knowing
It wouldnât be that difficult to build himself a reputation as one of those stoic-ascetics, Inkias thinks for the thousandth time. He stands as far back from the center of the ballroom as he can, trying not to catch the eye of any of the dancers â or worse, the unattached men and women gliding about in all their bold, bright silks â and maps the plan out in his head again. Drink sparingly, join the early morning practitioners, and never dance again at one of the Princeâs whimsical post-dinner balls. He had, after all, joined one of the religious orders of knights.
Even as he considers his plan, he absently sips from his glass of cool fruit juice, and scans the room to assess the dangers. Some people are to be avoided more assiduously than others.
The Princeâs brother grins and catches Inkias's eye over his dance partner's shoulder, and Inkias can't help but smile back; the princeâs brother has the same sharp, pale eyes as the Prince himself, but his smile comes easier without the weight of his brotherâs crown, and is far more infectious for it. The lady doesn't crane her neck to see, but only because the next steps of the dance bring her around, and then she spots Inkias and laughs.
"Lord knight," a woman says, her voice a sultry purr, and Inkias suddenly knows why he's been laughed at.
He's caught.
"Your highness," Inkias says as he turns to the Princeâs sister. He bows, impeccably polite, even though he's never felt quite so uncomfortable with his own title before.
"I haven't seen you at court before, sir."
"No, your highness, perhaps not," Inkias says, though rightly he could call her my lady now that he has already acknowledged her royalty. She's dropped to the less formal sir, but Inkias hopes not to tempt her into more intimate forms of address. "I was knighted when his serene highness made his inspection of the twilight borders last year, and I remained there to serve."
The princeâs sister smiles again, and Inkias realizes he does not have a way out of this. The music has ended, though a note of expectation hangs in the air still, and the princeâs brother--still laughing--makes his way over to where his sister has caught Inkias.
"Lord knight," the princeâs brother greets.
"Your highness," Inkias replies.
The princeâs brother grins, and makes a great show of looking between Inkias and his sister with courtly suspicion. âAm I interrupting something, sir knight?â he asks archly.
The princeâs brother had fought nearly three months alongside Inkias, on the twilight borders, and Inkias had watched him joke with many of the knights, teasing them about this person or that, or this thing or that. Itâs been a while since anyone has turned that kind of mischief on Inkias. It makes him feel âreckless. Daring, like something sweeping him up from behind, laughing into his ear and goading him on.
âNo, my lord,â Inkias says. âNot at all; in fact, I was going to ask you if I could have the next dance?"
âą âą âą
At least the Prince had smiled when he handed down Inkiasâs sentence; smirked, almost. For offending the Princeâs sister but paying a compliment to his brother, what might have been months back out on border duty has been commuted to months on duty in the city guard.
It is not so uncommon. Most of the court had laughed too, because what had Inkias been thinking? One does spurn the princeâs sister, not when all she wants is a dance. But gripped by madness, Inkias had done just that, and now heâs enjoying his first night on guard in the outer city, banished from the Princeâs royal dinners and dances. Instead of bright silks and dashing capes, Inkias is dressed up in the distinctive red-brown uniform of the guard, complete with a bone mask with tusks. Heâs supposed to be in the inner city, patrolling the cityâs quieter street, but Inkias takes his duty seriously, even if it is a punishment and half in jest, and submitted his name to the rotating lists like a true knight-guard.Â
In the outer city, Inkias is not quite so safe as the court thinks he is. His partner for the late watch â standing on the opposite street corner, similarly dressed in uniform red-brown and masked (though her mask has curling, elegant horns and painted blue circles where it hides her eyes) â is not on the rotating lists, but a longstanding and permanent outer city guard. So not quite so unsafe as the court would think, should they learn where Inkias is. He will be supported by one of the best the outer city guard has.
"Don't expect a quiet night," she had warned him when they first headed out to relieve the evening watch. Inkias could feel her eyes, behind the painted blue dots, fixed on him; she had a skeptical gaze, even through the mask.
