Gilwyn looked annoyed. “Didn’t you read stories growing up? A knight-errant isn’t a mercenary. He’s like a champion. He goes from place to place looking for people to help. You know, in the name of someone, like a lady or a queen. You could do it in the name of Jador. That way you’d still be Shalafein. You’d still be keeping your vow.”
“That’s crazy,” I scoffed. I didn’t want to admit it appealed to me. “I’m just supposed to wander around like some tramp?”
“No, Lukien,” said Gilwyn sharply. “That’s what you have been doing. Clean yourself up, give your life some purpose. You’re like a caged animal here in Jador. This is a chance to find out what Malator means about your future.”
He’d already thought it through, tying up his argument in a neat little bundle. Just the thought of leaving Jador was dreamy. I was glad when he looked at my bag again, trying to see inside it.
“What is that?” he asked, lifting it partially with the tip of his cane and squinting inside.
“Go ahead, look.”
“I don’t trust you,” said Gilwyn. “Probably a bag of scorpions or. .”
His eyes went wide when he saw the prize I’d brought back. He set aside his cane and opened the bag, pulling out the snake skin. Twice as wide as Gilwyn, he held it up like a sheet. The scarlet patterns of the rass’s hood looked fiery in the sunlight.
“You did this yourself?” he asked.
“Like pulling off a sock. Scaled it, too. Feel how smooth.”
The skin was as supple as the leather bag and hadn’t even been tanned yet. I’d left most of it behind of course, but had carefully removed the most interesting part, the best part-the rass’s giant hood.
“Beautiful,” said Gilwyn. “But what am I supposed to do with it?”
“It’s not for you,” I told him. “It’s for Cricket.”
“Oh.” Gilwyn looked relieved and handed the skin back to me. “So what’ll she do with it?”
“I thought we’d make a cape for her. More than big enough for that.” I smiled as I tucked the skin back into the bag, knowing she would love it. I was always bringing things back from the desert for Cricket. Trinkets usually brightened her mood.
“Good,” pronounced Gilwyn as he dropped into his chair again. “It’ll give her something to do. Maybe she’ll stop stealing chickens.”
“What?”
“She stole a chicken from the kitchen. Said she needed to set it free. Oh, and she painted one of the walls of the cistern, too. Stripes. She says it wasn’t her, but. . come on.” Gilwyn gave a big sigh and looked at me. “She misses Minikin. It gets worse when you go away.”
I wasn’t sure what he expected me to do about it. I knew Cricket was attached to me, but she was fourteen years old and barely in control of herself. “I’ll talk to her,” I promised. “Where is she?”
“Grimhold.” Gilwyn saw my surprise. “I needed to get her out from underfoot, Lukien. She likes going there. It’s good for her.”
“No, it isn’t,” I huffed. “It reminds her of Minikin, and it depresses her.” I cinched up my bag, making to leave. “Let me go see White-Eye.”
“Are you angry about Cricket or are you angry about my idea?” asked Gilwyn as I headed out.
“When’s she coming back?”
“I don’t know; a day or two. Go see her if you want. She’d like that. And Lukien? Think about my idea, all right?”
“Right.”
“It’s a good idea. You know it!”
“Congratulations on the baby, Gilwyn.” I waved as I started down the hall.
But I did think about his idea. I was worried about Cricket and worried about Jador and Grimhold and everything else, and I was sick of worrying. I imagined disappearing, going back home to Liiria or wandering around Norvor, or maybe going to a place where no one had ever heard of me. I could be a new person, I figured. I could forget about everything.
Just like Cricket had.
I bathed before going to see White-Eye. She was the Kahana and I was a tramp, and although she was blind and wouldn’t have minded my filth, it would have been an insult to her beauty. I took my time to ready myself, soaking the sand out of my fingernails and shaving the beard that had sprouted from my days in the desert. I let the serving girls comb my hair and convince me to perfume it. I was nervous about seeing White-Eye, and it irked me that I should feel so.
Not everyone in Jador has an Akari. They are rare things, gifted to those in dire need. They are immortal but not indestructible, and White-Eye had learned that in the most horrible way, having her own Akari ripped from her by a demon. After years of being able to see through her Akari’s eyes, she was once again blind. But she was not bumbling or stupid, and most of all she wasn’t helpless.
I found White-Eye that evening, looking after a group of playing children. There she sat in the middle of the garden, her delicate fingers macrameing as the boys and girls climbed trees and chased each other around a foaming fountain. I stopped at the edge of the garden, my face hidden by a trellis of vines as I studied White-Eye, looking at her belly for a hint of her growing baby. A contented smile warmed her dark face, working the knots of the fabric she was making, her head tilted slightly as she listened to the children frolicking around her. They were Jadori children mostly, with the same dark skin as her. Some of them I recognized, others I’d never seen before. As I took my first step toward them, only one of them noticed me at all-a sightless boy named Alik.
He stopped midway up the tree he was climbing, turning his blind eyes toward me, seeing me in his mind the way White-Eye once could. I could easily imagine his Akari, Dianis, whispering my arrival in his ear. Before I could put a finger to my lips to silence him, Alik sprang down from the tree.
“Lukien!”
Some of the children turned to see me; others played their games. But White-Eye lowered her macrame at once. “Lukien?” She stood up, cocking an ear to locate me. Alik rushed to take her hand.
“He’s here!” cried the boy, pointing at me as though White-Eye could follow. The green landscape between us was no obstacle at all to him. Everything, every plant and stone, was revealed in his mind by his Akari. Discovered, I laughed.
“It’s me, White-Eye,” I said, going toward her and the boy. “I’m back.”
A gaggle of children gathered around me, except for Alik, who protectively held his Kahana’s hand. I greeted them as best I could, pretending I knew them all. A girl with a clubbed foot like Gilwyn’s bounded toward me with ease. A deaf boy smiled when I said his name, understanding me perfectly. These were the children of Grimhold.
“All right, let me talk to White-Eye now,” I told them gently. “Go back to playing-I’ll be around.”
White-Eye kindly waited for me near the fountain. She had no need of young Alik’s help but held his hand anyway. The boy beamed at me.
“We were wondering when you’d come,” said Alik. “Me and Kahana White-Eye was just saying that!”
“Well I’m back now,” I said brightly. I leaned down and looked into Alik’s blank eyes, knowing he could see my face precisely. “Thank you for taking care of White-Eye while I was gone. Maybe I should call you ‘little Shalafein,’ eh?”
“Alik likes to touch my belly. He says he can feel the baby inside me,” said White-Eye. She managed to grin at the silly notion so only I could see it. “Will you let me talk with Lukien, Alik?” she asked him. “Go and play-you can see him later.”
Alik ran off without offense, the other children following his lead. When it was only us two, she gave me her prized smile.
“Have you come to touch my belly?” she joked.
But the offer was irresistible. I gently placed the palm of my hand on her stomach, feeling the flatness of it but knowing that inside it grew the offspring of my two closest friends. White-Eye sighed and closed her own hand over mine.
“You will be the finest mother any child ever had,” I whispered to her. White-Eye chuckled. She’d been brave when her father died and brave when her eyesight was stolen. Having a child seemed not to trouble her at all.