Post by Eurydice on Aug 13, 2008 19:20:08 GMT -5
((After recent developments on Recon, I decided that Kiri needs to have some version of her encounter with Ganeous. It needs to be canon. I have thus hijacked Gangi and transplanted him to Serina, Tyrnal.
This piece will definitely need further editing, but I want to at least set down what I have so far. The structure's kind of weird-- I kept thinking of the piece in terms of segments, and each segment wouldn't necessarily write itself in the same tense as the previous one, which was kind of weird, and I'm not sure how I feel about it. Also, incorporating haiku is a very Ganeous thing to do, but I'm not sure if I can write good enough haiku to make it work, so I might get rid of 'em. We'll see.
Set a little over a year after Kiri leaves home.))
It was only chance that he noticed her.
Ganeous Paren had only a few years' experience in the Serins Guard but years of training before. No matter how much he had always resented that training— the long hours, the brutal conditioning, and the instructors whose sole job was to sap as much emotional attachment out of the recruits as possible— it had done its job. He knew how to be alert, how to spot trouble, and how to silence it. And besides the training, a soldier's instinct was everything; Ganeous had long since learned better than to second guess it.
The woman he had noticed was small, her slender form not entirely masked by the bulky, dusty cloak that she wore. Wide eyes peered out from under the dark hood— perhaps it was her first visit to the capital. Ganeous watched her.
It was her gait, he finally realized, that had caught his attention. She swayed uneasily, almost like a drunkard, but more like a sailor recently returned to land after many months at sea. He did not think that she was either, though. It was the last evening caravan, coming in, and she was lingering at the back of the crowd as it surged forward through the city gates, chatting about their weekend plans. She stood alone, no traveling companions (save a scrawny little cat pressed against her ankles), no social grace or chic attire for a night on the town. She shook, within the cloak.
It was very odd, Ganeous thought, that he should find his attention on her. He shook it off. If there was reason to it, it would show itself. If not, then it was not worth noting further.
It was.
The unsteady woman— girl?— made it as far as a dozen paces from the gate before she stopped; Ganeous could see her shaking in her boots, weak and weary from long travel. He hurried forward. "Are you alright, milady?" he asked, extending an arm.
In his very nearness, she seemed to anchor on him involuntarily. Ganeous started as she took his arm; the girl, whose pointed elf ears he could just see under the hood, from this close, practically fell against him, her knees buckling.
Ganeous caught her easily; he was a strong man, but even so, he could feel that she was light as a shadow, almost unnaturally so. Something was wrong. "Milady?" he repeated urgently.
"Help me?" she murmured weakly in reply.
She said her name was Kiri, and that was all she would tell him as she left the next morning. Ganeous watched her go.
When she'd collapsed like that, he'd had no idea what to do, but the barracks were close and, with most of the guard either on duty or heading out for drinks, nearly empty. Ganeous had set her down on his bed and called for a healer, who had been able to determine nothing conclusive, suggesting simple exhaustion, the natural toll of a long period of travel on a weak constitution. Some sleep and food, and she would be fine.
Ganeous knew nothing of the healing arts, so he'd had to accept that.
The girl was ravenously hungry when she woke, in the pre-dawn hours. Ganeous offered her field rations to munch on until the mess was open.
After breakfast, she'd thanked him for his troubles, clearly embarrassed about the whole affair. Ganeous took in her faded clothes, her boots patched and worn through, her thin, pale skin, her haphazard raven hair. "And you're sure you're alright?" he'd asked hesitantly. Of course she was, she said. Of course.
There was something more to her, of course— her tough little animal companion, the finely wrought rapier at her side— but she volunteered nothing of her story.
"What's your name?" he'd asked as she turned to go.
She hesitated a moment before saying that it was Kiri and disappearing into the crowd of the morning market.
It's almost a week later when he sees her again; three hoodlums are pestering her (Ganeous recognizes them— arrogant kids with an overabundance of attitude and a profound lack of intelligence), and although she is studiously ignoring them as she goes about her business, they are not deterred by her icy demeanor.
A city guardsman, however, does the trick nicely; the kids scatter, muttering mutinously as they go, and the girl who says her name is Kiri smiles, blushing.
"Looks like I'm going to be forever thanking you for something," she says with a nervous laugh.
