The Knowing One

by Lexy Wolfe

  The magelight lanterns in the adjoining bathing room glowed to life as Ash entered. He winced with the cold light's harsher intensity, reminded yet again why Dessa seemed to prefer the mundane oil lamps to the magic imbued ones. He lit the single oil lamp and then extinguished the magelight with a gesture. The softer golden glow soothed the man who stepped into the warm water of the deep, spring-filled pool. The heat seeped into his muscles, and he finally began to relax for the first time since he could remember. "I did not realize how cold I had become," he said to himself as he sank into the water, closing his eyes.

  My son, you always ignore your own comforts, a soft feminine voice whispered in his mind. I have told you many times that being my Illaini does not mean you need to suffer. That is a foolish notion dreamed up by those thinking they understand Me when they did not and still do not. You need to take time for yourself so you can recover properly. You know the strain of wielding magic is damaging to humans.

  Ash grimaced a little. "I know, Mother. I had not had time for the past several weeks. I have a responsibility to the Dusvet and his other students, after all."

  You have servants to attend to those matters, Ash.

  "They are still my responsibility, and my servants are new and not acquainted with Master Almek's student's needs. I had to make sure they were settled in first." Ash submerged for a minute. Resurfacing, he pushed his wet hair back. "You need not worry. My new headwoman Kelafy won't let me do anything if she can help it. You should be pleased."

  He could sense the Knowing One's amusement in his mind. She keeps you in line, then? Excellent. Kelafy is a good woman. I approve of her. She will take good care of you. There was a pause before the voice continued, still in a whisper, more serious and concerned. Your grief lingers. Grief and guilt. Why? Dessa's death was not your fault and she is at peace now.

  "Mother," Ash grumbled, grimacing as the goddess continued speaking, the gentle fingers of her mind probing his to seek the hurt out and soothe it.

  The strong draw enemies to them like the flame draws moths, my son. And no matter how self-effacing you try to portray yourself or other more arrogant sorts try to debase your achievement, you cannot argue you are one of the strongest mages born.

  Ash was silent, gritting his teeth. "I should have been able to protect her. I swore I would!" Covering his face with his hands, he said wearily. "For all my prowess, I failed her twice."

  My son. You did protect her. For many, many years. She is at peace, Ash. You are the only one who blames you. There was a pause and Ash groaned inwardly, sinking into the water. Wait. You already have accepted Dessa's death. The goddess's voice paused for a time, becoming flush with intense curiosity. It is not Dessa you feel guilt over. You justify your feelings by trying to tie them to Dessa when your feelings revolve around another. Ash grimaced when he sensed the Knowing One's surprise. Your emotions involve my brother's daughter! Has she touched you that deeply?

  "Mother! I do not want to talk about Storm." Ash glared upwards. "She is merely another of Master Almek's students. She is nothing more than that to me."

  Ash. Just because my domain is the mind and not the heart does not mean I am blind to matters of the heart, nor that emotions are forbidden to my mages.

  "Emotions just confuse matters." Scrubbing himself brutally, Ash snarled, "Detaching from mundane matters is the only way to keep order."

  You cannot hide your feelings from me, Ash. I have known you since before you were born. The chiding tone was brief, becoming gentler. My son, you are human. The heart rarely heeds what the head tries to tell it. If it did, My brother and I would never quarrel and the Great War would never have happened. The heart follows its own logic.

  Ash growled under his breath, standing abruptly from the water and snatching the towel hanging nearby. "That woman..." He laughed bitterly as he dried himself. "Woman. Storm is barely old enough to be a grown woman. One moment, she is strong, fiercely independent, and defiant. She is a true force of nature that I cannot help but admire. Then the next moment... the next moment, she's a child's innocence and fragility. And naïveté. And I have the irrational urge to want to..." The mage shook his head sharply. "She will make complete sense one moment, and the rest of the time, she is infuriatingly baffling." Throwing the towel back towards its hook violently, he stalked back into the main room, ignoring he missed and the limp thing flopped onto the floor. "There is nothing logical about Storm il'Thandar!"

