The Words Between

by Pantala

Plots abound, but one in particular seeths far too close for the comfort of those sworn to the Queen's defense. And just as it seems they have found the key to containing it, the man is killed...and his killer is Chosen on the very night of the slaying.

12. The Words Between: part 10

While watching Attack of the Clones in the movie theatre:

Padme: "Oh Anakin, I'll always remember you as that little boy back on Tatooine."

From somewhere in the audience behind me: "D'oh!"

The Words Between - part 10

The ceiling was unfamiliar.

It occurred to Kyn, while staring up at the dark wooden beams criss-crossing the space above him, that he might never see the gray slabs comprising the ceiling of his room in the manse ever again. He had been living at the collegium for two months and twelve days now...far, far longer than he could ever remember being away. Last night, after he had feigned exhaustion to stave off the questions, he had lain awake trying to remember if he had felt even the tiniest bit of foreboding before setting out for the capitol. The faintest hint.

He couldn't remember. It irked him, that he couldn't recall anything out of the ordinary on that day, or the day before that. There was just a cloudy haze of events that would have occurred on any other day, and nothing to point toward the unbelievable series of circumstances that would have ended with him lying in a bed in the collegium Healer's Hall staring at a ceiling not his own.

How could he possibly not have foreseen something like this? True, his vision was often limited to the day, perhaps a week at the stretch...but what he had seen involving the duke was proof enough that his Sight could pick up things farther into the future - perhaps if they held sufficient weight.

He would have thought his induction into the Heralds' fold for nearly two and a half months would have carried sufficient weight.

Fingers curled in the blanket's folds, and in the cloth of the shirt over his chest, clenching against the pressure building within. Something that felt tantalizingly like frustration, or perhaps anger, and tasting too much like despair. He couldn't describe it, and didn't care to examine it, just turned his head from the sight of the unfamiliar ceiling and studiously ignored the strange, unwelcome sensation with a deep breath and then a second one to loosen the tension.

When can I go back, Master? When can I return?

Shuddering, he banished all musings from his mind with a growl, pushing himself up and swinging his feet off the side of the bed. There were thin shoes laid out nearby, little more than slippers to stave off the chill of stone floors in the mornings. With the lack of anything else appropriate in sight, they - and the simple off-white shirt and leggings he was currently dressed in - would have to do.

:What do you think you're doing?:

:Walking,: Kyn replied promptly, and studiously ignored the fact that it could only be called 'walking' by the strictest application of its definition. 'Staggering' would have been closer to the truth, at least to describe the first few ventured steps away from the bed.

Sianni was not as conservative with her thoughts. :You're leaning, not walking. You should be in bed.:

:I have had enough of bed.: Never mind that he hadn't exactly been aware the entire time - at least, aware of the bed, anyway - and self-consciously tried to straighten, dropping his hand when he had been about to reach toward the wall. With a little practice and a lot of denial, he managed to recapture the details, if not the spirit, of his usual stride. Enough of bed, and enough of thinking.

:Your body apparently doesn't hold the same opinion.:

:Just tell me how to get out of here before I embarrass myself.:

Sianni pretended to consider the matter, and eventually opined, :Now, we can't have that, can we? You'll want to make a left after the door, then. Take the first hallway to the left. It should open up into the main hall, and there are exits directly from there.:

The rapid acquiescence saved Sianni from a most unkind response despite the gentle teasing she was so careful to couch her words in, and he even managed a grudging, :Thanks,: as he traced a mostly steady path by the directions Sianni had given. Thankfully, he found that movement became more and more practiced with every second that passed, recovery hastened along with a few jogged steps and deep breaths as impromptu warm-up, until he felt more or less himself by the time he had reached his destination. The only lingering effects he could find were a touch of stiffness and a lightheadedness that could be the combined results of long-term inactivity and lack of solid foods - or, perhaps, a present from the drugs still craved by his body and the duke's visit. Nevertheless, the few symptoms were easily ignorable, which left him with a relatively clear enough mind to start the research he needed to perform. The research he should have done, he had to admit to himself, as soon as he had learned of the duke and his importance to Master. He had grown lax, allowing Master or others to compile the necessary information for him on previous assignments, and become lazy in his methods. But this was still rectifiable, as soon as he slipped out of the building...

Luck wasn't with him, however. He found his way to the main hall easily enough, but one of the handful of people that happened to be there was Nadia, and the woman's eyes found him as unerringly as a lodestone to iron when he wandered in.