"It's nothing," says Ganeous. "Take care of yourself, Kiri; I'll see you around."
And he did, more and more frequently, all around the city. Watching her move from place to place, he came to several conclusions.
First, she was a mage of some skill. Ganeous' keenly trained eyes could pick up the merest hint of the illusory work that she seemed to like best. She looked young, for an elf, but Ganeous knew that talented spellcasters were always in demand, and Kiri fit the bill. She could have worked herself into any sizable commission, had it been her desire.
Second, she did not intend to stay in Serins long, an observation that left Ganeous feeling disappointed. It was curious— they had met only twice, but even after that, he knew that he would miss her when she was gone. It was certain, though; she took odd jobs, ran errands, did little bits of enchantment work for local mages looking for help with projects. All of it was temporary work; she was gathering funds before moving on somewhere.
Third, she was extraordinarily worried about being seen. For every time that Ganeous noticed her, over those next few weeks, there were at least as many times that he thought he saw her out of the corner of his eye but, in turning to look, there was only a faint ripple in the air, and no sign of his friend.
He'd thought it paranoia, until the cadre of guardsmen from Hallrind arrived in town, alerting the guard to the possible presence of a fugitive, an elf girl who was a mage of considerable power.
Ganeous watches the Hallrind guardsmen retreat towards the center of town. Misdirecting them is easy; they're angry, annoyed, and that makes them malleable, impressionable.
Moments before they arrive, he's seen where Kiri darts to hide, even though she moves fast as a loosed arrow. It's a little tool shed built into the corner of this dim alley— not much of a hiding place but one taken of necessity. The guardsmen are too far behind her to see. Ganeous feigns indifference, when they ask him, mentions an inn towards the north end of the business district. The guardsmen take the bait and leave only one of their ranks to stay here. And when after a time, that one guardsman begins to show signs of listlessness, Ganeous offers to take the man's watch for a bit so that he go and have a quick nap.
As soon as the man's out of sight, Ganeous hurries over to open the little door— it can't be comfortable in there— and finds her crouched amidst broken brooms and rakes, all stinking of the mud and leaves they swept up a year ago. Looking up at him, she's shaking, this time not from weakness but from fear. She looks so tiny and alone.
He can help her. He can get her somewhere safe.
"Kirjava," he says, calling her by the name that the Hallrind guard used. She nods, frightened, cautious, reaching up to let him help her to her feet, her little hands disappearing into his large, thick fingers.
His salary in the guard wasn't much, but he'd never been called on to spend much of it before; most of it had gone untouched, these last few years.
So, renting a little flat for her wasn't hard. It was not much more than an oversized attic, storage space with the boxes moved around to make room for a bed, desk, and chair, but Kaitin, who worked on the first floor and lived on a the second, was an old friend; Ganeous trusted her.
He blushed slightly, as he left, thinking of her sitting there, perched on the edge of the bed, studying him uncertainly, unsure how to deal with this new-found kindness, this unasked generosity. It all seemed so alien to her: her own room, regularly provided meals, a knight of the city guard keeping watch over her.
Sitting there, in the shadows, she had almost looked afraid of him, and in truth, why shouldn't she? Ganeous was used to being intimidating, both in stature— as a tall young fighter with an enormous sword and a body powerful enough to wield it well— and status— as a member of the guard, a paladin, a man of god. Even when traveling among friends, his frenzied skill in combat was something that the people around him found unsettling at best, terrifying at worst. People found him intimidating; it was a basic element of his life.
He wished she didn't, though.
The Serins City Guard does not regularly require particularly strenuous labor— breaking up fights, protecting royal officials, and generally standing around and looking important— but the hours are long, and the guard must be watchful during those hours, lest their ranks be required for more serious work. It's for the good of all Tyrnal, that they do this, and even though the hours are deadly dull, they see more than their share of action whenever open combat rears its head.
Ganeous can only afford to come and visit Kiri every other day or so, each time bringing her a little bit of news or gossip from the outside world. He'll usually find her at the desk, with an enormous spellbook open to a dog-eared page or a page of runes that she's scribing.
