Surfacing
Written by White Phoenix Erialis
Amongst these people we must learn to conceal our feelings, the innermost emotion that we are so used to revealing. But we are no longer in Tortall, my child- we are in a land where our own heritage and culture is viewed as coarse and indelicate. So we must learn to be stone when provoked, to be still as a summer's lake when there is turbulence within your soul. If not, your blood will never cleanse you of the shame. Think about it.
-- As said by Ilane of Mindelan to her daughter, Keladry, aged 6
Still. I will be as still as a summer's lake.
It was the thought that dominated her mind in those sparse moments, mere fragments of second after she took the news from the courier. There was no reason for the mask she had created and worn, expertly all these years, to be set-aside for now. To her the news was shattering— but she, the Yamani Lump, would never reveal that. It was a lesson she had learnt by heart from young.
Taking a brief glance at the unmoving, glassy surface of the water, she was enraptured by everything she saw in its depths. Those dreamer's eyes were never meant for her serious face, with the long lashes. Plain and tidy brown hair trimmed to earlobe length, level brows and a determined chin she saw, and recognised.
It was the same face that she had stared at in the mirror most mornings of her life, after all. It was the same person she saw each day. The appearances never changed, unless it was when she was untidier. But that was yet another matter unto itself.
But today— something was different. The dreamy hazel-green eyes had lost their usual sparkle; the humour put out and replaced with something dark, less penetrable and more sinister. It was not fear, it was not pain. It was a certain maturity, one that was not altogether welcomed, in her appearance that had not been present before...
Closing her eyes even as she turned her head away from the pond, she remembered...
"I won't dance about. I'm giving you the hardest assignment of any knight in this district. I think you will hate it, and perhaps me."
"Who's to command this place, sir?" she asked, forcing her voice to remain even, her features smooth and calm.
Wyldon raised his brows. "You are."
Her eyes were wide open in an instant; she threw her head back and glanced at the sky from where she sat, leaning against a tree. How was she to have known that the last place she had wanted to be in the war would mean so much to her now? It was her home, the home she had helped build. It was the home she had forged with all those under her command, and now it was to be dismantled, nothing more than a memory.
She did not want to be merely a memory. She wanted it to be all she had envisioned it to be- a haven, a new hope. A sanctuary, for herself and so many others.
Clouds scudded across the skies' endless expanse, some trailing along like aimless puppies. It was a beautiful sight, like every other day that she had ever risen to greet. It was the determination she had that ensured that all her life was spent in the pursuit of something purposeful. It was not merely to follow in the footsteps of her predecessor. It was not in the fantasy of achieving what Alanna did.
It was in the hope that she was part of a tapestry, a weave, a pattern that blended seamlessly with vice and virtue interwoven and a part of something worthy of remembrance. It was not found in the Yamani Islands, where she was regarded as nothing more than a barbarian, her heritage nowhere as rich as the locals. It was found in her homeland where she belonged.
New Hope. It was her home, her dream... her tapestry. Her mind slowly recognised it as everything she had lived for in the past months. It was slowly dawning upon her that this was what secured her choice to become a knight. This was what they had meant for her to understand, in the instruction before the Ordeal.
"If your survive the Ordeal of Knighthood, you will be a Knight of the Realm. You will be sworn to protect those weaker than you, to obey your overlord, to live in a way that honours your kingdom and your gods."
"To wear the shield of a knight s an important thing. You may not ignore a cry for help. It means that rich and poor, young and old, male and female may look to you for rescue, and you cannot deny them."
Words had simplified things. But whatwas it thatmade her a knight- the Ordeal, or the past few months that she had lived in practical application? Had she truly understood it all before she had stepped into the Chapel and the Chamber?
Who was she? The person hiding behind the facade, not saying a word, not in control but desperately trying to be? Was that all she was— an appearance that would only deceive herself and those around her?
Closing her eyes once again, she forced the thoughts back beneath her skin.
Still. I will be as still as a summer's lake, she thought.
Disclaimer: All characters and places mentioned/ involved in the story belong to Ms. Tamora Pierce.
A/N: I think that this story doesn't require further explanation. Review if you feel like doing so, but I'm not offering cookies.