:I had no idea she was there.:

:A little quick to deny, aren't we?: he retorted, but there was more resignation than ire in the thought. It didn't really matter if Sianni had intentionally led him to the healer or not; the heralds would most likely be searching for him as soon as they realized he was awake, and he would rather speak with Nadia than anyone else at the moment. At least with the healer, he could be sure that she would keep any meetings as brief as possible, and perhaps any clashes that might arise between her and the un-Herald afterwards would buy him even more time. When Nadia frowned and crooked a finger, he barely paused before pushing away from the doorless jamb.

Someone was already there arguing with the healer; someone in the blue uniform of a trainee, wrapped in an expensive gray cloak with the hood thrown back. Wine-red hair was braided into an elaborate, sleek plait riddled with tiny clips and combs that gleamed gold - and which may very well have been the genuine metal rather than some cleverly painted facsimile.

"It is barely visible as it is, and with what rouge you wear already, I wouldn't have even noticed it if you hadn't pointed it out," Nadia was saying with remarkable patience as Kyn drew within earshot, and a vague, sourceless feeling of unease curled through his center.

:Because you're a big, strapping male?:

:What?:

:She is never that gentle with you because you are a big, strapping male.:

He frowned. :I didn't say anything.:

:You didn't have to.: More than a trace of smugness.

His frown deepened, even as a tiny, rebellious part deep within welcomed the distraction from his contemplation. It was far too easy to slip into introspectiveness today. :You are mocking me.:

:Maybe the big, strapping part, but unless there's something you wish to tell me, not the latter.:

Mennifei, in direct contrast, was anything but calm as the set of her shoulders stiffened beneath the cloak. "Do not patronize me. You are a healer, are you not? So heal it! If it is such a small matter, then the sooner it is done, the sooner either of us can go about our business."

Nadia bristled. Kyn could have sworn that what hair that had worked loose from her habitual braid fairly frizzed and stood on end like the fur on a startled cat's tail. "Now who is being patronizing?" the healer all but squeezed out through clenched teeth, leaning toward the other young woman in unconscious intimidation. Either pride or true blindness held Mennifei steady before the healer's irritated glower. "You have a funny way of asking people for their help, min Se'Fannouel. I suggest you leave now, before I balance that mark with another one on the other side." An odd accent seemed to slip into the healer's words along with the unfamiliar title, a curious stretching of the vowels that left a tang of sea-salt in Kyn's mind and made him blink in surprise.

:Where is Nadia from?:

:Why don't you ask her?:

A beat. :Thank you, I'll pass.:

Mennifei's head reared back in surprise. Still behind her, Kyn didn't catch the noblewoman's expression, but the outrage was plain in her voice. "How dare you speak to me like that!"

"You might be the ultimate authority in your father's house - or pretend to be - " A short pause ensued that Kyn couldn't quite interpret, one in which Nadia's mouth twitched grimly and Mennifei made a small, choked sound of fury, before the healer finished with a glance past her toward Kyn, " - but this is my domain, and you have less weight here than the first year initiates into this hall, much less me. Now if you please, I have some more important cases to see to."

Mennifei swayed in place, as if equally guided in either direction by invisible forces: the need to retreat from further humiliation, and the need to confront the aggressor. Kyn could almost imagine the young noblewoman's mouth opening and closing in mute frustration as she tried to gather retaliatory words, and he edged forward out of morbid curiosity to see if reality would prove just as entertaining as his imagination.

The young woman's head whipped about as she caught his motion out of the corners of her eyes - eyes that were wide in shocked outrage, mouth indeed pursed in indecision, cheeks flushed...except for one spot sitting high on the ridge of her left cheekbone. An angrier red than the surrounding skin, the beginnings of a light bruise was just beginning to lend the area a soft plum tinge.

"You."

The malice contained in the one syllable snapped Kyn's attention from the bruise to Mennifei's narrowed eyes.

"You are the cause of all this!" the noblewoman hissed, advancing a step toward him and leading with an accusatory finger stabbed toward his nose. Even as he slid an equal step away from her, carefully drawing his head out of range, his gaze was caught by light glancing off metal centered on the back of her finger, bright enough that Kyn wondered for a brief, wild moment if she was intent on attacking him with some sort of hidden weapon.

But logic caught up with reflex before he could do more than flinch back, a split second's longer observation proving that she intended no physical harm. Instead, the sun had merely gleamed off a silver band on her index finger, an innocent wink overlaid by Sight until it had nearly blinded him.

Foresight that had noted before he did that she wore a ring. A simple silver ring. A ring bearing a seal of a stylized griffin in bas-relief.

Se'Fannouel. The griffin is a Se'Fannouel. Mennifei - the duke - is the griffin.