He's not sure quite what it is she's doing, but if her effort is in using the arcane to misdirect her pursuers, it seems to be working. She breaks into an elated smile the day he tells her that the Hallrind soldiers have withdrawn, leaving only a handful to stay in the city. She has a wonderful smile.
In the month after the soldiers leave, the library a few blocks away from the military barracks becomes their regular meeting place.
Kirjava loves it there, and because she does, so does Ganeous.
She reads like a starving man eats. Ganeous hasn't the slightest idea what it all means, the tomes she pries off the shelf, the obscure, erudite scrolls she ferrets out, but he's content to sit with a book of poetry in his lap, watching her at study beside him, their silences broken up by incidental conversation about whatever is going on in the capital and whatever has kept Ganeous busy that day.
There is clearly distance between them, an awkwardness that they cannot quite bridge, but she needs him. Ganeous doesn't need to be told in order to know how much she needs him to keep her safe.
For now, it's enough that they can sit here together, enjoying the afternoon sun streaming through the window, enjoying the smell of old parchment, dusty volumes around them on all sides.
It's on one such afternoon, sitting side by side with their books, that Kiri finally, hesitantly speaks of herself, for the first time since they've met, and explains why it is that she's been on the move for the last year. The words come slowly but steadily, as if she's been aching to speak them and unable to do so. She needs this release. When at last she's done sharing her troubles, throat dry, voice trembling, unused to talking for so long, Ganeous' hand is resting on hers. He hopes that she knows how much she's come to mean to him. He only wishes that the book of poetry in his lap had anything in it that would even vaguely describe how strongly he desires to help her, now more than ever.
Ganeous exhaled in desperate relief as he heard the door open downstairs. They were supposed to meet at sunset for dinner, he and Kiri, and the night had long since thrown its cover over the city. He was glad to hear her feet pattering against the stairs now.
Hammering against the stairs, he realized belatedly.
Kiri burst into the attic a moment later, dirty, battered, and bruised, her face a mask of terror and tears, and she froze for a moment at seeing her room already occupied. Then she recognized him, the knight, the guardsman who was the only friend she had in all of Anaura, and she fled to him, fell into his arms, trembling like a leaf.
His arms encircled her, drawing her close. "Kir...?"
"One of the Regent's g-g-guards," she wept, shaking in his embrace. "He s-s-saw me coming back from market. Cornered me, knocked me out. Tried to take me back."
Ganeous felt hot anger course through his veins, belatedly noting the wound at her temple where the guard must have struck her. He sat her down on the bed, sat beside her, and carefully laid a hand on her face, watching as divine light eased the cut closed. When he spoke, his voice was hard, stiff. "And then?"
Kiri swallowed hard. "I k-k-killed him, of course. I came to, and he hadn't g-gagged me or anything, and..." She closed her eyes, her brow crinkling into little lines of worry. "They'll know it was me. Oh, gods, they're not so stupid that they won't know that something's up when one of their ranks is killed by a mage, and he might have even reported in already, when I was unconscious... they'll come back to Serins, and they'll find me this time and take me away..."
"You know I won't let them do that."
She didn't reply to that for some time. "I need to get away," she murmured finally, her voice still shaky. "I need to g-go..."
Ganeous held her, promised to help her, promised her that she'd be safe. Eventually, the girl's breathing slowed to something resembling normal, and her tears dried against his shirt front. An eternity later, she was asleep, mental exhaustion following hard on the tail of hysteria, and Ganeous gently set her down on the bed, tucked the covers around her, and sat at the desk, his eyes rooted to the door.
The attic was no longer safe. Ganeous knew that Kaitin wouldn't have talked, but a customer, perhaps, or simply a passer-by had seen enough to know that the lodger upstairs was the one that the soldiers from Hallrind sought, and they would move in fast.
There was no time to even get to another building. Ganeous glanced worriedly out the window as he hurried the girl downstairs into the basement and the near-invisible door to the crawlspace behind the south wall. The space was horribly cramped, but Kirjava slid in easily, her familiar sitting pertly behind her, fitting into the hiding spot as naturally as if it were one of the padded benches at the library.
Ganeous knelt beside the hole in the wall, his mind racing, and she peered out of the dark, wide-eyed, struggling for something to say.
Without waiting for her to find the words, he took her hand and kissed it. "It's alright, Kir. Just relax. I'll be back for you when they're gone."