  Storm is the child of The Raging One, as you are the child of Me. You cannot expect cool logic within her if there is only fire within Him. If I had understood Desantiva better, the Great War would never have happened. Softly, as Ash felt the presence of the goddess leave his mind, he heard, Do not make the same mistakes with her as I had with my brother. Do not just learn about her. Understand her. And accept her.

  Ash stood for a time, watching the ceiling as if he were watching someone leaving. He shook his head dismally. "Understand her. What I understand is that Storm is exasperatingly frustrating. I do not know what more there is to understand." Getting dressed again in simple trousers and tunic, he went over to his bed, flopping on his back to stare at the ceiling.

  After several minutes glowering at the ceiling, the mage sighed, closing his eyes, unable to hold onto his anger and frustration. "What I do know is that Storm is alive. She is somewhere safe." Covering his eyes with his arm, he murmured tiredly, "And I will make sure she stays that way."

  Chapter 8

  Sprawled on his bed, Skyfire stared morosely at the flickering light of the single candle's glow on the ceiling, pillowing his head in his hands. With a final glance towards the room Storm slept in, he heaved a heavy sigh of resignation. "It isn't supposed to be like this, Kailee," he murmured. "I hate knowing she hurts—" He closed his eyes when the hall door opened into the sitting room, feigning sleep. The sounds of a tray sliding onto the table in the shared room and rattling of plates and glasses did not abate as the person who had entered continued fussing with them instead of just delivering them and leaving.

  Assuming it was Ash or one of the others and in ill humor since Storm ordered him out hours earlier, Skyfire called in flat tones, "What do you want?"

  His unlatched door squeaked softly as it was pushed open. "Master Skyfire?" a familiar voice asked hopefully.

  Skyfire's eyes snapped open, the man sitting up to stare at the slight young woman at the door. "Lyra?! What are you doing here?" Still impaired from the lingering effects of the tree sprite poisons, he puts a hand to his head to try to quell the spinning the sudden change of position caused.

  The fair-haired young woman smiled brightly as soon as she saw Skyfire, the candlelight sparkling off her eyes and lips. "Master Ash hired me to be your and Mistress Storm's personal attendant." Watching Skyfire with his hand to his head, and then the bewildered expression he turned towards her at her explanation brought pause to Lyra. Uncertainly, she said slowly, "You are displeased."

  "Stars, no!" Skyfire pushed himself to his feet, going to the door to catch her hand and to draw her into his room. "I just did not expect I would ever see you again." He put his hand under her chin lightly to meet her eyes. "I am very happy to see you. Though I am confused." He tilted his head, his puzzled expression returning. "Why would Lord Ash think Storm and I need any help? Storm and I are Swordanzen. Githalin Swordanzen. We are well able to take care of ourselves. Only elders need help."

  Lyra giggled softly. "Well, he did not specifically want to hire an assistant for you both. Miss Kelafy insisted."

  "Miss Kelafy? That elder woman from Naveene's Rest who ordered everyone around?" Skyfire asked, still confused. "Did Naveene's Rest move here now?"

  Giggling, Lyra shook her head. "No! No, no. Miss Kelafy is Master Ash's new headwoman." Lyra suppressed laughter when he still looked utterly confused. "The servant in charge of the other servants for the household. It is tradition for the most skilled to have at least one person serve them directly to do the little boring mundane task
s that need to be done so they can focus on much more important matters and Naveene trains the best and Master Ash is the best so of course he went to Naveene and many of us came here to serve the Illaini Magus. You see?"

  Skyfire nodded, still looking rather confused at the whole explanation about servants in Forenta. "I see. But, I am afraid there will not be very much for you to do. Swordanzen are, by Desanti traditions, very capable of taking care of themselves. In fact, we are supposed to take care of ourselves. To do otherwise would imply we are weak."

  Lyra was silent a moment, then looked skeptical as she crossed her arms. "Master Ash seems to think Mistress Storm needs to be looked after constantly. He was very specific about looking after her."