"It was because of you that father...that father..." The hand she had used to accuse him flew to her offended cheek, as if by that simple gesture she could mask the emotional hurt along with the physical one.

Kyn stared at her, barely registering the words and her mixed look of hate, frustration, and...and...was she trying to withhold tears? He could barely focus on any one thought long enough to grasp its meaning before it was rudely shoved aside by another.

If they are the griffin, then is Master the fox, in direct opposition? It was the duke who caused that bruise. He is still within the capitol. She has just recently seen him...if I wish, I might still have another chance...why has he remained? A trap...am I bait in a trap for Master? Master was gentry, he had family, a seal, a crest...is the fox a part of it? I could - with a name and a crest, I could find Master's true name if I so wished...how much does she know?

"I'll have to admit, I'm rather glad of your indiscriminate ability to drive people away right now."

Kyn belatedly turned to focus on Nadia at her dry comment, and only after it registered did he quickly turn again to realize that Mennifei had all but fled the hall, already disappearing out of the nearest exit with only a swirling edge of satin-trimmed cloak to identify her passing.

"I'm running out of time...I need to know - things are - " He abruptly sucked in a breath, consciously trying to halt the tumble of thoughts that fed each other into ever more convoluted tracks.

"What are you babbling about? Did you hit your head on the way here?"

Kyn's mouth opened, then closed without so much as a word as he stared at the healer, the fragile chain of deductions and implications interrupted. "No, I didn't...the duke is still here? Mennifei had been in the way...he wasn't supposed to be here and neither was she..." He shook himself, violently, abruptly noticing the far too sharp look in Nadia's eyes. No, he didn't want the Heralds to know yet, not when it was all still muddled and unsorted in his own mind. "I don't have time for this," he managed to squeeze into a reasonable facsimile of a churlish tone, pushing past to follow after Mennifei.

"Hold on there! Where do you think you're running off to? While you might have received plenty of rest over the past three days, I'd make a fair wager you can't - "

"I said there's no time!" Kyn insisted, not even bothering to attempt another excuse, trying to keep up with the pell-mell pace of his own thoughts. Something was just out of his reach; he could all but feel the Foresight waiting, crouched, on the peripheries of his mind, needing only the right combination of realizations to trigger the unfurling of vision...

Griffins-foxes-rings-bloodties-sorcery-promises-names-pacts-pride - there!

He staggered, feet tripping over themselves in their haste to shift sideways when an illusory wall suddenly reared up before his mind's eye.

:Kyn, listen to Nadia. There is nothing that can't wait for at least a cursory examination.:

He pressed the heel of one hand against his forehead, sucking air sharply through his teeth as he struggled to regain his equilibrium, and eventually found it when the vision reluctantly faded. :She's already examined me for the past three days. Nothing has changed since then beyond my physical waking.: Blinking, he realized he was already beyond the first arch out of the main hall, taking him out of immediate sight of Nadia, who had not followed.

:Then for my peace of mind, please. Nadia is not about to chase you down when you're able enough to walk out on her - no doubt she'll allow Melidee or Alberich the dubious honor of doing so, though you'll have at least half a candlemark's reprieve as neither are on the grounds currently - but it might save you some embarrassment later on if you relapse.:

A vague feeling of relief curled through him at the thought of not needing to fend off the both of them at once. But even as he straightened, drawing a metaphorical breath for his next retort, the lines of the short corridor leading to the outside foyer blurred...

:Kyn?:

This time, one shoulder hit the wall with painful solidness when he lurched to the side, breath and wits stolen by surprise as the second vision took a hold of him with the same suddenness and strength of the first. A second? There should be no second...there has never been a second...

Mennifei was supposed to die. She was going to die...within the next candlemark. But no...she was also supposed to die...later?

Kyn staggered to a halt, overtaken by confusion as the last hazy wisps of Sight finally released him.

:Kyn, what did you see? Are you all right?:

What was happening? This was the first time he had seen two occurrences that patently couldn't coexist - he was seeing Mennifei's death twice, in two different circumstances, occurring at two different times. There was no mistaking the wide, empty eyes staring lifelessly at the sky, framed by the dirty cobblestones of a deserted alleyway - he knew death well enough to know what it looked like. And the second vision, her second death, which had arrived so closely on the heels of the first that they had nearly blended into an indistinguishable montage of nonsensical scenes, scenes which he had been given no time to process individually...there, her father had presided over his daughter's body, one hand gently smoothing back her hair with a single tear trailing down his face - while he held the cup that collected the still-warm blood rolling down her pale fingertips.