And, heart pounding against his chest, he shut her in.
Kiri listens to the heavy footfalls above, the clash of steel on steel echoing painfully loud in her ears. If this were a bard's story, she might look up through the floorboards and see flashes of the horror through the gaps, but she sees nothing and hears everything.
Ganeous' friend, the one whose house she's been living in, goes down immediately; she doesn't scream, but Kiri hears her body hit the floor.
And Ganeous, her knight in shining armor, throws himself at the men of Hallrind, knowing that they outnumber him, knowing that it is hopeless, but refusing to give in. Kiri knows she could magically deafen herself, if she chose, drown out what she knows is unfolding above, but it would, she feels, somehow cheapen what he's doing for her, the ultimate sacrifice he's making for her.
So she listens until the fray has run its course.
Kiri sits perfectly still as she hears the remaining guardsmen begin to sweep the house. They may have brought a caster with them, but she's certain that they haven't a diviner among them now. She's safe. They'll sweep the entire building, all but tear the place down, but she knows they won't find her.
Cold and taut, she sits. It was weakness, she tells herself. It was weakness that let her stay here in Serins as long as she did, weakness that let her trust in the kindness of two good people, and now those two good people are dead. It was weakness that allowed her to let this man give her hope, weakness that she allowed him to come to care for her, and above all, weakness that she had come to care for him as well. Such weakness would not happen again. She would not permit it to be so.
Head tilted up, she cannot see the blood on the floor above, but she can feel its tang sharp in her nostrils. She will not cry. She will disappear, and she will not let others get drawn into her troubles from now on.
This piece will definitely need further editing, but I want to at least set down what I have so far. The structure's kind of weird-- I kept thinking of the piece in terms of segments, and each segment wouldn't necessarily write itself in the same tense as the previous one, which was kind of weird, and I'm not sure how I feel about it. Also, incorporating haiku is a very Ganeous thing to do, but I'm not sure if I can write good enough haiku to make it work, so I might get rid of 'em. We'll see.
Set a little over a year after Kiri leaves home.))
Half a second's glance
Re-shapes the world surrounding
Though it be but chance
Re-shapes the world surrounding
Though it be but chance
It was only chance that he noticed her.
Ganeous Paren had only a few years' experience in the Serins Guard but years of training before. No matter how much he had always resented that training— the long hours, the brutal conditioning, and the instructors whose sole job was to sap as much emotional attachment out of the recruits as possible— it had done its job. He knew how to be alert, how to spot trouble, and how to silence it. And besides the training, a soldier's instinct was everything; Ganeous had long since learned better than to second guess it.
The woman he had noticed was small, her slender form not entirely masked by the bulky, dusty cloak that she wore. Wide eyes peered out from under the dark hood— perhaps it was her first visit to the capital. Ganeous watched her.
It was her gait, he finally realized, that had caught his attention. She swayed uneasily, almost like a drunkard, but more like a sailor recently returned to land after many months at sea. He did not think that she was either, though. It was the last evening caravan, coming in, and she was lingering at the back of the crowd as it surged forward through the city gates, chatting about their weekend plans. She stood alone, no traveling companions (save a scrawny little cat pressed against her ankles), no social grace or chic attire for a night on the town. She shook, within the cloak.
It was very odd, Ganeous thought, that he should find his attention on her. He shook it off. If there was reason to it, it would show itself. If not, then it was not worth noting further.
It was.
The unsteady woman— girl?— made it as far as a dozen paces from the gate before she stopped; Ganeous could see her shaking in her boots, weak and weary from long travel. He hurried forward. "Are you alright, milady?" he asked, extending an arm.
In his very nearness, she seemed to anchor on him involuntarily. Ganeous started as she took his arm; the girl, whose pointed elf ears he could just see under the hood, from this close, practically fell against him, her knees buckling.
Ganeous caught her easily; he was a strong man, but even so, he could feel that she was light as a shadow, almost unnaturally so. Something was wrong. "Milady?" he repeated urgently.
"Help me?" she murmured weakly in reply.
The unsheltered bird
Driven away from its nest
Roosts on anything
Driven away from its nest
Roosts on anything
She said her name was Kiri, and that was all she would tell him as she left the next morning. Ganeous watched her go.