But Inkias had prepared himself. He practices expanding and focusing his vision through the mask. All warmasks are the same in basic construction: made of smooth bone that covers the eyes, they are laced with sight-spells to make up for the obstruction. That part is necessary because any break in the bone â holes for eyes, for example â interferes with the other spells. Inkias finds that each mask begins to develop its own functional quirks after a while, and his new tusked mask is no exception. If he werenât a knight, sometimes Inkias thinks of being a spell-researcherâŠ
He feels the shift in the air even before the noise reaches their ears: a steady thud-thud, the rhythmic pounding of someone running along hard-packed dirt. If heâs honest, he's known something was coming since the night before, when the laughter gripped him and he danced with the prince's brother.
Inkias holds himself at the ready as someone dashes out onto the main street at full tilt, maybe two blocks down from Inkiasâs post. The runner â a man âslows to scan the area, then turns sharply when he sees the bone masks and the red-brown jackets. He sprints over to them, and when he gets close enough to see properly, Inkias realizes that no amount of readying himself that could have prepared him.
The wind bellows out of his lungs, as if his chest were constricted by tight bands just as he took a new breath, and he can hear himself saying something, but it isn't him, Inkias; it is himself, and the words come clear now, ringing with purpose and power in his ears.
I will always know you.Â
And so Inkias does, because it was not just his power that hammered his will into something mightier than the cycles. He remembers those words and he remembers the foreign power as it twined with his, like a breath of laughter on the back of his neck, like arms reaching to hug him from behind and hold him up â almost, Inkias thinks incongruously, like madness that had seized him the night before and made him spurn the prince's sister.
I will always know you.Â
Inkias knows the man even before he turns to Inkias, gasping for air after his mad dash. He is tall and broad-shouldered, with dark curly brown hair, and Inkias canât see the color of his eyes because he staggers, head dropping as he braces his hands on his knees as he tries to rein in his breath.
âWill you help, Guard?â he asks, when he can say it in more than a wheeze. He doesnât lift his head.
Inkias has memorized the forms, as any knight of the city has. âI swear to help you within my power and within the bounds of the law, in the Princeâs name and by my honor. Who calls for aid? I answer for the Third Light.â
The man freezes, a momentary stillness that could have been another struggle for breath. Inkias knows he hears the difference. City guards only ever swear to aid within the bounds of the law, because it is the law that sends them out into the streets and pays them for their efforts, and they rarely invoke the prince â let alone one of the gods of the Orders. Inkias can practically see the resigned annoyance radiating from his fellow guard, though she doesnât move an inch.
âI call,â the man says shortly, and then the rest of his words tumble out with a strange, desperate, defensive rush. âI am Akai. My mother is â she was home, when they came to rob us. Will you come and help?â
Inkias makes the right signals to his partner, if awkwardly, then tells Akai, âI will follow you.â
As if he could say anything else. Â
Akai leaves at a run.
Inkias wonders if he should have expected the bar that comes crashing down on him from behind.
âą âą âą
Iâm a real bastard, arenât I?
We have both been known to make mistakes.
âą âą âą
It strikes the back of his head, but the back of Inkiasâs head is not so unarmored as it appears.Â
Theyâre a few blocks away from Inkiasâs partner when the bar slams into him from behind and Inkias pitches forward. His head rings, but the shield that shimmered into existence on contact protects him from most of the force. His mask feels brittle on his face though, nearly spent for the moment, the spells sending out alarms in his vision, and Inkias knows he should avoid another of those. Â
Rolling as soon as he hits the ground, the knight twists nimbly, getting back up to his feet in a low crouch. Then he lunges for his attackerâs knees; it takes a split-second thought to get the attackerâs studded baton in his hands, and then he raps it sharply against the manâs temple as he falls down. Inkias is moving so quickly he thinks Akai wonât notice â it was a quiet, swift wish already half-true when he made it. Inkias swings the stolen baton at the second of the four men who've attacked him. Â
Theyâre in a narrow alleyway walled by the brick of various houses jammed together, some blank walls and others set with side-doors. A few of them open at the noise, and Inkias bites back a sigh when he sees more four or five more men spill out into the alleyway out of the corner of his eye.
It doesnât distract him from his main task: armed now with the baton, Inkias uses his sheathed sword as a club and lays about with both weapons, taking particular care to bruise knees, stomachs, elbows and wrists. Heâs forced to break the fourth brawlerâs collarbone when those coming out from the houses wade into the fray, but all in all, it is fairly quick fight. Inkias is a fully-trained knight, taught how to manage his odds and take on multiple opponents at once, a veteran of the twilight borders, and these aren't very skilled fighters; he doesnât need to draw his blade on them.Â
Soon the night air is still and silent except for the groans of the downed men; two who can flee stumble off, but Inkias doesnât give chase. He tries to remember their backs, and then shifts to begin tying up the men still laid about where they fell.
