[ WP ] A young apprentice confronts his master , suspecting him to be his long lost father . The truth is slightly more complex .

# # # # -110 
 
 -- -- 
 
 Against the dark of igneous rock, licked by lashings from the dancing magma, the Droid drills deeper. 
 Up on the lip of the crater, in his cooling-apron, the young Droidmancer dances expertly. With his feet deathly close to the edge, the wraps of his gown flowing in the turbulence, he manipulates the Droid with ease. 
 It drills and drills, until it reaches the heart of the swell. Retracting the bit, it punches through the quickly-coagulating pool left behind, braving the oppressive surge in molten rock. Fashioning the heart out of the knotted magma, it pulls away: standing up on its tall, spindly legs, and looking up to its manipulator. 
 
 Smiling, the Droidmancer performs the rite of Union, and the droid slithers up the faces of rock to him, curling around his body and nestling in the folds of his cooling-apron. 
 
 * 
 
 With the heart hanging from his fist, chained in thinned light, the Droidmancer returns to the Factory late that evening. He makes his way straight to the Mains room, and with care, fits the heart into its place in the machinery. 
 `` Quick work, this time.'' says old Ghori, smiling at him through his charred-paperscroll beard. `` You've only been gone a few days, this time.'' 
 The young'mancer waits by the old man as he sets to work with his levers and pulleys, starting the process of shaving the heart down into plasma. `` They're becoming harder and harder to find.'' he says. `` We might have to wait until after the solstice for the full harvest.'' 
 `` Do n't you worry about that!'' says Ghori, peering at the the heart through his goggles. `` That's up to the Master. You just put your things away and go up to the Tower. Get yourself something to eat!'' 
 
 * 
 
 Up in the Tower, high above the volcanic landscape, the young'mancer takes in the night air before sitting down to eat. He needs it. The atmosphere of the place has become forever changed to him, now. There is no returning to the place he had left behind when he had last left the Tower. 
 `` You're lucky,'' says Naya, `` Jasa's made her bean curd curry again tonight!'' 
 `` Thank you Naya.'' says the young'mancer, bowing his head to the one girl and then the other. `` Thank you Jasa, for always taking care of me.'' 
 `` It is our pleasure to serve.'' smiles Jasa, plating the meal. 
 
 The young'mancer sits and eats wordlessly as the two women wait on him, their eyes cast down to the mosaic floor between courses. The slaves circle them, their arms oscillating in mute obedience, fanning them. 
 `` So, Apprentice 111.'' says Naya. `` How far do you think you have progressed in your arts?'' 
 
 -- -- 
 
 **To be continued. **