When she'd collapsed like that, he'd had no idea what to do, but the barracks were close and, with most of the guard either on duty or heading out for drinks, nearly empty. Ganeous had set her down on his bed and called for a healer, who had been able to determine nothing conclusive, suggesting simple exhaustion, the natural toll of a long period of travel on a weak constitution. Some sleep and food, and she would be fine.
Ganeous knew nothing of the healing arts, so he'd had to accept that.
The girl was ravenously hungry when she woke, in the pre-dawn hours. Ganeous offered her field rations to munch on until the mess was open.
After breakfast, she'd thanked him for his troubles, clearly embarrassed about the whole affair. Ganeous took in her faded clothes, her boots patched and worn through, her thin, pale skin, her haphazard raven hair. "And you're sure you're alright?" he'd asked hesitantly. Of course she was, she said. Of course.
There was something more to her, of course— her tough little animal companion, the finely wrought rapier at her side— but she volunteered nothing of her story.
"What's your name?" he'd asked as she turned to go.
She hesitated a moment before saying that it was Kiri and disappearing into the crowd of the morning market.
A face recognized
An ally, a friend, a smile,
Brightens the day's gloom
An ally, a friend, a smile,
Brightens the day's gloom
It's almost a week later when he sees her again; three hoodlums are pestering her (Ganeous recognizes them— arrogant kids with an overabundance of attitude and a profound lack of intelligence), and although she is studiously ignoring them as she goes about her business, they are not deterred by her icy demeanor.
A city guardsman, however, does the trick nicely; the kids scatter, muttering mutinously as they go, and the girl who says her name is Kiri smiles, blushing.
"Looks like I'm going to be forever thanking you for something," she says with a nervous laugh.
"It's nothing," says Ganeous. "Take care of yourself, Kiri; I'll see you around."
Observing creates
Curiosity, fondness,
And patterns emerge
Curiosity, fondness,
And patterns emerge
And he did, more and more frequently, all around the city. Watching her move from place to place, he came to several conclusions.
First, she was a mage of some skill. Ganeous' keenly trained eyes could pick up the merest hint of the illusory work that she seemed to like best. She looked young, for an elf, but Ganeous knew that talented spellcasters were always in demand, and Kiri fit the bill. She could have worked herself into any sizable commission, had it been her desire.
Second, she did not intend to stay in Serins long, an observation that left Ganeous feeling disappointed. It was curious— they had met only twice, but even after that, he knew that he would miss her when she was gone. It was certain, though; she took odd jobs, ran errands, did little bits of enchantment work for local mages looking for help with projects. All of it was temporary work; she was gathering funds before moving on somewhere.
Third, she was extraordinarily worried about being seen. For every time that Ganeous noticed her, over those next few weeks, there were at least as many times that he thought he saw her out of the corner of his eye but, in turning to look, there was only a faint ripple in the air, and no sign of his friend.
He'd thought it paranoia, until the cadre of guardsmen from Hallrind arrived in town, alerting the guard to the possible presence of a fugitive, an elf girl who was a mage of considerable power.
Choices made draw lines
When, in opening one door,
Another must close
When, in opening one door,
Another must close
Ganeous watches the Hallrind guardsmen retreat towards the center of town. Misdirecting them is easy; they're angry, annoyed, and that makes them malleable, impressionable.
Moments before they arrive, he's seen where Kiri darts to hide, even though she moves fast as a loosed arrow. It's a little tool shed built into the corner of this dim alley— not much of a hiding place but one taken of necessity. The guardsmen are too far behind her to see. Ganeous feigns indifference, when they ask him, mentions an inn towards the north end of the business district. The guardsmen take the bait and leave only one of their ranks to stay here. And when after a time, that one guardsman begins to show signs of listlessness, Ganeous offers to take the man's watch for a bit so that he go and have a quick nap.
As soon as the man's out of sight, Ganeous hurries over to open the little door— it can't be comfortable in there— and finds her crouched amidst broken brooms and rakes, all stinking of the mud and leaves they swept up a year ago. Looking up at him, she's shaking, this time not from weakness but from fear. She looks so tiny and alone.
He can help her. He can get her somewhere safe.
