An hour later, sitting across from his uncle in the private study, Dru had finished recalling the day's events.
“You did right, boy, by calling me immediately. I am pleased with my decision to put you into Akub's little class.”
“I am really enjoying it, as well,” commented Dru. Vihesi merely snorted. He looked at the fresco work he had commissioned for the ceiling. The muralist had done a spectacular, though expensive, job. Sometimes the clouds and angels helped him see more clearly. A pensive look crossed his face.
“I want you to spend as much time with that girl as possible. Do your utmost to cause her to stay. I must know more,” Vihesi barked. Then his tone softened slightly, and a look of almost love crossed his face.
“Do whatever you have to do to engage her. You are a charming, good-looking boy. I am sure that you can make her interested in you.”
“Well, Uncle,” spoke Dru sheepishly, “she is rather sweet. She has delightful brown eyes, and although she's not much younger than me, she wears her hair in braids.”
Vihesi jumped out of his seat and grabbed his nephew by the scarf around his neck. He shook Dru for a split second before allowing him to slump back into his seat.
“Idiot! Don't fall in love with her yourself! Get her to like you.”
Vihesi adjusted his shirt and trousers and sat back down.
“Sorry, boy. It's just that this is so profoundly important, and I am placing it in the hands of adolescent hormones. You must find out everything you can and relay it back to me.” He paused and looked up at his frescoed stars and clouds once more.
“After all, this might all be yours one day. But you must work for it. Show me your worth. Show me that you are deserving and not the heir of …” Here Vihesi dwindled off and left the sentence unfinished. Dru completed it in his head. He had heard it countless times before, “And not the heir of weakness and depravity.”