  Skyfire choked back laughter, turning away from Lyra as he coughed into his hand, shoulders shaking in mirth as relief washed over him that Ash had not abandoned Storm after all. "Well, in that he is probably right. Storm does put duty before all else. But she will not be so pleased if she believes anyone thinks her incapable or weak."

  "I would never insult Mistress Storm like that!" Shyly, Lyra added, "Or you, Master Skyfire." Taking his hand, Lyra pulled him after her to the small sitting room between the Swordanzen's bedrooms. "Come! Master Ash told Miss Kelafy neither of you would be joining the others for dinner tonight, and she is usually not one to let anyone skip meals, so it's a great concession on her part, but she insisted that even if you were not present that you have supper regardless, so I brought some food for you and Mistress Storm." Skyfire amusedly let her babble on , looking at the array of covered plates spread out on the table She watched hopefully as the man lifted lids to look at the assorted foods. "You are pleased?"

  "I am," Skyfire assured as he lifted the lid of one platter, looking surprised. "This is more than enough for just Storm and I. But you did not need to do this. We would have come out when we were hungry."

  "I know. But I wanted to see you again, Master Skyfire." Lyra came up behind him, tentatively putting her arms around his waist, resting her cheek on his back. "For you, I would do anything you asked of me."

  Skyfire stiffened, closing his eyes at her embrace. "Lyra," he began uncertainly. "You do not need to— I would never ask you to—"

  "No, Master Skyfire. I do not need to do more than mundane errands." She tightened her arms around him more. "But I would if you asked it of me. Ever since I met you and Mistress Storm, I—" She remained there a moment before looking upwards. "Master Skyfire, why are you shaking? Is something wrong? Are you and Mistress Storm ill? Is that why you did not come to dinner?"

  Gently pushing Lyra's hands away, Skyfire took a few steps to distance himself from the concerned young woman. He was silent for a time, trying to decide what even to say, rather unsettled by honest worry for him and Storm from a Forentan not one of Almek's students. Finally, he turned to look at Lyra again, his words spoken carefully. "Storm and I both are recovering from being poisoned."

  Lyra's eyes went wide, hands covering her mouth in horror. "Poisoned?!"

  Skyfire nodded. "Desanti are strong. But Swordanzen are most vulnerable during times we must recover from injuries or illnesses." He turned to regard the young Forentan woman. "I should not even be telling you this. Storm has always been very much against allowing anyone to know our weaknesses, much less witness them. That is why we do not join the others."

  "Poisoned?" She rushed to him to hug him tightly. "Oh, Master Skyfire, I am so sorry I could not have been there to-to keep you both safe!"

  Skyfire blinked, and then smiled gently, putting his arms around the girl reassuringly, resting his cheek on her hair. "It is okay, Lyra. We are recovering."

  Taking a step back, cheeks bright red and unable to meet his eyes, Lyra cleared her throat, straightening her dress. "Well, I am here now and I will take care of both of you so you get better faster." The man could not help but chuckle at the conviction of her words.

  Sighing, Skyfire became more serious. "You must be careful of showing any affection to Desanti, Lyra. I do not want your people to trouble you because of your choice to serve us. I doubt Storm would wish that either."

  Lyra shook her head. "Do not worry for me, Master Skyfire. I doubt anyone will care. I am merely a servant." Lowering her eyes shyly, she added, "I confess, I have always been curious about your people. I could not imagine they were as horrible as the stories always made them out to be. I always dreamed of meeting the warriors of the old stories. And when you and Mistress Storm came to Forenta... I knew it could not have been true that you were violent murderous animals."

  "There is some truth to your people's stories." Storm leaned on the door frame looking weary, but mildly amused. "We Desanti are forever testing ourselves and we do not go half measure in either training or true battle once we have reached mastery levels. Now that I have seen other peoples who do not live as Desanti do, I see how they could so easily mistake our challenges as threats."

  Lyra smiled brightly. "Mistress Storm! I am so very glad to see you are well." The young woman looked as though she wanted to embrace Storm but hesitated, uncertain. "I did not wake you, did I?"

  "You did not wake me. I am well enough," Storm allowed, moving to sit on one of the chairs by the table. She reached to lift one lid, before letting it down again. "I was listening to you both speak." She tilted her head in puzzlement. "I am very surprised that Forenta would allow any of their own to serve Desantiva."