:Hush, Sianni. I...I am all right. I was just...unprepared and tripped.:

:And that should be all the proof you need that all is not well with you.:

:Well enough if that is the first and only time I've done so since rising. Now leave me be.:

Kyn ground the heels of his hands into his closed eyes, gritting his teeth in frustration. What was he to do in a situation such as this? Before, he always had one sure path - either the outcome was desirable, and he followed the details exactingly, or he made sure he avoided them. The results were rarely so ambiguous that he was not absolutely certain that the alternative would be better or worse than the foretelling. Usually, it would all boil down to what Master wanted from him, and Kyn knew precisely what was expected from him by the man. Or, he had. So, if not Master's will, whose directs the visions now?

Uncertain, but restless enough that even indecision couldn't hold him for long, Kyn started down the same paths that Mennifei had taken. The timing was undoubtedly critical, but when there were no other clues...death was too permanent. If she died now, nothing in the world could undo it if he had need of her later on. But if she survived, and it soon became clear that matters would turn for the better if she were dead instead...it would be a simple matter to rectify that mistake. And, if nothing else, he knew she was important somehow. The fact that his Sight had focused on her at all was proof of that.

He actually had to break into a trot on a few occasions to keep her in sight, with as much of a lead as she had and the sharp, half-reflexive turns she made, as if letting instinct and memory alone guide her steps rather than conscious thought. Caught between the itch of foreboding and the prodding of curiosity, Kyn felt equally torn between catching up to confront her directly, and trailing her indefinitely to see where she intended to go while she thought she was not under observation. So far the latter urge was winning, but only because he had yet to formulate exactly what he would confront her about. Why do you wear a ring bearing the seal of a griffin? Why did your father hit you? What do you know of your father's schemes? Have you participated in any blood rites lately? He shook his head at the sharp facetiousness of the last question, and admonished himself for the woolgathering as he forcibly cut off the train of thought. Focus. For some unknown reason, he couldn't seem to keep a firm hold on any one thought today, and one slid fish-slippery into another and another without pause.

Sianni took it upon herself to pace them from a distance as soon as they left the healers, keeping them just within sight while she walked, trotted, and occasionally galloped back and forth, masking her intentions in play, snorting and pawing at the occasional, remaining tuft of ratweed seedpods. There was a strange sort of reassurance in the thought of the Companion's promised assistance, literally only a thought away...a reassurance that he wasn't sure he should let himself grow used to. He should have resented the idea that he might ever require assistance, berated himself for even entertaining a scenario that he would not be able to handle on his own. But now...he could barely even find the upset that such a radical shift in outlook should have engendered.

Mennifei had been making her way steadily across the campus grounds - a not unusual occurrence considering her quarters were located opposite the Healers' Hall. But soon, she passed even the last of the buildings associated with the campus, headed directly for the western gate, and when they passed beyond, Sianni broke off and wheeled back to the Companion fields with a playful snort...while sending a last touch of warmth and reassurance after him that he didn't reflexively rebuff.

Focus.

The inn at which the duke had been staying at - may still be residing in, presently - passed blithely to their left, garnering not even a glance from the young noblewoman. His suspicions were only confirmed as the Mennifei headed past the usual haunts of trainees clustered near the collegium grounds, and turned directly into the less used byways that wound between dwellings and stores, deserted alleys that she should never have given a second glance to, much less entered. He had not exerted too much effort in concealing his trailing, but he had hardly broadcasted that fact either. Considering her upbringing, he was mildly impressed by this evidence of her observational skills - or, at least, by the level of her paranoia. Arrogant and secure as a woman of high standing, Mennifei should never have given even a second thought to being spied on. Which made it all the more interesting to Kyn as to what she felt she needed to hide, something that ate incessantly at him as the unofficial chase dragged on, until he had nearly made up his mind to catch up and confront her directly, regardless of what preparation he had...

"Why are you following me."

Focus! The mental admonishment followed closely on chagrin as he abruptly stopped, halfway around a corner, confronted by the narrow-eyed, unamused visage of Mennifei not three paces away. She must have doubled back after turning the corner - or stopped just outside of sight altogether, waiting for him to round it. There was no helping his wandering attention at the moment, though. "I was concerned for your safety," he responded after a beat, grasping the first excuse that came to mind.

Mennifei laughed, the sound practiced and cultured, marred only by an unmistakable note of derision. "Safety?" she scoffed, mouth curling with sharp amusement. "And what sort of safety can a boy recently risen from a sickbed offer? Or," she continued in a lower register, voice turned husky and coquettishly mocking, head tilted just-so with eyes half-lidded, "am I supposed to believe you the threat?"