Heâs pleasantly surprised to find Akai still around. Apparently Inkiasâs success isnât only due to an imbalance in training. Heâs had allies, judging from the baton Akai now wields with a confident grip and the two men down at his feet. Akai has an older woman by his side as well, frazzled but not hysterical as Inkias might have expected. She does look like Akai; like his mother. Inkias wants to give him the benefit of the doubt.
It's not betrayal if they donât know each other.
âI must summon the others to bring these in,â he says, working his way through the new prisoners on the street, and perhaps cheating just a little, because wishing the bindings on already-captured men is a small thing, and some fluttering part of Inkias dares not to hide. Will Akai notice?
When heâs done lays a flat, metal disc on the ground, then goes to stand by Akai and his mother. The disk raises itself from the ground and begins spinning rapidly, creating the illusion of a sphere hovering in the air. Through the sight-spells, Inkias can see the flare the messenger-disk sends up into the sky. The others will come, soon.
âAre you going to run?â Inkias asks, turning to look from the flare to Akai and his mother.
They share a look, then try talking at the same time. âPlease, my son onlyââ âLook, sir, I didnât haveââ
They fall silent again almost immediately. Another speaking glance passes between mother and son, and Inkias suddenly thinks he knows whatâs being said.
âYou will not be in danger,â he assures Akai and his mother without hesitation. âYou stayed to help.â Inkias was distracted at the beginning of the fight, and he doesnât know how Akai got his mother away from the brawlers, or why he did stay to fight. Perhaps they had not had a good chance to make a break for it down the alley. âNow I only wish to know the full story; I think it is clear you have been coerced into this businessâŠ?â
âI had meant to let them stab you in the back and run,â Akai says, irritated and frank without quite being honest. He lifts the baton in his calloused, burned hands as if surprised to find it there, and then tosses it aside casually. Inkias has to fight back a smile. Who would have thought he would miss these kinds of theatrics?
âAkai, the Guard are here to help us,â Akaiâs mother says, sharp and reproachful enough that Akai pulls a face, then tries to turn it into a look of dutiful penitence.
âYes, Mother,â he agrees. âSir Guard has been a very great help.â
Inkias wonders if he ever sounds not sarcastic.
âSir Guard,â his mother repeats, faintly questioning.
âIndeed,â Akai says, and Inkias has to marvel at his endless ability to communicate without actually communicating.
Akaiâs mother looks the knight up and down, and her smile becomes warm and somewhat nostalgic. Â âItâs been a while since weâve had a knight on the watch in this part of the city,â she tells Inkias. Â
Inkias imagines his fellow knights getting smashed on the back of their heads nearly hard enough to shatter the mask spells on their first nights, and endeavors to cover his lack of surprise with formal politeness.
âI am on the rotating lists, and doubtless I will be back.â
âYou honor us with your service, Sir,â Akaiâs mother says, and she bows her head slightly.
âYou honor us with your service, Sir,â Akai repeats, and though he sounds just as sincere, his smile is the tight, thin kind that says thank you for your help, now goodbye and please never return. Â
Ah. Akai and his mother are not be here next time Inkias comes back, even if that time is but half an hour from now after helping his fellow guards march their prisoners to the closest holding cells. They will run as soon as the knight is out of sight, and he will have no idea where to; they might even flee to another city-state, or perhaps to the villages closer to the borders. Whatever theyâve been caught up in â which Akai still has not explained, though Inkias is beginning to have a few guesses â it will be easier for them to run than stay.
Inkias has a feeling that it was not supposed to happen like this. Whatever it is. He thinks heâs felt a shift in the balance, and then the weight of counterbalances, and if there was something that was supposed to happen, whatever is going on now is a negotiation of those previously-ordained events.
âI know that kind of evasion,â the knight declares, because why shouldnât he try to determine what comes next through his own actions? Whatever forces have guided them until now have had their chance. âYou do not think you are out of danger yet. By the Third Light, I must escort you to your home.â
Akaiâs face closes off, flat and expressionless, and he turns to his mother.
