Questions

“You could ask me what name I gave to the first color, the one that ran and hid when I formed the others. You could ask me what words I will speak when I unmake the world. You could ask me how to name stone or rock, or how to hear the river speak. You could ask me who first sang to me the song I teach the newborn birds and who will someday sing a better one. You could ask to read a page in the Book of Names or to be allowed to chew a leaf from the Tree of Life. You could have asked any question, any boon, and I would have granted you an answer. But not that one, love. I cannot answer that one.”
“You cannot draw me into false regret, Maki. You knew what question I would ask when you offered the boon. I will not second guess myself.”
“Perhaps. You could, of course, withdraw the question and ask another.”
“Nevertheless the question stands. It is the one to which I desire an answer.”
“I will not give you that answer.”
“Then you must tell me who can. By the compact, if you cannot fulfill the boon you have offered you must direct me to one who can. So tell me.”
“Ah, that I could answer. But I choose not to.”
“You choose? You choose not to? That is not the way this works. You owe me at least that much.”
“Oh no, love. I owe you much less than that. But still, I will offer you more than I owe. Despite your insolence. I will give you a name, although he can answer none of the questions you can ask. If you ask him a question he can answer, it will put you one step closer to your goal. Do you consent to receive this name?”
“Yes, Maki. I accept your wisdom. Forgive this one for doubting you.”

Maki said nothing, only nodded her head. Then she gave the man a name and the man trembled to hear it.