"You can believe what you want." Focus. "But the truth remains, no matter what you think." There was a soft, indeterminate sound nearby, one that had been made by neither of them. Focus. Almost there...just a little longer...

The young woman abruptly stiffened, something in his words thinning her lips to a white, bloodless line as two high spots of color touched her cheeks. "And what do you think you know, boy?" she nearly hissed with clear venom.

The derogatory appellation nearly slid off without notice. All too acquainted with its usage by Master and instructors, Kyn barely registered the attempt to rile him as anything but an interesting attempt at deflecting his attention, feeding his curiosity all the more as he studied her reaction and matched it with the recent confrontation with the healer. :Sianni?:

:Alberich has been notified. I can be there in less than five marks.:

:Wait.: He needed to be sure first. The walls looked the same, but who knew how many alleys in the capitol were built with the same methods and materials? "I know enough to say you are doing something very foolish - "

Mennifei's expression tightened in anger, half-raising her hand as if thinking of striking him, the ring's band glittering on her finger. "I will show you foolish, you common - !"

Behind her, the glint of metal was repeated when two shadows stepped into the same alley, rapidly gaining speed as they advanced, lips peeling back from yellowed teeth in satisfaction upon seeing two young, supposedly easy targets.

:Sianni, they are here.: Focus. Clear thoughts and immediate area of distractions, and focus. A rapid slide forward and one sweep of the arm served to shove a startled and spluttering noblewoman to the side, and he used the last few seconds to lower and test his stance, compensating for whatever balance or alacrity he might have lost in his recent bed stay. Breathe in, breathe out, scan the surroundings one last time - note the third man lurking nearby, neither approaching or departing yet, and dismiss him as irrelevant in the moment - before devoting attention completely to the targets as they moved within reach.

The assignment was all that mattered, a point that Master had personally emphasized and had his instructors underscore in his lessons. Their teachings told him to focus on the two immediate threats, to ignore the third unknown element and the girl stumbling into the wall of the wide alleyway. To divide his attention was to invite failure, to allow other concerns fatal precedence at that one, crucial second - and yet, he found himself not quite able to ignore that third man as completely as he could have. Should have. He couldn't help but wonder what the man's purpose was if not to join the attack. He couldn't help checking on the progress of Sianni's path through the capitol's streets. He couldn't help speculating on what business the weaponsmaster had been on...and why Sianni had seen fit to call him.

Focus!

Reflexes snapped into action even as the mind struggled to catch up, barely requiring a single coherent thought to guide them, finding in such close quarters that response-time is almost more important than strategy. It was the training that was supposed to ingrain the proper assessments and responses beforehand, when there was no time in the thick of a melee to consciously lay out one's choice of targets. Pure instinct judged the speeds of the two men, determined that the left-hand one was slower by a fraction of a second, and pushed Kyn to dart into the right-hand man's reach, arms raised overhead and crossed to take the fall of the man's blow. Letting the makeshift club whistle by his ear with a lazy incline of his head, he bent his knees as the man's forearm fell neatly into the bracket of his arms. Twisting fluidly around to guide the overhand swing's momentum past, his left hand flattened on the forearm and slid down the meaty wrist, using it as a guide to grasp the back of the man's hand and stretch the limb out. A deft twist brought the man hopping forward, off balance, and locked the elbow into immobility at an uncomfortable angle - one that swiftly became even more uncomfortable as Kyn brought his right shoulder up sharply from beneath, snapping the arm. The man had only time to suck in a sharp breath, eyes widening in surprise, when Kyn was already sliding out from under the dangling limb - to abruptly arch back and to the side, a hastily outflung hand saving him from crashing headfirst against the cobblestones as a blade whisked by his temple. A knife. For the space of a single heartbeat, the comfortable rhythm of assessment and reaction stuttered, nearly frozen to a halt in indecision.

Over a decade's worth of training called for the most expedient and sureproof route to the objective, and demanded that the lethal weapon be claimed and turned on the attackers. But a new imperative was intruding, one that had been taught in far less time - but which had a much fresher foothold. One that called for disablement, rather than death. One that, if he had had the time to think it through, he might have indulged for the sake of leaving behind a source of information to be interrogated later. Why does the third man not help his companions? Why do these two press their attack when they find their quarry not as defenseless as they had thought? What is the purpose behind their actions?

But there was no time, and he had no patience left. There was an absurd, rootless flash of fury at Alberich and the Heralds for somehow corrupting even this last remnant of his old life, and in another heartbeat, the decision was made.

