He heard the thuddy-thud as it hit. His eyes stayed on Jesty, though, not wanting to miss anything. Jesty just looked at him. Big smiles. Long smiles. He loved Jesty. He never said it. Couldn't say it. But Jesty knew. Then he felt it. Felt the weight on his chest.

When he looked down, a pale blade was sticky-stuck on his criss-crossed heart. But maybe it wasn't that. Maybe it wasn't pale. Maybe it was bright and silver and pretty and looked just like the other one. Just like the one that fell droppity-drop like stones below.

Pilep's teeth stretched big and big and his body wiggled side to side as he clapped at the magic. "Jesty, Jesty! You found the knife!" He unstuck the knife from his armor and tap-tapped the tiny hole it left behind with a skinny finger.

"I found a knife, Master Pilep," said Jesty. "A very good knife. It'll do what it's supposed to." Jesty's face looked sad as snails a split second, but then it snapped back to its normal norm.

"Thank you! Thank you on rye and wheat and barley!"

"The ceremony is starting soon. It is time you get going."

Pilep had forgotten about the ceremony again. Always forgetting. Always bed-wetting, his mother's voice echoed in his head. "Okay, Jesty. Okay."

As he turned to leave, Jesty grabbed his shoulder. Pilep turned around and yelped as Jesty took a big Jesty-fist and punched himself hard in his own Jesty-face. He held it with all itchy-ouches for a couple moments, and then he looked back up, smile and all.

"This is called mirror-magic," he said, pointing at the red spot starting on his eye. "Now I look just like you!"

A droppy tear leaked from Pilep's eye—the one that wasn't all stingy—though he could not say what brought it there. "I don't think that's magic, Jesty," he stated.

Jesty sighed. "Maybe not, Master Pilep. Maybe not. But maybe it's the most powerful magic I have."

Pilep's brow furrowed but he nodded and smiled. Jesty wasn't all right in the head. A little wibbly-wobbly, but it weren't his own fault, so there was no sense in making him feel all sour milk over it.

"Alright, off you go then," Jesty said, leading him from the room. "And Pilep?"

"Yes, Jesty?"

"Go easy on the beans from now on, okay?" As Jesty shut the door he plugged his nose with one hand and waved his other in front of it, pretending to hold his breath.

The door shut, but Pilep kept giggling the whole way towards the King's Hall. Jesty the besty. Besty, indeed. He held the knife he'd been given as he walked. So silly-strange. He'd been sure he dropped it down the well when mean-mean Tilly poked him. Been sure he'd watched it fall. Like stones, he'd thought. But here it were, all perfect and pale and—no wait, silly Pilep. Not pale. Not pale at all. It was bright. And silver. And just exactly same-same as the one before.

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He were there when Pilep arrived. Leaning against the wall. Standing guard by the East Door. No color in his eyes. Never any color in his eyes. Grey as grey and grey. Pilep wondered if it hurt when the color came out.

"Where ye been, simpling?"

Pilep lifted his hands up and tried to wave them around as Jesty had. "I been learning magic, Jael. Don't make me cast a spelly on you!"

Grey Jael turned to spit, not taking his grey eyes off him. "Right. Well, King's going to be needing that little piece there soon enough," he said, nodding at Jesty's knife. "I'm surprised you ain't lost it agai—" Grey Jael did something funny and funny, then. His no-color eyes went big and big as he looked at his old knife. Then, he let out a loud puff of air like he were a bellows.

It would have made Pilep laugh if Grey Jael weren't so scary and scary.

"Where'd you get that?" asked Grey Jael, voice all crackly like creek stones.

Pilep swallowed. "It...it's just what been given to me. To me before. Long before."

Pilep sunk backwards and squeaked all mousy as Grey Jael rushed at him. "Don't lie to me!" he shouted as he grabbed the front of Pilep's breastplate and yanked him forward.

Not those eyes. Not those eyes. Pilep's head swiveled and swiveled as he tried to escape those eyes. "Please don't kill me! Please don't take the color out of my eyes! My papa. My papa. The King will..." The King would do not for nothing, though, and Grey Jael knew it, and Pilep knew it, and everyone knew it, so Pilep stopped talking. Just swiveled.

For long and long Grey Jael looked at him with his angry snarl and his color-gone eyes. Then he surprised Pilep a second time. He laughed. Though it sounded to him more like charcoal burning.

Grey Jael released his grip. Pilep took three quick steps backwards and away from those eyes.

"I guess it don't matter, do it?" Grey Jael asked. "Don't right matter at all where it come from." He laughed again, more charcoal burning. "Well, simpling. I imagine they'll tell a sweet feckin tale about you now, won't they? Right then, get along to it. The King is waiting."

Pilep nodded his head and skittered past Grey Jael towards the chamber door. As he passed, Jael's eyes followed his knife, and Pilep thought he saw shadows in them. Dark shadows.

The door shut heavy-heavy behind him. People. Lots and lots of people and people. Some of them drunk and some of them servants, but all of them loud and loud and loud.

Pilep hated this part. With the people and the loud and the lights and the blood. All of it he hated, but this was what he was made for, his mummer had told him, and this is what the King wants, and if the King wants it then the King gets it, and the King loves you, and porridge comes in, so no fooling around and no dawdling and bring me my porridge when the King gets it to you, okay Pilly, he loves you, and don't mind the bruises 'cause they're just teasing you, he's just testing you, it's no big deal, now bring me my porridge quick!

Pilep scratched away his droppy tears and stepped up to the table at the front of the dais. The King was busy taking bites and bites of slimy chicken, but Pilep stood and waited for his papa to see him.

"Step back, boy. I'm eating."

Pilep couldn't stop his hands from shaky-shaky-shaking. "I...I, umm. I have your knife, King...er, pa—"

A great hairy hand swung out and hit Pilep on his left eye. Large sprinkle-stars flashed and flittered as his head went wibbly-wobbly and Pilep realized that he was on the floor. He also realized that his face was slicky-slime with turkey grease. Pilep hated dead turkey. He much preferred them alive. He much preferred all things alive. Even the King with his mean and mean.

Pilep did not scratch away his droppy tears this time. As he felt the King remove the knife from his belt, he saw a face at the side-chamber door. The best face. A Jesty face. Jesty smiled at Pilep—all big and big—and waved wild with one flimsy hand, telling him without words to come. And Pilep was happy and happy that he did.