"Kirjava," he says, calling her by the name that the Hallrind guard used. She nods, frightened, cautious, reaching up to let him help her to her feet, her little hands disappearing into his large, thick fingers.
Thick-trunked, solid tree
With both the means to shelter
And the means to crush
With both the means to shelter
And the means to crush
His salary in the guard wasn't much, but he'd never been called on to spend much of it before; most of it had gone untouched, these last few years.
So, renting a little flat for her wasn't hard. It was not much more than an oversized attic, storage space with the boxes moved around to make room for a bed, desk, and chair, but Kaitin, who worked on the first floor and lived on a the second, was an old friend; Ganeous trusted her.
He blushed slightly, as he left, thinking of her sitting there, perched on the edge of the bed, studying him uncertainly, unsure how to deal with this new-found kindness, this unasked generosity. It all seemed so alien to her: her own room, regularly provided meals, a knight of the city guard keeping watch over her.
Sitting there, in the shadows, she had almost looked afraid of him, and in truth, why shouldn't she? Ganeous was used to being intimidating, both in stature— as a tall young fighter with an enormous sword and a body powerful enough to wield it well— and status— as a member of the guard, a paladin, a man of god. Even when traveling among friends, his frenzied skill in combat was something that the people around him found unsettling at best, terrifying at worst. People found him intimidating; it was a basic element of his life.
He wished she didn't, though.
Still-surfaced water
May yet belie a maelstrom
Raging far below
May yet belie a maelstrom
Raging far below
The Serins City Guard does not regularly require particularly strenuous labor— breaking up fights, protecting royal officials, and generally standing around and looking important— but the hours are long, and the guard must be watchful during those hours, lest their ranks be required for more serious work. It's for the good of all Tyrnal, that they do this, and even though the hours are deadly dull, they see more than their share of action whenever open combat rears its head.
Ganeous can only afford to come and visit Kiri every other day or so, each time bringing her a little bit of news or gossip from the outside world. He'll usually find her at the desk, with an enormous spellbook open to a dog-eared page or a page of runes that she's scribing.
He's not sure quite what it is she's doing, but if her effort is in using the arcane to misdirect her pursuers, it seems to be working. She breaks into an elated smile the day he tells her that the Hallrind soldiers have withdrawn, leaving only a handful to stay in the city. She has a wonderful smile.
Pale parchment, dark ink
Clasped in place by leather walls
Makings of freedom
Clasped in place by leather walls
Makings of freedom
In the month after the soldiers leave, the library a few blocks away from the military barracks becomes their regular meeting place.
Kirjava loves it there, and because she does, so does Ganeous.
She reads like a starving man eats. Ganeous hasn't the slightest idea what it all means, the tomes she pries off the shelf, the obscure, erudite scrolls she ferrets out, but he's content to sit with a book of poetry in his lap, watching her at study beside him, their silences broken up by incidental conversation about whatever is going on in the capital and whatever has kept Ganeous busy that day.
There is clearly distance between them, an awkwardness that they cannot quite bridge, but she needs him. Ganeous doesn't need to be told in order to know how much she needs him to keep her safe.
For now, it's enough that they can sit here together, enjoying the afternoon sun streaming through the window, enjoying the smell of old parchment, dusty volumes around them on all sides.
It's on one such afternoon, sitting side by side with their books, that Kiri finally, hesitantly speaks of herself, for the first time since they've met, and explains why it is that she's been on the move for the last year. The words come slowly but steadily, as if she's been aching to speak them and unable to do so. She needs this release. When at last she's done sharing her troubles, throat dry, voice trembling, unused to talking for so long, Ganeous' hand is resting on hers. He hopes that she knows how much she's come to mean to him. He only wishes that the book of poetry in his lap had anything in it that would even vaguely describe how strongly he desires to help her, now more than ever.
No matter the warmth
Of the sweetest summer days
Winter must follow
Of the sweetest summer days
Winter must follow
Ganeous exhaled in desperate relief as he heard the door open downstairs. They were supposed to meet at sunset for dinner, he and Kiri, and the night had long since thrown its cover over the city. He was glad to hear her feet pattering against the stairs now.
Hammering against the stairs, he realized belatedly.