A precious split-second lost, he followed through into an improvised roll rather than try to stop and reorient himself upright. A glance was all it took to realize the angles needed, and fast-twitch muscles immediately pulled his outside shoulder close halfway through the controlled tumble, adjusted the fall of his left foot just so to provide the necessary leverage when it landed, and sent his right leg flashing out to smash the ball of his foot against the side of the second attacker's knee. There was a wet pop as the joint gave beneath the blow, the man staggering and his lips peeling back from his teeth in a blank grimace as his mind began to process the first angry signals from the injury. Kyn took shameless advantage of the distraction to complete the maneuver into a half-kneeling position, reaching out to grasp the man's wrist and break his thumb before palming the knife for himself. An unconscious heft imprinted the knowledge of its weight and balance in his muscles, and shifted the haft into a comfortable grip in his fist. As the first man's initial cry was finally voiced and the club was picked up by the unbroken arm, he pushed off the ground with the abruptness of a coiled spring to slice through the stubble-dotted throat...continued the swing with a half-turn to plunge the blade into the side of the second man's neck with more memory and instinct to guide him than sight.

Unconsciably hasty. Unforgivably sloppy. If they had not reacted exactly as he had expected, he would have missed completely - stupid, to trust his success to chance and the predictability of other people's reactions. But he was long past the point of objective analysis and cared only that the job was done. A sharp tug disengaged the knife, the same movement leading into a guarded stance as he turned smoothly to assess his surroundings for further threats.

Mennifei's scream nearly stopped his heart in sheer startlement. Safely outside the area around him in which he might have considered her an immediate threat, he had all but forgotten she was there. She was staring at him, eyes wide enough that he could see a rim of white all around, mouth open as she drew a shuddering breath to scream again.

Cursing the fates, he rushed toward her, had to hastily readjust his strategy when instead of screaming, she sobbed and stumbled back, pale hands fluttering up to push his own away when he reached to take a hold of her. Slapping them roughly aside, he wrapped his left arm around her middle, half-lifting her as he leveraged her weight over his hip and hauled them both into the shadow of a building with an untidy lurch. The shrieks began again with the man-handling, this time indignation mixing with the hysteria, but he had as little patience for it as its former incarnation and shifted his hold to slap a hand over her mouth, arm braced cross-wise across her torso and one foot hooking around hers to hold her as immobile as possible while he kept his knife-arm free. "Quiet!" he hissed before she could think of other ways in which to rebel. Eyes darting over the area, watching for the third man that had not attacked with the other two, he punctuated his command with a sharp shake of her head. "Unless you wish to die. In which case, I will save them the trouble and snap your neck now."

There was an angry huff against his hand, and he wondered if she was going to try and bite him. But perhaps she had begun to remember just what the men had intended - and his part in dispatching them - for, a long moment later, he felt her relax fractionally and give a short, jerky nod. Letting his hand slip slightly from her face, he warned, "Don't think of trying to trick me by screaming when I let you go."

This time she made a sound of impatience, slapping his arm away from her and whirling around, backing up a step to face him just beyond arm's length. Cheeks flushed, eyes glittering, even her hair falling in a disarrayed halo about her face as if it crackled with the fury that radiated from her - Kyn found the absurd thought straying through his mind that he could objectively understand why Stef kept trying to claim her, despite his frequent failures. There was a strange, fascinating thrill in confronting a riled Mennifei...somewhat like being faced with an un-Herald with bared knives in his hands. "Do not presume that I am on your level of petty trickery," she spat, hugging her arms around herself. "And if you ever touch me again, my father will have your manhood served to you on his best china."

Kyn's brows inched upward before he redirected his attention to their surroundings, absently giving the knife a sharp flick to rid it off excess blood. There was no helping the rapidly cooling and congealing mess a few feet from them, but there was no need to have the stuff dripping on him if he had to wield the knife again. "I would be impressed if he cared that much about you to attempt such."

He didn't know at first what had prompted the comment. A vague picture had become to form in his mind about Mennifei and her relations to her father...and it was oddly unsatisfying seeing his suspicions confirmed, the ones drawn by the evidence of the bruise and Nadia's cutting words, the sudden draining of blood from the young noblewoman's face and the faint sway in her stance until he thought she might faint after all the excitement - though from anger or despair, he wasn't sure.