  Lyra sighed softly, reluctant to speak the truth to Storm's implied question. Going to a crystalline lantern, she murmured softly, the cool blue-white glow of magelight brightening the room. "There are some who are... very unhappy with your presence. And unhappy with those of us who are happy to serve foreigners, even if they are the Dusvet's students. Not all of us are ignorant dunderheads," she stated loftily. "Just a few."

  Storm studied the slender young woman with such intensity until she fidgeted. "Will you be in danger because of your choice to serve Skyfire and me?"

  Lyra looked down and shrugged. "I know how to avoid most of the troublemakers." When Skyfire stiffened, eyes widening with alarm, she sought to reassure him hastily. "You need not worry about me. Really. No one really cares about a lowborn like me."

  Both Desanti frowned, making Lyra cringe more. "Do not speak of being lowborn," Skyfire growled darkly, taking her by the arm and turning her to face him, his golden eyes staring fiercely into hers. "Ever! This 'position by birthright' nonsense offends us."

  "Y-yes, Master Skyfire," Lyra stammered, on the verge of tears. "I-I am s-sorry! I-I meant no insult to you."

  Storm's words had a gentle quality as she spoke to reassure the Forentan girl. "If you serve us, you are one of us. You earn your place through your skills and actions. Not because of some misguided idea that your destiny is decided in the womb." She looked at Skyfire. "Skyfire, she is not Desanti. You are frightening her."

  Skyfire blinked as he saw the tears on the girl's cheeks and looked aghast, pulling the girl into a tight, protective embrace. "Lyra, forgive me. I did not mean to frighten you."

  Storm joined the two, putting her hand on Lyra's shoulder. "The desert is a harsh land, and His children are forged in the harsh fire of life in that land to be hard. If you wish to please us, do not be timid. You have a kind and gentle soul, but you must stand strong when we are fierce. You must learn to be fierce when it is needed." She offered a wan smile when the girl looked at her with wide eyes. "To serve Swordanzen, you must possess the strength and spirit of Swordanzen. Anything less will be useless to us."

  Lyra stared at Storm, then looked between her and Skyfire. "You-you think I can be... as strong as you, Mistress Storm?"

  Storm cupped the young woman's chin in her hand, looking into her eyes for a long moment before she answered. "You can be whatever you set your heart to, Lyra." A small smile touched Storm's lips. "Come. Eat with us. You have brought us enough to last us three days."

  "Three days?!" The girl moved to push Skyfire towards the seat across from Storm. "
I know I brought a little extra but... three days? How do you survive eating so little?! Goddess! No wonder Master Ash and Miss Kelafy fret so much over you both." Sampling the food from the platters before serving the two, the girl rambled on about how they needed to eat more. The two Swordanzen traded knowing looks, pleased with her boldness.

  Chapter 9

  Not long after settling into his room, Mureln emerged. He took a moment to take a deep breath and stretch. Spying a mirror on the wall nearby, he went to critique his appearance. "Feel human again." He rubbed his trimmed beard thoughtfully. "Look human again." Sniffing, he added, "Even smell human again. I could almost be convinced to stop wandering for this luxury." Tugging his shirt just right, he turned to head back downstairs. "I wonder what dice game Emil has in mind before we—" His short journey to the common room to wait with his brothers-in-arms before the late dinner was interrupted when he heard vitriolic swearing coming from Taylin's room. Both curious and concerned, he knocked on the door. He entered without waiting for permission when there was no answer. "Taylin?"

  Seated on the edge of her bed, the healer was yanking the elaborate braiding out of her hair with such vicious frustration, Mureln ran to her and grabbed her hands to stop her from hurting herself. "Taylin! Stop!" he nearly begged, having to repeat himself several times before she calmed enough to even realize he was there. Staring at Mureln with wide, horrified eyes, the woman dissolved into tears, burying her face against the bard's chest. Bewildered, Mureln nevertheless put his arms around her as he sat next to her, hushing comfortingly.