KNITE:

Helena sat in the backroom, running a whetstone down the length of an obsidian longsword. Sanas and Ilinai stood behind me by the door, hungry and tired and slouching against the wall to keep from falling.

“The boy?” I asked.

Helena didn’t bother looking up. “Safe.”

Sanas brushed past me and deeper into the room, falling into the chair beside Helena, her smile weary. “It’s good to see you.”

Helena nodded a greeting, eyes never leaving the dark blade.

“Still as reticent as ever, I see.”

“I am who I am,” Helena said.

“Tell me,” I ordered, interrupting their reunion.

Helena shrugged. “There’s not much to tell.”

“Helena, I may grant you the courtesy of keeping your soul private, but do not treat me as though I am blind for it.”

“He’s alive.”

“And?”

Her eyes shifted to my left, falling on Ilinai. “The priestess, I presume.”

“Helena,” I said, my tone more forceful.

Her gaze returned to the sword, the whetstone screeching along its edge. “I’m afraid he’s been unconscious since his fall.”

“What happened?”

Helena signed as though I was the one grating on her patience. “He’ll wake from it. His condition hasn’t deteriorated much since—”

A lance of pain. Thin and deep and just for a moment. Just enough to let her know my tolerance was fraying. She jolted from her seat, mouth open in a soundless scream, sword in one hand, a whetstone in the other. Never before had I the need to punish her for disobedience. It irked me to do so—to find the need to do so.

“I was being watched, Lord,” she said, the words pushed past gritted teeth. “He spent more time underwater than planned.”

I took my usual seat. Ilinai stepped in behind me and sat to my right. I paid her no mind.

“Why are you punishing the boy for the deeds of his mother?” I asked Helena.

“As I said, I didn’t plan for him to stay under for so long.”

“And you imagined I’d believe the lie. You are usually hard to read, Helena, but your aim in this is rather obvious. How is punishing innocents any better than what godlings do?”

“Please do not compare me to them.” There was an edge to her voice. Almost anger. Almost disrespect.

“If you think them all beyond innocence, you must count me guilty. Or have you forgotten that I am one of them?”

“You are a rare exception. A singular exception.”

“And Sanas and Halga?”

“They’re more Roots than Leaves.”

“Same as he is more Root than Leaf, more commoner than Fiora. Do you seek to rob godlings of the opportunity to stray from their Old Queen’s influence as she and I have? As he and Roche and the others have? As you have? Do not let your hate bleed too far from its source, girl.” She bristled. She’d always hated it when I called her ‘girl.’

“If we've stooped so low as to have scarred Farian’s soul for the sake of our mission, I’ll damn well do worse to them.”

“There is a difference between what we must do and what we choose to do.”

“I choose to do what I must. What will they think when we pull them from their seats of power, roots and all? What would they become? Saviors? Do you think they’ll suddenly grow virtuous or retire into obscurity? No, they’d dig into our very souls and plant new roots, then blight the lives of the next generations for all of posterity. I will not let that happen.”

I shook my head. “Spare me your embellishments. Your reasons are not born from magnanimity. In that, we are alike. But I will not act without just cause. Extenuating circumstances mitigate the dishonor of murder; they do not negate it. And remember, Farian is far from innocent.”

She gave me a hard, defiant look. “I will not let that happen,” she repeated.

I waved her argument away, done with my attempts at persuasion, which, with her being her and me being barred from using my soulsight, I found trying. “Frankly, you may murder royal babes and gnaw the flesh of their bones for all I care. That is not my issue—though, considering my fondness for wicked souls, it could become yours. My issue is with your disobedience. You will not skirt my orders again. You will do as I wish and exactly how I wish it. Anything less will not do. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” she said.

I leaned forward and trapped her eyes with the glint of hunger in mine. The voice that followed was entirely my own, unfettered by mask or restraint. “Truly hear me, Helena? Because I will not warn you again.”

Helena flinched. It had been a while since she’d heard me speak. “Yes, Lord,” she said, her words a tired whisper. I took them as truth. I mightn't have if they had come easy.

I nodded once, leaned back, and turned my gaze to Ilinai. She watched us with rapt attention, then smiled when she noticed my stare. But the slight quiver in her lower lip ruined her disguise.

“That is an interesting venture you’ve embarked on,” she said, her dread poorly masked behind an amused expression.

“I see you amassing fantasies of what Lorail will give you when you bring this to her,” I said. “Rest assured, that will not be happening.”

The priestess’ eyes narrowed, but her smile endured, the quiver of her lips allayed by some newfound source of confidence. “You would not have dragged me from The Bridge if you intended my death.”

I shrugged.

Ilinai raised an eyebrow. “Are you not the weaver of words famed for his art of influence?”

I shrugged again. “A skill not needed is a skill not used.”