Despite her desperate fawnings, she knew her worth - or lack of it - to the duke. Beyond the fineness of features and haughtiness of demeanor, it seemed she had also inherited a part of her father's keen mind, and it told her in no uncertain terms where she fell in the duke's concerns, even if she tried to ignore the futility of making it otherwise. What he had yet to understand was why she appeared so upset by that fact. For someone of her temperament, he would have thought the duke's affection of secondary importance. Or, perhaps, it was merely the lack of control over the duke that she was protesting.

"How dare you..."

"Give me a threat that I can take seriously, and then I might not dare more," he cut her off, reaching for her elbow, having ascertained as best he could that the third man was no longer in the vicinity and wanting nothing more than to hustle her back toward the collegium. With the ebb of adrenaline, he could feel the lethargy and a warning stiffness creeping into his muscles. The fight had been short but intense, and without the added benefit of a warm-up after such a long period of complete inactivity, he suspected he might have come close to straining something.

"I said don't touch me!" Mennifei snapped, an edge of panic pushing her voice close to a screech before she flushed and whirled around.

Kyn huffed in annoyance, started to chase her down, and might have said or done something he would regret later on when he was saved by the sound of approaching hoofbeats. The young noblewoman paused uncertainly, a rare, skittish wariness entering her posture, but when the riders revealed themselves as two Companions - one of which bore the darkly scowling figure of the weaponsmaster - and a handful of the city guards, she wasted no time in fleeing toward them, sobbing incoherently.

Kyn had to wonder how many of her tears were genuine, especially when she unerringly swerved right past the dismounting un-Herald - despite his position at the point of the group - and into the sympathetic arms of the guard's squad leader. It did not escape Kyn's notice that the squad leader was not bad looking at all, though he had to give Mennifei the benefit of the doubt - that she had headed for the next in the chain of command that would prove more pliable than Alberich, rather than purely for his physical characteristics.

"Lucky, you were."

His eyes slid up toward the stony facade of the weaponsmaster, Alberich having pulled up beside him to observe the bodies lying sprawled on the cobblestones, two of the guard already crouching down next to the corpses with the rest either exploring the other passageways nearby or trying to calm Mennifei into a clear account of the events. Shrugging, Kyn left the comment uncontested as he reflexively searched for a cloth or napkin on him, to wrap the blade to keep it from staining before he found an appropriate method for discarding it discreetly.

A hand clamped down on the wrist of his knifehand, the grip harsh and uncompromising. Kyn froze, registering the implicit threat, and looked up once again at the un-Herald, uncertain of what had raised the man's ire.

"Enjoy, did you, their killing?" Alberich asked with a steely stare, his voice pitched low and for their ears only.

Kyn sucked in a sharp breath, annoyed and angry at the unfair presumption. "No, I do not enjoy killing," he growled, far too conscious of the guards' proximity though they currently seemed to be providing the weaponsmaster a wide berth. "Master would never have allowed it. Enjoying such a thing would destroy my ability to prioritize objectives; it would get in the way of my work."

Alberich's eyes narrowed, his grip tightening a fraction. "The master's not allowing it and your not feeling it - follow the one after the other, they do not necessarily."

"Wrong!" Kyn hissed, giving his arm a sharp tug and feeling no surprise at all when he failed to break free, but unable to help himself. He would not tolerate this line of presumptions! "I am Master's will. I am his hands, feet, eyes and mouth. I perform where he cannot. There is nothing I would do outside of his command!"

:Oh, Chosen.:

He was stunned enough by the sudden, smothering sense of sadness that flowed through him with the three syllables that he nearly didn't catch himself when Sianni inserted her bulk, Alberich falling back as he did with a rare, wide-eyed surprise. The un-Herald had released his hold reflexively when the Companion had calmly nosed her way through, and then drawn himself to his full height as she remained standing insolently between them. Kyn, shaken and confused, hardly aware that his body seemed to press itself to the warm curve of her barrel of its own volition, braced himself and peeked over the gentle slope of her back.

What are you doing, Sianni? Why are you intervening?

If Alberich had been a man given to rages, his face might have been florid by now. Though he looked as calm and controlled as he ever did, there was a...'tension' that seemed to vibrate in every stiff-drawn line of his form, a promise of things that managed to make something inside Kyn tremble as none but Master had ever been able to do.

"Attempting what foolishness are you, Sianni?"

Sianni turned and lowered her head to focus one cerulean eye on the man. :Merely trying to avert your own.: Kyn pressed closer to the warm hide which he couldn't quite manage to pull himself away from, and swallowed an attempt to warn her that such baiting was dangerous and ultimately worthless. There was nothing to be gained from direct opposition, and everything to letting the weaponsmaster have his say and then moving on to more important matters. All words were but water to be shed off the fowl's back with a shiver.