His mother, surely with more honesty than her son would have mustered, demurs. âSir, it is too kind an offer, but we cannot accept. These men, they were, known to my sonâs father, and they know where we live. We will not be returning to our old home.â
âThen you must allow me to convey you to a safe place for the night,â Inkias says immediately.
Akai frowns, but his mother raises one eyebrow at him, and suddenly Akai stares at Inkias, a considering look in his dark eyes.
âI admit, sir,â his mother says. âWe would appreciate the protection.â
âMother,â Akai protests, a little plaintively. âA knight? They have such horrid reputations, these days.â Â
âI will see the both of you safe, upon my honor,â Inkias announces. âNot all knights are the same.â
Akaiâs mother smiles, and Akai huffs and makes a show â Inkias thinks it is mostly a show â of giving in.Â
âYou are so chivalrous, Sir,â he tells Inkias, and the knight knows it is very much not a compliment.
Inkias doesnât know how to convey everything he wants to; how to ask Akai to have patience, just until Inkias can find a momentâs privacy to take off his mask. âI am very serious,â he says, trying for reassuring instead. âI have decided to take a very active interest in your welfare. And your motherâs, of course.â
Under the bright moon and burning street lamps, Akaiâs eyes widen with surprise â and then he smiles, half-pleased and half-calculating, and oh-so-familiar.Â
Inkias treasures that look as much as any other.
âą âą âą
âI fear it is too late to find any place respectable open,â Inkias says by way of an apology, turning carefully to look at Akai, careful of the tusks his mask. Theyâre walking close enough that he does have to be careful; HeraâAkaiâs motherâwalks on her sonâs arm, on his other side. It is early morning, Inkiasâs shift finally over, and he is now free to escort Akai and Hera somewhere safe.Â
âWe donât mind staying at a guard station. We did not mind waiting for you at the last place,â Hera replies lightly, and Inkias shakes his head quickly.Â
âOh, no, madam! That is not what I had thought; I had thought instead to bring you to my home. That would certainly see you safely settled for a few days, and then I could assist you with your new establishment.â
Akai shoots Inkias a sideways glance. âOh my, sir, is that not a little over-kind?â he asks, and though thereâs something teasing in his voice, Inkias is almost surprised by how⊠courtly he manages to sound. Hera shifts, and Akai hisses as if in pain. Then says, with no more of that faint mockery, âI mean, with all due respect sir knight, we are outer city folk⊠we know how little notice inner-city pays us.â
âI offered you aid by the honor of my Order,â Inkias replies firmly. âAnd honor aside, it is not in my nature to ignore those I could help. Not when they have personally asked for help.â
âI understand, sir,â Akai says, very solemnly.Â
âDo you?â Inkias asks, surprised by Akaiâs easy acceptance of his code of honor.Â
âYes,â says Akai. âThose criminals hit you over the head extremely hard. Itâs clearly affected your judgement, though I wonât complain about it anymore.â
Inkias strangles his burst of laughter, and snorts instead. Akai breaks out into a smile at that, and then the rest of their walk through the inner city is⊠easy. It somehow comes out that Inkias has fought on the twilight borders, and Akai has a thousand and one questions about the monsters there. Theyâre good questions â he asks about Inkiasâs combat spells (many, though Inkias names only two of the most common kind) and his strengths (starlight and ice, thus his nighttime guard shifts). He even asks for the story of Inkiasâs sword, which makes Inkias glance at his burn-flecked hands and arms again before answering.Â
âMy blade is Willspeaker, and she was first wielded by Hanoa the Lovely Wind, and all who bear her find strength in starlight and swear to the Third Light.â
Akai hums thoughtfully, and Hera says nothing, yet Inkias still has the sense that words pass between them.
âDo you know of much sword-lore?â the knight asks, and now itâs Heraâs turn to laugh.
âForgive her,â Akai says cheerfully. âMy motherâs father, my grandfather, was a swordsmith. On the twilight borders.â
"So you know a great deal of sword-lore," Inkias surmises, and then Hera fills the rest of their quiet walk with stories of her father's weapons. Inkias recognizes at least two of them.
When they reach Inkia's home in the inner city, the mistress of Inkiasâs house â a matronly woman who served Inkiasâs mother before him, and reigned over the place while Inkias fought on the borders â is still up despite the late-turned-early morning hour. She waited for Inkiasâs return, and doesn't bat an eye when her lord comes back with two unexpected outer city guests.
