A small storm had come up while Maka and I were talking. Now, as he was
about to quit me, the clouds were clearing away and an occasional stroke
of lightning came down. One of these, however, hit the ground such a
short distance away that both of us could smell the smoke.

My mind was more alive than it had ever been before. "Now, what caused
that, Maka? The lightning, I mean; we have it nearly every day, yet I
have never thought to question it before."

"It is no mystery, my lad," quoth Maka, dodging into his chariot, so
that he was not wet. "I myself have watched the thing from the top of
high mountains, where the air is so light that a man can scarce get
enough to fill his lungs; and I say unto you that, were it not for what
air we have, we should have naught save the lightning. The space about
the air is full of it."

He started his engine, then leaned out into the rain and said softly:
"Hold fast to what thy father has taught thee, Strokor. Have nothing to
do with the women. 'Tis a man's job ahead of thee, and the future of the
empire is in thy hands.

"And," as he clattered off, "fill not thy head with wonderings about the
lightning."

"Aye," said I right earnestly, and immediately turned my thoughts to my
new ambition. And yet the thing Maka had just told me kept coming back
to my mind, and so it does to this very day. I know not why I should
mention it at all save that each time I think upon Maka, I also think
upon the lightning, whether I will or no.