“A skill not used is a skill no more,” she said, proud of herself. She didn’t realize she was quoting me. “Without the promise of death or the ability to Tunnel me, how exactly are you planning to have me cooperate?”

I laughed. Hard. Hard enough to almost fall into a fit of coughs. “I met a soldier half a moon’s cycle or so ago. In fact, it was on my very first day as a prisoner of The Bridge. He was a hapless fellow locked away for opposing his commander's orders. I quite liked him. He too was partial to assumptions.”

Her cavalier attitude fell a little, a frown fighting its way onto her brow. “Assumptions? What assumptions?”

I held up my forefinger. “Thinking I need or want your cooperation.”

“Then why keep me alive?”

I chuckled. “Jonar was also fond of asking questions.” My middle finger joined the first. “Thinking I want you dead.” Her frown deepened. I raised a third finger. “Thinking I am unable to break past your defenses.”

A grey pallor befell her complexion, fear draining the blood away. “You can’t. She told me you couldn’t. She said none but she could.” Ah, I thought, her source of confidence.

I got up and approached. She leaned back until her chair began to tilt on its hind legs. Clerics and Named Painters, of which she was both, rarely faced the dangers of a scrying. Yet by credence of my assumed godhood, I was, in her eyes, one of the rare few who could place her soul in peril, and, being that I was a fellow god, one of the rare few who could contest Lorail.

I leaned forward, bending down to pinch her chin between my finger and thumb, then gently pushed her face up so our eyes could meet. “Like young Jonar, you will disobey your commander.”

“You’re the Knite, are you not?” she asked, fake bravado pitching her tone. “Your fabled honesty has made your name interchangeable with the trait. Is that but a myth? Are you trying to coerce me into cooperating despite having said you did not need nor want to?”

“Do not lie to me, Ilinai. I am well aware that my name has become synonymous with half-truths and intricate, deep-rooted deceits. I do not begrudge the practice; I am rather deceitful.”

“And how have you deceived me?”

“By not trying to deceive you at all,” I answered. “Well, maybe a smidgen, but not nearly as much as I usually do with enemies and friends alike. You see, I do not need nor want your cooperation; I want you to want to give me your cooperation.”

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She pulled her face brazenly from my touch, nearly toppling backward. “My Goddess was right about you,” she said, red with embarrassment.

I stood and reached my full height. “Likely. She is my sister, after all.”

“And why would I want to cooperate?”

“For the same reasons I want you to want to.”

“And what reasons are they?”

I turned to my guards. Sanas had fallen asleep, her head awkwardly resting on her shoulder and her face free of stress for the first time since our reunion, maybe the first time since her imprisonment. Helena seemed trapped in her thoughts, her eyes looking but not watching the whetstone as she rhythmically slid it down the sword.

“Helena,” I called. She looked up at me. “Please take our guest to the skeleton cage. I assume you and Roche have acquired one?”

***

Roche returned late in the evening. He wore his caretaker disguise: face dirtied, back hunched, hair unkempt, and gait frazzled by a limp. As long as no god was actively searching, the man could infiltrate anywhere he so wished, whether the deserts of Af’titala, the dense forests of Kolokasi, or the rocky mountains of Golodan. I half suspected he could do the same in the lands of the Far East despite him being unfamiliar with their peculiar customs.

“You are a wonder among Tunnellers,” I said.

Roche stood under the doorway, transfixed, his gaze locked onto Sanas. My words had barely registered. He watched her sleeping form for a timeless while, frozen by a frightful rapture. His voice was quiet when he finally spoke.

“Scars?” he asked.

“Those on her body are as expected: small in number and size.”

“And her Soul?”

“None by Tunnellers.”

His head spun in my direction. “By Tunnellers?”

I sighed. “Her soul has some, but none were caused by the touch of another’s sensus.”

At my words, he rushed to her. She stirred, rubbing her shoulder against her cheek. Such a deep sleep was unlike her. I wondered how long The Bridge must’ve kept her from resting true.

“Who?” he asked, his thumb gently stroking the back of her hand as he held it in his own.

“I do not think she is ready to speak of it.”

His jaw twitched, and a soft growl played from the back of his throat. “Are they dead?”

“Some.”

“May I attend to those who aren't?”

I shook my head. “Not yet. You need my help, and we must soon leave the city.”

“I won’t.”

“You won’t leave?”

He shook his head. “You know I’ll do whatever you instruct. I meant I wouldn't need your help. As you said, I am an excellent Tunneller.”

“Too many eyes, Old Roche. Too much risk.”

“Do you know why, as a Tunneller, I excel at infiltration and subterfuge?”

“You need not tell me, Roche. I’ve known you for centuries. And as I’ve already said, I know you to be an excellent Tunneller.”