Then you should not have retorted, a traitorous corner of his mind noted. If his words truly did not matter, you would not have acknowledged them with an argument.

"The only foolishness to be found here is in protecting the boy," Alberich continued in the same, low, deadly tone. There was never any sense of a loss of control, no forgetting of where they stood and those who might be observing. Yet the un-Herald managed to convey, all the same, the depth of his displeasure in softly uttered words.

:This boy, as you have noted, cannot benefit from such badgering. I will not allow you to continue in such a vein.:

Alberich frowned, the first expression to occupy his mien after the icy demeanor had wiped the bald-faced shock at Sianni's actions from it. Almost absent-mindedly, he reached back with a hand, to lay it unerringly on the shoulder of Kantor who had drawn up silently behind his Chosen during the conversation. "Respect your Choice I do, and the wisdom of a Companion. But perfect you are not; mistakes can be made. If this is one...afford the consequences we cannot."

:Listen to yourself!: Sianni snorted, going so far as to scrape one silvery hoof over the cobblestones in her frustration, drawing a spark and a strangely resonant chime through the air. :Kyn is not a mistake. Did you hear what he said? He barely thinks of himself as an identity outside of his master's! You can't tell me that it is any fault of his own?:

"The fault is not of concern to me, nor even the blame," Alberich continued relentlessly. "But ignore the danger that comes with him we cannot. It is that element which I address; the rest gladly do I leave to others."

:You may say so, but do you deny that what I had just heard was anything less than the beginnings of a harangue?:

The weasponmaster released a breath of impatience. "Lying behind me, two bodies there are. What chances had they, would you say? Enough of the boy's training I know to say that their deaths were unnecessary. Yet dead they are. Quickly enough, I would judge, that attempt at disablement and capture had not been made." Ignored till now, Kyn suddenly found himself the uncomfortable center of the unblinking gaze. "Attempt to tell us, would you have, that time you had used to attempt dissuasion?"

Kyn stared back for a moment, and then pushed away from Sianni, settling his weight solidly on his own two feet. "No," he whispered, the confusion and uncertainty fleeing as he mentally braced himself. "I would have told you there was no point."

Alberich turned to meet Sianni's gaze, and eloquently raised an eyebrow.

Unexpectedly piqued, Kyn ground his teeth and added, "Because they would not have listened. Beyond the fact that they would have laughed at any warning I would have given, their payment and the watcher would have ensured that they would have carried through with their assignment."

All eyes were suddenly fixated on him, two sets of jewel-bright blue, and one the color and tensile strength of steel. "What did you say?" Alberich asked with deceptive quiet, advancing a step despite Sianni's pointed obstruction.

Kyn motioned toward the guardsmen with a tilt of his chin, those that still stood politely just out of earshot, the investigation having wound down in the meantime as the evidence spoke for itself. Mennifei, not quite as tearful but still clinging to the squad leader, was narrating some portion of her ordeal as one hand strayed toward her bruised cheek with a fragile, elegant motion, eyes sliding from the cooling bodies with a delicate shudder and fixing on Kyn across the scene. "They must have been paid. There were no demands, no words attempted. They wanted to kill her - she would have died if I hadn't interfered. There was a third man - he was to make sure that they did what they were paid to do."

"Sure are you of this?" Sharply delivered, but almost more rhetorical in nature than anything else, as Alberich continued almost without pause, "Of what importance is the girl? Of what necessity is her death?"

"I Saw it," Kyn said, regardless of whether an answer was required or not. "She was to die - now, or later. I don't know why, and I don't care..." But he did. He wanted to know why it was important enough for him to know of her death, important enough that he would be placed in a position to stop it. He wanted to know why he saw it twice, and why he had been given no direction as to which event would have been preferable. He wanted to know if he had made the best decision, if he had been right in preventing the first, because if it had really been the second that needed to be prevented, and the first had been the surest way of doing so...

His breath caught on incipient horror as one single, idle thought snaked its way through his mind, coiling about his chest and squeezing with relentless force.

The second death would occur at the duke's hands. Mennifei had been laid out like a sacrifice, her blood collected in a chalice held in his hand. Her death, in the second vision, could only be of benefit to Se'Fannouel...and who would oppose that? Who knew enough, hated enough, to be able stand directly in the path of the duke's plans? Who would - could - enlist others to perform his tasks for him, all centered on the goal of thwarting the duke in every possible way?

Master. He had just opposed Master's will.

Kyn turned and fled, not caring if Alberich and the guard rode him down, the knife dropping from his guilty hand and clattering to rest on the stones.