Kiri burst into the attic a moment later, dirty, battered, and bruised, her face a mask of terror and tears, and she froze for a moment at seeing her room already occupied. Then she recognized him, the knight, the guardsman who was the only friend she had in all of Anaura, and she fled to him, fell into his arms, trembling like a leaf.
His arms encircled her, drawing her close. "Kir...?"
"One of the Regent's g-g-guards," she wept, shaking in his embrace. "He s-s-saw me coming back from market. Cornered me, knocked me out. Tried to take me back."
Ganeous felt hot anger course through his veins, belatedly noting the wound at her temple where the guard must have struck her. He sat her down on the bed, sat beside her, and carefully laid a hand on her face, watching as divine light eased the cut closed. When he spoke, his voice was hard, stiff. "And then?"
Kiri swallowed hard. "I k-k-killed him, of course. I came to, and he hadn't g-gagged me or anything, and..." She closed her eyes, her brow crinkling into little lines of worry. "They'll know it was me. Oh, gods, they're not so stupid that they won't know that something's up when one of their ranks is killed by a mage, and he might have even reported in already, when I was unconscious... they'll come back to Serins, and they'll find me this time and take me away..."
"You know I won't let them do that."
She didn't reply to that for some time. "I need to get away," she murmured finally, her voice still shaky. "I need to g-go..."
Ganeous held her, promised to help her, promised her that she'd be safe. Eventually, the girl's breathing slowed to something resembling normal, and her tears dried against his shirt front. An eternity later, she was asleep, mental exhaustion following hard on the tail of hysteria, and Ganeous gently set her down on the bed, tucked the covers around her, and sat at the desk, his eyes rooted to the door.
Anticipation
Waiting breeds worry until
Worry breeds mistakes
Waiting breeds worry until
Worry breeds mistakes
The attic was no longer safe. Ganeous knew that Kaitin wouldn't have talked, but a customer, perhaps, or simply a passer-by had seen enough to know that the lodger upstairs was the one that the soldiers from Hallrind sought, and they would move in fast.
There was no time to even get to another building. Ganeous glanced worriedly out the window as he hurried the girl downstairs into the basement and the near-invisible door to the crawlspace behind the south wall. The space was horribly cramped, but Kirjava slid in easily, her familiar sitting pertly behind her, fitting into the hiding spot as naturally as if it were one of the padded benches at the library.
Ganeous knelt beside the hole in the wall, his mind racing, and she peered out of the dark, wide-eyed, struggling for something to say.
Without waiting for her to find the words, he took her hand and kissed it. "It's alright, Kir. Just relax. I'll be back for you when they're gone."
And, heart pounding against his chest, he shut her in.
A wolf that misses
Its intended dinner prey
Can hunt another
Its intended dinner prey
Can hunt another
Kiri listens to the heavy footfalls above, the clash of steel on steel echoing painfully loud in her ears. If this were a bard's story, she might look up through the floorboards and see flashes of the horror through the gaps, but she sees nothing and hears everything.
Ganeous' friend, the one whose house she's been living in, goes down immediately; she doesn't scream, but Kiri hears her body hit the floor.
And Ganeous, her knight in shining armor, throws himself at the men of Hallrind, knowing that they outnumber him, knowing that it is hopeless, but refusing to give in. Kiri knows she could magically deafen herself, if she chose, drown out what she knows is unfolding above, but it would, she feels, somehow cheapen what he's doing for her, the ultimate sacrifice he's making for her.
So she listens until the fray has run its course.
Kiri sits perfectly still as she hears the remaining guardsmen begin to sweep the house. They may have brought a caster with them, but she's certain that they haven't a diviner among them now. She's safe. They'll sweep the entire building, all but tear the place down, but she knows they won't find her.
Cold and taut, she sits. It was weakness, she tells herself. It was weakness that let her stay here in Serins as long as she did, weakness that let her trust in the kindness of two good people, and now those two good people are dead. It was weakness that allowed her to let this man give her hope, weakness that she allowed him to come to care for her, and above all, weakness that she had come to care for him as well. Such weakness would not happen again. She would not permit it to be so.
Head tilted up, she cannot see the blood on the floor above, but she can feel its tang sharp in her nostrils. She will not cry. She will disappear, and she will not let others get drawn into her troubles from now on.