knights and other mythical creatures

Michel remembers listening to bedtime stories, though he cannot be sure if the voice in his memories belongs to his parents or to Richard Krypton. They were the usual tales: dragons, castles, princesses, knights, witches, wolves, death, love. The stories with knights were probably told by Krypton, Michel thinks. But children learn quickly that stories are just stories, and despite -- perhaps -- Krypton's best efforts, Michel did not grow up believing in knights. He believes in honour and justice and other noble sentiments, arguably; but the hands that killed his parents were the ones that saved him, which is proof enough that humans are not meant to embody ideals.

Do you remember him? Krypton asked once, while telling the only story that Michel treasures.

It is hard to say. But whether or not he forgets, this has never been about forgiveness.


Free recovers fast: in a few weeks he regains everything but his memory, just in time for them to move into the flowershop. The Kitten's House is as good a place as any for new beginnings, smelling as it does of wet paint and fresh flowers, and Free finds a place for himself that is not solely by Michel's side. He cooks, sometimes, with competence if not flair; tends to the flowers, and is better at it than most of the others; cultivates a talent for tarot reading, which is possibly an old skill, and for killing, which definitely is one. Michel watches, and perhaps it is a continuation of their so-called role reversal; perhaps Free watched him, too, years ago, in another place where there were flowers -- Free's mind healed too quickly for Michel to tell him stories, and Michel almost wishes it had been otherwise.

But they have other conversations. On a late spring afternoon, for instance, some days after they open the flowershop, when Free is shuffling a tarot deck and Michel brings a warm pot of tea to the table, the slightly bitter scent mixing with the damp smell of honeysuckle and lavender, the chemical fragrance of floor wax. They have not had a mission in a week.

Free seems ready to do a reading, but the day is too pleasant for thoughts about the future. "Tell me about the knights?" Michel says instead, as he sets out two cups and fills them with tea. None of them has asked Free for a reading before, and Michel does not feel inclined to be the first.

Free draws them out. Wands, cups, coins, swords -- he explains them with unconscious ease, as if reading from a book he memorised a long time ago. The knights are about change and travel, or perhaps a break from the past. Each has his own quirks, his strengths and weaknesses. Physical characteristics, too -- this knight has dark hair and eyes, this other one dark skin or pale hair, depending. Reverse them and their meanings change, though their natures stay the same. Two sides to each; they're human after all, Michel thinks.

"They're part of the minor arcana," Free adds at last. He picks up the pale-haired Knight of Wands, regards it for a while, then gathers the cards back into the deck.

"The lesser secrets," Michel says, and laughs. It is a simple sound.