of pebbles. He knew some of the history of the Ethuveraz, but his knowledge could hardly be called systematic, and it was in no way a sufficient foundation for the fifty years of policy decisions that Berenar was really trying to teach him to follow. Even with the progress he’d made, he still understood half or less of the Corazhas’ debates, and asking questions was only getting harder—he felt as if he were accusing Berenar with his ignorance, and his increased consciousness of the interwoven responsibilities of the Witnesses meant that he knew how valuable their time was and how much of it was wasted when he asked for an explanation of something everyone else in the room already understood. He had stopped asking. He was ashamed, and angry with himself, but the foreknowledge of another humiliation was like a sword, and he could not force himself to fall on it.