Roche carefully let go of Sanas’ hand. “One of the best, but again, and without any disrespect, that is not what I meant. Do you know why I excel in those fields more than even the best Painters? It’s because I’m an expert in subtlety. While others pride themselves on their heavy-handed Tunnels, I caress auras, nudge their thoughts with a gentle touch, and people fall within my control without knowing it. For me, Tunneling is not a skill of dominance but of manipulation. The prisoners and guards would not know why I was there. More than that, they would welcome me and forget they had. A few tender Tunnels here, a few there, and I’d be in the most protected parts of The Bridge, free to do as I wished. A slice here and there, and her tormentors would cease to exist. In and out. Easy as that.”

“I did not say you were likely to fail.”

“And she's worth it,” he said.

“Worth what?”

“The risk. She’s worth it.”

“Alright, Roche, but ask yourself this—would she want you to?”

His silence was answer enough. I’d read her soul, yet he knew her better—reading a memory could not compare with living it. She would not forgive him if he took vengeance in her name. I doubted she would excuse herself for the little she’d taken on her way out when she sobered from her anger.

Roche went to Sanas and picked her up. He carried her upstairs. Slow. Careful. Like she was smoke and in danger of dissipating. He returned after a time, his face slack, a large skin of wine clutched in his hand. I remained silent as he took his seat.

“Where’s Helena?” he asked, eyes fixed on the wine.

“Downstairs with Ilinai.”

“The priestess?”

“Yes.”

Silence. He watched the wineskin. I watched him. We sat for nearly an hour, him saturating in his thoughts, me waiting for him to finish absorbing them.

“I haven't stopped,” he finally admitted. His eyes hadn't left the wineskin, fingers fiddling with the stopper as if reflecting his indecision.

“I know,” I said. “Can’t or don’t want to?”

“I'm afraid to find out which.” He looked up at me, eager to find acceptance. Encouragement. “But you know that already, so why ask?”

“Because you needed to admit it, to say it out loud and make it more than just a thought.”

Roche nodded as if he’d found what he was looking for, and it wasn’t with me. Then, he looked back down at the wineskin, his fingers having never stopped fretting. “My indulgence has to end.”

I shrugged. “I had merely suggested you curb the sea of intoxicants you dull yourself in.”

“It has to,” he repeated.

“Only to see that you can.”

He nodded again. “Are we going to Partum?”

“With the change in events, Halor is the better choice. Too many have congregated in Partum because of the war. Halor, weakened by the absence of Lorail and under attack by a covert revolution, is prime and ripe for our needs.”

“Then I really do need to stop.”

We lapsed into silence again. Roche stared into space pensively. I let him stew with his thoughts some more. When I saw his emotions settle, I asked the question I’d meant to ask upon his arrival.

“How’s Aki?”

Roche threw the wineskin to me. His empty hands found something new to fuss over, pushed back his silver hair, dusted off his garments, and finally settled for rolling a coin over his knuckles.

“I assume he passed the assessment,” I said.

“Barely.”

“Was my advice so deficient?”

“No, not at all. There was a vast improvement once I’d given it to him. No, it wasn’t a lack of skill but an abundance of idiocy that nearly cost him. The fool almost ruptured the streams in his right hand.”

I smiled. “I’ve learned never to underestimate how much Aki is willing to pay for what he wants.”

“Stubborn child, that one. Angered me that he so nearly failed you.”

“It’s of no concern. Lorail is aware of his potential. Enough to ensure he enters The Royal Academy irrespective of his performance in the assessment.”

“I assumed as much, but I spoke of him failing you, not your plans. I know you hold him in high regard.”

“Failing to be invited to The Royal Academy would’ve been akin to death for him,” I explained. “His choice was made with that in mind.”

I opened the wineskin and took a pull. It wasn't wine, but mead. A strong mead. The bitter honey was a welcome surprise. It’d been some time since last I had any. The taste tickled my nostalgia. Not since, I thought, but then I shook my head, running from the memory.

“Really?” Roche asked, his fingers still nervously fidgeting with his coin. “I’ve only just decided upon my abstinence, and already you are testing my resolve.”

“What did you expect?”

“I suppose there was no other course of action.”

“Tell me of Lorail?”

He winced as if caught in a lie. “You saw?”

“Your emotions surged when I mentioned her name.”

Roche leaned forward, elbows on knees, face buried in his hands. “I must stop.”

“What happened?”

He slumped back and sighed. “She came. One of my assessors is one of her bonded.” He spat the word in disgust. “A fellow by the name of Kurash. He told me she would be coming to see me. I thought I could handle it. It’s been so long since…” He sighed again, trying to exhale the thought without forming the words.

“So, they’ve met?”

Roche looked at me, a tinge of surprise in his eyes. “You're not worried I gave myself away? Us away? You away? Though she didn’t mention it, and though we’d never met during my youth, she most definitely saw through my disguise.”

