Entry Eight

This is Rewel. The primary function of a Thief is to maintain the silence of the people; the secondary function is that of plaything to the Speakers.

Matduke sits across the table from me staring out the window. He has hardly touched the food in front of him, although it is not particularly appetizing. This is not the first dinner he’s shared with me and I doubt it will be the last. He sits still perfectly, even the prosthetic eye does not focus. The moon creeps barely above the horizon, bathing the city in its grey light. Matduke speaks moonlight. “Do you know what years are, Rewel?”

The word is familiar but I do not understand it; I shake my head.

Matduke stays silent for a few moments longer then turns to rest his good eye on me. The prosthetic one is off. “One year is the amount of time it takes the earth to orbit the sun completely. There are three hundred sixty-five days in one year. Do you understand?”

I nod. It seems like a great deal of time in one of these years.

He smirks slightly, the wires in his face moving with his muscles. “Would you believe me if I said you are twenty-five years old?”  I do not respond causing him to laugh. “Of course not. You wouldn’t believe anything I tell you.” He stares out the window again, the laughter falls out of his mouth and spills on the floor in beads escaping the confines of the white dining room. “You won’t believe that I am 253 years old…”

I say nothing as I know not what to say. Years seem distant and inconsequential and I do know not what the significance could be if I were twenty-five or 253. Again, Matduke speaks. “Do you know what stars are, Rewel?” His voice is far away between here and the moon.

Glancing out at the night sky, I shake my head. The moonlight beats on us as Matduke sighs. “You will know someday, Rewel. Someday you will leave.”

I nod again, but I do not understand.