âI could not send word about them,â Inkias says apologetically.
"No trouble at all, my lord," Aiyo assures him. âWe always have a few rooms open. Will your guests want a bath? Yours is already drawn, sir."
"You must ask Madam Hera and her son yourself, though I would imagine so.â
"Very good, sir. There are also a few messages for you in your study. Some well-wishers came by in the evening and left their hopes that you would survive your first night..."
Inkias smiles at that. And then remembers he's still wearing his mask. In the entrance hall of his own house.
"I â yes," he starts, suddenly self-conscious. "Master Akai, may I request your company in my study? I am going there now."
The very inelegant invitation raises eyebrows all around. Aiyo looks like she suddenly understands the appearance of her lordâs new guests, and is quietly amused by it. Akai's mother seems to share Aiyo's amusement â and Akai grins unexpectedly.
"Certainly, my lord," he agrees, but with such marked pleasantness that Inkias can't helped but think he, too, must be thinking the same thing as his mother and Aiyo.
Flushing behind his mask, Inkias heads down one of the halls to the right, pausing only to be sure Akai really does follow him. Strange as it must seem, Inkias knows this is necessary before anything else. He must do this now, in private, and he's so convinced of the rightness of his plan of action that he turns around and closes the door to his study as soon as the spell-lights wink on.
Akai draws back from it, a little nonplussed by Inkias's haste. But before he can say any thing, Indias pulls his mask off and says, "I'm sorry - I couldn't find a chance toââ
Akai looks into his eyes. Stiffens, and gasps, and Inkias shuts up.
Then Kalna says, "You utter bastard."Â
But he says it smiling, and itâs a smile that is wholly Kalna. Iska sighs inwardly with relief, shedding Inkias and his doubts for the moment.Â
âCrows take you!â Kalna continues. âYou knew it was me, and here I thought you were just trying to seduce me! And I was going to go with it! I thought, hell, he can't be too bad behind the mask, even if he is a naive fool, and itâs not like I donât know how to encourage a man onââ
"Why wouldn't I also be trying to seduce you?â Itâs the only thing Iska can think of that would interrupt Kalnaâs impromptu tirade.
It works. Kalna sputters, then says, âYouâIska, youâre you.â
"Yes," Iska agrees. âAnd as me, I thought it would be very dishonest if you did not properly know who was courting you."
âButâIskaâIâm a nobody, and you are a noble knight," Kalna points out, taking on a âlisten, I'm being reasonable' tone. âYou must dance with the princeâs sister every night.â
Iska doesn't know why Kalna always sounds like this at his least reasonable. âI can hardly dance with the princeâs sister when I am on guard,â he says, choosing to omit the whole saga of the night before. âAnd you may not be noble, but no one at court could find fault with a knight for courting a swordsmith."
"I'm notââ Kalna begins to lie automatically, then shakes his head with rue and starts again. âHow did you know?"
"You hands," Inkias says. âI wasnât sure until now, but I noticed the calluses and burns when you threw that baton away. And you didn't try to keep the weapon, though anyone else in your kind of danger would have. It would have been better than nothing, unless you had a real sword."
"And then my grandfather, the swordsmith,â Kalna sighs.
"Yes. And then your grandfather. I presume the criminals targeted you because they wanted a swordsmith?"
"You really are the worst," Kalna accuses, but heâs smiling again. "How do you always know me?"
Iska frowns. "You do not remember?"
âą âą âą
How do you always know me? Kalna asks again. He tilts his head from where heâs lying slumped against Iskaâs warm, scaly side, and tries to look the dragon in the eye. Itâs always been a mystery to him.Â
Iskaâs head snakes in closer to meet his gaze. Kalna, I will always know you, the dragon says.Â
Though itâs not a wish, Iska feels the warmth of power, like laughter, rising to support his claim: Kalnaâs power, woven in with Iskaâs to make his wish absolute, and given with his whole life so many cycles ago. Kalnaâs memory is a sieve, selective and dangerously incomplete.Â
But Iska, at least, will always know him.Â
Creep, Kalna accuses.
Iska feels impossibly fond.Â
---------
i donât think if iâve ever done a "oh shit itâs youâ moment from iskaâs POV before, but if i have, forget that because this is the new canon. Iska always knows. and itâs kalnaâs fault. :PÂ