“My sister is arrogant. She likes to think she’s not because our brother is, and she hates him, but she is. As long as you appear submissive, which you’ve already admitted to, she will not trouble herself with suspicion. Besides, I felt no fear come from you, just—”

“Shame,” he finished. “I was nervous. Drinking seemed the only cure.” He rubbed at his eyes with his forefinger and thumb, then brought them together to pinch the bridge of his nose. His right hand lay on his knee and his fingers tapped the beat of a horse’s gallop as the coin spun seamlessly from knuckle to knuckle.

“Tell me,” I said. I could feel there was some weight he carried, some admission he wanted to make. I knew succumbing to his vice was not it; he had offered that much without encouragement.

“I was drunk when she came,” he began. “Assessments were imminent and admissions for the new cycle would soon follow, so I was in my office, organizing schedules and reviewing applicants. The wine had taken the edge off, and I was not nearly as nervous as I was that morning. That’s when she came. She came in that way I’d heard so much about but never quite understood. She came, and it was like she had always been there.” He shook his head. “I…”

“Say it.”

“I wanted nothing more than to please her, alright! Her every word was a pleasure to my ears. She wanted me to shock Aki with death and pain and decay. I arranged it without hesitation. She wanted me to pressure him for answers. I threatened him with no thought for you or your plans. Our plans. She wanted me to leave. I skipped away like a lovesick boy. I would have told her our secrets if she’d asked or if I had not been so busy fawning over her. She was in her child form, and like a depraved degenerate, I could do nothing but marvel at her with lust and worship.” He buried his face again and, in a muffled cry, said, “A child, Lord. A fucking child!”

“It is not your fault,” I said. “There was nothing you could do.”

“Exactly!” he said, his face leaping out from behind his hands. “Nothing has changed. I am still that little boy. Elur’s boy. Nothing has changed. Nothing at all.” His voice cracked.

“You do not give that boy enough praise. It is fine to remember the hardships of his failures, but to do so without balancing them with the heights of his successes would be a travesty.”

A faint smile graced his lips. “I am rather proud of the mischief I caused.” Then, just as quickly as it had come, his smile was gone. “But her effects on me were too great. After all these years, I thought my scars might’ve healed into tougher skin.”

I allowed him another stretch of quiet. It is always best to contemplate such issues in the calm of safety lest the brooding topics invade your thoughts at less opportune times. Or, worse yet, erode your sanity and will so that when the time comes when either is tested, you crack and fall apart, unable to rise to the challenge.

After a long spell of contemplation, he said, “Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, she met with Aki. From what I gathered, he did well enough. His soul remained untouched when next I saw him.”

“When do we leave?” a voice asked. We turned to the doorway and saw Helena leaning against the door. As always, neither of us had heard her approach.

“How long?” Roche asked.

“The floor between this room and the basement is rather thin,” she said. “We should see to that. We can’t have passersby overhearing the priestess’ screams.”

Roche and Helena shared an uneasy moment, their glares clashing into sparks of conflict. I interceded before it could kindle into a fire.

“Tonight,” I said. “Hopefully, when the stillness of the city is at its greatest. Sometime between drunks stumbling home and servants scurrying to work.”

“If we leave then,” Roche said, open to if not pleased by the change in subject, “we might miss the guard shift for the gates. It is easier to cross when those tired from their shift head home early and those pulled from sleep drag themselves to their posts. They always leave it unattended for a time.” Roche rubbed his wrists, stroking the near-invisible weapons he kept tied about his arms. “Though I wouldn’t mind killing our way out of the city.”

“With you there, I doubt we’ll need to resort to that,” I said.

“And our prisoner?” Helena asked.

I took a swig from the mead. “Leahne will be keeping an eye on her. Illinai is rather powerful; her soul will take time to starve.”

“You're putting a great deal of trust in this unbound woman. Leahne, was it?”

“Her soul is tied to me in ways greater than any I could impose. Like yours, like each of you who've joined my retinue, there are reasons she will not betray me.”

“And our other prisoner?”

“Merkon will be coming with us. Or, more specifically, with you. Until he wakes, he is your responsibility.” I turned to Roche. “Prepare for our departure. Get the supplies we need for the journey, including provisions for Sanas—clothes, weapons, and whatever else she might need. Hand in your resignation to The Bark Council while you’re at it. An inquiry into your disappearance would be a nuisance. Same with you Helena.”

“Lorail might seek to question me,” Helena said.

“Not likely. She’s found Aki. The death of her servant will not cause her to investigate further.”

Roche stood. “Why are we going to Halor?”

I smiled. “To take the city, of course.”

Roche returned my smile, his fingers suddenly still. “Of course. What else is there to do?”